The initial effect of NATO bombing has been to arouse nationalist feeling in Serbia,
for all Serbs are united on the issue of Kosovo, the "historic heartland" of the
nation. President Slobodan Milosevic has made keeping the province with its Albanian
majority within Serbia the springboard for his rise to power. But The country is in deep
crisis. Even before the bombing, Serbia was already diplomatically isolated and on the
verge of economic crisis marked by poverty and corruption. If the regime manages to
survive, it will be thanks to Milosevic's tactical skills. He has succeeded in isolating
or rallying a discredited opposition. But for the people, disgusted with politics, the
main concern is to survive from day to day.
by our special correspondent THOMAS HOFNUNG *
Revolution Boulevard, one of Belgrade's main thoroughfares - leaning up against the
dilapidated buildings, cigarettes dangling from their lips, are men huddled in great-coats
who hiss at passing foreigners "devize, devize" (change money, change
money). At a time of severe economic crisis, the "currency dealers" as they are
known here, are trying to survive by buying and selling precious Deutschmarks. Banks will
give you a fixed rate of six Yugoslav dinars to one mark, but in Revolution Boulevard the
rate has risen from eight to nine dinars in the space of just a week.
Along that same avenue others have adopted a different survival tactic: from the boots
of their little Zastava cars parked along the pavement they sell a jumble of underwear,
tubes of glue, bars of chocolate and contraband cigarettes. According to a Belgrade
resident who regularly turns up to change his marks on the avenue, the vendors include
many pensioners, but also teachers, engineers and even soldiers.
Some ten years back, the residents of Belgrade were not much concerned with the
problems of daily life. The Yugoslav capital, like the rest of the country, was buzzing
with a nationalist fever that Marshal Tito had long managed to contain. On 28 June 1989 -
600 years after Prince Lazar was defeated by the Ottoman Sultan Murad's troops at the
Field of the Blackbirds - Slobodan Milosevic gathered a crowd of more than a million on
the outskirts of Pristina (Kosovo's main city). The hour of revenge - or so they believed
- had come. "Serbia", Milosevic told his transfixed audience, "is facing
new battles, battles that do not necessarily involve the use of arms, though that's not
ruled out".
Government attempts to hide problems
A decade later, many Serbs seem resigned to the loss of Kosovo, despite considering it
the "cradle" of their homeland. In late February, while Serbs and Albanians were
negotiating in Rambouillet, the nationalist parties tried to stir up emotions by calling
for a demonstration in front of the federal parliament. It was hardly worth the effort: on
a dull day, just a few dozen people responded, shouting out, but with no real conviction:
"Slobo, ne daj Kosovo!" (Slobo, keep a hold on Kosovo). Passers-by barely
raised an eyebrow.
Nationalism is no longer a trump card (1) but it may be fuelled by the war,
particularly since Milosevic seems to be more than ever in control in Yugoslavia. He has
plenty of leeway to govern the country as he sees fit. Vojin Dimitrijevic, director of the
Belgrade Centre for Human Rights and a fierce opponent of the regime, is surprised at
this: "Normally, people support a leader when he's moving from one victory to the
next, but not in Serbia. There are no longer any Serbs in Croatia or Sarajevo (2). We're
on the brink of losing Kosovo but Milosevic is still in power". Apathy is the word
most frequently used by local analysts to describe the current mood of the population.
According to Radomir Diklic, director of Beta, the country's only independent press
agency, "our main concern is to get through this as individuals".
In the independent weekly Vreme (3), the former governor of the Yugoslav central
bank (from 1993-96), Dragoslav Avramovic, recently painted a grim picture of the Serb
economy. He estimates that 80% of Serb businesses are in deficit; average monthly pay has
fallen to 152 DM (about $81), compared with 757 DM in Croatia and 1,040 DM in Slovenia;
the central bank's currency reserves have fallen to $50 million and the social impact of
the crisis is no less devastating. Official figures put the unemployment rate at 27% of
the working population. According to Avramovic, the death rate among pensioners has
doubled in recent years. Quoting the statistics of the Belgrade Red Cross, the former
governor notes that 220,000 residents of Belgrade aged over 70 are currently living alone
and destitute.
An economy already on its last legs has been dealt a final blow by the loss of its
traditional markets, the lack of structural reforms and the sanctions imposed on
Yugoslavia by the international community since 1992 (because of its support for the
separatist Bosnian Serb leadership). But sociologist Milo Petrovic reckons that "by
allowing Milosevic to portray the West as being solely responsible for the current
disaster, the sanctions are having the kind of perverse effect that has already been
observed elsewhere. The people, meantime, have learned to survive by resorting to the
black market and trafficking in goods of all kinds".
Already on the brink of collapse, how long can the Yugoslav economy hold out? Dragoslav
Avramovic thinks no longer than a few months. "As long as the West does not grant
loans to Milosevic in exchange for an agreement on Kosovo" adds Beta boss Diklic who
sees the economic crisis as the best hope of bringing down the regime. Once the Dayton
accords were signed, international sanctions were partially lifted (4) and the Yugoslav
authorities took the opportunity to sell the telecoms company Telekom Serbije to a
Greek-Italian consortium, pocketing more than a billion dollars in the process. Avramovic
points out that, so far, the authorities have managed to avoid selling the furniture:
"They're preventing social unrest by ensuring that one way or another there is food
in the shops." But despite all their efforts, last winter sugar and oil were in short
supply in Serbian cities. And not a voice was heard in protest.
Most television news coverage focuses on the crisis in Kosovo - as previously with the
conflicts in Croatia and Bosnia (1991-95) - allowing social and economic problems to be
swept under the carpet. Who is going to risk calling a strike or criticising government
economic policy just when Kosovo may be handed over to its Albanian majority and NATO is
dropping its bombs? Dimitrijevic thinks that "only when the Kosovo issue has been
resolved will people stop living a lie and return to reality".
The authorities have nonetheless taken the precaution of stifling those rare
independent voices that dare to speak out in the local media. Last October, the Serb
parliament adopted legislation that lays down severe penalties for "defeatism"
and "scare-mongering". The daily Dnevni Telegraf had to close down after
astronomical fines were imposed on it. But its proprietor, Slavko Curuvija, refused to be
defeated: his paper is now printed in the neighbouring republic of Montenegro, with the
backing of the local authorities (openly in conflict with Milosevic for several months
now). Every night, the paper is secretly taken into Serbia (5) to be sold clandestinely in
Belgrade. Other independent publications, whose circulation is in any case very limited,
practice self-censorship to avoid meeting the same fate. The war means they are unlikely
to get the new, more liberal, legislation the federal government recently promised, bowing
to international pressure.
A tarnished opposition
How is Serbia to be rescued from economic collapse? The opposition might well have a
few ideas, but television viewers won't get to hear of them. "Milosevic's grip on the
audiovisual media, the main source of information for the people of Yugoslavia, allows him
to sidestep all debate" complains Slobodan Brkic, a young economic adviser to Zoran
Djindjic's Democratic Party (DS). But even if the opposition did have the opportunity to
broadcast its message, there is no guarantee it would be heeded, such is its lack of
public credibility these days, even in its Belgrade stronghold.
During the winter of 1996-97, the Zajedno (Together) coalition, made up of Vuc
Draskovic's Serbian Renewal Movement (SPO), Vesna Pesic's Civic Alliance and Jinjic's DS,
brought a great wave of hope to the country (6). Three months of daily demonstrations
shook the authorities, who were forced, reluctantly, to acknowledge defeat in about 15
towns and cities, including Belgrade. "The Serbs displayed real people power at the
time" recalls Milo Petrovic. "But there had to be a swift response to the
unprecedented mobilisation to meet the profound aspirations of the people". Instead,
internal rivalries between Jinjic and Draskovic caused the coalition to implode.
Two years on, Jinjic, who tactfully notes that Zajedno was set up on
"difficult" bases, is clearly losing out in the polls. Draskovic meantime has
opted to join the regime: last December he accepted the post of federal deputy prime
minister, responsible for international relations. This was something of a shock to his
electorate. Draskovic brushes aside any objection: "I didn't join the government to
defend a system but to change it. I accepted this post to speed up the process of opening
Yugoslavia up to Europe." Few in Belgrade find that convincing. From the time his
political career first took off, Milosevic has shown himself to be a supreme tactician - a
quality no-one would dare challenge in Serbia. "One of Milosevic's greatest
assets", says sociologist Nebojsa Popov (7), opposed to him from the early days,
"is his ability to select opponents weaker than himself".
As a result, although Yugoslavia appears weaker than ever, Milosevic has never been so
secure. No-one seems able to stand up to him. The opposition is non-existent, though it is
currently trying to regroup within an Alliance for Change (8). This does not look very
convincing compared with the vast coalition Milosevic has managed to build around himself.
In addition to the two pro-governmental parties - the Socialist Party of Serbia (SPS) and
the Yugoslav Left (JUL) led by Milosevic's wife, Mirijana Markovic - are Vojislav Seselj's
Serbian Radical Party (far right) and, more recently, Vuc Draskovic's SPO.
"Once Milosevic has finished pulling the strings of his puppet Seselj, he'll still
be left with Draskovic to manipulate" says Radomir Diklic. The president is in any
event in an ideal position to arbitrate in the conflicts that are bound to arise between
such ill-matched "allies". That may make him appear to be the guarantor of the
institutions, the man able to reassure a population looking for a steer. It remains to be
seen whether Milosevic's vice-like tactical grip on the wheels of state (particularly the
police and the army) will be enough to halt his inexorable decline in popularity. At the
ballot box, despite what appears to be a tradition of electoral fraud, his party is slowly
but surely losing ground. In 1990 the SPS captured 190 of the 250 seats in the assembly.
In 1993 they won only 123. At the last elections in September 1997, the SPS in combination
with the JUL did worse still, winning only 110 seats. Is Milosevic feeling vulnerable? The
recent wave of purges would seem to point that way.
One after another last autumn, the chief-of staff of the federal army, General Momcilo
Perisic, and Airforce and Air Defence (DCA) commander, General Ljubisa Velickovic, were
sacked. According to a source close to the army, the pair made the mistake of disapproving
of the agreement with NATO signed in October 1998 authorising NATO aircraft to fly over
Kosovo and deactivating the DCA systems (9). But other analysts believe General Perisic
was sacked because of the relationship of "trust" he had built up with NATO
Supreme Commander, US General Wesley Clarke, following a series of bilateral discussions
in Kosovo.
A further key figure has fallen by the wayside, as Milosevic tightens his grip on
power: the president has sacked one of his most faithful lieutenants, the head of the
secret service, Jovica Stanisic. He is alleged to have been opposed to the use of force to
halt the demonstrations for democracy of the winter of 1996-97 in Belgrade and to
destabilise the young reformist president of neighbouring Montenegro, Milo Jukanovic.
Above all, he refused to condone the strategy used in Kosovo. In the view of Nebojsa
Popov, "Milosevic is playing a typically Stalinist game. He is constantly changing
the key players in the regime to ensure they're loyal to him: newly promoted officials owe
him their gratitude and are all the more devoted for it".
In the corridors of power, the siege mentality is increasing apparent. Closeted in his
residence at Dedinje (where Marshal Tito once resided) Milosevic now appears only rarely
in public. He reigns like a king entrenched in his palace. His television appearances can
be counted on the fingers of one hand. It is as if, by denouncing the plot hatched by
"traitors" to the Serb nation, supported by "external enemies", the
government has been caught out at its own game.
Embezzlement and vote-catching
Little information filters through as to the mood among officials of the regime. Take
the Federal army, for instance. "It mirrors Serb society" is all that Miroslav
Hadzic, an independent military expert will say. For which read, it is apathetic and in
total disarray. Wages are apparently paid late, troops are bitter in their criticism of
the regime for giving preferential treatment to the better equipped and better paid
special police forces that provide the spearhead of the repression in Kosovo. Vuk
Obradovic, a former general who resigned in 1992, tells how badly the army suffered from
the break-up of Yugoslavia. Army units had to leave Slovenia, Croatia, Macedonia and
Bosnia in haste. Many soldiers were re-housed in poor quality temporary barracks within
the territory of a rump Yugoslavia. "The army is certainly discontented", says
Konstantin Obradovic, an expert in international law, "but Milosevic need have no
fear, there is no Napoleon waiting in the wings".
Last October, Milosevic also tightened his grip on his own party, the SPS. One of the
movement's deputy presidents, considered a moderate, Milorad Vucelic, was also sidelined.
"There are now many senior government officials who grumble in private and curse the
isolation into which the country has sunk because of the policy adopted by Milosevic"
comments a Western diplomat. "But though they may want the president to change tack
politically, they do not want to change president".
Be that as it may, the Yugoslav president has set in place a formidable system for
securing support that many observers consider an effective shield. According to Radomir
Diklic, "Milosevic is interested in power for its own sake. But he allows his
principal collaborators to get rich shamelessly and compromise themselves". In
Serbia, the demarcation lines between economic and political circles tend to become
blurred to the point of farce. For example, the Serb prime minister, Mirko Marjanovic
(SPS), is also the chairman and managing director of the energy company Progres. The
deputy prime minister, Dragan Tomic, runs Simpo, a company that specialises in the
agri-food industry and furniture manufacture. His namesake, Dragan Tomic (SPS), the
president of the parliament, is also the director of Yugopetrol. The minister without
portfolio, Bogoljub Karic, along with his brother, heads a financial empire that includes
banks, a television channel (BK), civil engineering companies and even a university. And
the bulk of the country's main entrepreneurs are members of the JUL, the party of
Milosevic's wife. "The president is said to keep very detailed files on the
embezzlement some of them have got up to in recent years" comments sociologist Dusan
Janic.
A legacy of the Tito era and rampant as a result of the years of economic embargo,
corruption pervades the whole of Serb society but benefits only a tiny minority among the
presidential elite. It erodes people's confidence in the institutions and in politics
generally. According to a Western observer, even the opposition is caught up in it. In
those communes wrested from the government by Jinjic's DS and Draskovic's SPO in 1997,
representatives of the new local council called on people who had built their homes
without the proper permission. In exchange for a sum of money and for joining the party,
they agreed to forget all about it. "To try to keep hold on some kind of normality
and out of an instinct for survival, people are increasingly turning away from the
state": or so Slobodan Vitanovic, a retired teacher of French, believes.
University unrest
Disgust for politics is particularly apparent among students. Since the academic year
began, they have mobilised but only in defence of their own rights. Last spring, the
government, which was determined to neutralise one of the spearheads of the 1996-97
demonstrations, got parliament to pass a new law that soon sparked a crisis. Under the
University Act, the government is able directly to appoint university rectors and deans
who are now assisted by management committees made up exclusively of representatives of
political parties close to the government. In addition, lecturers are required to swear
allegiance to the regime by signing a new contract of employment. Most did so for fear of
losing their jobs (and their meagre monthly salaries of $160), but about a hundred
rebelled and were then sacked.
At the beginning of the 1998 academic year, a new dean, Radmilo Marojevic, appointed by
government decree and a member of the extreme right SRS, took over at the faculty of
language and literature. "I regret to say that our country and our culture are, in a
manner of speaking, being occupied from within", he told the independent radio
station B92, more or less accusing students of being the stooges of the "enemy"
secret services (10). Shortly afterwards Marojevic decided to ban the study of Croatian
literature in his faculty. To counter Western influences, Russian and Polish studies were
given precedence over French and English. Finally half the Italian lecturers who refused
to sign the contract were fired on the spot.
In late November 1998 a student committee called for a general strike that was
partially observed, until three demands were met: Marojevic had to resign, the
university's former regulations were to be restored and the sacked lecturers reinstated.
In late February, after a power struggle lasting several weeks, Marojevic suddenly asked
to be transferred to Moscow. A few days later, the government announced that his successor
was to be a lecturer from the JUL. War-weary, many of the students returned to their
classes.
Did it ever occur to them to continue the struggle against the regime outside the
university? According to Tiana Jovanovic, one of the movement's leaders, "students do
not feel sympathetic to any political party. We have no confidence in them and we want to
sort out our own problems for ourselves". That comes as no surprise to Nada Petrovic,
chair of the newly created independent union of teachers in the faculty of languages and
literature. "People are afraid and they're not ready to take positive action. The
poorer you are, the harder it is to be courageous".
Kosovo seems a million miles away from the smoke-filled corridors of the literature
faculty or the pavements of Revolution Boulevard. Tiana Jovanovic will only concede that
the students want a negotiated solution. Disgusted with politics, their demands in tatters
and battling daily for survival: no wonder Milosevic has managed to wipe out all forms of
challenge - for the time being at least. He also benefits from the respect for authority
inculcated in the Serb people by five centuries of Ottoman domination, close on half a
century of Titoism and 10 years of national communism, as Konstantin Obradovic points out.
Close to Mrs Pesic (Civic Alliance), he is nevertheless struggling to restore to
battle-worthiness what is left of the democratic opposition. Cagey about his chances of
success, he prefers to make a joke of it: "In the 1930s, when parliamentary
government was a new idea in Yugoslavia, a leader of an opposition party complained about
his party's poor showing in the local elections. Suddenly, in a café, he spotted a
like-minded friend. Well you at least must have voted for us, he said. No I didn't, said
his friend. Why ever not? I'll vote for you once you get into power".
*Journalist, former correspondent in Zagreb and later Sarajevo.
Translated by Julie Stoker
- See Jean-Arnault Déréns, "Rude awakening for the orphans of "Greater
Serbia", Le Monde diplomatique English edition, November 1997.
- In August 1995, nearly 200,000 Serbs left the (separatist) "Republic of Serbian
Krajina" in the face of the offensive mounted by the troops of Croat president Franjo
Tudjman, without fighting and without any support from Belgrade. After the Dayton peace
accords, most Serbs living in Sarajevo or its suburbs left the Bosnian capital reunified
under the government of Alija Izetbegovic.
- Special report in Vreme, 20 February 1998.
- After the Dayton accords had been signed, Milosevic was able to get the economic
sanctions imposed on the Yugoslav Federal Republic lifted. In October 1996, once his
relations with Sarajevo, Zagreb and Skopje had been normalised, Belgrade was able to get
sanctions lifted in full. But they were partially re-imposed in spring 1998 because of the
intervention of Yugoslav armed forces in Kosovo.
- According to Slavko Curuvija, the circulation of Dnevni Telegraf was 80,000
before it was banned. That has fallen to 15,000. Its proprietor has asked for
international assistance to secure the future of a newspaper that is likely to have to
shut down before long. Curuvija also published the independent magazine Evropljanin
(The European) which is also banned and is being printed in Croatia.
- See Catherine Samary, "Epreuve de force en Serbie", Le Monde diplomatique,
January 1997.
- Author of the remarkable Radiographie d'un nationalisme. Les racines serbes du conflit
yougoslave, Editions de l'Atelier, Paris 1998.
- The Alliance for Change comprises Zoran Jinjic's Democratic Party (DS), Vesna Pesic's
Civic Alliance, Vuk Obradovic's Social-Democratic Union, a dissident wing of Vuk
Draskovic's SPO, and two independent figures: Dragoslav Avramovic (former governor of the
central bank from 1993 to 1996, who managed to stabilise the hyper-inflation) and Milan
Panic (former prime minister in 1992 and unsuccessful candidate in the 1992 presidential
elections against Milosevic).
- See the AFP dispatch of 25 November 1998, Le Monde, 1 December 1998, and La
Croix, 24 December 1998.
- Washington Post, 26 December 1998.
Document compiled by Dr S D Stein