The Wall Street Journal Europe March 17, 2005
The Unredeemed Balkans
By Janine di Giovanni
HERCEG NOVI, Montenegro -- In this former Venetian city on the
Adriatic coast, I lunched with four friends who once called
themselves Yugoslavians, and now use other names. One is a
Bosniak Muslim from Sarajevo; another a Serb from Croatia who
calls herself a Belgrade girl; another was a former hard-line
Serb who once advised Slobodan Milosevic and now spends most
of his time in Montenegro. The fourth is a Montenegrin who is
a separatist yearning for separation from Serbia. Inevitably,
the hot topic was last week's indictment by the U.N.
war-crimes tribunal of Kosovo's prime minister, Ramush Haradinaj.
Everyone agreed that the arrest of the former Kosovo
Liberation Army guerrilla was relevant and crucial, and more
importantly symbolized the fate of all former Yugoslav
nations. Bosnia is still reeling from the indictment of Gen.
Rasim Delic, and even "good" commanders, like Gen. Jovan
Divijak -- a Serb who helped defend Sarajevo from Bosnian
Serbs during the siege of that city -- are worried that they
too will be sent to The Hague.
In Croatia, the talk is of nothing else but the fate of Gen.
Ante Gotovina. As a precondition to EU entry, Croatia must be
seen to be fully cooperating with the war-crimes tribunal, and
there is a national debate over whether or not that means
turning in local "heroes." The majority of Croats -- 55% --
still think that the government should refuse to extradite
him. Over in Serbia, Gen. Ratko Mladic, the butcher of
Srebrenica, is still at large, as is Radovan Karadzic, the
wartime Bosnian Serb leader. Neither seems closer to The Hague
than he did five years ago.
But everyone around the table agreed that even with grave
frustrations, the International War Crimes Tribunal was the
impetus for all the nations to be plunged into the future.
"It seems the road to The Hague," the Bosniak said over several
bottles of Montenegrin cabaret, "is inevitably linked to our destiny."
Then the table grew lighter. Even during some of the worst
moments of the Bosnian war, a particular kind of Yugoslav
humor -- dark, biting -- always prevailed. Now, the topic
turned to Mr. Karadzic. Everyone knows he is somewhere at
large in the remote Montenegrin hinterlands. Yet, despite an
enormous reward put on his head by the U.S., no one seems
motivated to turn him in. Was this Serb brotherhood and unity,
I ventured, that was keeping him deftly out of the hands of The Hague?
My Croatian-Serb friend piped up. She had a conversation that
morning with Bosnian Serb refugees who ran the local street
market and told her that they would never go after Mr.
Karadzic -- not out of loyalty but because they did not know
where to spend the money in Montenegro. "There's nothing to
buy here," one said glumly.
And there you have the future of the Balkans in a nutshell: It
all goes back to money. If everyone plays ball with The Hague,
they get money and recognition. Ante Gotovina may have to
sacrifice himself for his country. Messrs. Mladic and Karadzic
will keep the Serbs pariahs until they are sitting in the
dock, which seems unlikely. And how the Kosovar Albanians
react to Mr. Haradinaj's voluntary departure may determine
whether or not they get independence.
---
In these countries, the work of nation-building has been slow,
grueling and not always successful. This November will mark
the 10-year anniversary of the Dayton Peace Accords, which
ended the Bosnian war. A decade on, Sarajevo, the symbol of
both the horror of that conflict and the multiethnicity of the
region, is being rebuilt. The National Library, which burnt
after fierce shelling in August, 1992, is nearly completed.
There are new books waiting in boxes to be placed on the
shelves -- to replace the ancient Ottoman manuscripts that
went up in flames as the Serbs gleefully watched.
But underneath the sparkling exterior, there are serious
problems. Bosnia is no longer run by the Ottomans or the
Hapsburgs but by Paddy Ashdown, a former British Liberal
Democratic leader and the international community's high
representative. Since the war, Bosnia has become a crossroads
for smugglers and traffickers, for migrants and sex workers
trying to reach Europe.
One wonders where all the money and effort have gone. Since
1995, Bosnia has absorbed roughly $5 billion in donor aid but
economically the country is a mess: the expensive restaurants
are kept afloat by expats on aid contracts or the local
mafias. No emerging middle class exists. A friend with
government ties estimates that about $500 million in aid
"disappeared." More importantly, the soul of Sarajevo is all
but destroyed. A psychologist once estimated that nearly the
entire population that stayed during the war was suffering
from post-traumatic stress disorder.
This is compounded by the bitter knowledge that Hague or no
Hague, justice may never prevail. Big fish like Delic or
Haradinaj are in The Hague, but the little, truly evil fish --
who burned their neighbors' homes or raped women in sports
centers in Foca -- are a long way from the eyes of chief
prosecutor Carla del Ponte. "Who will ever catch those men?"
asked a woman who was held in the rape camp in Foca, and who
later gave birth to a daughter whose father could be one of
hundreds of men. Until the men who tormented her are caught,
she can never go home again. It is too agonizing for her to
see them nonchalantly sipping coffee in cafe.
---
The people of Serbia are also in lousy shape. The economic
boom predicted once Slobodan Milosevic left for The Hague
never happened. Solidarity with Europe is still distant. Until
Mladic and Karadzic are rounded up, Serbia will forever remain
tainted. Prime Minister Vojislav Kostunica has preferred not
to put pressure on the indicted, making it unlikely that
Serbia can even take the first formal steps to EU membership.
It is true that some people are making money. An accused
assassin, Milorad Ulemek, a.k.a. Legija, a former paramilitary
leader whom human-rights groups say is responsible for some of
the worst crimes of the Yugoslav wars, is one of the few
really doing well. He just wrote a best-selling novel. Radovan
Karadzic has also recently written a novel from whatever hole
he is hiding in.
But for ordinary people, it's tough. "It is almost as bad as
the time of the sanctions," a young friend wrote me. "We're
all poor. We need visas to travel anywhere. We have to leave
deposits with embassies in order to go anywhere, even as a tourist!"
Montenegro, Serbia's little sister, has a successful
black-market economy, but talking with young people also
filled me with despair. There are no jobs or prospects. The
only hope for the country to march ahead is to exploit its
spectacular coastline to tourists in the way that Croatia has
done with Dalmatia. But Montenegro is still psychologically
linked to Serbia for many people. So far, the British, the
Italians, the Germans are not nearly as prevalent as the
slightly dodgy Russians who pay for everything in cash.
Everyone here wants to see a new future. Ramush Haradinaj's
resignation and agreement to surrender to the Hague is
symbolic: not only is it crucial to the future of Kosovo, but
to the other nations hoping not only to rebuild, but to heal.
Without the tribunal, there is no European recognition. And
without Europe, there is no road forward, out of that darkness
which is their past.
---
Ms. Di Giovanni is the author of "Madness Visible: A Memoir of
War" (Knopf/Bloomsbury, 2004).
(Copyright (c) 2005, Dow Jones & Company, Inc.)
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