Alexander Vucic, who lost power in the country’s recent elections, is not its first authoritarian leader to be undone by a student uprising. The Otpor! (Resistance!) movement that toppled Slobodan Milosevic more than a quarter century ago was the prototype for the popular revolts that have since swept across the former Communist bloc. If today’s Serbian students hope to turn power into change, there are lessons to be learned from that history.

In 2000, it was absolutely clear how the anti-Milosevic protesters wanted to transform their country. The goal was not just to end corruption and repression, the common denominator with today’s movement, but also to repair relations with the West, join the European Union and address a profound sense of FOMO among Serbia’s youth and middle classes.

When the Berlin Wall crumbled in 1989, Yugoslavia stood out as one of the most prosperous and open societies of the former Communist bloc. But by the turn of the millennium, Milosevic’s wars had sent it from near the top of the post-Communist pile to near the bottom, robbing younger Serbs of their futures.

Other neighbors were already lining up to join the EU, which at the time seemed to be the only game in town. Even Turkey, under Recep Tayyip Erdogan, would soon begin membership talks. The US was still the world's only superpower and fully engaged in its mission of democracy promotion. It was especially keen to see the back of Milosevic, together with the militarized kleptocracy he and his security services had built, so Washington pumped millions of dollars and organizational training into Otpor! By the time Serbia’s strongman tried to steal re-election, the groundwork needed to thwart and replace him had been done.

Milosevic’s opponents had assembled a broad coalition of political parties, the Democratic Opposition of Serbia or DOS. They had candidates lined up for president and — in ex-Belgrade Mayor Zoran Djindjic — prime minister. The real revolution came when Djindjic took office, backed by a huge parliamentary majority, in January 2001.

He formed a technocratic government of Western-educated, 30-something Serbs who had been working abroad at the likes of consultancy McKinsey & Co. They set a clear path toward reform and the West, including by sending Milosevic to The Hague to face trial on war crimes charges. But public expectations were high, reform proved painful and Djindjic had to cut deals with Milosevic’s security chiefs to keep them on the sidelines. In 2003, as he began to take on the organized crime behind the old regime’s corruption, he was assassinated.

Djindjic’s successors were never able to succeed where he failed. Economic progress was slow and in 2008 the US and much of Europe backed Kosovo's unilateral secession, stirring resentment. The stage was set for a return of the old guard under Vucic, the last minister of information — read: propaganda — in the Milosevic era.

As post-Djindjic Serbia slid into disappointment, European economies began to stall, Russia and China became viable alternative partners and the liberal West itself began to lose speed and direction. Vucic — a clever, ruthlessly cynical proponent of managed democracy akin to Hungary's Viktor Orban — was the perfect candidate to take advantage. He assumed office in April 2014, just a month after Vladimir Putin had annexed Crimea in a direct challenge to the Western order. Vucic proved masterful at playing Beijing, Brussels and Moscow against each other.

Now Student List — another youth-led revolt born of fury over systemic corruption — has defeated Vucic. But this time there was no American encouragement; the current US administration is interested in democracy destruction, not promotion. So, there was also less organization and no Djndjic waiting in the wings at the head of a ready-to-govern coalition.

It isn’t yet clear what alliances might now be formed with more traditional parties, which political leaders will emerge from Student List or where they will stand on questions such as how to approach Kosovo’s still contested independence, ties with Russia and any recommitment to joining the EU. These are not the main issues they campaigned on. Their focus is more domestic.

There is something refreshingly pure about this chaos. It is, in a way, an example of true “we the people” populism, rather than the grotesque “I the people” manipulations of populist figureheads and authoritarians. There’s something equally attractive about the fact that there’s no evidence Student List got money or training from Washington and that, unlike Djindjic, it didn’t need to get its hands dirty cutting deals with the security apparatus.

And yet the challenges that faced the pro-democracy revolt after it won in 2000 remain today, even if in a different form and geopolitical context. The question for Student List is: Who will be Serbia’s Peter Magyar, the former Orban acolyte who triumphed in Hungarian elections earlier this year, and is now dismantling the captured institutions of Orban’s illiberal democracy? That’s a bruising and ongoing process, but if Magyar were to leave the courts, state media and other critical bodies as they are, political tools run by Orban's cronies, they would consume him. Serbia will need a similar housecleaning.

Vucic acknowledged his defeat quickly and with grace, which is far from a given today. He deserves recognition for that. But he also pledged to return to beat the student movement and its leaders sooner than they think, so his equanimity may reflect the confidence of a man who knows the booby traps that await his opponents — because he put them there. Unless Student List's professors can find their own Magyar or Djindjic, Vucic’s prediction could well prove correct.