 |
 |
| ||||
|
|
War Crimes in the Balkans By Janine di Giovanni (Wall Street Journal) HERCEG NOVI, Montenegro - In a 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 around the table was of 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 KLA guerrilla was relevant and crucial, and more important, symbolized the fate of all of the former Yugoslav nations. Bosnia is still reeling from the indictment of Gen. Rasim Delic, and even "good" commanders, like General 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 pre-condition 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 war-time Bosnian Serb leader. Neither seem closer to the Hague than they 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 worse moments of the Bosnian war, a particular kind of Yugoslav humour-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 United States, 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. They had 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 told her 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, gruelling 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 multi-ethnicity 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 which went up in flames as the Serbs gleefully watched. There are now good restaurants, hotels, Internet cafes. 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, who is 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 Bosnian friend with close ties to the government told me privately that he estimated bout $500 million in outside aid has "disappeared," More importantly, the physical Sarajevo is being restored to its former self, but the soul has all but been destroyed. A local psychologist once estimated that nearly the entire population who had remained in the city 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 truly prevail. The big fish like Delic or Haradinaj are sitting in the Hague, but the little, truly evil fish-the ones who burnt their neighbours homes or raped women in sports centres in Foca-are sitting in cafes, 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 cafes. 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 some people are making money. An accused assassin, Milorad Ulemek, a.k.a. Legija, a former paramilitary leader human rights groups say is responsible for some of the worse crimes of the Yugoslav wars, is one of the few people 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, Serbias little sister, has a successful black market economy, but talking with young people also filled me with despair. There are no jobs or no 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 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 re-build, but to heal. Other Balkan leaders must pressure the indicted to go to the Hague. Because without the tribunal, there is no European recognition. And without Europe, there is no road forward, out of that darkness which is their past. |
|
|
||