Serbia’s government has cleared the way for a controversial luxury hotel development in Belgrade, backed by Jared Kushner, the son-in-law of former U.S. President Donald Trump, on the ruins of the former Yugoslav Army headquarters - a site bombed during the 1999 NATO campaign.

The decision, which grants full redevelopment rights to Affinity Partners, Kushner’s investment firm, has ignited fierce public debate in Serbia over the project’s symbolism, foreign influence, and political timing.

“This is not just real estate — it’s history,” said Belgrade urban historian Dragan Popović. “Rebuilding the site with Trump-linked money feels like rewriting the story of that war.”

A Landmark Reimagined

The proposed $500 million project envisions a five-star hotel, retail complex, and residential towers in the heart of central Belgrade. According to government documents, Affinity Partners will lease the site for 99 years, with construction expected to begin in 2026.

The location — once the command center of the Yugoslav Army — was heavily bombed during NATO’s 1999 intervention, leaving its skeletal remains as one of Belgrade’s most visible war scars. For many Serbs, it remains a site of mourning and defiance.

Still, the Serbian government argues that redevelopment offers economic revitalization and global investment credibility.

“This is a chance to turn tragedy into opportunity,” Prime Minister Ana Brnabić said during a press conference. “It will create jobs, attract tourism, and send a message that Belgrade is open for business.”

Political and Ethical Flashpoints

The deal has drawn scrutiny both domestically and abroad, not only for its symbolism but also for its connections to the Trump orbit. Kushner’s firm has previously faced criticism for pursuing foreign projects tied to governments with political leverage over Trump-aligned interests.

While Donald Trump is not directly involved, his ongoing political ambitions and global brand visibility make any project linked to his family politically charged.

Opposition leader Dragan Đilas called the move “a betrayal of memory,” accusing the government of “selling a national symbol to Trump’s shadow network.”

Human rights groups and veterans’ organizations have also condemned the project, arguing that the site should remain a memorial rather than a luxury destination.

“This isn’t development, it’s erasure,” said Milica Petrović, a Belgrade-based activist. “A hotel over the ruins of war sends the wrong message to survivors.”

U.S. and European Reactions

The U.S. State Department declined to comment on the project, describing it as a private business matter. However, European diplomats privately expressed unease that Serbia — an EU membership candidate — is aligning itself with figures tied to the Trump political ecosystem, which has often clashed with Brussels’ agenda.

Analysts say the development fits into a broader strategy by Serbia to balance Western investment with nationalist optics, projecting economic modernization while appealing to domestic pride.

“This deal shows how Serbia is positioning itself — not fully in the EU camp, but not against the U.S. either,” said Sonja Biserko, president of the Helsinki Committee for Human Rights in Serbia. “It’s walking the line between profit and politics.”

The Site and the Story

The bombed-out General Staff complex, designed by architect Nikola Dobrović, has stood untouched for over two decades, serving as both a symbol of NATO’s firepower and Serbia’s resilience.

Urban planners have long debated whether to preserve the ruins as a national monument or redevelop them as part of Belgrade’s modernization drive. The government’s decision to side with private investors signals a decisive break from nostalgia — and a tilt toward global capital.

Renderings released by Affinity Partners show glass-and-marble facades rising over the preserved foundations, blending modern architecture with remnants of the original structure — a move some architects call “aesthetic reconciliation,” while critics deem it “commercial exploitation.”

The Takeaway

For Serbia, the Kushner project represents both ambition and amnesia — a bid to turn a battlefield relic into a skyline landmark, at the cost of reopening historical wounds.

As construction plans advance, the site that once symbolized conflict between Belgrade and NATO may now become a stage for a different kind of struggle — between memory and modernity.

“Every city decides how to remember,” Popović said. “Belgrade just chose to forget - in five-star style.”