TIME: Almanac 1993/TIME Almanac 1993.iso/time/071591/0715000.000

Text File | 1992-08-28 | 10.5 KB | 236 lines

                                                                                WORLD, Page 26

YUGOSLAVIA

Out of Control


In a country where all sides are consumed by ancient animosities,
even the army seems incapable of halting the drive for secession

By JILL SMOLOWE -- Reported by Daniel Benjamin/Belgrade and James
L. Graff/Ljubljana, with other bureaus


    How to make sense out of a country, and a spasm of
violence, that makes little sense in itself? Whom to sympathize
with, in a struggle among hostile and unreasonable antagonists?
In whose hands is the country called Yugoslavia, stitched
together from unwilling parts? Why can't the claims of
self-determination be solved peacefully?

    Neither those locked in conflict within the country's
borders nor those watching from a distance could explain exactly
what guided events last week as the showdown between the
Yugoslav People's Army and the secessionist republics of
Slovenia and Croatia first pushed toward all-out civil war, then
pulled back in a shaky cease-fire. What baffled most was not so
much the sporadic bloodshed -- all but foreordained by centuries
of ethnic antagonisms -- but the political and military muddle.
No one seemed to be in charge, and the country appeared to be
sliding into chaos. The federation's civilian leadership looked
like spectators at a war of the army's making, while the
rebellious Slovenian militia sought ways not just to eject
federal troops but to humiliate them as well. The army itself
seemed in jeopardy of splintering along the very ethnic lines
that surely make Yugoslavia the most Balkanized of Balkan
states.

    Although the centuries-old ethnic, religious and political
enmities roiling Yugoslavia must seem very distant to most
Americans, the turbulence has immediate meaning. The U.S. is
currently engaged in a social debate that pits the virtues of
ethnic and racial diversity against the value of a common
national identity. Of course, unlike the artificial construct
that is Yugoslavia, America evolved organically, its identity
forged by a populace that for the most part joined the union
eagerly, not with sullen resistance. Still, it was instructive
for Americans to watch the television footage from Yugoslavia
to see what unbounded "multiculturalism" can look like. Had
Americans spent the past two centuries as the Yugoslavs have,
stoking ethnic antagonisms rather than trying to forge shared
values, last week's Fourth of July celebration might have had
a very different stripe.

    Yugoslavs may feel the countervailing claims of federation
vs. separation are too inimical to settle any other way than by
the gun. But even the most ardent of the antagonists still has
time to consider whether the Yugoslav parties can solve the
problem through peaceful dialogue. The prevailing mood last week
was grim. A cease-fire brokered by the European Community came
and went. Another, negotiated a few days later by the Yugoslavs
themselves, held into the weekend -- but only barely. As many as
180 army tanks and armored vehicles that drove out of the
federal capital of Belgrade shortly before the new cease-fire
rested along the border of Croatia, a republic whose push for
independence holds potential for far greater violence than
Slovenia's. The question was whether those columns were halted
in response to the flurry of diplomatic activity -- or only to
regroup for a major assault.

    Early in the week General Blagoje Adzic, an ethnic Serb
and the army's Chief of Staff, issued a chilling statement on
national television: "We have to accept war because the
alternative -- surrender or treason -- does not exist for us."
The cease-fire imposed the next day seemed to contradict Adzic's
warning.

    But 24 hours later, the war of ultimatums again heated up.
Yugoslavia's eight-member collective presidency demanded that
Slovenia surrender control of its 27 border posts within three
days. The issue was more than symbolic: in a country where
customs duties account for as much as one-third of the
government's revenue, the key crossings to Italy, Austria and
Hungary are a major source of federal income. Slovenian
information minister Jelko Kacin rejoined, "I state
categorically that Yugoslavia no longer has a border with Italy
or Austria." While Slovenia did demobilize 10,000 members of its
forces and respond to federal demands to release prisoners and
lift blockades around army bases, Kacin warned, "The war is not
over."

    Slovenia was no more reasonable than the federal
government in its demands. Intent on seizing all the arms from
the troops sent into the republic and on publicly humbling the
army, the republic's government scuttled the first cease-fire
by demanding that departing forces turn over all weapons except
personal arms before retiring to their barracks. "Provocateurs,"
said a Western diplomat stationed in Belgrade.

    Civilian authorities were ill positioned to impose a
truce; a sense of powerlessness was endemic. Many admitted being
as shocked as the rest of the world by Adzic's bellicose
statement and by the dispatch of the menacing column toward
Croatia's border. Asked if he thought Adzic was a loyal
supporter of the federal government, Prime Minister Ante
Markovic retorted, "I don't know, you'll have to ask him. Why
are you asking me?"

    Whom to ask, then? The military high command? The mixed
signals emanating from Yugoslavia's generals increased
speculation that even the army itself did not know what its next
move would be. No sooner had Adzic issued his belligerent
warning than another general, Andreja Raseta, a Serb from
Croatia who is deputy commander of the Yugoslav army units
deployed in Slovenia, announced that federal troops would not
fire unless they were fired upon. The Defense Minister, General
Veljko Kadijevic, in the meantime assured the federal presidency
that the army would abide by the cease-fire. Long considered a
moderate, he is now suspected by some diplomats of having shown
an agreeable face to civilian authorities while actually
promoting a hard line.

    The failure of the military to speak with a unified voice
raised several possibilities. The generals may have been
orchestrating a sophisticated good cop-bad cop routine. Perhaps
events were moving so swiftly that the threat from Adzic was
rendered moot by Slovenia's subsequent announcement of a
unilateral cease-fire. Or maybe the generals were acting at
cross-purposes.

    Even if the high command remains united, the army that
Josip Broz Tito built during World War II threatens to fracture
along the very ethnic lines that have created Yugoslavia's
current miasma. Led by a cadre of generals who are the last
bastion of hard-line communism in the country, the officer corps
is predominantly Serbian, while the conscript ranks reflect the
multi ethnic complexion of the Yugoslav federation. Among the
2,300 troops captured by the Slovenes were hundreds who had
turned themselves in, testimony to the lack of resolve within
the ranks. Many of the troops fighting in Slovenia are raw
recruits called up this year. Reflecting a conviction shared by
many soldiers, Corporal Nebojsa Jankovic, 20, a Serb who saw
two comrades killed by Slovenian fire, said of the army's
attempted crackdown, "In my mind, it was a mistake."

    Concerned parents on both sides of the conflict share the
soldiers' lack of enthusiasm for a war that has already claimed
57 lives. Last week in Serbia, mothers took to the streets
demanding that their sons return home. In Slovenia, Nada
Mesaric, 45, whose son is garrisoned in Macedonia near the
Kosovo border, said, "I don't think it's important to any of us
whether Yugoslavia stays together."

    Given the muddled situation in Yugoslavia, it was not
surprising that Western officials on both sides of the Atlantic
were having trouble finding a comfortable political stance. When
violence first erupted, the international community called for
the preservation of "territorial integrity" warned separatists
that a violent breakaway would receive neither economic nor
political support. The U.S. and the E.C. feared that instability
in Yugoslavia might ignite secessionist-minded forces throughout
Eastern Europe. But that position was undermined by the army's
harsh response, which sparked calls for Western officials to
uphold such fundamental values as the right to
self-determination and freedom.

    The U.S. and the European Community were showered with
complaints that their failure to support such values may have
encouraged the crackdown. "The Yugoslav generals got the idea
that the West did not care about the declarations of
independence," says Wolf Oschlies, a policy analyst at the
Federal Institute for International Studies in Cologne. "So they
attacked." Not only right-wing conservatives but even liberal
democrats like Rhode Island Senator Claiborne Pell asked the
White House to give more support to the embattled republics.
"The U.S. would not be true to its national values if it did not
line up foursquare in support of democracy," said Pell. "It
would be better if the Yugoslav peoples could find a way to live
together, but unity at all costs is not the answer."

    The U.S. and members of the E.C. altered course last week.
President Bush hinted that he would recognize the republics,
provided independence was achieved peacefully. In Europe, where
public sympathy for the secessionists runs high, Germany made
the sharpest U-turn. "Countries cannot be held together by tanks
and force," said Chancellor Helmut Kohl. He warned Belgrade that
an attack on Slovenia or Croatia could affect German economic
aid to Yugoslavia, which last year totaled $550 million.
Britain, France and Italy are also considering joining the
Western swing toward recognition.

    It seems only a matter of time before Slovenia gains
foreign acceptance as the Continent's youngest state.
Geographically bounded by more European states than Yugoslav
republics, ethnically homogeneous and capable of economic
self-sufficiency, Slovenia is well poised for independence. Last
week there were signs that even Serbia, which has pressed
hardest to maintain a Yugoslav federation, was loosening its
objections. The courtesy does not extend to Croatia, however;
neither its 600,000 resident Serbs nor their kin in Serbia have
any intention of making a breakaway easy. If hostilities erupt
there, the ensuing conflagration may make Slovenia's bloody
quest look like an orderly march to independence.