By Stefan Wagstyl in London, Irena Guzelova in Belgrade and Kerin Hope in Athens Published: April 4 2001 17:40GMT | Last Updated: April 4 2001 19:10GMT Slobodan Milosevic seems to care little that he is accused of war crimes. But it irritates him that the first allegations pressed against him in court are for personal corruption. "I don't mind any investigation of any aspect of my life, but it bothers me to be treated as a criminal for what I have done for my state," said the former Yugoslav president in a signed court statement this week. Mr Milosevic claims that whatever he did, he did for Yugoslavia. The argument is simple. But is it true? It will take years to fully investigate the vast web of financial arrangements that underpinned Mr Milosevic's 13 years in office. But already the broad outlines seem clear: the bulk of the regime's financial dealings were indeed used to support the regime and its political aims, however evil or misguided. The money was spent on guns and fuel for the security forces, supporting the state-dominated economy, and buying social peace through pensions, salaries and subsidies. Many of the transactions were murky - but they had to be to finance foreign armies such as the Croatian and Bosnian Serbs and avoid international economic sanctions. However, it is also clear from the evidence so far uncovered by Serbian prosecutors that many of Mr Milosevic's associates used their access to state funds for personal gain. As Mladjan Dinkic, the central bank governor who is supervising an international hunt for concealed funds, says: "I think it was mixed. Some operations were made because of sanctions but some were made to enrich some of Milosevic's people." As bad as the theft itself was its effect on Serb society. By allowing the state to break the law, Mr Milosevic licensed the criminalisation of the whole country. If nothing had to be reported, everything was allowed, including smuggling, drug running, and murder. Power, money and crime overlapped: when Mihajl Kertes, Mr Milosevic's customs chief, was arrested last year, in his office were found 80 guns, DM2.3m (E1.17m, $1.04m) and seven kilos of heroin. "There wasn't a profitable business which wasn't controlled by criminals," says Dobrivoje Radovanovic, director of Belgrade's criminology institute. Identifying and recovering the ill-gotten gains is important politically to the new government that took over after Mr Milosevic's overthrow last year. Serbs see themselves as the financial victims of the Milosevic regime's thieving ways, even if they were also often the beneficiaries when the "stolen" money was recycled into the economy in the form of state salaries and other transfers. The scale of officially sanctioned diversion was enormous. In the biggest smash-and-grab raid on the Yugoslav public, the government in the early 1990s sequestered DM6bn-DM6.5bn in hard currency from private bank accounts. It was later returned in Yugoslav dinars, but only after its value had been destroyed through hyperinflation. Borka Vucic, the former chairman of Beogradska Banka, who was known as Mr Milosevic's banker, makes no apology: "We had no other resources. We urgently needed medicine, hospital equipment." G17, an independent economic think-tank, says hyperinflation was used to transfer wealth from the public to the state and its associates. By printing cash to pay its bills, the regime stayed a small step ahead of the inflationary curve at its citizens' expense. Banks were extensively abused. By swallowing up 21 other institutions, Beogradska Bank came to dominate a system in which normal credit rules were suspended and loans advanced at the regime's behest at low interest rates and no collateral. One estimate puts the total at about $12bn, almost equal to annual GDP. Company funds were also diverted, particularly by associates of Mira Markovic, Mr Milosevic's wife and leader of JUL, a tight-knit leftwing party that proved more adept at grabbing control of business than her husband's Socialist party. Senior JUL members managed Telekom Srbija, the telecom monopoly, EPS, the electrical utility, and Dunav, the dominant insurer. The proportion of secret money in the state's finances grew continuously. Bozidar Djelic, the new finance minister, says that last year about 40 per cent of the Serbian republic's budget, or about 20bn dinars ($300m) bypassed parliamentary procedures. Hard currency was more use than dinars. A key source of revenue was customs duties, levied in hard currency on imports including alcohol, cigarettes, and cars. The charge sheet against Mr Milosevic alleges Mr Kertes, the customs chief's, off-budget income included the proceeds of auctions of illegally imported vehicles. He has described how on June 7 1996, he gave Nikola Sainovic, then Serbian deputy prime minister, and another ally DM900,000. Six months later he gave Mr Sainovic DM250,000 more. The charge sheets also describe how the boundaries were blurred in handling public money. On December 1 1997, Mr Milosevic is alleged to have instructed his aides to siphon funds abroad to buy equipment for the police and state security. The conduit was the Cyprus branch of Beogradska Banka, Mrs Vucic's bank. In 1997, the government had a spectacular windfall with the sale of 49 per cent of Telekom Srbija to Telecom Italia and OTE, the Italian and Greek telephone groups, for DM1.7bn. The new authorities in Belgrade say the money enabled Mr Milosevic to pay state pensions and wages ahead of key elections and help quieten a dangerous wave of public protests. Telecom ministry officials suspect bribes were paid and want to renegotiate the privatisation. Belgrade's few international allies also gave their support, including Russia, which supplied gas and fuel on credit, and China, which contributed medicines and industrial raw materials. If the financial inflows were murky, so were the outflows. For much of the 1990s, Yugoslavia was at war or subject to trade sanctions. Mrs Vucic says economic sanctions blocked financial transactions and forced the authorities into clandestine channels. The new government has found regime-linked accounts in Greece, Switzerland, Austria and the US. But the biggest money pipeline ran through Cyprus, a financial centre known then for its lax controls, where about 7,500 Yugoslav offshore companies were registered. Mrs Vucic was a frequent visitor. In the late 1990s, when Cyprus began to tighten banking rules, some of the traffic switched to Beirut. Mr Dinkic says cash and gold was transported by air, trains, buses and boats to destinations as far away as China. Once safe in an overseas bank, the money was clean and ready to be wired around the world. Mainly, it bought fuel, arms, vehicles and essentials such as medicines. Some of these imports entered Serbia openly. Many did not - including fuel that was supplied by sanctions-busting tankers via the Adriatic and via the Danube from Romania. The G17 think-tank says: "The trade deficit [of over $1bn a year] was mostly financed from the foreign accounts of the political establishment and by funds from numerous publicly unregistered state organisations." The very murkiness of these arrangements created great opportunities for self-enrichment. Despite Mr Milosevic's denials, it is clear that some of those close to him grew wealthy from their proximity to power. They made money from commissions on foreign trade and from import licences on scarce goods such as alcohol and cigarettes. They also had ready access to bank loans, particularly from Beogradska Banka, which came to dominate the industry. According to documents from Beobanka, a Beogradska Banka affiliate, among the recipients of housing loans were Mr Kertes and Nada Popovic-Peresic, the culture minister. The Milosevic family hairdresser, borrowed DM500,000 to renovate her Belgrade salon. Despite the president's protestations, his own family benefited. His playboy son, Marko Milosevic, secured money mainly through control of fuel and cigarette smuggling rackets. He moved about with armed thugs who dealt ruthlessly with his business rivals. Marko Milosevic spent money lavishly on cars and parties in luxury hotels. His pet projects included a nightclub and an amusement park called Bambiland. The competition for funds and favour had few bounds. Scores were settled by violence, including murder. Among those killed was Arkan, a flamboyant paramilitary leader and smuggler, who was shot dead in January last year in the lobby of the Belgrade Inter-Continental Hotel, the favourite meeting place for wealthy politicians, business people and gangsters. Zika Petrovic, head of JAT, the state airline, also died, gunned down in the street as he walked his dogs. The regime's cronies invested little in Serbia, aside from the expensive houses they built for themselves in Belgrade. The new authorities are therefore looking abroad for any funds that were not lavished on conspicuous consumption. Almost their first act after Mr Milosevic's overthrow last October was to close as many regime-related bank accounts as they could, principally in Cyprus and Switzerland. So far SFr120m ($70m) has been found in 35 accounts in Switzerland, including one in the name of Mirko Marjanovic, the former Serbian prime minister, and an unknown amount in about 20 accounts in Cyprus, among them one thought to belong to Marko Milosevic. In Greece the authorities are checking bank accounts and considering widening the search to Serb-owned assets, including a hotel in Crete in which the Milosevic family allegedly has a stake. In her elegant Belgrade flat, Mrs Vucic insists little will be found. "They [the new authorities] will not find anything. We had a balance of payments deficit, no production and our export markets were blocked, so what do you think they will find? Peanuts." However what may be "peanuts" to Mrs Vucic may not be peanuts to ordinary Serbs. Mr Dinkic says he will keep looking despite the difficulties. The former regime's secrecy is one obstacle. Another is the desire of its former foreign partners to conceal the degree of their co-operation, notably in Greece, where Mr Milosevic enjoyed close ties with the ruling Panhellenic Socialist Movement. Russia and China too see little point in hounding their former ally's friends. Marko Milosevic, who fled Belgrade after his father's overthrow, is thought to be hiding in the former Soviet Union. But Mr Dinkic is determined to press on with the hunt. "We can't build democracy if we don't punish everybody who was corrupted. We must punish those who abused their political power to rob our people." _______________________________________________ CrashList website: http://website.lineone.net/~resource_base
