reflections on the balkan wars

Reflections on theBalkan Wars

Ten Years After theBreak Up of Yugoslavia

Edited byJeffrey S. Morton, R. Craig Nation, Paul Forage and Stefano Bianchini

Reflections on the Balkan Wars

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Reflections on the Balkan Wars:

Ten Years After the Break Up of Yugoslavia

Edited by

Jeffrey S. Morton, R. Craig Nation, Paul Forage, andStefano Bianchini

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REFLECTIONS ON THE BALKAN WARS

© Jeffrey S. Morton, 2004

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in anymanner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of briefquotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

First published 2004 byPALGRAVE MACMILLANTM

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PALGRAVE MACMILLAN is the global academic imprint of the PalgraveMacmillan division of St. Martin’s Press, LLC and of Palgrave Macmillan Ltd.Macmillan® is a registered trademark in the United States, United Kingdomand other countries. Palgrave is a registered trademark in the EuropeanUnion and other countries.

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-publication DataReflections on the Balkan wars : ten years after the break-up of

Yugoslavia / edited by Jeffrey S. Morton… [et al.].p. cm.

Includes bibliographical references and indexISBN 1–4039–6332–01. Yugoslav War, 1991–1995—Congresses. 2. Yugoslavia—History—

1992–2003—Congresses. 3. Balkan Peninsula—History-20th century—Congresses. I. Morton, Jeffrey S.

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Contents

Preface viiJeffrey S. Morton

Foreword ixRupert Smith

Notes on Contributors xiii

Part One Wars in the Balkans

1 The Civil War in Former Yugoslavia and the International Intervention 3Patricia Kollander

2 The Genocide Factor in the Yugoslav Wars of Dismemberment 23Henry R. Huttenbach

3 The Relationship Between the Dismemberment of Yugoslavia andEuropean Integration 35Francesco Privitera

4 The Leaky Bucket: Ethnic Albanian Cross-Border Operations in the Balkans 55Lawrence E. Cline

5 Media and Communications Systems in the Balkan Conflicts 75Peter W. Reynolds

Part Two The International Law and Organization

6 The UN Response to the Balkan Wars 93Frances Pilch and Joseph Derdzinski

7 International Norms of Territorial Integrity and the Balkan Wars of the 1990s 119Mikulas Fabry

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8 The Balkan Wars and the International War Convention 147R. Craig Nation

9 Rethinking the Legal Nuances of Kosovo: Toward an Emerging Norm of Anticipatory Humanitarian Intervention? 165Christopher C. Joyner and Anthony Clark Arend

Part Three Reflections on the Balkan Wars

10 Managing Ethnic Conflict in Bosnia: International Solutions toDomestic Problems 189Patrice McMahon

11 From Korea to Kosovo: Matching Expectations with Reality forModern Airpower in Limited Wars 211Conrad C. Crane

12 The Future of Western Engagement in the Balkans 227Stefano Bianchini and Paul Forage

Index 245

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PrefaceJeffrey S. Morton

With the tenth anniversary of the onset of the war in Bosniaapproaching, I was asked in the fall of 2001 to organize aninternational conference on the Balkans on behalf of the Peace

Studies Program at Florida Atlantic University. Also sponsoring theconference were the United States Army War College and the Universityof Bologna. The conference was unique in that it attempted to bridge theacademics who study the series of conflicts that raged in the Balkansduring the 1990s with the military and diplomatic professionals who dealtdirectly with the situation on the ground.

The two-day conference was organized around eight panels, withthemes ranging from legal considerations of the Balkan wars to theperspectives of various military operators with battlefield experience.The conference welcomed a presentation by His Excellence NikolaDimitrov, Macedonia’s Ambassador to the United States, and a keynoteaddress by General Sir Rupert Smith, retired Deputy Supreme AlliedCommander, Europe.

The following individuals participated in the conference: Ron Adams,Army War College; Stefano Bianchini, University of Bologna; LawrenceCline, American Military University; Conrad Crane, Army War College;Joseph L. Derdzinski, United States Air Force; His Excellence NikolaDimitrov, Macedonia’s Ambassador to the United States; Mike Ellerbe,Army War College; Mikulas Fabry, University of British Columbia; PaulForage, Florida Atlantic University; Robert Gard, US Army (retired);Henry Huttenbach, City College of New York; Christopher Joyner,Georgetown University; Patricia Kollander, Florida Atlantic University;Ray Millen, Army War College; Noemi Marin, Florida AtlanticUniversity; Patrice C. McMahon, University of Nebraska-Lincoln; JeffreyS. Morton, Florida Atlantic University; Craig Nation, Army War College;

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Fran Philch, United States Air Force Academy; Francesco Privitera,University of Bologna; Tim Reese, Army War College; Peter Reynolds,SHAPE; John Rovegno, Army War College; Pirityi Sandor, HungarianAssoc. for Military Science & Security; General Sir Rupert Smith,DSACEUR (retired); Rick Swengros, Army War College.

This book is the product of the conference, with select papers chosenfor publication. In editing this book, my co-editors and I would like tothank not only the above for their contributions to the conference butalso some of the many people who made that event and this manuscriptpossible, including the Dorothy F. Schmidt College of Arts & Letters,the Schmidt Foundation, Felipe Godoy, Zella Linn,Victoria Thur,Palgrave Press reviewers, and the editorial staff at Palgrave Macmillan.

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ForewordRupert Smith

Iam delighted to be asked to write the foreword to this book. Thiscollection of essays is in part at least a record of a most interestingand informative conference held at the Florida Atlantic University in

January 2002 in which I took part. We endeavored to view the experi-ence of the various interventions into the Balkans in the round and todraw conclusions that might be of value in the future. As one with directprofessional involvement in these events I found the wide range ofcontributions when taken together gave an excellent context againstwhich to examine the particular issues. In addition, as a Briton, I foundthe predominantly transatlantic viewpoint refreshing and clearheaded.

I commend this volume to both the academic and the more generalreader seeking an understanding of this complex and perplexing part ofEurope and the events of the past decade. I commend it also as a seriesof case studies to those who might consider interventions in the affairsof others; each intervention of the series is built on the mistakes of thepast, a series that has yet to be completed. There are many generallessons to be drawn from the body of this international experience,lessons that are applicable to other parts of the world and other circum-stances. As one who has been involved in these events and conductedintervention operations, I can vouch for our collective need to learn howto do these things better. It is important to do this for despite the manymistakes and delays the interventions have stopped the fighting, thekilling and ethnic cleansing has ceased, hunger and deprivation are notendemic, and elected governments are in power. The presence of theinternational military gives a sense of security to the peoples of theBalkans, such that they are not so frightened of each other that theyfight. The problem that faces us all is how to develop the civil measures,

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locally and regionally, so that foreign military forces do not have toprovide this sense of security.

Frequently our interventions are founded in the first instance on aflawed perception of the situation. Concepts, such as that of the nation-state, that have served to order our understanding in the past have beenof questionable value in the analysis of the Balkan Question. The eventsdescribed in the opening chapter, “The Civil War in Former Yugoslaviaand the International Intervention,” recording the surprised reaction ofEuropean leaders in particular, illustrates the limited understanding ofthose who sought to intervene. The author of chapter 2, “The GenocideFactor in the Yugoslavian Wars of Dismemberment,” addresses the aimsof those engaged initially in the various conflicts, highlighting: the widerange of objectives, the different levels of violence, and the targets ofthat violence. This flawed perception is carried on into the decisions asto what action to take. The tendency to intervene on a basis limited bya state boundary, however arbitrary, as in Kosovo, in what is essentiallya regional matter is well illustrated in chapter 4, “The Leaky Bucket:Ethnic Albanian Cross-border Operations in the Balkans.”

In many cases we perceive the unfolding crisis through the eyes andlenses of the media. This is the case for combatants and onlookers alike.All parties to the conflict, including those intervening, endeavor to agreater or lesser degree to play to their audience and to influence themedia. The part this tendency has had in the Balkans is described inchapter 5, “Media and Communication Systems in the BalkanConflicts.”

Assumptions as to the role and purpose of major international orga-nizations, such as the UN, NATO, and the EU, were also challengedand found to be incorrect in the post–Cold War Balkans. These falseassumptions also led to misunderstandings more often than not overwhat could be achieved in the circumstances. The EU was unable tomeet its expectations of itself, as is described in chapter 3, “TheRelationship between the Dismemberment of Yugoslavia and EuropeanIntegration,” and the UN despite many wide-ranging efforts was alsoseen to have failed to achieve its promise. The UN’s worthy and oftenunrecognized endeavors are explained in chapter 6, “The UN Responseto the Balkan Wars.” Finally, NATO was called on to act; to act incircumstances for which it had never been intended, for an objectiveshort of territorial defense, and in a way that had not been tried before.

If further evidence is required to support the argument that ourperceptions have been founded on concepts that are increasingly invalidthen an examination of international law should provide it. Chapter 7,

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Foreword ● xi

“International Norms of Territorial Integrity and the Balkan Wars of the1990s,” shows the effect on the decision-makers of the law or norms inthese cases. Chapter 8, “The Balkan Wars and the International WarConvention,” charts the progress of the extension of the Conventionand in particular the implications for the trial of Milosevic currently inprogress. Lastly, and most significantly in the light of the USA’s newNational Security Strategy, chapter 9, “Rethinking the Legal Nuances ofKosovo: Toward an Emerging Norm of Anticipatory HumanitarianIntervention?” considers the legality of the NATO and US actions. Thechapter argues that a precedent may have been established for suchinterventions and that if this is so, it lists and explains the criteria forsuch interventions in the future to be legitimate.

The final part of the volume covers three subjects that I have touchedon already. I wrote early in this piece that the international interventionsinto the Balkans despite their difficulties have succeeded in improvingthe situation for the peoples of that unfortunate region. Chapter 10,“Managing Ethnic Conflict in Bosnia: International Solutions toDomestic Problems,” covers the intervention in Bosnia and apart fromexplaining the successes it shows why these external initiatives reachtheir limit, and thus the need to grow domestic solutions so as to leavean enduring condition of peace and prosperity.

The second subject was alluded to when discussing the involvementof NATO. When I wrote that NATO had intervened in a way that hadnot been used before, I was referring to the operations over Bosnia in1995 and Kosovo in 1999. Chapter 11, “From Korea to Kosovo:Matching Expectations with Reality for Modern Airpower in LimitedWars,” offers a commentary on this use of airpower in Kosovo and givesa useful if particular example of the difficulties of deciding the utility ofmilitary force in complex political circumstances. Circumstances wherethe objectives are not the simple ones of interstate war, and the use ofmilitary force is not itself expected to be decisive. Circumstances wherethe conflict is being conducted amongst the people and the targets haveto be struck with the minimum risk of collateral damage.

Finally, in chapter 12,“The Future of Western Engagements in theBalkans,” lessons are drawn from the decade of Balkan interventions andcompared with the actuality of the intervention in Macedonia in 2001.The chapter concludes with some more general observations concerningthe future of such operations.

A brief survey of the contents of this book will show its generalrelevance to anyone seeking an understanding of current events let alonethose of the Balkans in the last ten or so years. During the conference,

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where the book was conceived, and with the events of 9/11 fresh in ourminds we constantly found ourselves using the past to argue whether ornot some measure, either in use or being proposed, would show thedesired result in The War on Terrorism. Always accepting that memoryis partial, I recall that a year ago those drawing on our collective Balkanexperiences predicted many of the issues of today. To this end if no otherI commend this book.

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Notes on Contributors

ANTHONY CLARK AREND is Professor in the Department of Governmentand the Walsh School of Foreign Service at Georgetown University. Heis Co-Director of the Institute for International Law and Politics atGeorgetown. His most recent book, Legal Rules and InternationalSociety, was published in 1999 by Oxford University Press. Dr. Arend isVice President of the Georgetown University Faculty Senate for theMain Campus and served as Chair of the Main Campus ExecutiveFaculty at Georgetown from 1997 to 2001. In that capacity, he was amember of the Main Campus Council of Deans.

STEFANO BIANCHINI is Director of the Institute of East Central andBalkan Europe and a professor of East European politics at the Universityof Bologna. He has published six books on Yugoslavia and Balkan nation-alisms of the twentieth century and many articles in numerous languages.His has recently co-edited a book in English with Paul Shoup and GeorgeSchöpflin Post-Communist Transition as a European Problem (Ravenna:Longo Editore, 2002).

LAWRENCE E. CLINE is Professor of national security studies at AmericanMilitary University, where he specializes in peace operations, low inten-sity conflict, and intelligence. He is a retired US Army MilitaryIntelligence officer.

CONRAD C. CRANE is Director of the US Army Military History Instituteand holds the General Douglas MacArthur Chair of Research at the USArmy War College. He is the author of Bombs, Cities, and Civilians:American Airpower Strategy in World War II and American AirpowerStrategy in Korea, 1950–1953, both published by the University Press ofKansas. He is a 1974 graduate of the US Military Academy who earnedhis Ph.D. from Stanford in 1990. He retired from the Army in 2000 after26 years of active duty, the last nine as Professor of History at USMA.

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xiv ● Notes on Contributors

JOSEPH DERDZINSKI is a US Air Force officer currently assigned to theUniversity of Denver’s Graduate School of International Studies, wherehe is a Ph.D. candidate. He has spent most of his career as a specialagent in the Air Force’s Office of Special Investigations, with assign-ments in Germany and the United Kingdom. He was also in the firstUS military contingent during NATO’s implementation of the DaytonPeace Agreement. His thesis work at the University of Texas focused onthe role of the military in the dissolution of Yugoslavia.

MIKULAS FABRY is a Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council ofCanada Doctoral Fellow and a Ph.D. candidate in political science atthe University of British Columbia. The topic of his dissertation is inter-national society and the practice of recognition of new states in the eraof national self-determination.

PAUL FORAGE is Assistant Professor of History at Florida AtlanticUniversity. A China specialist with interests in military history, interna-tional security, and peacekeeping operations, his most recent article,“The Battle for Mount Pastrik,” is concerned with the use of airpowerin support of ground operations during the war in Kosovo. In 1999,Professor Forage established the Peace and Humanitarian ServiceProgram at Florida Atlantic University, a program that he directed until2003.

HENRY R. HUTTENBACH, is Professor of European History at The CityCollege of New York. He is the founder/editor of The Genocide Forumand founder/editor of the Journal of Genocide Research. ProfessorHuttenbach is also Director of M.A. Studies in History.

CHRISTOPHER C. JOYNER is Professor of International Law in theDepartment of Government and School of Foreign Service and Co-Director of the Institute of International Law and Politics atGeorgetown University. From 1989 to 1994, he directed the AmericanSociety of International Law’s Project on the United Nations and theInternational Legal Order, and is co-editor of United Nations LegalOrder (Cambridge University Press, 1995) and editor of The UnitedNations and International Law (Cambridge University Press, 1997).Formerly Vice Chair of the Governing Council of the Academic Councilon the United Nations (ACUNS), twice on the ASIL Executive Council,and three times past Chair of the International Law Section ofthe International Studies Association, he is also a member of theInternational Law Association’s Committee on the Law of the Sea. Hehas written more than 300 articles in law reviews and published 12books. His most recent publication, International Law in the 21st

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Notes on Contributors ● xv

Century: Legal Rules for Global Goverance, will be published next year(Rowman & Littlefield).

PATRICIA KOLLANDER is Associate Professor of History at Florida AtlanticUniversity. Her areas of expertise include the history of modern Germanyand European diplomatic history in the ninteenth and twentiethcenturies. Dr. Kollander is the author of Frederick III: Germany’s LiberalEmperor, and has published articles in the Historian and German History.

PATRICE MCMAHON is Assistant Professor of political science at theUniversity of Nebraska. She is the co-editor of International HumanRights and Diversity: Area Studies Revisited, and is writing a book ontransnationalism and the management of ethnic conflict in CentralEurope.

JEFFREY S. MORTON is Associate Professor of International Law &Politics in the Department of Political Science and Director of PeaceStudies (2003–) at Florida Atlantic University. He is the author ofThe International Law Commission of the United Nations (University ofSouth Carolina Press, 2000) and journal articles that have appeared,among others, in the Journal of Peace Research, Journal of GenocideResearch, International Interactions, and Journal of International andComparative Law.

R. CRAIG NATION is Professor of Strategy and Director of Russian andEurasian Studies at the US Army War College, Carlisle, Pennsylvania.He is the author of a forthcoming history of the Yugoslav conflict enti-tled War in the Balkans, 1991–2002.

FRANCES PILCH is Associate Professor of Political Science at the UnitedStates Air Force Academy. She is the author of “The Crime of Rape inInternational Law,” in the USAFA Journal of Legal Studies, and special-izes in issues concerning the legal interpretation of sexual violence ininternational and internal conflict.

PETER W. REYNOLDS is a retired British Military Officer and currentlyExecutive Director of the Institute for Emergency Mental HealthServices. He also lectures on Psychological Operations and the Media, aswell as NATO and EU security policies.

RUPERT SMITH served as Deputy Supreme Allied Commander Europe(DSACEUR) from 1998 until 2002. Before becoming DSACEUR hewas the General Officer Commanding Northern Ireland from 1996until 1998 and commanded UNPROFOR in Bosnia–Herzegovina in1995. General Sir Rupert Smith also served in the Persian Gulf War,commanding the 1st Armoured Division.

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PART ONE

Wars in the Balkans

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CHAPTER 1

The Civil War in Former Yugoslaviaand the International Intervention

Patricia Kollander

Introduction

The end of the Cold War and the collapse of communism in the SovietUnion and Eastern Europe gave hope for a new era of peace andprosperity. The opposite occurred in Yugoslavia, which disintegrated

in the wake of a bitter civil war between its subject nationalities. The conflictbewildered most international leaders, who had labored under the assump-tion that the nationalities of Yugoslavia had achieved a level of integrationunder communist President Josip Broz Tito, who ruled the country from1945 to 1980. But the rapid escalation of the war and the well-publicizedatrocities that accompanied the struggle made it quite clear that integrationhad been superficial at best.

This chapter will discuss the international intervention in the civilwar after hostilities between the Serbs and the Yugoslav National Army(JNA) on the one hand, and the Slovenes, Croats, and Bosnian Muslimson the other erupted. The period considered is the phase prior to theNorth Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) intervention in Kosovo,when animosities amongst the Yugoslav parties were most intense. Inaddition, an attempt will be made to show how problematic was thecoexistence of nationality groups after the creation of the first Yugoslaviain 1918, and how deep was the impact of the agitation of radical Serbnationalists in the late 1980s, which was echoed in other parts of thecountry.


The First Yugoslavia, 1918–1941

The rapid disintegration of Yugoslavia—and the horrible slaughter thataccompanied it—took many by surprise. Groping for an explanation,some pundits were quick to point out that the war was caused by the“ancient hatreds” that the various nationality groups bore toward oneanother. This is inaccurate, because the various nationality groups offormer Yugoslavia did not coexist in ancient times at all; they were onlyjoined together after the creation of the Yugoslav kingdom—the so-called “first Yugoslavia”—in 1918. Prior to 1918, only Serbia andMontenegro were independent kingdoms; the other nationalitygroups—the Slovenes, Croats, Bosnian Muslims and Macedonians, aswell as Serbs outside Serbia proper—were under the suzerainty of theOttoman or Austro-Hungarian empires.

During the nineteenth century, Croat, Slovene, and Serb intellectu-als promoted the unification of their respective nationality groupsbecause their peoples spoke a similar language and came from the samebasic ethnic stock. Thanks to the collapse of the Austro-Hungarian andOttoman empires in World War I, and the triumph of the principle ofnational self-determination in its wake, the victors in World War Isupported the creation of a new Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, andSlovenes. The kingdom came into existence in December of 1918. Ledby the Serbian monarchy, it brought together for the first time Serbia(including the provinces of Kosovo and Vojvodina), Slovenia, Croatia,Bosnia–Herzegovina, Montenegro, and Macedonia.

But those who supported and celebrated the creation of the kingdomfailed to take into consideration the fact that its incumbent nationalitygroups had never enjoyed a common existence, and had different tradi-tions. There were significant religious differences as well. The people ofCroatia and Slovenia were mostly Roman Catholics. Serbians belongedto the Orthodox Church. Bosnia was divided between Muslims,Orthodox Serbs, Croatian Catholics, and Jews. Compounding thesedifferences was the fact that Serbia, Croatia, Macedonia (at the timereferred to as southern Serbia), and Bosnia had substantial ethnicminorities living within their respective borders.

Problems associated with these differences arose in the new Kingdomof Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes from the very beginning. The Serbianradicals in Belgrade, who claimed to represent the largest national group(six million) in the kingdom, wanted to build a strong central govern-ment. This caused problems with other nationality groups who fearedSerbian domination. As early as the 1920s, Croatian leaders complained

4 ● Patricia Kollander


that the extension of the Serbian constitution of 1903 to the rest of thecountry failed to respect the rights of non-Serbs. The Croatian PeasantParty initially demanded either a republic or some kind of federal orga-nization. Later, its leaders accepted the monarchy and, along with theSlovenes, the democratic Serbs (mainly Serbs outside Serbia), andBosnian Muslims, inclined toward autonomy, but divisions repeatedlycut through political parties, leaving tension at a high level. Whencompromise on state organization appeared to be impossible, the king ofSerbia suspended the constitution and convened a dictatorship in 1929.He also renamed the country as the Kingdom of Yugoslavia in an effortto demonstrate the appearance of some sort of union between thenationalities, which in fact did not exist.

During the next decade, the Yugoslav government attempted tocentralize Yugoslavia by unpopular and repressive measures. This in turnfueled the resentment of anti-Serb radical fringe groups such as theCroatian Ustashe, which masterminded the assassination of KingAlexander of Yugoslavia in 1934. After this violent act, political leadersin Croatia and Serbia slowly saw their way clear to compromise. TheSporazum or Compromise of 1939 made possible a partially self-governingCroatia.

World War II and Civil War in Yugoslavia, 1941–1945

But before the Sporazum could be truly tested as means for Serb–Croatreconciliation, Yugoslavia was rent asunder by the German invasion of1941. Hitler and his allies carved out portions of the country for them-selves, and a pro-Nazi regime was installed in Serbia under GeneralMilan Nedic. The new puppet leader soon implemented Hitler’s anti-Semitic policies, and Belgrade was proudly proclaimed as the first Jew-free or Judenfrei city under Hitler’s aegis. The radical Croat Ustashemovement, in cooperation with the Nazi government, founded theIndependent State of Croatia (NDH). The Ustashe persecuted Serbs andJews alike; untold thousands were murdered at the concentration campof Jasenovac.1

Soon anti-Nazi organizations sprang up in Yugoslavia, including—but for a few months only—the royalist Serb Chetniks under DragoljubMihailovic, and the communists led by former metalworker ofCroat–Slovene extraction, Josip Broz Tito. In fact, since autumn 1941,his partisans had faced tremendous opposition; they fought not only theItalians and Germans, but also the Croat Ustashe, Chetniks, and Serbianfascists. Historian Carole Rogel summed up the chaos and bloodshed of

The Civil War in Former Yugoslavia ● 5



the period: “National groups fought one another, members of the samegroup fought among themselves, and even members of the same familyfound themselves on opposing sides . . . If the 1992–1995 war in Bosniahas historic roots, it is in this World War II period of political, ethnicand religious brutality.” 2

Communist Yugoslavia, 1941–1991

Tito triumphed over the noncommunist forces in 1945, and createda new political entity, the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia(SFRY), consisting of six republics, and two autonomous provinces,Kosovo and Vojvodina. From the start, Tito was committed to disman-tling nationalism, which he saw as a destabilizing force in his country.Tito at first adopted a policy of toleration toward the various national-ity groups in the hope that in time, it would lead national groups toembrace communism over nationalism. But when mild tolerance failedto quell nationalist rumblings, Tito had nationalist agitators arrested,regardless of ethnic origin.

Nationalist Serbs found Tito’s antinationalist policies hard to take,particularly where Kosovo was concerned. They were convinced that itwas a part of Serbia and therefore had no business existing apart from it.But although Kosovo had indeed been a part of Serbia in medieval times,by the twentieth century it was 90 percent Albanian and only 10 percentSerb. The disparity made no difference to ardent Serb nationalists, whoinsisted that Kosovo had to be absorbed into Serbia. The Albanian major-ity of Kosovo understandably resented nationalist activities of the Serbsand favored union with Albania. Though Tito hounded both Serb andAlbanian nationalists in Kosovo in an effort to put an end to the strifebetween the two groups, revolts in favor of union with Albania broke outthree times during Tito’s tenure and twice thereafter.

Outside Kosovo, however, Tito’s antinationalism program did bringa measure of peace to a majority of the Yugoslavs; in several regions of thecountry, Serbs, Croats, and Muslims lived side by side in harmony. Titoalso endeared himself to his people by casting aside his allegiance to theSoviet Union in 1948 and fostering trade with the West. His policies borefruit: during the 1960s and 1970s, Yugoslavia achieved a level of prosper-ity unknown behind the Iron Curtain. It also emerged as a major touristdestination, particularly for Germans and Italians, and its policy of work-ers’ self-management earned kudos among intellectuals in the West.

In the late 1970s, however, Tito’s heath began to fail, and manybegan to question whether his system would survive him. Within days



after Tito’s death in 1980, pundits predicted that the republic couldunravel. A correspondent from Time magazine wrote:

The serious threat to Yugoslavia is likely to be more internal than exter-nal. The country is a patchwork of six nationalistic republics plus twoso-called autonomous provinces that have their own languages, religionsand cultures . . . The nation’s uneven economy could work either for oragainst stability. . . . A severe economic downturn could aggravate theglaring inequities and consequent animosities between the developednorthern republics like Slovenia and hinterlands like Kosovo.3

These statements proved to be prophetic. In the years following Tito’sdeath, Serb nationalists worked hard to reestablish the power that Serbiahad exercised prior to World War II. These efforts made the othernationalities anxious about the possible emergence of a Greater Serbia.In addition, the government, now led by a system of rotating presiden-cies, was unable to redress not only rising national tensions but also theeconomic disparities between industrialized areas (mainly concentratedin Croatia, Slovenia, and northern Serbia) and underdeveloped regions.The government encouraged republics to pursue foreign loans to redresseconomic concerns, but the loans were unsupervised. As a result,Yugoslavia became one of the most heavily indebted states in Europe.The International Monetary Fund (IMF) requested that the governmentrevamp its economic structure as prerequisite for future loans, but thisrequest met with resistance from more conservative government politi-cians in Belgrade.

These severe economic problems were compounded by the dramaticincrease in nationalist agitation, which only increased when commu-nism faltered in the Soviet Union and Eastern Europe at the end of the1980s. When he came to power in 1985, Soviet leader MikhailGorbachev proclaimed the relatively liberal policies of perestroika(restructuring) and glasnost (openness) in the hope that good, reform-minded communists would emerge and strengthen the Soviet Union.Instead, the policies unleashed criticism that his regime could not tolerate. In the end, the attempt to reform communism led to its undo-ing as nationalist forces emerged triumphant in a significant part of theSoviet bloc and beyond to include Yugoslavia. Indeed, what the punditsdiscussing the fate of Yugoslavia in the wake of Tito’s death could nothave envisioned was a Soviet collapse parallel to a Yugoslav collapse,each influencing the other. By the end of the 1980s, an increasingnumber of communist officials and some leaders in the six constituent


Yugoslav republics embraced nationalism and began to make a case fornationalist expansion at the expense of the other republics.

The Collapse of Community Yugoslavia, 1990–1991

Foremost among these leaders in Serbia was former businessmanSlobodan Milosevic, who rose to power as a member of the League ofCommunists during the 1980s. Like many Serbs, Milosevic was inspiredby a seminal 1986 memorandum from the Serbian Academy of Sciencesand Arts. The 74-page memorandum, which became a bible for Serbnationalists, argued that Tito’s policies had weakened Serbia economicallyand politically, discriminated against Serbs in Kosovo, Croatia, andBosnia, and that the time had come for Serbs to restore their national andcultural uniqueness by considering alternatives to Yugoslavia. Milosevicexploited the memorandum and the Kosovo issue to achieve politicalglory. A turning point in his political career came in 1987, when he wassent to Kosovo to calm down Serbs who charged Kosovo Albanian provin-cial government with anti-Serb discrimination. Instead of refuting thecharges, Milosevic assured the Serb minority that the Albanian majorityhad no right to challenge Serb overlordship in Kosovo. He added that theSerb government would never allow its minority in Kosovo to be beaten.The vehemently nationalistic speech gained national attention, andMilosevic soon became known as an architect for the creation of a greaterSerbia that would include the complete absorption of Kosovo.

Milosevic was as good as his word. Within a year of his vitriolicspeech, he had full control over the League of Communists in Serbia,and had replaced party leaders in Serbia, Kosovo, and Vojvodina withhis own supporters. In 1989, Milosevic became president of Serbia, andhe and his supporters soon ended the autonomy of Kosovo. At theYugoslav communist congress held in Belgrade in 1990, he also made itclear that he would not tolerate either the confederalization of the partyor criticism toward its policy in Kosovo, in spite of the fact that he hadto accept the end of the communist monopoly of power. Dissatisfied,the Slovene delegation walked out of the congress, followed by the Croatand the other delegations. As a result, the League of Communists ofYugoslavia was irreparably compromised. Each of the republics began tochart its own political course, and the federal structure of Yugoslaviagradually ceased to function completely.

Elections were held in each of the republics in 1990. In most cases,communists who had recently converted to nationalism rode the wave tovictory. The winner in Croat elections was the nationalist Croatian




Democratic Union (HDZ) led by Franjo Tudjman, a former communistgeneral who was inclined to create a Great Croatia mainly at the expenseof Bosnia. Former communist Milan Kucan was elected president ofSlovenia, while a government of anticommunist reformers and national-ists won the elections. Milosevic, leading Serbia’s newly constitutedSocialist Party, won amid rumors of election fraud. Muslim intellectualAlija Izetbegovic, leader of the Muslim Party of Democratic Action,came to power in Bosnia–Herzegovina at the end of the year along withthe Serb and Croat nationalist parties.

Election campaigns in Serbia, Slovenia, and Croatia were highlightedby strong nationalist rhetoric, which worked to poison relations betweenthe republics. In Slovenia, meetings were punctuated by the traditionalchant, “Hang Serbs from willow trees!” In Croatia, similar slogans wereuttered. In addition, Tudjman’s campaign slogan, “a Croatia forCroatians only,” made the Serbs of Croatia understandably anxious.While Croats and Slovenes adopted an offensive posture, Milosevicinsisted that Serbia was on the defensive and sought to identify Serbiawith Yugoslavia. He accused Tudjman of resuscitating the spirit of theUstashe era. Tudjman, in turn, unwittingly played into Milosevic’s handsby publicly downplaying the abuses of the Ustashe during World War II.4

While playing the role of Serbs as victims in public, in private Milosevicbegan to prepare for an offensive struggle to create a Greater Serbia. InJune of 1990, he told one of his aides that he wanted Slovenia andCroatia out of the federation, but wished to keep Serb-populated areasof Croatia in the federation. He knew that Croatia would probably resistrevision of its boundaries. But Serbia was prepared for such a contin-gency. The Serb-dominated JNA, he said, would “defend the right ofthose who wished to remain” together.5

There may have been hope for the survival of the Yugoslav union hadSerbia agreed to Croat and Slovene requests to transform Yugoslavia intoa looser confederation. The Bosnian Muslims were also interested. SinceBosnia–Herzegovina was almost evenly split between Serbs, Croats, andMuslims, Izetbegovic promoted confederation as a favorable alternative tothe collapse of the Yugoslav state. Izetbegovic’s counterpart in Macedonia,Kiro Gligorov, shared this view in light of the fact that Albanians consti-tuted at least 21 percent of the population of Macedonia.6

But Milosevic and other proponents of a Greater Serbia were notinterested. On one hand, Milosevic’s next major move was to try towrest control over the federal government before the other republics hada chance to break away. On the other, Milosevic met both Kucan andTudjman separately, in order to find an agreement on the Yugoslav



partition. With the former an agreement was roughly achieved, whilewith the latter it was impossible to decide how to divide Bosnia.

Meanwhile, Milosevic managed to convince four representatives ofthe six republics and the two autonomous regions to block the succes-sion of a Croat to the presidency of Yugoslavia, consequently hinderingthe control of the presidency over the army. As if these developmentswere not ominous enough, leaders of the other republics watched warilyhow Milosevic was taking advantage of the fact that around 70 percentof the officer corps of JNA was Serb or Montenegrin, and was increas-ingly isolating pro-Yugoslav leaders of the JNA.7 In turn, Slovenia andCroatia started to transform their Territorial Defense Forces (the exist-ing national guard) into their own armies, the former being more rapidand successful in this operation than the latter. It also became clear tonon-Serb leaders that Milosevic would seize any available opportunity toend the autonomy of the other republics by force. In the end, asannounced in December 1990, Slovenia—followed by an unpreparedCroatia—withdrew from the Yugoslav federation and declared indepen-dence in June of 1991.

The Outbreak of Civil War, 1991

The JNA moved first against Slovenia and Croatia during the summerof 1991. Since Slovenia did not have a sizeable Serb minority and itsnational guard was well prepared for the assault by the JNA, Milosevicwas not interested in supporting a war in Slovenia, so that fighting washalted after only ten days of hostilities. A total of 50 lives was lost. ByOctober, Slovenia was fully independent and at peace.

The same could not be said for Croatia, since 12 percent of its popu-lation was of Serb extraction. Fighting raged there during the latter halfof 1991. The JNA concentrated its forces on the Adriatic resort city ofDubrovnik, and on two cities with large populations on the easternborder, Osijek and Vukovar. The war was costly. In the city of Vukovaralone, 2,300 people perished.8 According to Tudjman’s propaganda, thewar was being fought to prevent Croatia from succumbing to Serb hege-mony. Milosevic countered that the Serb-dominated JNA was “defend-ing a defenseless Serb people against the reemergence of Croat fascism.”9

Ten thousand lives were sacrificed to this propaganda, and a total ofone million Croats and Serbs had become refugees. By the end of theyear, the Serbs controlled one-third of the country.

The European Community (EC) which tried but failed to prevent thebreakup of the country on the eve of the war, was equally incapable of


brokering peace between Serbia and Croatia. Over a dozen cease-fireswere arranged by the EC, only to be broken shortly after their conclu-sion. Economic sanctions were imposed against Serbia in 1991 and1992, but it would take time before their impact could be felt. In thefall of 1992, the United Nations (UN) stepped in and finally brokereda truce to be monitored by some 14,000 UN troops (known as the UNProtection Force or UNPROFOR). The terms were appealing to bothsides: Milosevic was satisfied with one-third of Croatia, and happy to seehis gains monitored by the UN. The Croats, for their part, welcomedthe cease-fire because it bought them time to rebuild their militaryforces in preparation for a counteroffensive against Serbia.10

The Destruction of Bosnia, 1991–1994

The next flashpoint in the civil war was Bosnia–Herzegovina, the mostdiverse of the six Yugoslav republics. No single nationality group wasin the majority: of the Bosnian population of 4.4 million, BosnianMuslims constituted 43.7 percent of the population, Serbs constituted31.4 percent, Croats constituted 17.3 percent. When Bosnia held elec-tions, the parties that came to the forefront corresponded in size and innationality to Bosnia’s diverse population. Izetbegovic’s Muslim Party ofDemocratic Action was the largest party, followed by the SerbianDemocratic Party, led by former psychiatrist Radovan Karadzic, andthe HDZ.11

If Bosnia was to stay together, the three parties had to agree to this.But by 1991, agreement became increasingly impossible as BosnianSerbs and Croats were actively supporting, along with nationalist lead-ers in Serbia and Croatia proper, the prospect of union with the “mothercountry.” In September of 1991, Milosevic told Bosnian Serb leaderKaradzic, “You’ll get everything, don’t worry. We are the strongest . . .As long as we have the army, nobody can do anything to us.”12 Amidgrowing separatist sentiments in his country, Izetbegovic was faced withan ominous choice: if Bosnia opted to stay in the Yugoslav union, itwould be most certainly overrun by the Serbs; the status of Bosniawould be similar to that of Kosovo. If Bosnia withdrew from the unionand declared independence, war between Bosnian Serbs favoring unionwith Belgrade, and the Bosnian Muslims would be inevitable.

Izetbegovic opted for the latter course. In early March of 1992, theBosnian Muslims and Croats voted for independence overwhelmingly.Meanwhile, Macedonia had held a referendum in September 1991 andthe independence option was backed both by Slavic Macedonian and




the Albanian population. Yugoslavia, which once had six republics, nowhad only two, Serbia and Montenegro. A few weeks before the Bosnianreferendum, in January 1992 the Bosnian Serbs declared the SerbRepublic of Bosnia–Herzegovina, a political entity designed to bringBosnia in as close a communion with Serbia as possible, to the detrimentof other nationality groups in the republic. At the beginning of April,both sides were at war. In the opening months of the conflict, anti-Serbforces were weak; their armies numbered 50,000 and were ill trained andill equipped. Additional military help was not forthcoming; in an ill-fated effort to contain the scope of the war, the UN not only imposedsanctions on Serbia but also forbade sales of arms to Bosnia and Croatia.The tactic misfired horribly: the military capacity of the 80,000-strongBosnian Serb contingent, which was well supplied by the JNA, wasunaffected by the economic sanctions, but the Bosnian Muslims weremade immediately vulnerable by the arms embargo. The Bosnian Serbsaimed to conquer a stretch of land in eastern and northern Bosnia thatwould give them direct linkage to Serbia. Fighting was particularly fiercein Sarajevo, where Bosnian Serb leader Radovan Karadzic wished toestablish his new capital.13

In the process of securing these territories, the Bosnian Serbs wereintent on “Serbianizing” them via systematic removal of the non-Serbianpopulation. Hence these territories would be “ethnically cleansed” ofnon-Serbs. The policy was systematic and brutal. It was endorsed byMilosevic and Karadzic, and executed by the Bosnian general, RatkoMladic. Residents of Muslim villages were the first targets of the policy.They were hounded out of their villages via a program of harassmentand intimidation. Those who stayed behind were often tortured, raped,and ultimately murdered. Since the program worked well in the coun-tryside, the Bosnian Serbs began to use it in larger Bosnian towns andcities by the fall of 1992.

Outnumbered and outgunned, Izetbegovic begged the internationalcommunity for help. The UN responded by recognizing Bosnia’sindependence, and by imposing additional economic sanctions onYugoslavia, which supplied Izetbegovic’s enemies. In addition, 16,000UNPROFOR troops were dispatched to Bosnia. These actions did littleto solve Izetbegovic’s immediate problem, which was a lack of firepower.The UNPROFOR troops were not authorized to use weapons even todefend themselves. To make matters worse, the ban on arms sales toBosnia and Croatia was upheld, leaving the Bosnians practically defense-less.14 As UN and EC delegates droned on, the Bosnia Serbs and theirallies in the JNA continued their march on Bosnia unimpeded. Their


treatment of Bosnian civilians was horrendous as the policy of “ethniccleansing” was applied without scruple.

During the summer of 1992, the International Red Cross receivedreports of atrocities committed by Serbs against Bosnian Muslim pris-oners of war at camps in Omarska, Trnopolje, and Manjaca. When theRed Cross gained access to the camps, they learned that rumors of Serbatrocities bore out in fact. Reports of the rape of Muslim women werealso confirmed. The Western media gained access to the camps, andsoon pictures of emaciated Muslims appeared on the front pages of lead-ing publications in the Western world. Many pundits began drawingparallels between the Holocaust and the death camps of Bosnia.15

By the fall of 1992, sentiments ran high against the Bosnian Serbs whoperpetrated these acts and their ally, Slobodan Milosevic. Measures wereundertaken in an effort to contain the conflict, but they were largely inef-fectual. The creation of a permanent conference at Geneva on Bosnia, theestablishment of an international court to try war criminals, the UNdesignation of six cities within Bosnia (Sarajevo, Bihac, Gorazde,Srebrenica, Tuzla, and Zepa) as “safe havens,” the dispatch of 6,000 UNforces to process war prisoners—all did nothing to end the war in generalor the policy of ethnic cleansing in particular. The UN troops were notauthorized to fight the Bosnian Serbs, and more often than not they coulddo no more than stand by and watch as Karadzic’s Serbs overran the so-called safe havens and violated other agreements. Nothing was done tocensure the acts of those who terrorized the civilians. Though a war crimestribunal existed, it was dormant; its head judge was not appointed until1993, and its first indictments were only issued in 1995.16

In early 1993, leaders in the UN and the EC worked together to finda solution to the Bosnian problem. The fruit of their efforts was theso-called Vance–Owen plan, which called for the Muslims, Serbs, andCroats to each control three provinces, while Sarajevo would remainunder UN control. The plan was peddled to the Bosnian Serbs and theirpatrons in Yugoslavia, but to no effect. By May of 1993, the BosnianSerbs controlled far more territory than the plan allotted to them, andwere not interested in sharing control of their newly acquired territorywith anyone else. Undaunted, the UN and EC trotted forward a newplan in the following year that aimed to break Bosnia into a confedera-tion composed of the three major ethnic groups. This time it wasIzetbegovic who backed down, because he saw his country as a singlemultiethnic state, not as three separate states. But to his dismay, thelatter was materializing by force of arms by 1993, as the Bosnian Serbsnow controlled two thirds of the country.17



To make matters worse, radical Bosnian Croats had begun to followthe Serb precedent and carve out part of southwestern Bosnia, known asHerzeg–Bosnia, for themselves since the autumn of 1991. The BosnianMuslims resisted the creation of yet another state within the borders ofBosnia. As of April 1993, Croats and Muslims, who had only recentlyfought together against the Serbs—now fought each other. Civilians onboth sides were killed as Croats and Muslims woefully imitated the Serbethnic cleansing policy. The city of Mostar, one of the most picturesquein Bosnia, was all but destroyed. By 1994, all of the major ethnicgroups in Bosnia were fighting each other, and there appeared to be noend in sight.

International Intervention Turns the Tide Against Serbia, 1994–1995

The event that began to turn the tide in the war was a horrible bomb-ing of civilians in an open-air marketplace in Sarajevo in February of1994. The bombing was filmed by an American television crew andbroadcast all over the world. The outrage over the incident compelledNATO to issue an order to the Serbs that they venture no closer than 20 kilometers outside the city. The move was meant in reality to protectUN forces in the area, but it did give non-Serb forces a boost. The mili-tary capabilities of the Croats and Muslims also increased when theybegan to smuggle in weapons in defiance of the UN 1991 ban on thesale of weapons to republics of former Yugoslavia. By 1994, the Bosnianarmy had over 100,000 men (as compared to 50,000 in 1991).18

As Croats and Muslims began to gear up for war, the Western powerstried to get them to work together to defeat the Serbs. Major Westernpowers now coalesced into the so-called Contact Group that includedFrance, Germany, Russia, Great Britain, and the United States. The ContactGroup put pressure on Muslims and Croats to get rid of their radicalleaders and end their hostilities. They also proposed a plan to haveBosnian Croats join Croatia in a looser confederation, while remainingpart of a Bosnian federation with the Muslims. The Bosnian Muslimsand Croats ultimately accepted the plan.

While Muslims and Croats talked peace, the Bosnian Serbs continuedto pursue war with reckless abandon.19 The Contact Group dealt withthis defiance by trying to drive a wedge between the Bosnian Serbs andtheir primary ally, Slobodan Milosevic. By 1994, Milosevic was eager todo business with the West as the economic sanctions that had been



imposed against his country in 1991 and 1992 were beginning to takeserious effect.

Fearing erosion of his political strength in Serbia, Milosevic was ulti-mately convinced that it was in his best interests to abandon the BosnianSerbs. By the summer of 1994, Milosevic, the once unshakeablesupporter of the Bosnian Serbs, now rallied against them. His pressorgans now portrayed them as evil murderers of innocent civilians. He also cut off trade with the self-styled Serb Republic. But thesemeasures failed to tame the Bosnian Serbs. They not only maintainedtheir control over two-thirds of Bosnia, but also launched another offen-sive against Sarajevo. As of late 1994, 60 percent of the entire popula-tion of Bosnia had become refugees.20

Just when Bosnia’s position seemed to be hopeless, a Croatian offen-sive against the Serbs in 1995 eventually came to the rescue. TheCroatian offensive began via delicate negotiations between Croatia’spresident Tudjman on the one hand and the UN on the other. Since1992, the Serbs had controlled one-third of Croatia and the new bound-aries had been protected by 14,000 UNPROFOR troops. Now Tudjmanwished to end UNPROFOR’s presence and regain his lost territory. TheUN convinced Tudjman to renew UNPROFOR’s mandate in Croatiauntil the end of the year; in exchange, Tudjman agreed to the reductionof UN forces by one-half, and their relocation to Croatia’s borders asopposed to the truce lines agreed upon in Serbia’s favor in 1992. Thisagreement tacitly gave Tudjman the de facto go-ahead to reclaim terri-tory lost to Serbia without interference by UN troops. In May of 1995,bolstered by arms from abroad, the Croatian army of 100,000 troopswent on the offensive in Slavonia. Serbs quickly fled the area. Thepattern was repeated in Krajina a few months later. The Croats nextturned their sights to Bosnia. They joined with the Bosnian army, andtheir joint efforts worked to reduce the amount of Serb-held territory inBosnia by 20 percent. After enduring three years of intense suffering,the Bosnian Muslims were finally able to fight back.21

The Bosnian Serbs, however, refused to be humbled by the jointCroat–Bosnian offensive. Nor did they even bother to strongly opposeit. Instead, they continued to ethnically cleanse eastern Bosnia andSarajevo. In July of 1995, they took the “safe haven” of Srebrenica. Inaddition to terrorizing the general civilian population, the BosnianSerbs murdered up to 6,000 Muslim men. Tragically, it was not themassacre of the Muslims of Srebrenica but Bosnian Serb violations of aNATO-proclaimed “no-fly zone” over Bosnia that spurred a militaryresponse by the West. By late summer of 1995, NATO planes bombed



Bosnian Serb military targets. By September, Bosnian Serb forces finallypulled away from Sarajevo, ending a siege that had lasted for the betterpart of four years.

Peace Talks and the End of the Civil War, 1995

The decline in the military fortunes of the Serbs in 1995 and the impactof economic sanctions in Yugoslavia combined to make them amenableto a Contact Group-proposed solution to the Bosnian problem. InSeptember of 1995, representatives of the warring powers met in Genevato consider the Contact Group’s proposal to retain Bosnia–Herzegovinaas a legal entity that would consist of two parts: the Muslim–Croatfederation of 1994, comprising 51 percent of Bosnia—and a SerbRepublic (Republika Srpsk or RS), comprising the other 49 percent.Each part was allowed to draw up its own constitution and have sepa-rate relations with its neighboring states.22 The warring parties alsoagreed to establish commissions to oversee elections the proper treat-ment of refugees, and to preserve human rights.

Peace talks along the lines proposed in Geneva were pursued in earnestin November of 1995 in Dayton, Ohio. The three antagonists, Milosevic(who negotiated for Yugoslavia and the Bosnian Serbs), Tudjman, andIzetbegovic, were housed separately and carefully guarded when it wasnecessary for them to talk to each other. The final agreement kept Bosniaintact in theory, but in practice it was divided into the Muslim–Croatfederation, and the Serb Republic, each with its own separate executiveand legislative branches of government. The only mechanism of unitywas a central government and a collective presidency. The militarysettlement was to be overseen by a new NATO force known asImplementation Force (IFOR) to be headed by NATO and commandedby an American general. Over 60,000 troops were stationed in Bosnia;the original mission was to remain in Bosnia for a year.23

Though the agreement ultimately ended the war, it did not satisfy thewarring parties. The Bosnian Serbs were upset that their republic did notinclude Sarajevo, and the Muslims were dismayed that the territorialprewar status quo had not been restored. As far as the Muslims wereconcerned, the “dual state” status of Bosnia in effect legitimized gains thatthe Bosnian Serbs had made via a program of terror. This dissatisfactioncomplicated the process of keeping the peace in Bosnia. In the year follow-ing the Dayton Peace Accords (DPA), Sarajevo was reunified and electionswere held to the new three-member presidency of Bosnia. But troublebrewed when Serbs refused to allow Bosnians to return to their homes.




Though disputes of this nature were usually resolved by IFOR, they keptcropping up, thus making it clear that IFOR would have to remain inBosnia longer than originally planned. In 1996, IFOR was replaced byits legal successor Stabilization Force (SFOR), which was half the size ofits predecessor in terms of troop strength. Its job was to continue tocreate a secure environment for local and national authorities, alongwith international organizations. As of 2002, SFOR troops had beenreduced to about 14,000, but a final pullout date had not then beenscheduled.24

Origins of the Civil War Reconsidered

Though SFOR has succeeded in its mission, the price for peace washigh. By the time that peace talks were finalized in Paris in December1995, well over 200,000 people had died and over two million wererefugees. After the war, many questioned why it all had to happen inthe first place, and why the international community took so long tointervene. At the war’s end, many pundits continued to insist that“ancient hatreds” were responsible for the carnage. As one journalist putit, “it is virtually impossible to comprehend the ferocity of whathappened here, let alone fathom the . . . centuries-old enmities thatencouraged it.”25

But many experts and scholars sharply disagree. They see the “ancienthatreds” thesis as an emotional knee-jerk reaction to the Balkan horrorsrather than a reasonable explanation of its origins. War correspondentChristopher Bennett dismantles the “ancient hatreds” theory. Though hefinds it “superficially compelling,” he adds, “the ‘ancient hatreds’ thesisdoes not stand up to serious examination. At best, it conceals great igno-rance, at worst, it is downright disingenuous. While there is a great dealof hatred in the former Yugoslavia, it is hardly ancient or irrational.Indeed, it is only this century, and in particular, since the creation of the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes in 1918, that the southSlavs have had sufficient dealings with each other to fall out and cometo blows.”26 Bennett adds that the animosity between the nationalities,“is in fact a very recent phenomenon and reflects the failure of the southSlavs to develop a durable formula for national coexistence in the courseof the twentieth century.”27 Bogdan Denitch, a professor of sociology,also argues that the “ancient hatreds” theory cannot hold since Serbs,Croats, and Muslims had indeed lived together in peace for centuries inmany areas of the former Austrian and Ottoman empires prior to thetwentieth century.28


If the so-called ancient hatreds were not responsible for the war, whatcaused it? Most experts agree that although national leaders such asTudjman also incited conflict by fanning the flames of nationalism, itis Milosevic and men of his ilk who are primarily to blame. JournalistsLaura Silber and Alan Little, authors of Yugoslavia, Death of aNation, argue that Milosevic’s will to power was responsible for massdestruction:

We trace the origins of the war to the rise of Serb nationalism amongBelgrade intellectuals in the mid 1980s, and the subsequent harnessing ofnationalist rhetoric by Slobodan Milosevic . . . His . . . clever manipulationof the politics of ethnic intolerance provoked the other nations ofYugoslavia, convincing them that it was impossible to stay in the Yugoslavfederation and propelling them down the road to independence.Yugoslavia did not die a natural death. Rather, it was deliberately andsystematically killed off by men who had nothing to gain and everythingto lose from a peaceful transition from state socialism and one-party ruleto free-market democracy.29

Journalist Misha Glenny also blames Milosevic. He explains thatMilosevic used his control over the media to make Serbs fearful ofUstashe resurgence in Croatia and Muslim revisionism in Bosnia.Christopher Bennett adds that the animosity between the nationalitygroups has its origins “in contemporary interpretations of the past andcan be dated to the 1980s and the media offensive which accomplishedSlobodan Milosevic’s rise to power in Serbia.”30

In addition to instigating the conflict, Milosevic was deliberatelyresponsible for escalating it. Denitch points out that “the Serbian lead-ership bears the lion’s share of the responsibility for the destruction ofYugoslavia . . . it has also made inevitable the intra-ethnic civil war inBosnia–Herzegovina and the civil wars or at least major internal distur-bances within Serbia and Croatia.”31 Milosevic’s biographers DuskoDoder and Louise Branson agree: “When . . . Croatia and Bosnia disin-tegrated into open ethnic warfare, Milosevic used intermediaries tofoment and spread the violence, even as he presented the face of totalnoninvolvement to the world. Relying on organized lying, his secretpolicy and rogue proxies pushed the disintegration into a long blood-bath.”32 Tim Judah, however, appropriately points out that the ultrana-tionalist politicians did not act alone: “The politicians could not havesucceeded in Croatia and Bosnia if there had been no embers to fan . . .[although] everything that could possibly be done to reawaken the olddemons of the past was done. But everyone must answer for their own



actions, and, despite the manipulation of the media, far too manypeople simply abdicated their responsibility.”33

International Intervention in the Yugoslav Civil War—a Reappraisal

Given Milosevic’s obvious complicity in the disintegration of Yugoslaviaand his approbation of a war of atrocities, the question remains as towhy the international community allowed him and his allies to terrorizeso many innocent people for so long. The answer is depressingly simple:by the early 1990s, the major world powers no longer consideredYugoslavia to be important in light of their own respective nationalinterests. To be sure, the opposite had been true during the Cold War.Though a communist country, Yugoslavia had defied Soviet overlord-ship in 1948. The West happily rewarded Yugoslavia’s defection from theSoviet camp with economic and military aid. But with the end of theCold War and the Soviet collapse, the attention of the United Statesshifted to problems in the Middle East. Britain and France were alsopreoccupied with the fear that newly unified Germany could upset thebalance of power in Europe. (Needless to say, the British and the Frenchwere unnerved when Germany became the first major power to formallyrecognize the independence of Croatia and Slovenia in 1991.) In short,since Yugoslavia did not matter as much as it had in the past, the Westwas content with minimal involvement in the titanic problems thataccompanied its disintegration.

Western leaders at first found a convenient camouflage for theirindifference to the Yugoslav civil war in the “ancient hatreds” thesis onits origins, which they eagerly co-opted. As Christopher Bennett aptlyputs it, “To justify their inaction, statesmen and diplomats chose tointerpret the war as a peculiarly Balkan phenomenon. It was allegedlythe result of ancient and irrational animosities, inherent in the Balkanpeoples, who had seemingly been at each other’s throats since timeimmemorial and were all as bad as each other.”34 Since the Yugoslavswere believed to be determined to kill each other no matter what, theWest confined itself to providing humanitarian aid and noncombatantUNPROFOR troops.

Western involvement may have remained at this minimalist level hadit not been for relentless media coverage of the incredible sufferinginflicted by the Bosnian Serbs, not to mention the latter’s disruption ofhumanitarian aid and abuse of UNPROFOR troops. The coverageexposed the fact that Western aid was ineffectual at best, and that



stronger measures needed to be undertaken if the situation in Bosniawas going to change at all. Slowly but surely, the UN and NATO beganto step up their intervention. In 1992, NATO established a no-fly zonein Bosnia, and bombed Bosnian Serb targets two years later. The moredeeply NATO became involved, the more its most powerful member,the United States, began to take the initiative in the conflict. By 1995,it was the United States that restrained the Russians from helping theSerbs, their traditional allies. And by 1995, it was the United States thataided the offensive by redefining UNPROFOR’s mission in Croatia andby helping to train Croatian military leaders. It was also the UnitedStates that took the lead in the Contact Group’s negotiations with thebelligerents until the DPA were ratified in Paris at the end of the year.

The Persistence of Ethnic Conflict in Former Yugoslavia

Today, the major players in the conflict are gone. Two years after his1998 attempt to take over Kosovo was ended by NATO bombs,Milosevic was deposed and extradited to stand on charges as a war crim-inal. His erstwhile allies Karadzic and Mladic, who have been indictedas war criminals, remain at large. Milosevic’s successor, VojislavKostunica, is regarded as a staunch nationalist who has been critical ofNATO policy toward Serbia. Tudjman died in 1999, and his nationalistparty fell to the more moderate Croatian People’s Party in subsequentelections. Alija Izetbegovic resigned his presidency in 2000. Butalthough the major players are gone, the conflicts that propelled theminto power remain. Many experts have gloomily noted that prospects forpeace and understanding between the national groups of formerYugoslavia are more remote than they were when the first Yugoslav statewas born less than a century ago. Whether or not peacekeeping forcescan even begin to build bridges of cooperation and understandingbetween them remains to be seen.

Notes

1. Serb and Croat claims concerning the number of deaths at the camp varywildly. Serbs claim that one million died there, whereas Franjo Tudjman,who was a historian before he became president of Croatia, claimed that70,000 died. The Serb claim is incorrect as a total of 1.4 million Yugoslavsdied in World War II altogether, and Tudjman’s numbers represent an under-estimation of casualties in any case. Carole Rogel, The Breakup of Yugoslaviaand the War in Bosnia, Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1998, p. 48.



2. Rogel, Yugoslavia, p. 12.3. Time Magazine, June 1980.4. John R. Lampe, Yugoslavia as History. Twice there was a Country,

Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997, p. 352.5. Dusko Doder and Louise Branson, Milosevic, Portrait of a Tyrant, New York:

Free Press, 1999, p. 75.6. Ian Jeffries, The Former Yugoslavia at the Turn of the Twenty-First Century,

London: Routledge Press, 2002, p. 238.7. Rogel, Yugoslavia, p. 25.8. Rogel, Yugoslavia, p. 25.9. Doder and Branson, Milosevic, pp. 94-5.

10. Christopher Bennett, Yugoslavia’s Bloody Collapse. Causes, Course andConsequences, New York: New York University Press, 1995, p. 172.

11. Rogel, Yugoslavia, p. 2912. Doder and Branson, Milosevic, p. 97.13. Rogel, Yugoslavia, p. 32.14. Rogel, Yugoslavia, p. 64.15. Rogel, Yugoslavia, p. 32.16. Bennett, Yugoslavia’s Bloody Collapse, p. 19717. Bennett, Yugoslavia’s Bloody Collapse, p. 198.18. Rogel, Yugoslavia, p. 32.19. Rogel, Yugoslavia, p. 36.20. Rogel, Yugoslavia, p. 66.21. Doder and Branson, Milosevic, p. 218.22. Rogel, Yugoslavia, p. 39.23. James Gow, Triumph of the Lack of Will. International Diplomacy and the

Yugoslav War, New York: Columbia University Press, 1997, p. 287.24. SFOR website: http://www.nato.int/sfor/docu/d981116a.htm.25. Cited in Leslie Derfler and Patricia Kollander, eds., An Age of Conflict:

Readings in Twentieth Century European History, San Diego: Harcourt BraceJovanovich Publishers, 2001, p. 371.

26. Bennett, Yugoslavia’s Bloody Collapse, p. 241.27. Bennett, Yugoslavia’s Bloody Collapse, p. 241.28. Bogdan Denitch, Ethnic Nationalism. The Tragic Death of Yugoslavia,

Minneapolis and London: University of Minnesota Press, 1994, p. 123.29. Derfler and Kollander, An Age of Conflict, p. 359.30. Bennett, Yugoslavia’s Bloody Collapse, p. 241.31. Denitch, Ethnic Nationalism, p. 124.32. Doder and Branson, Milosevic, p. 6.33. Tim Judah, The Serbs. History, Myth and the Destruction of Yugoslavia,

New Haven: Yale University Press, 2000.34. Bennett, Yugoslavia’s Bloody Collapse, p. 194. One of the most notable

adherents to this theory is General Lewis Mackenzie, a Canadian officer. Heaccepted a mission in 1992 to command UN troops in Bosnia for several



months in 1992. But he didn’t keep his job long because he insisted that allsides were to blame in the conflict. He continued to publicize his beliefsafter he was relieved of his command. In 1993, he told the House ArmedServices Committee: “Dealing with Bosnia is a bit like dealing with serialkillers—one has killed fifteen, one has killed ten, and one has killed five.Do we help the one who has only killed five?” Ibid., p. 194, fn.



CHAPTER 2

The Genocide Factor in the YugoslavWars of Dismemberment

Henry R. Huttenbach

Introduction

To observe the years of Yugoslavia’s fragmented demise throughthe lens of genocide calls for a brief introduction of the termitself. Its coiner—Raphael Lemkin—struggled to give the word

substantive meaning. On the one hand, Lemkin was concerned withfinding an appropriate conceptualization of genocide, namely, “What isthe phenomenon genocide?”; on the other, Lemkin sought to spell outfor lawyers exactly “What constitutes a genocidal act?” Both aspects ofgenocide—the thought and the deed—are enshrined in the 1948 UnitedNations’ Convention for the Prevention and Punishment of Genocide.Though subsequent tribunals have adopted the UN definition, all havefound it wanting in practice and even, at times, self-defeating. Notsurprisingly, the idea and the execution of the crime of genocide havebeen amended and expanded to suit post–World War II circumstances,with the result that there was and remains considerable confusion anddissent as to the precise meaning of genocide, between “literalists” and“generalists” in interpreting the 1948 Convention. Thus, an event thatis considered by some to be a clear-cut example of genocide may beinterpreted by others as falling short of being a bona fide genocide.

This, of course, poses a problem when assessing the multitieredinstances of mass violence in the years 1989–94, the years of the politicaldemise of the Yugoslav state into half a dozen independent politicalentities such as Slovenia, Croatia, Bosnia–Herzegovina, Serbia, and


Macedonia (with the possibility of two more—Kosovo and Montenegro).The central question is: when did mass violence erupting during theYugoslav breakup cross the invisible line into unambiguous genocide? Itis no idle question because the UN sponsored International CriminalTribunal for the Former Yugoslavia (ICTY) in The Hague is tryingCroats, Serbs, and Bosnians on various counts of genocide. Dependinghow one interprets genocidal intention and genocidal action, an indict-ment may or may not lead to conviction. Again and again, lawyers for theUN sponsored prosecution have sought greater flexibility in the court’sunderstanding of what constitutes genocide and what falls outside itsparameters. Part of the trouble lies with the impact of mass killing.Genocidal killing, a radical form of massacre, can be seen as an extremekind of human rights violation; at the same time it has all the hallmarksof a war crime, especially if one defines genocide as a war declared by astate upon a segment of its population. Again and again prosecution andlegal scholars have concluded that criminals suspected of having commit-ted genocide are easier to prove guilty of having violated “lesser” crimes,such as crime against humanity or even a war crime. Proof of genocide isfar more complex, they point out. First of all there is the slippery matterof intention. Intention is next to impossible to prove for lack of evidence:genocidists are careful not to leave a paper trail—Hitler signed nothing.In most cases of genocide, intention has to be inferred from the radicalacts of genocide, which leaves the problem of determining when aninstance of mass killing became genocidal. It is a thin line, largelydepending on the impressionistic. In the case of the many acts of ethnicviolence perpetrated on civilians during the wars of Yugoslav dismember-ment, there was an additional complication, the term “ethnic cleansing.”

Ethnic Cleansing

Ethnic cleansing was a term coined by a journalist to describe what hewitnessed in Yugoslavia. Recognizing the ethnic component of the warsand their acts of extreme violence, he linked ethnicity (as a motif ) to theidea of purging (i.e. killing)—hence “cleansing.” It was not he butothers who picked up the term and made out of it a synonym for geno-cide. The term as an alternative to genocide has been absorbed into thegeneral, everyday, vocabulary, but has no legal standing. The problem,therefore, is to translate what was dubbed an act of ethnic cleansing intoa genuine act of genocide or something “less.”

At the heart of ethnic cleansing is the act of mass expulsion of ethnicpopulations from a particular region. In Yugoslavia, all these incidents

24 ● Henry R. Huttenbach


were accompanied by willful, lethal violence on a scale that suggestedbona fide genocide. Taking the Lemkin criteria as a guideline, massexpulsions can be a part of a process endangering the existence of agroup, though not necessarily. What has to be proved is whether realexistential harm resulted in these incidents of large-scale brutal expul-sion of Catholic Croats, or Orthodox Serbs, or Muslims (Bosnian orKosovan), or of Romani (Gypsies).

In retrospect, with hindsight, a qualified affirmative is in order in allcases of ethno-selective killings. The goal was not merely control ofancestral territory but also the elimination of the targeted ethno-populations. If group consciousness rests also on territoriality, then theremoval of an ethnic minority (or majority as was the case in Kosovo) istantamount to posing an existential threat. In that case, the shadow (atleast the suspicion) of genocide falls on most of the ethno-participantsengaged in carving out their respective mono-ethnic state. What followsis an interpretation of the wars of Yugoslavia’s collapse seen through theprism of genocide.

War and Genocide

Recent scholarship on genocide has been exploring the war–genocidenexus, searching for the points where the two dissect, focusing on thearea of overlap where war and genocide coincide, especially to determinetheir cause and effect relationship. The consensus to-date, at least intheory, is that war need not escalate into genocidal violence unlesscircumstances dictate; conversely, in practice, all genocides are ipso factoa kind of war. Because of the nature of its violence, genocide should beunderstood as lying within the parameters of war, both as a precipitatorof war and as an offspring of war.

In the last century genocide has taken place within traditional inter-state wars, in civil wars, in wars of secession, in irredentist wars, in warsof colonial imperial expansion and contraction, in anti- and postcolonialwars of independence and power consolidation, and lastly, in a primafacie war of genocide declared and waged by a state against a targetedsegment of its civilian population. In other words, war is a possiblesetting but not an absolute precondition for genocide, since genocide canerupt without an accompanying war. Nevertheless, all wars can and manydo degenerate into genocide, serving as a warning to those looking aheadfor clues of potential outbursts of radical, that is genocide-like violence.

Given these sets of operative conclusions, how do they shed light onthe multimega killings and policies that marked some stages of the

The Genocide Factor in Yugoslav Wars ● 25


disintegration of the multiethnic state of Yugoslavia, keeping in mindthat genocidal violence was by no means automatic or inevitable? Afterall, in the several wars that accompanied the collapse of the Yugoslavstate along ethno-territorial lines, genocidal violence did not character-ize every phase. The most notable example was the first battle, theSlovenian war of secession. If anything, it was more of a symbolic war,whose violence remained on a very low level, best illustrated by the smallcasualty rate. The military power for greater bloodshed was available tothe Yugo-Serbian side; but it was not unleashed. One could classify itparadoxically as a peaceful war, reminiscent of the peaceful, politicallyengineered divorce without serious violence, which characterized theelite-bartered breakup of Czechoslovakia and, even more dramatically,the quasi-grassroots stimulated dissolution of the USSR. Scholars whoexpected a replay of the post-1917 slaughter of the Russian Civil Warwere caught methodologically and conceptually off-guard. Conversely,if not ironically, no one anticipated the phenomenon of murderousethnic cleansing that revolutionized the way scholars now regard thechallenge of understanding the potency of ethnic conflict. In this case,it pertains to the unraveling of Yugoslavia into Slovenia, Croatia,Bosnia–Herzegovina, Macedonia, and rump Yugoslavia (Serbia andMontenegro), a process of fragmentation by no means over. Thereremains open the question of Montenegro’s unresolved independencemovement, of Kosovo’s autonomy, of Macedonia’s viability, and, poten-tially most destabilizing, the possible crack-up of Bosnia–Herzegovinawith its three hostile rival ethnic enclaves cobbled together by the DPA.

Genocide in the Yugoslav Wars

Signs of genocide, in the form of ethnic cleansing, first reared their headsduring the second phase of the war of Yugoslav disintegration. The firstphase, as mentioned above, was Slovenia’s short and successful war ofself-determination. The brevity of the hostilities was due to severalfactors: the key one was Slovenia’s ethnic homogeneity, over 95 percent.Its tiny minorities—Italians (on the Adriatic coast), Hungarians (in theeast), and Germans (in the north)—had no urgent political or territorialambitions, so could not be used as leverage by the Serbo-Yugoslav forces.A second factor was the surprising determination of the Slovenes tofight. Equally significant was that they were very well armed. The combi-nation discouraged the Serbo-Yugoslav forces from engaging in seriousbattle. Another reason was the reluctance of Croatia to give Yugoslav(Serbian) forces unlimited transit rights, thereby helping to lay the



foundation for the Serbian–Croatian confrontation, which proved to bean entirely different war in kind and in degree.

The intensity of the fighting in the second phase was fueled byBelgrade’s determination to gain control over the sizeable Serbian popu-lations and territories in Croatia, largely concentrated in Krajina andSlavonia. Initially, Belgrade had asked Croatia to guarantee the minor-ity rights of Croatian Serbs, a deep concern that was rooted in traumaticWorld War II memories, when Nazi-backed Ustasha Croatia practicedgenocide on its Serbian citizens in such concentration/death camps asJasenovac and its satellite camps. When Zagreb failed to provide suchassurances, Serbian forces helped the Croatian Serbs in the two enclavesto arm themselves, encouraging them to declare their independence as afirst step toward merger into a Greater Serbia, a profound fear of thegovernment in Zagreb, which also harbored deep-seated fears ofbecoming a part of a Serbian hegemonic state.

Under these polarizing conditions, the Croat–Serbian war was foughtwith unsurprising ferocity. On the one hand Croatia sought to avertamputation of some of its historic territory, while Serbia energeticallyfought to enlarge its territorial and ethno-demographic base, a classiccase of the collision of mutually exclusive national ambitions: hence theescalation in military violence, increasingly aimed at civilians. Croatscame to regard the Serbian citizens as traitors and active collaborators, alatter-day fifth column, that needed to be disarmed and expelled enmasse; whereas Yugo-Serbs in Belgrade felt duty-bound to protect theirethno-kin across the border from mass eviction—or at least that washow much of the rhetoric made events out to be. The second roundended in a stalemate: Krajina and Slavonia remained de jure in Croatiabut under the de facto control of well-armed Serbian minorities backedby Belgrade.

Seen through the prism of ethnic cleansing both secession states hadtwo diametrically opposed goals: Croatia to expel the Serbian popula-tions and retain the “ethno-purified” territory; the Serbs to gain theterritories along with their Serbian inhabitants.

Given the stalemate, the two foes secretly changed tack; they calledan unofficial cease-fire and refocused their combined attentions onBosnia–Herzegovina, which Presidents Slobodan Milosevic and FranjoTudjman agreed to divide, declaring the Bosnian Muslims to be theircommon enemy, covertly planning a war of extermination of theBosnian Muslims. Ideologically, the two presidents agreed that a Muslimentity in Europe was totally unacceptable and had to be excised. Thisgave rise to the rhetoric of genocide and the commensurate ferocious



fighting aimed at evicting Muslim citizens, testifying to the genocidalintentions and execution of both Belgrade and Zagreb.

The first stage of the third war was a classic case of a war of partition,fomented by a Croat/Serb strategy, first to seize their respective“historic” lands in Bosnia–Herzegovina, followed by the attempted massremoval of Muslim populations within the internal borders of Bosnia,especially from the cities and towns. The overall goal was to nullify theMuslim enclave by means of a major war of attrition that increasinglytook on the characteristics of a war of extermination, by preventing theformation of a viable Muslim army. Bosnian Croatian and BosnianSerbian armies had large military stockpiles at their disposal, thanks tosupplies from Croatia and Serbia, while the Bosnian Muslims weredenied assistance due to an international arms embargo. Had they notreceived crucial supplies from Muslim countries (from Saudi Arabia,Afghanistan, Syria, even Chechnya) most Bosnian Muslims might havebeen erased from the map of Bosnia.

The Serbian siege of Sarajevo was part of a battle designed to stop theformation of a viable Muslim state, to cripple the Bosnian capital, andto force Bosnian Muslims out of the city thereby creating a floodof uprooted refugees unable to return. The genocidal character of thewar over Bosnia was manifested in two other areas, in the form ofculturecide and gendercide.

Culturecide

Culturecide has long been practiced as an instrument of forced assimi-lation. It is aimed at a variety of targets, from the killing of the artisticelite of a nation (e.g. Stalin’s post–World War II campaign againstYiddish culture or Hitler’s suppression of Polish cultural life) to destroy-ing cultural monuments (e.g. churches, mosques, etc.), of which thereare too many examples to cite here except for three in the context of thewars of disintegrating Yugoslavia.

The first was the deliberate bombardment of Croatian Dubrovnik bythe Serbs, even though the city had no military or political strategicvalue. A second example was perpetrated by the Croats on the BosnianMuslims of Mostar. At the heart of this Croat act of culturecide was thecentury-old Ottoman bridge, an architectural gem of international note,and a historic feat of preindustrial engineering. Again, the bridge spelledno strategic military supply road. On the contrary, it lay on the periph-ery of the struggle for Bosnia. The goal of the attack was none otherthan a willful effort to destroy a cultural edifice with which the Muslim



community of Bosnia identified. In this case, the other goal was to destroy the multiethnicity of the town and leave it a homogenousCroatian population.

A third example was that of Serbian culturecide visited upon theBosnian Muslims in Sarajevo. During the siege of Sarajevo, the Serbianartillery, entrenched in the hilltops surrounding Sarajevo on three sides,had two goals: to terrorize the citizens out of the multiethnic city and,secondly, to demolish Muslim monuments, while carefully not targetingchurches, Catholic and Orthodox, and synagogues. This time thecultural target was Sarajevo’s magnificent library, a unique architecturalspecimen, and its holdings of tens of thousands of irreplaceable manu-scripts. The building was deliberately set on fire by incendiary shells. Allcontents—books and manuscripts—were lost. All that stands today isthe charred shell of the exterior, the ruins serving as a reminder of theintensity of the culturecide that threatened to exterminate Muslimcommunal life in Bosnia.

Gendercide

Gendercide was another genocidal phenomenon practiced during thewar of Yugoslav dismantlement in the context of Bosnia. As the termindicates, gendercide is mass killing according to gender. This can workin two directions: gendercide can be the targeting of women or men.The following example is about the systematic killing of all males as ameans of jeopardizing the biological future of the targeted group. Theincident took place in one of the half dozen Muslim towns in Bosniadeclared “safe cities” under UN protection. This arrangement failedtragically in the case of Srebrenica. The handful of UN troops fromHolland offered no resistance to the Bosnian Serb forces. After securingthe town, the Bosnian Serb soldiers rounded up every Muslim male between the ages of 8 and 60. Approximately 8,000–9,000 weremarched out of Srebrenica and promptly executed. Practically no one escaped the genocidal gendercide. The rest of the population, chil-dren, women, and old men were trucked out of the region and dumpedin the woods to fend for themselves, their collective lives shattered bygendercide. Whether there is a sufficient number of surviving childrenfor the population to recover is unlikely. At the time of writing someBosnian Muslims have returned, but there are very few whole house-holds. It is now known that the Bosnian Serbs had intended to ethno-purify the other “safe” enclaves, were it not for the DPA, which haltedthe fighting.



The International Response

International intervention, though it eventually managed to halt theviolence, came too late to avert genocide. That it came too late sensi-tized the international community to the next crisis, the fate of Kosovo’sAlbanian Muslims. President Milosevic was determined to make theterritory Serbian—administratively and demographically. Several yearsearlier, Milosevic has rescinded Tito’s act, declaring Kosovo to be anautonomous republic within Serbia, in part to diffuse ethnic tensionsand appease the claims of Yugoslav’s Albanian minorities (then also inMontenegro and Macedonia). In one stroke, Milosevic had scuttledethnic peace. He further fueled the crisis by settling Serbian refugeesfrom Bosnia on the Kosovo border with Albania. At the same time, helaunched a campaign of terror in Kosovo, designed to drive the Albanianminority out. Fearing new Bosnian-style violence, the UN in conjunc-tion with NATO put pressure on Milosevic to stop his policy of ethniccleansing. An agreement at Rambouillet, France, authorized militaryactions until Milosevic complied. This was the fourth phase of theviolent breakup of Yugoslavia—this time in the context of genocideprevention. Preemptive action had its first day in the context ofthe threat of genocide in former Yugoslavia. This time, unlikeBosnia–Herzegovina, the worst was avoided. Milosevic finally capitu-lated and the million plus Albanian refugees returned, most of themunscathed, though many had lost their homes and farms to Serbianlooting and arson.

Ironically and tragically, with the Albanian return a brand of counter-ethnic cleansing took place. Under NATO protection, Albanian mili-tants drove Serbian and Roma minorities out of Kosovo in the name ofethnic homogeneity. Since then, most Serbs have failed to return thoughmost Roma did return, largely because they received no asylum inSerbia. And so ends the survey of the genocidal dimension inYugoslavia’s political demise.

Yugoslavia in Context

In terms of genocide studies, one has traveled a long way since WorldWar II. On looking back, the Hitlerian extermination of EuropeanJewry seems relatively simple, both conceptually and in terms of execu-tion. There was a criminal state which had designated the Jews as its mortal enemy and killed them accordingly, almost in a business-like manner. Half a century later, in Yugoslavia, particularly in



Bosnia–Herzegovina, the drama is not so simple. There one witnessesradical violence escalated by extreme interethnic interests. Before thewar was brought to an end by international intervention, the wars inBosnia–Herzegovina were characterized as genocidal but with differ-ences. There were three antagonists and three victims: in that conflicteach ethno-group—Bosnian Muslim, Croat, and Serb—was both perpe-trator and victim in some degree. Genocidal and anti-genocidalstratagems and tactics can be ascribed to all three combatants.

Depending on the circumstances, each group was either on the defen-sive or on the attack. When it went on the offensive it engaged ingenocidal violence if circumstances permitted. Three-way polarizationguaranteed a psychology of extermination. In the absence of modifyingcircumstances—except for foreign intervention—extreme violencewon the day. Out of the ruins has come a new dynamic, namely, geno-cide/ethnic cleansing and counter-genocide/counter ethnic cleansing.This is not just a challenge to scholars in search of understanding but tojurists. For where is the line that separates defensive violence from offen-sive violence? If there is any seriousness attached to the old adage that“The best defense is offense,” then the legal distinction is nebulous.

In the case of Bosnia–Herzegovina it has been simplified for politicalreasons. From the onset of the war over Bosnia, the internationalcommunity’s operating consensus was that Serbia was the villain in thewar. So, while the bulk of the onus of war crimes, of violations of human rights, of genocide, were put on Serbian shoulders, the equallyserious crimes of the Croats and Bosnian Muslims were generally, atleast initially, overlooked and, at least, ranked a distant second to thecrimes of ethnic cleansing associated with Serbia. The results are adistortion of reality, and justice seriously compromised.

But what is meant by “genocidal ethnic cleansing”? It is coined tostress what kind of genocide took place during the years of communalwarfare in Bosnia–Herzegovina in particular and in Yugoslavia ingeneral. By genocide is meant that a group has been selected for somedegree of extinction, that its very existence is put into question, that anexistential danger prevailed. The term ethnic is stressed in order toemphasize the cultural dimension and dynamics of the hostilities—thatethnic interests were of the highest priority and dictated most of theagendas. Lastly “cleansing”: this term has a long history in twentieth-century political parlance. It was used in the context of Stalin’s brutalpolicies of the 1930s. Here, entire groups—the Party, peasants, the offi-cer corps—were cleansed of “impurities”—hence the innocent-soundingterm “chistka,” often translated as “a purge.” In medicine, the body is



purged (cleansed) of toxins. Thus, cleansing in this usage is a term thatraises thoughts of destruction, of ridding society of aliens. One does nottolerate mortal enemies; one rids oneself of all the toxins. This totalisticmind-set implies genocide. In Yugoslavia’s case the enemy was an ethnic-ity, which, in the context of the various civil wars of secession, led togenocidal violence. In several instances the hostile ethno-group residedon land considered to be the historic patrimony of the rival ethno-group, which inevitably heightened the intensity of the fighting on bothsides. On the one hand the “squatters” fought not only to fend off anenemy not to fall under his control, but also to prevent being expelledfrom the disputed territory. On the other hand, the challenger foughtboth to win territory but also to evict the alien population. This quicklybrought the violence up to genocidal proportions. Furthermore it wasfueled by fear, fear fanned by knowledge of similar battles which hadgenerated large-scale numbers of refugees with nowhere to go. The factthat losing spelled the same treatment added to the degree of violence.

Conclusion

The wars of Yugoslav dismemberment provide a rich opportunity tostudy the varieties of genocide in the context of a disintegrating multi-ethnic state. Comparison with the demise of other such states may shedfurther light on the wars and their genocidal aspects, especially on thegnawing question: what accounts for the outbreak of violence and whatdeters it? And, what led to the radicalization of violence on one occasionand to the opposite on another? These are key questions for managingfuture crises of this kind.

A key factor is the role of elites as voices of extremism or moderation.Why are they sometimes enthusiastically heeded, and sometimesrebuffed? Is there a counter-elite? Or is there a source of rejection in thecultural makeup of the masses? In Bosnia–Herzegovina, with few excep-tions, clerics overwhelmingly supported ethnic warfare; few spoke onbehalf of peace. They tended to politicize the rank and file from a reli-gious perspective, working hand in glove with the ethno-radicalizingpolitical leadership. The role of intellectual circles also provides tentativeanswers. While the wars went in their ethno-group’s favor, intellectualstended not to oppose the violence; whereas when the tide of war turnedagainst them, their voices spoke peace and ethno-reconciliation. There isnothing new in this cynical behavior; one can observe the same processin Nazi Germany, however feebly, toward the end of World War II.

In sum, the case of genocide as a component part of the wars inYugoslav dismemberment is an excellent exercise for analysis of the



phenomenon of genocide. It serves as a warning to all weakening, post-colonial, multiethnic states. In the absence of a unifying identity andculture, ethnicity quickly asserts itself. With the loss of state, citizen-ship, and mainstream society, the individual is forced back into atavisticethnic communities, the last refuge.

Mikhail Gorbachev predicated his reform of the USSR on the exis-tence of a robust Soviet meta-ethnic citizenry. He was found to bewrong. Parochial ethnic identification prevailed. The same happened inCzechoslovakia which rested on a hyphenated ethno-national identity;the hyphen proved to be insufficient to hold the two ethno-constituenciestogether. That they divorced peacefully is still an intriguing puzzle.Could there have been a violent breakup? Who and what is responsiblefor the bloodless divorce? This, of course, is the flip side of the questionscoming out of the more complex multi-divorce in Yugoslavia, where thethreat of genocide became a constant and was a reference point through-out the war. Genocide is undeniably a very visible thread in the richtapestry of the last days of Yugoslavia.

This leaves one to attempt one or two concluding observations.Genocides have been a visible and troubling part of the twentieth century.From the German slaughter of the Herreros at the start of the centuryto the massacre of the Tutsis in Rwanda at the end of the century, genocidein various guises has been attempted and achieved on most continents.Just as there are no geographic limitations to the crime, there are noother forms of parameters making people safe from genocidal actsexcept, perhaps, in truly democratic systems. The Right, no less than theLeft, have no monopoly in genocide: whether for reasons of ideology,class, race, ethnicity, or religion, genocide has repeatedly reared itsmurderous head.

When it did so against the Ottoman Armenians, those in the knowascribed it to the “Asiatic mentality.” When genocide exploded in thecenter of Europe, the Hitlerian Final Solution was catalogued as anaberration, a throwback to medieval barbarism, an exception, a kind ofhistoric “glitch.” When it victimized the Ache Indians of Paraguay, liter-ally no one cared to know about it. When the genocide of Pol Pot turnedCambodia into a vast cemetery, it was denied as a genocide for almosttwo decades. When genocide reached southeastern Europe it was at firstignored as being “impossible in the context of Europe.” It took years tofeel the need to intervene; the DPA and the Rambouillet Agreementcame too late for hundreds of thousands of ethnic victims. At first thecrime was ascribed solely to the Serbs, the “villains” of the Westernpress. Only slowly was disbelief (a form of denial) overcome as ethnicconflicts turned into mutual unlimited slaughter: Croats and Bosnian



Muslims proved just as inclined as the Serbs to commit genocide whengiven the opportunity.

As we enter the twenty-first century, ethnic conflicts abound, manyalready engaged in various degrees of violence. Areas especially vulnera-ble to Yugoslav-style conflicts are Nigeria, the Congo, Indonesia, andIndia. In each, ethnic war is germinating and brewing, alerting theworld that what transpired in Yugoslavia was no “accident” or “excep-tion.” Postcolonial states, all of them to some degree multiethnic, arebeginning to fall apart for sundry reasons; but in all of them, ethnicstrife plays a critical role. This new century is fraught with the danger ofrepeated ethno-related genocide. The recently established InternationalCriminal Court (ICC) will have its work cut out trying genocidists ornear-genocidists. The world is far from being safe from the scourge ofgenocide, a phenomenon still not fully understood. Perhaps somelessons may be drawn from the political death of Yugoslavia, if onlywarning signals that were not heeded in time. Rwanda is a case in pointin which there was an abundance of signs that should have alerted theinternational community but did not—a crime in itself!

The mystery still remains: why, in some cases of conflict, is there noaccompanying violence? If this riddle could be solved, then—perhaps—wemay be a step closer to halting future genocides, and caught less bysurprise, as was the tragic experience in Yugoslavia.

Yet the twentieth century was not all bleak; there is an encouraginglegacy of success in the war waged against genocide. (1) The term geno-cide was coined and defined and is now a central concept in globaldiscourse. (2) The term has been enshrined as an international crime inthe UN Convention. (3) Dozens of ad hoc tribunals have been set up totry genocidists. (4) A head of state has been indicted and is being triedfor genocide. (5) An international court, the ICC, is now a permanentfact. (6) The principle of absolute sovereignty has been breached andcan no longer serve as a safe haven for mass murderers. (7) The interna-tional community has recognized the right of humanitarian interventionin the case of genocide. These are significant achievements, thoughmany more strides have to be taken.



CHAPTER 3

The Relationship Between theDismemberment of Yugoslavia and

European IntegrationFrancesco Privitera

The Yugoslav Crisis

At the end of the 1980s, the EC was on the eve of a crucial newstep in its development—broadening its political and economicsubstance.1 Mikhail Gorbachev’s accession to the position of

general secretary of the Soviet Communist Party in 1985, accompaniedby the beginning of a reform process within the Soviet Union and theentire Soviet bloc, produced a period of détente between the two coldwar camps that was especially pronounced in Europe. Gorbachev’sproposal to create a “Common European Home,”2 though it was metwith reluctance in Brussels and the major European capitals, sparked anew debate on the future of the EC in the framework of the changesoccurring in the Soviet bloc.

Of course, no one in the West between 1987 and 1988 perceived theimminent geopolitical earthquake that would begin during the summerof 1989, and in a few months lead to the collapse of the Berlin Wall(9 November 1989) and the end of the Cold War. Brussels and theEC cabinets attempted to pursue business as usual, and reacted withthe timid gesture of an agreement acknowledging mutual recognitionbetween the EC and the Council on Mutual Economic Assistance(CMEA). This was intended as a preliminary response from the EC


to Gorbachev’s call for a “Common European Home,” but also as a confirmation of Western leadership in steering the European integra-tion process that had begun in 1957 with the Treaty of Rome. Thoughmany Communist leaders possessed reformist credentials similar tothose of Gorbachev, they were not to be allowed to chart a course for theEuropean integration process or to contribute to the definition of apolitical identity for Europe. The question was nonetheless opened atthis point, and it was clear to the European cabinets that a seriousdebate on the political identity of Europe could no longer be put off,and that the EC must pursue transformation well beyond the stage of asimple common market.

With this serious discussion in its beginning stages, the crises of the Communist bloc erupted. During 1989, suddenly and unexpectedly,the Communist bloc entered into a process of disruption. At the outset, theHungarians opened their borders with Austria, breaking through the“Iron Curtain” and allowing thousand of citizens of the Eastern bloc, inparticular East Germans, to move to the West. Subsequently, in a kindof domino effect, Poland, Czechoslovakia, the German DemocraticRepublic (GDR), and Bulgaria were swept by massive protests, strikes,and rallies. The process culminated during the night of 9 November1989, when thousand of East Berliners assaulted the Wall and crossed tothe other side, making it unmistakeably clear that an era was closed.

The old system was gone, but no alternative was as yet in place. Whatwould be the destiny of the new Europe coming into being? How mightit be possible for the EC to maintain control over its own developmentunder the radically changed circumstances? And how would the“German Question” posed by the collapse of the Wall be resolved?

In view of these rapid and dramatic changes, the EC immediatelydecided to accelerate the creation of a common currency, a goal that hadrecently been revived after having been abandoned during the 1970s.With the typical functionalist approach that has characterized a largepart of the European unification process, European cabinets decided toprioritize the economic sphere as a basis for strengthening politicalcooperation. A road map for the decade to come was set in placeoriented toward the creation of a common currency on the basis ofstrong criteria for eligibility, with the intent of launching the Euro as anew EC currency unit around 2000. The question of the Euro did notdirectly involve political cooperation, but it was widely understood thata common currency would require a stronger political body. In theevent, it was quite clear to the European cabinets that their job wouldbe to negotiate a new and more robust political sovereignty for the EC.

36 ● Francesco Privitera


The EC agenda nonetheless failed to take account of the rapid changesoccurring in Eastern Europe. The sweeping ramifications of the collapseof the Communist bloc were much deeper than was widely presumed inthe West.

In fact, in the euphoria generated by the end of the Cold War, thereal challenges of the situation were underestimated in both East andWest. For the East, liberation from Soviet domination was interpretedas the key to becoming “Westernized Europeans” including rapid inclu-sion in European institutions. For the West, by way of contrast, the endof the Cold War was interpreted as a stimulus to efforts to deepen theEC process, particularly through the creation of a common currency,without fear of the Soviet bloc.3

The EC scenario was moving rapidly toward an uncertain future. The1989 “revolution,” to use Ralf Dahrendorf ’s terminology,4 was notproducing the “End of History” defined by Francis Fukuyama.5 It hadinstead given rise to an acceleration of history.

A first dramatic consequence was the unification of Germany. When,in 1990, German Chancellor Helmut Kohl pushed for the unification ofthe Federal Republic of Germany (FRG) and the GDR, he risked desta-bilizing the EC as well as the whole of Europe. At the outset, France, ledby President François Mitterrand, strongly opposed German unifica-tion. Enormous tensions were the consequence. For Paris, the increasedsize of a unified Germany risked minimizing French leadership in theEC. But after months of political confusion, Mitterrand changedapproach and opted for strengthening the EC as a political instrumentin order to create a “containment framework” for the new Germany.According to French calculations, only a strong EC could includeGermany in a framework capable of blocking any possible German“revanchism.” For the French, intergovernmental cooperation betweenthe EC countries became the preferred way to strengthen Europeanpolitical capacity, instead of the European federalist approach champi-oned by Germany. According to the French logic, co-opting the Germangovernment in shared European policies would offer greater guarantiesthan a federal option, where the size of Germany would inevitably diluteFrench leadership within the EC. By way of contrast, the UnitedKingdom, under the leadership of Margaret Thatcher, maintained itstraditional euro-scepticism and opposed any kind of deepening of ECinstitutions. London supported German unification in order to balanceFrance’s political role on the Continent, and to slow down the deepen-ing process within the EC itself.6 In addition, London’s participation inthe 1990–91 Gulf War manifested a will to be the closest global partner

Dismemberment of Yugoslavia and European Integration ● 37


of the USA and a kind of “American agent” in Europe. London soughtto limit the strengthening of the EC to the domain of the commonmarket, including the protection of Western markets from competitionfrom East European goods.

Despite London’s agenda, the Gulf War crisis made evident the needfor the EC to transform itself into a stronger international politicalsubject capable of producing a coherent common policy. This was, inprinciple, one of the main reasons for the decision taken by ECmembers to sign the Maastricht Treaty. Negotiations were nonethelessvery difficult, in part because of the strong opposition by the UnitedKingdom to any kind of enlargement of the political dimension of theEC, and to any kind of supranational political and institutional body.

As this debate was inaugurated, dramatic events elsewhere furthercomplicated the issue. The Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia(SFRY) was swept into a massively destructive civil and ethnic war towhich Europe as a whole was forced to respond.7 The genesis of theYugoslav breakdown lies in the decade of difficulties that followed JosipBroz Tito’s death in 1980, during which the country failed in an effortto overcome the legacies of the past, as well as to address demands forreform and new direction emanating from society. Whether or not theYugoslav crisis was an “inevitable” consequence of the contradiction ofthe Titoist system, it erupted just as the EC deepening process was rean-imated between 1990 and 1991.

When the Yugoslav Constitution of 1974 was introduced, the groundfor important changes and reforms within the Yugoslav system wasalready established. Both the six Yugoslav republics and two autonomousregions received a semi-federal status. In this way, relationships betweenthe different national components were improved, as well as the capac-ity to represent their own particular interest outside the context of theFederation. But the federal decision-making system remained much toorigid compared with the greater flexibility achieved by individual federalunits.8 At the same time, Yugoslav society had begun a process of signif-icant transformation. The Yugoslav self-management system producedconsiderable cultural and economic differentiation within the country’svarious social groups (especially when compared with other communistcountries), and many of these groups were now asking for politicalrepresentation within the League of Communists. Soon, these requestswould be broadened to include representation outside what was aboutto become another “former” ruling party.9 The economic performanceof the self-management system had been very good during the expansivephase of the 1960s and 1970s. In addition, the nonalignment policy



promoted by Tito since the 1950s, as well as the strategic role played byYugoslavia as a “balancer” in Cold War competition in Europe, offeredopportunities for obtaining financial support from the IMF and WorldBank. At the end of the 1970s and through the 1980s, however, theYugoslav economy entered into a deep crisis. During these years, accu-mulated structural imbalances, including enormously increased foreigndebt, combined with negative global economic trends, created severesocioeconomic turbulence.

For all these reasons, as the 1980s dawned Yugoslavia stood at acrucial crossroads: one road led toward far-reaching and fundamentalreform, and the other toward tragic and inevitable failure. Yugoslaviawas ready to introduce reforms gradually, since the post-Tito leadershipwas aware of the need for them. The question was how to manage areform process when the rest of the communist countries in Europe,including the Soviet Union, were locked into a rigid orthodox position,as the Polish example clearly demonstrated.10 The Yugoslav communistleadership was afraid to produce a destabilizing effect in the Soviet bloc,as had occurred indirectly during the 1956 Hungarian crisis. In effect,the achievement by Yugoslavia of a real “national way” to communism,after the 1948 break with Moscow, transformed the Titoist federationinto a model for all reformers in the Soviet camp, creating ideologicaland political competition between Yugoslavia and the Soviet Union.11

Yugoslavia was well aware of this situation, as well as the fact that aidreceived from the United States and various international organizationssince the 1950s was granted within the framework of a strategy of desta-bilization toward the Soviet bloc strongly promoted by Washington.12

Therefore, when the Soviet Union invaded Afghanistan in 1979, repeat-ing the policy of intervention pursued in 1956 in Hungary and 1968 inCzechoslovakia, and after the 1981 military crackdown led by GeneralWojciech Jaruzelski which crushed Poland’s Solidarity movement, theYugoslav leadership became very prudent about possible reforms. Thefear was that reforms could provide an occasion for the Soviet Union toput an end to the Yugoslav experiment. As a result, when a crisis eruptedin Kosovo in 1981, the Federation acted in a very prudent and timidway, although the need to begin a reform process as soon as possiblewas quite clear. Yugoslavia was in a position to launch reforms with aconsiderable head start compared with other nations within the Sovietbloc, including Mikhail Gorbachev’s Soviet Union, but the Yugoslavleadership never took full advantage of its relatively favorable situation.

Would Yugoslavia be able to anticipate the direction of the futurepost-communist transition, eventually initiated in Hungary and Poland



on the eve of 1989? The possibility for positive adaptation was present,given awareness within the Yugoslav leadership of the need for politicalchanges, and intensifying pressure from both within and without. Onone hand the most developed Yugoslav republics, such as Slovenia andto a lesser extent Croatia and Serbia, where urban society was generallyquite advanced, were transforming themselves into islands of civicsociety prepared for a possible Yugoslav glasnost’.13 On the other hand,however, both the IMF and World Bank, influenced by the free tradepolicies of the US administration of President Ronald Reagan, beganto request reimbursement of the grants from which Yugoslavia hadbenefited in the past, creating a dispute within the Federation aboutthe amount to be reimbursed by each republic. In fact, the countrywas unable to reimburse such grants at the same time that it needednew international support to help launch a reform program. For all ofthese reasons, the Yugoslav leadership acted very timidly in thesocial and political sphere, postponing any serious reform program to abetter time.

When Gorbachev came to power in the Soviet Union in the 1985, thetime had arrived. The Yugoslav leadership welcomed Gorbachev’s electionas general secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union, in thehope that it would become the prelude to a new, more positive relation-ship with the Soviet Union. When Gorbachev launched his reformcourse under the rubrics perestroika and glasnost’, similar initiatives werealready in the minds of Yugoslav leaders. Unfortunately, it was too late.During the long years spent waiting for a better international frameworkthe Federation’s domestic situation had become considerably exacer-bated, with an economic crisis erupting at the same time that sources ofexternal assistance disappeared. Additionally, the rapprochementbetween East and West produced by the new international approachpromoted by Gorbachev was transforming the logic of the Cold War, aswell as the geopolitics of Europe and the world. Yugoslavia was rapidlylosing its strategic position in the international context, and from aWestern perspective becoming more marginal.

Yugoslavia’s inability to reverse the course of economic decline gaverise to social tensions that were rapidly transformed into nationalclaims. Simultaneously, as the country became more marginal in theinternational context, it became more difficult to attract internationalaid to help resolve its many problems. As the Federation, in crisis, wasincreasingly preoccupied by domestic nationalist quarrels, its credibilityand ability to attract sympathetic international support further declined.Deferred reform had given rise to a dangerous vicious circle.14



East is East and West is West

Following the 1989 events, the EC evaluated possible policies towardEastern European countries in support of democratization, as well asmeasures to encourage the introduction of a market economy. At thattime, the EC approach to transition was still very timid and confused.The main preoccupation of Western cabinets was how to face expectedmass migration from the East. Poor living conditions within the coun-tries of Eastern Europe after the collapse of the communist regimesencouraged the fear of an invasion of the richest Western countries byimpoverished labor migrants in search of prosperity and dignity. TheWestern mass media presented apocalyptic scenarios that envisionedmillions of easterners arriving like “locusts,” destabilizing the peacefullife of the West. The landing on the Italian coasts of thousands ofdesperate Albanians, seeking to escape from hopeless poverty, offeredEuropean cabinets a dramatic example of a possible future confrontingthe West as a whole. In this context, the main interest of the EC becameto adopt procedures for preventing and stopping any migrationflows from the East. These procedures produced a strengthening ofcontrols on the EC borders and a new set of common rules for contain-ing migration flows.15

Apart from the migration issue, however, the EC was unprepared toface the radical changes occurring in Eastern Europe. The notion of anew “Marshall Plan” for the East circulated within the EC, but itquickly became clear that it would be impossible to act upon. First, theEC was unable to direct any such plan, given the lack of strong leader-ship to make it coherent and effective. Second, no member states wereprepared to accept an EC lead which, at that point in time, meantsurrendering partial sovereignty to Brussels. Nor were any of themember states ready to offer grants to the EC for aid to the East. Finally,following the euphoria of the end of the Cold War, public opinion (andno doubt elite opinion as well) was completely unprepared for thedramatic escalation of the crisis of transition that was about to ensue.

The most dramatic manifestation of that crisis was the violentcollapse of Yugoslavia, which generated new preoccupation in Brusselsand in Western cabinets. This was a dilemma of major proportions, butalso an extraordinary occasion to demonstrate the capacity of the EC tomanage such situations, and to act coherently as a real political subject.Indeed, circumstances posed the real necessity for the EC to deepen andstrengthen its political will and action. With the collapse of Yugoslavia,1991 became a crucial year for the EC and the future of Europe. Rather



than approaching the “end” of Fukuyama’s prediction, history wasrunning very fast indeed.

The Yugoslav crisis immediately revealed the fragility of EC institu-tions. By chance, the declaration of secession issued by Slovenia andCroatia on 25 June 1991, occurred during a session of the EC govern-mental board, which promptly nominated an EC representation—theso-called troika—in order to conduct mediation.16 Formally, since theYugoslav crisis had entered its final stage from the beginning of 1991,EC policy had asserted support for the integrity of the Federation.Nonetheless, not only did individual member states promote specificand often contradictory policies toward the crisis, but the EC itselfended by legitimizing the gestures of the secessionist republicsindirectly.17

Confusion over policy was heightened by the considerable intricaciesof the Yugoslav situation. Since 1989, Slovenia, Croatia, and Serbia hadacted simultaneously in opposition to the Federation. Though eachrepublic pursued specific goals, they worked together to undermine thecapacity of the Federation to carry on the economic and politicalreforms promoted by the Federal Premier Ante Markovic. On one side,Slovenia and Croatia demanded the reconfiguration of the Federationinto a kind of “Yugoslav Commonwealth” or “Yugoslav Community”based on the model of the EC, with strong commercial links but a weakpolitical profile. On the other side, Serbia sought the perpetuation of aunified Yugoslavia in order to maintain all the Serb communities of thecountry within a common federal body, and to strengthen centralizedauthority as a reaction against Slovene and Croat separatism.18 AlthoughSlovene and Croat secessionism was much more explicit, Serbia alsoconsidered secession to be a serious political option, so long as thisincluded the possibility of maintaining all Serbs within the boundariesof a single state.

The Federation was constrained by separatism within the republics,and by a lack of credibility within the international community. It wasparadoxical that Slovenia, and to a lesser extent Croatia, were indeedfurther along the road of democratic transition than the Federation as awhole. The EC was continuously asking the Federation to expedite thedemocratization process, imposing a kind of conditionality according towhich the more democracy developed, the more aid and financial supportwould be forthcoming. This situation was creating a vicious circle, withthe politics of nationalism in Slovenia, Croatia, and Serbia underminingall attempts by the Federation to carry out systematic reform nationwide.In order to obscure this reality, utilizing a sophisticated media campaign,



Slovenia sought to promote the perception within the EC and theinternational community that it was the Federation itself that was sabo-taging democratic transition within the republics, and especially withinSlovenia, portrayed as a democratic “Cinderella” pitted against theFederation’s communist old guard.

On the contrary, the Federation was promoting a set of reforms rele-vant for the whole country, but it was quite easy for the Slovene mediato obscure the difference between Yugoslav federal institutions andgreater Serbia nationalism for outside observers. As a result of suchmisperception, the EC began to treat the democratization issue as aSlovene or Croat or Serb problem outside the context of Yugoslavia as awhole. One consequence was that within Europe, from 1990 onward,confidence in Yugoslavia’s ability to survive decreased rapidly.

EC and Yugoslavia in the Mirror

Paradoxically, at the same time that the EC and its most prominentmember states were engaging in Yugoslavia’s process of dissolution, theywere simultaneously mediating the future Maastricht Treaty, intended tofurther the European integration process. But this is a relative paradox,because the logic that produced the two processes was actually quitesimilar.

During the meetings at different EC levels that prepared the groundfor the Maastricht agreement, the key question under discussionremained the political goal of the deepening process of EC institutions.The majority, led by Germany, favored a federal solution, modeled onthe German federal system. The minority, led by France, pushed for anintergovernmental model. The United Kingdom fiercely asserted itshostility to the federal approach all through the Thatcher mandate, butwas ready to accept a limited application of the intergovernmentalapproach.

In the end, the first option prevailed. The Benelux countries weremuch more sympathetic to the federal model, because it offered morepolitical visibility to small states. In Italy, traditional pro-European feel-ing was the result of the need to reinforce national political institutionsin the framework of the European deepening process. Germany wantedto demonstrate its will to be linked strongly to the original Europeanperspective following the slogan: better a European Germany, than aGerman Europe.19 Paris was nonetheless very suspicious, both becausein the context of the Yugoslav crisis, Germany appeared to revert to arole comparable to its old style power politics, and because the size of



unified Germany risked altering previous balances within the EC andcalling French primacy into question.

All these political issues were crisscrossed as Yugoslavia collapsed,giving rise to a crescendo of diplomatic activities within the EC andbetween the EC and Yugoslavia.

From January 1990 onward, the situation in Yugoslavia changedrapidly. The extraordinary congress of the League of Communists,intended to launch the transition process to democracy and federalreform, took place in Belgrade. The Congress began in an atmosphere ofextreme tension, because the Slovene delegation had already informedthe other participants of the possibility that it might walk out if its posi-tions were not accepted. The Slovenes were asking the Congress toofficially transform the Federation into a “Commonwealth” of the sixrepublics and two autonomous regions. This was a kind of ultimatum,which compromised the work of the assembly from the outset, andvirtually obliged the other delegations to refuse Slovene demands. In theend the Slovenes abandoned the Congress, and the Croat delegationopted to leave with them, provoking a political earthquake.20

Suddenly, the League of Communists, the most relevant politicalsubject in Yugoslavia, had disappeared, creating an unprecedented polit-ical vacuum. The reform Congress that the country had waited for sincethe beginning of the 1980s had disbanded after several days withoutaccomplishing anything, and Yugoslavia was left to enter the post-communist transition without any kind of introductory phase such aswas organized under the auspices of “round tables” in Poland andHungary. The attempt of the Federation, led by Premier Markovic, totake the lead role in piloting the transition through general elections andthe building of a democratic federal parliament that would prepare anew Constitution, failed because of the strong opposition of Slovenia,Croatia, and a supportive Serbia.

The EC, perhaps wilfully, misunderstood the situation completely.Instead of supporting the Federation, the EC decided to back therepublics, posing democratic transition in Yugoslavia as a bottom-up process, and not vice versa. This was the only case among post-communist transitions in Eastern Europe where the democratizationprocess was not allowed to proceed from top to bottom. Even in the caseof Czechoslovakia, which broke apart into two entities (the CzechRepublic and Slovakia) at the end of 1992, no similar dynamic wasallowed to take hold, nor was the process of dissolution conditioned byEC policy in the same way.21

During the spring of 1990, Slovenia and Croatia went to the polls forthe first time, under the aegis of the EC, to elect republic level leaders.



In both cases, the victors were anticommunist movements and parties,like Demos (a seven-party coalition) in Slovenia, and the HDZ inCroatia. The winners took control of the parliaments as well as the rele-vant public institutions and broadcast communication systems. Thoughusually conducted in a relatively free and fair manner, republic-levelelections, conducted over the course of an entire year without anyfederal-level elections as a balancer, went far toward delegitimizing theFederation itself. A huge political gap between the republic governmentsand federal institutions was produced, and many of the new republic-level leaders sought to characterize the federal government as a lastrepresentative of a discredited communist past (despite the fact thatAnte Markovic’s commitment to democratic norms was almost certainlymore sincere than that of his republic-level counterparts).22 By contin-uously boycotting the Federation’s initiatives, Slovenia and Croatia (andto some extent Serbia as well) encouraged an image of democraticrepublics defending themselves against attempts by the communist-ledFederation to restore central control in order to stop the democratictransition already underway at the local level. With the help of a power-ful media campaign, the mobilization of public opinion in the Westthrough the Church, and the cultivation of support among center-left parties as well, Slovenia and Croatia were able to mobilize stronginternational opposition to the Federation.

Nobody, in this dirty game, except at the level of the Federation, gaveany thought to the destiny of Bosnia–Herzegovina, Macedonia, andKosovo, the areas that would become the big losers in the Yugoslav tran-sition.23 In the end, the more public opinion in the West was drawn tosupport the positions of the separatist republics, the more the ECreduced its support for the Federation. Lack of outside support for anational-level reform agenda ensured that the Federation’s policieswould be ineffective, producing ever-greater frustration within thecountry. By the end of 1990 it was clear that the Federation was losingcontrol over events. Slovenia, Croatia, and Serbia were accelerating thedissolution process, with Bosnia–Herzegovina and Macedonia standingaside as passive actors.

In order to demonstrate to the rest of Europe its democratic vocationafter unification, in 1991 Germany began openly to support the Sloveneand Croat secessionist movements. Germany based its policy on theassumption that, since the right of self-determination had been the foundation for German unification, it should not be denied to othersmaller peoples looking for their freedom from communist federa-tions.24 Though the German approach was based on a principleddefinition of self-determination as a human right integral to democracy,



Bonn’s activism toward Yugoslavia undermined EC policy (alreadyconfused, as we have seen) and produced irritation in the otherEuropean Cabinets.

With negotiations underway among the member states for the finalpolitical agreement on the deepening of the EC, the new Germanydemonstrated its enormous potential power in the Yugoslav crisis. TheGerman attitude toward the Yugoslav secessionist republics moved Franceand Great Britain to push harder for the intergovernmental approach inthe framework of the future EC, in order to contain Germany. In theYugoslav context, France and the United Kingdom also decided to supportthe Federation, through support of Serbia, in order to balance Germanintervention. As a result, the situation became ever more confused.

In reality, French and British political actions worked against theYugoslav Federation. The federal idea that Slobodan Milosevic pro-mulgated as prime minister in Serbia was closer to a greater Serbiaproject than to the democratic federation imagined by Ante Markovic.With their balancing policies, Paris and London, together with Bonn,were reproducing old style power politics interventions in the Balkans,without offering any real solution for the present crisis.

The Yugoslav crisis had immediately demonstrated to Western cabi-nets how easy it was to revert to old style power policies in the absenceof a strong political framework such as had been provided by Cold Warbipolarity over so many decades. In order to prevent possible clashesbetween European states, there was an immediate need to create a new,robust political framework within which to relocate European politicaldynamics. Awareness of this need quickly took hold within manyEuropean cabinets. Therefore, between the end of 1990 and 1991 andin parallel with the Yugoslav crisis, the most important member-states ofthe EC tried to reconfigure the European balance of power within theEC’s reform process.

Negotiations were underway when in June 1991, as has already beenmentioned, Slovenia declared independence, followed in short orderby Croatia. These declarations propelled Yugoslavia into war. Theyalso encouraged the EC to move forward with its own, final politicalframework.

The day after the Slovene declaration, the Yugoslav army took controlof the international borders of Slovenia and became involved in the firstarmed confrontations between the army and Slovene reservists. This wasthe last, confused attempt by the Federation, through the use of armedforce, to impose its sovereignty in separatist Slovenia.



By coincidence, as armed confrontation erupted in Slovenia, theLuxembourg presidency of the EC was preparing a pilot project on thepolitical, social, and economic deepening of the EC. This project wasbased on three “pillars.” The first was the reorganization of EC instru-ments and functions in order to enlarge them. The second was thecreation of the foundation for a common foreign policy and securitypolicy, an initiative that had become urgent in view of the Yugoslavcrisis. The third was promotion of the enlargement of the judiciary andthe Community’s public sphere. The proposal of the Luxembourg pres-idency represented a serious effort to mediate between the differentpositions inside the Community. Despite its modest trappings, theproposal was quite significant when viewed in the context of the tenseatmosphere created within the EC by the Yugoslav crisis.

Nevertheless, the troika of foreign ministers established by the EChurried to Yugoslavia with the intent of negotiating a cease-fire andlaunching negotiations. A temporary moratorium on declarations ofindependence and armed confrontations was agreed to by all belligerentsunder the aegis of the EC. This appeared to be a successful outcome forthe first serious EC engagement in foreign and security issues, and itgalvanized the Community to strive for more.

In the end, however, the EC was not able to build on the momentumof the accord. The member states were unable to agree about the pos-sibility of sending a European peacemaking force to Yugoslavia.Additionally, there was no agreement about the destiny of the Federationin the event that Slovene and Croat secession would go forward.

Although the second pillar of the EC’s deepening agenda was dedicatedto security issues and the need for a common foreign and security policy,the member states gravitated toward contrasting positions. France andGermany were very cooperative in the security sphere and had worked tocreate the first “EuroCorps,” a mixed Franco–German unit connected toNATO. For France and Germany it was clear that in the future the ECneeded some military capacity linked to NATO, including the coopera-tion of the Western European Union (WEU). The British opposed thisproject, perceived as the germ of European competition with NATO asthe guarantor of European defense, and as a possible source of frictionwith the United States. At the same time, Washington was promotinga redefinition of the role of NATO in a global, geopolitical perspective, aswas demonstrated by NATO intervention in the Gulf War.

Somewhat unexpectedly, Italy also assumed a position in this debate.During the summer, the Italian Minister for Foreign Affairs, Gianni



De Michelis, signed a common defense project proposal with his Britishcolleague Douglas Hurd, asserting the supremacy of NATO and partiallycontradicting the French–German proposal that Italy had alreadyapproved. The Italian change of direction created confusion and tensionsamong the partners. One possible explanation for the change points toGerman behavior during the summer in the Yugoslav crisis, which irritatedItaly, coming as it did at a moment when its foreign minister was involvedin the EC attempt to mediate the crisis. While Italy and the other membersof the EC troika were negotiating with the secessionist republics and theFederation, Germany took a clear position in favor of the separatists. Rometried to maintain a coherent pro-Yugoslav approach, and was particularlyworried about the survival of the Osimo Treaty regulating the status of theTrieste area, and possible danger in border regions.25

Italy felt constrained, albeit somewhat awkwardly, to block theFrench–German project in order to reinforce a balance in Europeagainst Germany. In the last phase of the Maastricht Treaty negotiations,however, the Italian–British position was in the minority. In September,after a meeting between the German Minister of Foreign AffairsHans-Dietrich Genscher and De Michelis, Italy once again alignedwith German positions concerning European defense and managementof the Yugoslav crisis. This new change of direction once againcreated confusion among the partners. The final result was that Romebecame marginalized during the remainder of the decision-makingprocess, both concerning the Maastricht Treaty and the development ofthe Yugoslav crisis.26

At the end of the moratorium, fighting once again broke out inYugoslavia, this time in Croatia. Croat and Serb militias were nowengaged in local battles for control over the Slavonia and Krajinaregions, where the local Serb population had declared a right of self-determination and their intention to remain attached to Yugoslavia, thesame principled stance that the Croats had referred to in forwardingsecession. The situation in Yugoslavia was becoming more intricate, andviolence was transforming the conflict into an endemic problem involv-ing large parts of the civilian population. The risk of a mass flight ofrefugees into the EC suddenly became an imminent reality. In addition,the violent ethnic cleansing imposed by nationalist militias against civil-ians, with the aim of “homogenizing” districts as a basis for territorialclaims, shocked European public opinion and heightened the stakes forall concerned.

The different positions adopted by EC member states in regard toYugoslavia’s collapse, as well as the long and apparently inconclusivenegotiations over the Maastricht Treaty, created a sense of general



frustration in European public opinion, and strong disillusionmentconcerning Europe’s real political capacity. When Germany, at the endof 1991, declared its unilateral will officially to recognize the newSlovene and Croat states on 1 January 1992, a reluctant EC opted tojoin with the German position. In any case, the Yugoslav Federation hadfor all intents and purposes gone out of existence at this point, as theEC’s Badinter Commission declared in its final report.27

But even if the old Yugoslavia was no longer a relevant actor (ameasure of the EC’s failure to prevent its dissolution), the question ofthe capacity of the EC to manage the Yugoslav crisis in its current phaseof open armed conflict was still open. During the final rush to concludethe Maastricht Treaty at the end of 1991, nobody in the Communitywanted to open a political confrontation with Germany over its unilat-eral recognition of Slovenia and Croatia. On the contrary, delusioninside the EC over the course of events in Yugoslavia, and realizationthat the future of the area was likely to be bleak, combined with theperceived need to contain Germany in a strong European politicalframework, offered a basis for final agreement at Maastricht among themember-states.

The most important decision taken by the EC was the agreement tocreate a common currency, albeit, for the time being, without the partic-ipation of the United Kingdom and Denmark. In principle, a commitmentto construct a common foreign and security policy was also approved onthe basis of the Franco–German proposal. On 17 February 1992 thetreaty was signed in Maastricht, a locale symbolic of European divisionsand conflicts in past centuries, conflicts that were now being repeated inthe Balkan context. The name Maastricht would soon come to symbol-ize the will to overcome such conflicts through the European integrationprocess. Unfortunately, the conflict simultaneously underway in formerYugoslavia, in part the product of a lack of will and political capacity onthe part of the EC, would for a decade to come pose a continuous testfor the progress and delays affecting Europe’s attempt to transform itselfinto a coherent political subject.

Conclusions

Since 1 January 2002, the Euro, the new common currency of the EU(the EC was renamed the EU in 1993) has been circulating in the pock-ets of millions of European citizens. The introduction of the currency hasbeen one of the most striking political successes of the EU’s deepeningprocess. A second striking success has been the enlargement policy seek-ing to bring the new democratic states of Eastern and Central Europe



into the Union. Between 2004 and 2008 all the countries of CentralEurope, with the exception of the western Balkans, will join the EU.28

It was not clear at the time that discussions were started that either ofthese results could be obtained. At the outset, there were serious doubtsabout the capacity of countries such as Italy, Spain, Greece, and Portugalto meet the EU’s strict criteria for joining a common currency zone andto keep pace with other partners, but in the end all of these countriessuccessfully achieved their goals. Similar doubts existed concerning thecapacity of Central European aspirants to meet conditions for fullmembership. In the end, however, the capacity of the EU to coordinatethe accession strategy for Central European countries through the condi-tionality approach has helped the associated countries in developingpolicies respecting human and minority rights, thus reducing levels oftension in the region as a whole. Association and conditionality offered,indeed, the possibility for Central European elites to use the Europeandiscourse in order to manage the democratic consolidation processes aswell as associated difficulties in the social and political sphere. Countrieslike Slovakia, Romania, and Bulgaria introduced significant changes indomestic policy with the goal of strengthening democracy and minori-ties’ rights. EU policy in this regard contributed to reducing tension, inCentral Europe and the Balkan zone as well.29

The country that may have benefited more than any other from thesechanges in political atmosphere has been Macedonia. This small coun-try, surrounded by difficult neighbors, has taken advantage of thechange in priorities in Greece, Bulgaria, and Albania, which finally cameto see Skopje as a potential strategic partner rather than a menace for thestability of the region. The fact that Macedonia was associated to the EUin 2000 helped the country to resist nationalist pressure from bothSlavic and Albanian communities during the Kosovo crisis of 1999, andto overcome the violence that erupted during the following two years.

The Ohrid Treaty, signed by Slavic Macedonians and MacedonianAlbanians in August 2001 under the aegis of the EU, represents one ofthe most outstanding achievements of the new EU foreign policy, whichhas sought to negotiate a compromise arrangement acceptable to bothsides, thus preventing renewed outbreaks of ethnic conflict in the region.

Ten years previously it would not have been possible for political actionby the EC to arrive at such a result. In this case, the positive performancehas been based on a more effective capacity for coordinating the memberstates in a common foreign policy toward the Macedonian issue in partic-ular, and toward the region as a whole. In the end, the EU was able to show



that, potentially, it has the capacity to conduct a successful commonforeign policy and security policy. A further demonstration of progress hasbeen the assumption of greater responsibilities by EU forces inBosnia–Herzegovina and Macedonia during 2003.

The deepening process and the dynamic of enlargement havestrengthened elite confidence and public trust in the capacity of the EUgradually to emerge as a political subject. But this process is still at thebeginning, and will require at least a decade to come to fruition. Therewill be debates, polemics, and discussions inside the Union about thefuture government of Europe, where national positions are still signifi-cantly divergent, but in the end the deepening process “must go on.”Europe is well aware of the alternative to an ever closer union. It seesitself in the mirror every day when contemplating the ruins of formerYugoslavia. Only when Europe is able to solve the “Yugoslav question”definitively by stabilizing the whole Balkan area will it have achieved thegoal of transforming itself into a real political subject capable of actingpurposefully within a globalized world.

Notes

1. The literature on the history of the European Community is very wide. Foruseful readings see: A. Matti, The Transformation of Europe, Warsaw, IfiS,1994, Desmond Dinan, Ever Closer Union? An Introduction to the EuropeanCommunity, Basingstoke: Macmillan, 1994, and Jeremy J. Richardson, ed.,European Union: Power and Policy Making, London: Routledge, 1996.

2. The Gorbachev proposal for a “Common European Home” was intended toestablish close ties between the EC and CMEA, which would cooperate inEurope while maintaining ideological differences.

3. The 1980s were years of strong tensions in Europe between the two blocs asa result of the decision by NATO, in order to deny escalation dominance tothe forces of the Warsaw Pact, to install Pershing and Cruise missiles inGermany and Italy. The entire controversy made it clear that in the event ofwar Europe would inevitably be exposed to nuclear strikes.

4. Ralf Dahrendorf, After 1989: Morals, Revolution, and Civil Society, NewYork: St. Martin’s Press, 1997.

5. Francis Fukuyama, The End of History and the Last Man, New York: FreePress, 1992.

6. Elizabeth Pond, The Rebirth of Europe, Washington, DC: BrookingsInstitution, 1999 and B. Olivi, L’Europa difficile: Storia politica dell’inte-grazione europea 1948–2000, Bologna: Il Mulino, 2001.

7. There is a vast literature devoted to the collapse of Yugoslavia. This chapteris based on some of the most relevant works, cited in the notes that follow.




8. The Yugoslav decisional system was based on the rule of unanimity and theright of veto.

9. See John B. Allcock, Explaining Yugoslavia, New York: Columbia UniversityPress, 2000.

10. The Polish crisis and the coup organized by the party and the military tostop the protest organized by Solidarity in 1981 set back attempts at reformwithin the Soviet bloc.

11. Since the beginning of the development of the “national way” of commu-nism in the framework of People’s Democracies, Yugoslavia had played aprominent role. See François Fejto, Histoire des Démocratie Populaires, Paris:Editions du Seuil, 1969.

12. On American policy toward Yugoslavia see Lorraine M. Lees, Keeping TitoAfloat: The United States, Yugoslavia, and the Cold War, University Park, PA:Pennsylvania State University Press, 1997.

13. On the social transformation of Yugoslav society see Allcock, ExplainingYugoslavia, Denison Rusinow, The Yugoslav Experiment 1948–1974, London1977, and Sabrina Ramet, Balkan Babel: The Disintegration of Yugoslaviafrom the Death of Tito to Ethnic War, Boulder: Westview Press, 1996.

14. See, Susan Woodward, Balkan Tragedy, Washington, DC: BrookingsInstitution, 1995, and Stefano Bianchini and R. Craig Nation, The YugoslavConflict and Its Implications for International Relations, Ravenna: LongoEditore, 1998.

15. See Olivi, L’Europa difficile.16. See James Gow, Triumph of the Lack of Will. International Diplomacy and the

Yugoslav War, New York: Columbia University Press, 1997.17. E. Bond, op cit., and Woodward, Balkan Tragedy.18. See Stefano Bianchini, Sarajevo, le radici dell’odio, 3rd ed., Rome: Edizioni

Associate, 2003 and Stefano Bianchini and Paul Shoup, eds., The YugoslavWar, Europe and the Balkans: How to Achieve Security?, Ravenna: LongoEditore, 1995.

19. See, E. Bond, op. cit.20. In the BBC documentary “The Fall of Yugoslavia” (London 1994), the

premeditation of the Slovene delegation in abandoning the Congress isclearly depicted. From the outset the Slovenes wanted to avoid legitimizingthe Congress as a political body of Yugoslavia leading Yugoslav reform.

21. See, Francesco Privitera, La transizione continua: L’Europa centro-orientale trarinnovamento e conservazione (1989–1994), Ravenna: Longo Editore, 1996.

22. See Woodward, Balkan Tragedy.23. The author was in Yugoslavia during the time of the secession of Slovenia

and Croatia and conducted a serious of talks at both republic and federallevels. The sincere, democratic attitude of the Yugoslav cabinet was quiteclear, despite the fact that its members had been appointed during thecommunist era. The long tradition of interaction between Yugoslav officialsand the West must be considered. As in Hungary, the most promising

Forage-03.qxd 11/10/03 8:05 PM Page 52

young members of the communist nomenklatura were sent to the West fora period of study and training in order to develop a “Western mind set.” Seealso, Dusan Janjic, Ethnic Conflict Management. The Case of Yugoslavia,Ravenna: Longo Editore, 1997.

24. On self-determination see Francesco Privitera and Henry Huttenbach, eds.,Self-Determination: From Versailles to Dayton its Historical Legacy, Ravenna:Longo Editore, 1999.

25. Olivi, L’Europa difficile.26. From that moment onward Italy’s international credibility was very low.

Only when Premier Romano Prodi was able to make the country eligible forinclusion in the Euro zone in 1997 was a degree of prestige restored.

27. The Badinter Commission was appointed by the EC in 1991 in order todecide how to proceed in the recognition of the Yugoslav successor states,especially concerning the question of borders.

28. In May 2004 the following Central European countries will becomemembers of the European Union: Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania, Poland,Hungary, the Czech Republic, Slovakia, and Slovenia (plus Malta andCyprus). In 2008, Romania and Bulgaria are also scheduled to join the EU.According to formal EU definitions, the western Balkans includes Croatia,Bosnia–Herzegovina, Serbia, Montenegro, Macedonia, and Albania.

29. On conditionality, see Francesco Privitera, “Areas of Restricted Tension:Romania and Bulgaria,” in Stefano Bianchini, ed., From the Adriatic to theCaucasus. The Dynamics of (De)Stabilization,” Ravenna: Longo Editore,2001.



CHAPTER 4

The Leaky Bucket: Ethnic AlbanianCross-Border Operations in the

BalkansLawrence E. Cline

Introduction

With the collapse of Yugoslavia, the issue of borders betweenthe newly emerging states became of major internationaldiplomatic interest. Secessionist and irredentist movements

were rampant throughout the region. The international community haseither acceded to or actively supported the existence of new de jure orde facto “state” borders within the former Yugoslavia after its dissolu-tion. Beyond these formalized borders, less formal boundaries if notborders have emerged in the region.

Once the new states emerged—either peacefully or throughviolence—international attention shifted considerably, with the focus oninternal stability and development of the new states. This was particu-larly the case for most of the various international military forcesdeployed to the area. The principal operational and tactical-levelmissions for the multinational armed forces within the new (and newlyemerging) states of the former Yugoslavia have been maintaining inter-nal stability in their areas of operations. This constabulary style missionhas received the primary focus both in the operational planning and inthe preparation of units for deployment. Certainly, the maintenance ofinternal security and stability remains a key mission; if this effort fails,the overall international effort in the Balkans is doomed. Underlying thismission focus, however, is the assumption that all the dominoes have


fallen into place and that the currently existing borders are reasonablystable. This assumption seemed to have been reinforced in many policymakers’ minds after the fall of Slobodan Milosevic. The recent insurgentmovements in western Serbia and in Macedonia cast considerable doubton this optimistic view.

Currently, the most critical—and potentially the most dangerous—border area abuts Kosovo, Serbia, and Macedonia. In late 2000, thePresevo Valley border region between Kosovo and Serbia faced its mostviolent period since the deployment of the Kosovo Force (KFOR). Inthe wake of the violence, fighting broke out between insurgents and thegovernment in Macedonia. Both rounds of combat involved significantcross-border support by allies and participants within Kosovo. Theevents of this period and NATO’s reaction to them deserve considerableexamination because, while the active guerrilla operations in the PresevoValley and Macedonia have been contained, the area remains a potentialflash point.

This chapter examines the recent unrest in the particular area ofeastern Kosovo, western Serbia, and northwestern Macedonia. It firstdiscusses the insurgent operations in the Presevo Valley of Serbia, andthen provides a historical survey of the “Albanian” unrest in Macedonia.Particular cross-border issues affecting the goals and operations of theinsurgent movements are stressed in the discussion, including the issueof “Greater Albania.” The chapter then focuses on the responses to theseinsurgent activities of the international security forces in the area, withparticular emphasis on efforts to contain cross-border insurgent opera-tions. It should be noted that the stress is on the operational level ofmilitary and diplomatic responses rather than on grand diplomacy orlegal issues.1

The Presevo Insurgency

The recent insurgency in the Presevo Valley region of Serbia has opera-tional roots in the peace agreement ending NATO air operations againstSerbia. Apparently, there was some concern among NATO officials atthe close of Operation Allied Force and the beginning of the KFORmission as to the possibility of Kosovo Liberation Army (KLA; alsoknown by its Albanian initials as UÇK) cross-border operations.Paragraph 15 of the Demilitarization Agreement stated that “[w]ithimmediate effect the UCK will cease the movement of armed bodiesinto neighbouring countries.”2 The agreement also prohibited the carryingof weapons by KLA members within two kilometers of the external

56 ● Lawrence E. Cline


borders of Kosovo, together with other restrictions on weapons leadingeventually to KLA disarmament.

At the same time, however, the principal restrictions were on Serbforces across the border from Kosovo. All Serbian security forces, toinclude military and internal security units, were prohibited withina five-kilometer zone on the Serbian side of the border; only lightlyarmed police were authorized.3 This area was labeled the Ground SafetyZone (GSZ). While the last provision made sense in the context ofavoiding potential border clashes, it also created a form of “no man’sland” that could be used by groups desiring to conduct operations intoSerbia. Such groups were not long in forming.

In January 2000, a Kosovan insurgent group announced its existencein the Presevo Valley. This group called itself the Liberation Army ofPresevo, Bujanovac, and Medvedja (UÇPMB in Albanian), named afterthe three largest Albanian-majority towns in Serbia stretching alongthe Kosovo–Serbia border. The area of operations was approximately1,200 square kilometers, with a population of about 100,000, 70 percentAlbanian. The stated goal of the UÇPMB was unifying the area withKosovo. Using the advantage of the GSZ as a safe area, the UÇPMB,under the command of Shefket Musliu, conducted a series of attacksagainst Serbians in the Presevo region and seized control of severalvillages in the GSZ. It should be noted that the UÇPMB likely wasa coalition of smaller groups or bands. Also, attacks against Serbianinterests had begun earlier than the announced formation of theUÇPMB. A post-Milosevic government official claimed that between21 June 1999 and 21 November 2000, the Presevo Valley area experi-enced 296 “terrorist attacks and incursions,” including a number priorto the UÇPMB, in which five policemen and six civilians were killed,with a number of these attacks occurring before January.4

Following Milosevic’s fall from power in October 2000, the UÇPMBlaunched an offensive on 22 November, in which four policemen werekilled. Belgrade argued—with considerable justification—that the GSZgave the UÇPMB virtual carte blanche in conducting their insurgency.Since the Serbian military was precluded from operating in this area, theSerbian government focused its initial counterinsurgency “campaign” onpersuading NATO governments to allow it back into the GSZ. TheSerbian military’s redeployment into the GSZ was carefully negotiatedbetween Belgrade and NATO, with considerable political posturing andthreats of unilateral action by Serbia.5

On 8 March 2001, NATO and Serbia agreed on a framework fora phased reduction of the GSZ. The Serbian proposal, known as the

Ethnic Albanian Cross-Border Operations ● 57


Covic Plan after Deputy Prime Minister Nebojsa Covic, called for:“the elimination of all kinds of threats against the constitutional-legalorder . . . of the Republic of Serbia”; “the establishment of full personaland property security of all citizens . . . by the disbanding and disarma-ment of the terrorists [and] by the demilitarization of the region”; “thedevelopment of a multiethnic and multiconfessional society”; and “rapideconomic and social development of those municipalities with interna-tional financial assistance.”6 Based both on the critical security situationin Presevo and the Serbian assurances of improved rights for SerbianAlbanians, NATO officials agreed to a redeployment of Serbian securityforces into the GSZ.

There was renewed fighting following the agreement, but on 14 May2001, NATO stated that Serbian forces would be allowed to enter theso-called Sector B of the GSZ, where the UÇPMB was strongest.7 Thisannouncement was coupled with a statement that there would bea general amnesty for insurgents who laid down their arms. Followingthe movement of Serbian troops into Sector B, unarmed Albanian guer-rillas were permitted to enter Kosovo, where KFOR troops registeredand photographed each one.8 Some 500 insurgents were reportedlyprocessed through KFOR.9 As Serbian troops moved into the area, theywere closely monitored by EU officials and independent observers, whofound the Serbian forces’ behavior to be “professional and correct.”10

On 21 May, the UÇPMB commander promised NATO officials that hewould demobilize his forces no later than 31 May, and Serbian forcescompleted their reoccupation of the area on 31 May.

The Presevo region has regained a significantly greater level of stabil-ity since the Serbian redeployment, but a number of small-scale attackshave occurred. The most serious to date has been the killing of twopolicemen, and wounding of two others, by a gunman on 3 August2001. The gunman was not caught, but a previously unknown groupcalling itself the Albanian National Army (ANA) claimed responsibility.

The Macedonian Insurgency

In comparison with several other former Yugoslavian republics,Macedonia managed a relatively peaceful break from the former centralgovernment and Serbia. It did, however, face significant complicationswith its Albanian minority after its establishment. The ethnic Albanianpopulation claimed—with some apparent justification—that the Slavicmajority did not accord its interests sufficient weight. At the same time,however, the Skopje government, under significant internal and external



pressures, was clearly reluctant to take actions that might be viewed asrewarding ethnic pressures.

Complicating the ethnic issue in Macedonia is the fact that thedivisions are not limited to the Orthodox Slavic majority versus theIslamic Albanian minority. As elsewhere in the Balkans there is a virtualkaleidoscope of minorities within Macedonia, including a number ofdistinct Muslim groups who are not allied with the “Albanians.”11 Eventhe number of ethnic Albanians in Macedonia remains contentious.Albanians boycotted the 1991 census because the forms were notprinted in Albanian. They also continue to dispute the results of the1994 census (which was overseen by international observers). Instead ofthe official figure of 23 percent Albanian population, Albanian politicalleaders insist that Albanians comprise 30–40 percent of the Macedonianpopulation. As one author notes, “To claim a higher percentage of thetotal population is a crucial strategy in the struggle of ethnic Albaniansfor recognition as a constitutive nation.”12 One historical issue shouldalso be noted in the case of Macedonia. For the last two centuries, itsborders have been repeatedly shifted (in some periods, in fact, disap-pearing) so that irredentist or separatist tendencies can be justified basedon historical antecedents.13

Macedonian Albanians have become increasingly active since thedissolution of Yugoslavia. Considering that they are concentrated in thecritical area adjoining Kosovo and Albania, their political activities andaspirations have a major impact on potential cross-border operations.Although the Albanian operations in 2001 have received the most atten-tion, there has been considerable Albanian political unrest since 1991.Until recently, this instability had little visible impact on foreignresponses to the Balkans: “As the situation of the FYROM [FormerYugoslavia Republic of Macedonia] Albania’s [sic] was not as bad as theirKosova compatriots, their interests tended to be overlooked completelyin the international arena.”14 This overall lack of attention to theMacedonian Albanians’ political interests was exacerbated by a reportedperceived pro-Macedonian slant by local foreign European diplomats.15

Unrest in the area continued to grow. In 1992, government paramili-tary police killed four Albanians participating in an unarmed protest. In1993, the Skopje government arrested a number of prominentMacedonian Albanians in what the government called an armed plot toestablish a secessionist state called “Illyridia.”16 In spite of—or due to—these government security crackdowns, radicalization of manyMacedonian Albanians continued to increase, with a number of membersof the relatively moderate Albanian Party for Democratic Prosperity



(PDP) leaving in 1994 to form a more radical party. Government clasheswith Albanian activists continued, with one Albanian killed and over50 arrested when police tried to prevent the opening of the Albanian-language Tetovo University in 1995, and another three Albanians killedin 1997 during political protests. All these incidents led to increasingcalls for Macedonian Albanian autonomy. Certainly, such calls for auton-omy were not new. Albanian political leaders conducted a referendum(declared illegal by the Skopje government) among their population in1992 asking whether they should be granted autonomy. A reported74 percent favored autonomy.17

Facing internal unrest by Macedonian Albanians, the conflict inKosovo presented yet additional challenges to the Macedonian govern-ment. Given the international support for the Kosovan resistance to theSerbian regime, Skopje seemingly had little recourse but to provide atleast some support for the international effort. Nevertheless, theMacedonian government reacted very cautiously to the refugee crisisfrom Kosovo. Along with trying to minimize the total number ofKosovar refugees in Macedonia, Skopje also controlled their area ofmovement:

[A]n agreement was signed . . . to control the movement of refugeesthrough Kosova and FYROM for them to go to Albania. This “corridor”avoids running through the Albanian inhabited areas of FYROM and it isdifficult to avoid the impression that the Gligorov government is anxiousto avoid the creation of informal border breaches in the northwest and theSar mountains that could threaten the delineation of the boundarybetween the two Albanian communities, so bringing a Greater Albaniamuch closer as a political prospect.18

Nevertheless, the influx of Kosovan Albanian refugees into Macedoniacreated significant political and security stresses. Some 250,000 refugeesfled into Macedonia.19 Throughout the refugee crisis, the Macedoniangovernment displayed wildly shifting policies on border controls andadmission or denial of refugees trying to cross. Similar confusion andpolicy divergences were displayed over treatment of the refugees once theywere in Macedonia. At least part of the government’s frequently unsym-pathetic treatment of the refugees likely was based on a fear that a long-term influx of ethnic Albanians would tilt Macedonia’s ethnic balance.

The Albanian insurgency reached a new level in 2001, with militaryoperations increasing significantly. The Macedonian military clearly wasnot well prepared for an escalation of violence. To a large extent, thiswas a long-standing problem in military preparedness dating from thecountry’s independence. In 1992, following negotiations between Serbia



and Macedonia, the 60,000 JNA troops in Macedonia were withdrawn.Although a result clearly desired by the Macedonian government, the troopswithdrew with all their equipment, leaving Macedonia without a viablemilitary capability. Despite some international assistance, the Macedonianmilitary was still relatively weak at the start of the insurgency.20

Fighting flared in February 2001 after Macedonian security forcestried to take control of the Macedonian Albanian village of Tanusevcialong the Macedonia–Kosovo border. A group calling itself the NationalLiberation Army (NLA) led by Ali Ahmeti claimed responsibility for theinsurgency. While Macedonian-based, the group included a significantnumber of former KLA members and took advantage of Kosovo as a safearea.21 Skirmishes and violence quickly spread throughout the Albanian-majority areas of Macedonia. Although fighting was sporadically intenseand early ceasefire efforts frequently collapsed, negotiations between theparties were quickly established. In large part, this was due to activediplomatic involvement by Western powers, in marked contrast toearlier Balkan history. A critical component of the peace agreementfinally hammered out—which involved a series of constitutionalchanges designed to improve the treatment of ethnic Albanians andamnesties in return for NLA disarmament—was active NATO involve-ment in the disarmament process, to be discussed below.

There have been significant difficulties in gaining the cooperation ofmany Macedonian politicians in passing the necessary political measuresto meet the terms of the ceasefire arrangements, but after a number ofdelays and strong political opposition, the government generally has metits requirements.22 The September 2002 elections provided some groundsfor optimism. After a more moderate Macedonian party won the elec-tions, former Albanian guerrilla leaders were invited into the government.There also were pledges that the Macedonian army would increase thenumber of serving Albanians.23 It is far from clear that these measureshave placated the extremists on either side. Security in Macedonia remainsproblematic. After the NLA announced its renunciation of violence,a group calling itself the ANA emerged and called for continued struggle.Although clearly a fringe group, the ANA has claimed credit for somesmall-scale attacks. Also, even while amnesties of former insurgents areunderway, continued low-level incidents continue to be reported.24

Albania and “Greater Albania”

One contentious issue in the analysis of ethnic Albanian unrest has beenthe issue of “Greater Albania.” Certainly, at least some Albanian insurgentleaders have called for the creation of an Albanian nation-state that



encompasses the entirety of the ethnic Albanian population in theregion. The brothers who founded the KLA in 1991, Adem and HamzaJashari, stressed the formation of a Greater Albania.25 Other more recentKosovar politicians such as Rexhep Qosja have also called for a unionbetween Kosovo and Albania.26

Others have called for at least an expansion of Kosovo to includeother former Yugoslavian Albanian-majority areas or “Greater Kosovo.”For instance, one expatriate Albanian KLA fund-raiser and supporterstated, “Kosova starts in Tivar [Montenegro] and ends in Manastir[Macedonia]. We don’t care what America and England think about it,we should unite with actions, not with words.”27 For some, Kosovo,with its generally higher living standards and financial support fromoverseas Albanians, is in fact the logical core of an Albanian nation.28 Itwould certainly appear to be the case that such expansionist sentimentswere shown by the operations in Presevo. Likewise, at least some of theKosovars who have fought in Macedonia were likely to have been moti-vated by similar goals. In this case, however, it is very difficult to sepa-rate out expansionist motivations versus a desire to support co-ethnicsand relatives in their conflict.

The “Greater Albania” (or even “Greater Kosovo”) rhetoric has notnecessarily been taken particularly seriously by lower level insurgents,however. Reporting from the area suggests that most members andsupporters of the Macedonian insurgency have been much moreconcerned with what are essentially local issues. Even the NLA leader-ship in its Military Communiqué number 6 in March 2001 stressed thatthe group did not want to create a “Greater Albania” and did not wantto “damage the integrity of the Macedonian state.”29 Varying forms andlevels of autonomy have been the most commonly expressed end state.Tim Judah suggests one reason why many Kosovan Albanians may havesoured on such a concept:

Five hundred thousand Albanian Kosovars were sheltered [in Albania]during the period of the NATO bombing . . . and while they appreciatedthe welcome, the experience also shattered any enduring myths about“Mother Albania.” Kosovars were shocked by the poverty and the corrup-tion of the country they had grown up idealizing and there was bitternesstoo when many of the refugees were robbed . . . So, for many,independence is increasingly seen as an end in itself rather than aninterim stop on the way to uniting all Albanians in one state.30

Likewise, the Albanian government in recent years has eschewed theconcept of “Greater Albania.” While stating its interest in the development



of Kosovo as a foreign policy “priority,” Tirana has stressed its oppositionto expansionist goals. The official Albanian Ministry of Foreign Affairsposition deserves quoting at some length:

. . . [the] Albanian Government has been forced to cope with a growingpropaganda about alleged plans for creation of so-called “GreaterAlbania.” This thesis is not new. It is an old product of Serb propagandato justify its anti-Albanian policy . . . Unfortunately, this idea has alsostruck root in some diplomatic and political environments due to differ-ent causes and reasons, such as lack of maturity on the part of someKosova Albanian politicians, some extreme nationalist stands adopted bysome political elements in Albania, and the intensity made by Belgradeand its supporters throughout the world. Albanian diplomacy has beenand will remain committed to refute this dangerous thesis with convinc-ing arguments, making it clear that it runs counter to existing realitiesand the official platform of the Albanian Government and State, and thatit has found no backing from Albanian political factors in Kosova,Macedonia, and Montenegro.31

Tirana has displayed similar official attitudes toward the events inMacedonia. Although stressing the need for negotiations over thedemands of the Macedonian Albanians, the Albanian government hasgenerally taken a pro-Macedonian government position.32 In general, itseems fair to conclude that the major Albanian (whether state or ethnic)players in the region do not accept the concept of “Greater Albania,”both on ideological and practical grounds. Such a goal is largelyconfined to fringe elements that do not appear to possess the criticalmass to have significant impact on the region, although such individu-als and groups can of course create a degree of instability.33

Beyond the rhetoric of “Greater Albania,” Albania has had an impacton the events in Kosovo and Macedonia. Some discussion of the periodpreceding the NATO intervention in Kosovo is important in under-standing current developments. In the early 1990s, a small group ofKosovan Albanians received military training in Albania, but there islittle suggestion that such training was extensive either in terms ofnumbers of personnel trained or in the effectiveness of the training.34

Such training apparently was reduced in 1992, however, when Sali Berisha came to power in Albania. Although some very limitedtraining likely was provided, Berisha made a very deliberate policydecision to do nothing to provoke Serbia. Of considerably greaterimpact was the training of Kosovars in Albania at the start of the war inKosovo. Agim Çeku, putative commander of the KLA, reported thatsome 8,000 Kosovans were in Albania receiving training at that time.35



Internal factors in Albania played a more direct role in Kosovo andMacedonian stability. The economic meltdown in Albania in 1996–97significantly affected the Macedonian economy since one of the largerMacedonian banks had invested in the Albanian pyramid schemes. Withits collapse as a result, reported “tens of thousands” of Macedonians—including a large percentage of Macedonian Albanians—lost all theirsavings.36 More directly, the looting of armories in Albania during the1997 uprising led to a wave of available weapons in the area on bothsides of the Albanian–Macedonian border and on the Albania–Kosovoborder. The KLA reportedly received the bulk of its weapons fromlooted Albanian armories.37 Given the absence of any Albanian bordersecurity forces on their side of the border during this period, smugglingof all types (including weaponry) almost certainly intensified.Parenthetically, it should be noted that a similar phenomenon was notedearlier along the Serbian–Macedonian border following UN sanctionsagainst Yugoslavia.38 The security breakdown also reportedly increasedthe activities and influence of organized crime in the area.39

The International Military Response

Before Milosevic’s fall, NATO expressed little concern as to potentialinsurgent operations across the border between Kosovo and Serbia. In fact, NATO officials accused Milosevic of attempting to stir up trou-ble both in Kosovo proper and in the Presevo region.40 What interestNATO expressed in the Kosovo–Serbia border mostly centered onprecluding covert infiltrations by Serbian agitators. At the same time,however, there was little planning by the NATO forces for actuallycontrolling the Kosovo border. Of the five principal missions noted bythe KFOR commander from October 1999 to April 2000, noneinvolved border control outward.41

In response to the guerrilla attacks in the Presevo region, NATOpublicly adopted a six-point program to control the activities of theUÇPMB. This program included: a psychological operations campaignagainst violence in Presevo; the use of more moderate Kosovo Albanianpoliticians to try to curb the guerrillas; increased contacts betweenPresevo Albanians and Serb officials; closer KFOR contacts with Serbpolice; increased intelligence and surveillance along the border; andincreased monitoring of violence in the demilitarized zone.42 Takentogether with the negotiated reentry of Serbian security forces into theGSZ, these efforts represented a clear tilt toward the Serbians on theissue of Presevo. The tilt was sufficiently sharp, in fact, that KFOR felt



obliged to issue a press release denying rumors that Serbian police wouldbe beginning patrols with KFOR in Kosovo while wearing “KFORuniforms.”43

At the operational level, the most significant KFOR activitiesconsisted of increasing border patrols and surveillance. This includedestablishing new checkpoints and observation towers along the border.According to press reports, the US component—whose sector was criti-cal in border control—was not terribly responsive initially to the newborder requirements. General Klaus Reinhardt, the KFOR commanderfrom the Bundeswehr, was quoted as stating that “he had pushed theAmericans hard to seal the boundary between Kosovo and the rest ofSerbia.”44 In some ways, however, the new border posts initially mayhave been counterproductive, since at least some Presevo Albaniansreportedly believed that the posts were designed to deter Serbian forcesfrom responding to UÇPMB attacks.45 Nevertheless, over time, theseincreased border measures did at least reduce some of the free movementacross the Kosovo–Serbia border, even though all observers on theground (to include KFOR commanders) noted that the terrain in thearea made it impossible to completely seal the border. Together withthese border measures, detention of suspected guerrillas, and seizure ofweapons, KFOR also began to take a much tougher rhetorical lineagainst insurgents operating from or providing support through Kosovo.In the case of operations across the Kosovo–Serbia border, NATOSecretary-General Lord George Robertson in November 2000 referredto the guerrillas as “extremists.”46

Before discussing the post–Operation Allied Force international mili-tary response to the insecurity in Macedonia, it is worth noting oneearlier international effort. As previously noted, Macedonia entered itspostindependence period virtually without a military. After Skopje’sappeals to the UN for some form of security guarantor for Macedonia,the UN Preventive Deployment Force (UNPREDEP) was deployed.Although a small force of only about 1,000 troops, it proved an effectivedeterrent. One probable factor in increasing the credibility of this forcewas the inclusion of US troops. UNPREDEP is widely (and largelyjustifiably) considered a major success in its mission of avoidingspillover from the Bosnian conflict.47 One of the most important aspectsof this force was its role in policing the border between Serbia andMacedonia in 1992–93 when the actual border trace was hazy at best.This was particularly crucial during the period when Macedonian Serbsliving along the border began making noises about separatism.48

UNPREDEP was withdrawn from Macedonia in 1998 after Chinese



objections. What, if any, effect this mission might have had in reducinginstability in Macedonia in 2001 if it had continued its mandate is aninteresting might-have-been.

NATO responded to the Macedonian insurgency on two fronts. Firstwas the role of KFOR. During the upsurge in NLA operations inMacedonia, there was significant movement of both weapons andcombatants across the border. After some apparent initial KFOR hesita-tion in responding to these cross-border movements, it became veryactive in efforts to stem the flow of men and materiel. KFOR headquar-ters deployed additional troops to the Kosovo–Macedonia border,together with increased aerial reconnaissance.49 Such efforts resulted ina marked increase in weapons seizures and detentions of suspects.50

Together with these practical measures, NATO officials also ratcheted uptheir rhetoric against the Macedonian insurgents, with NATO Secretary-General Lord Robertson for example reportedly calling them “murderousthugs.”51 Likewise, Lieutenant General Thorstein Skiaker, the NATOcommander in Kosovo, stated on 13 August 2001 that the NLA and itssupporters (presumably in Kosovo) “must be marginalized.”52

NATO elements also assumed responsibility for disarming membersof the NLA; the activation of what was called Operation EssentialHarvest was marked by considerable political turmoil between theMacedonian government and NATO. Although the mission plan wascompleted and approved by the North Atlantic Council on 29 June2001, its execution was contingent upon four preconditions inMacedonia: a political agreement signed by parliamentary leaders;a status of forces agreement for the NATO troops; an agreed plan forweapons collection, to include an “explicit agreement” by the insurgentsto disarm; and an “enduring” cease-fire.53 It was not until 15 Augustthat the parties reconciled their differences sufficiently that NATOauthorized the deployment of the headquarters of Task Force Harvest.The actual weapons collection process lasted from 27 August to 26 September. Approximately 3,500 NATO troops were involved inEssential Harvest.54 The force collected over 3,000 weapons fromAlbanian insurgents. A number of Macedonian politicians expresseddoubts that the guerrillas turned in all or even the majority of theirweapons. Such skepticism likely is well founded since it is very doubtfulthat the Albanians would give up all their arms.55

Even while Operation Essential Harvest was ongoing, a number ofNATO governments expressed concerns as to the brevity of the opera-tion and fears about instability in Macedonia after the departure of theNATO troops. Parenthetically, it should be noted that KFOR has



a number of troops garrisoned in Macedonia, but they have remainedlargely separated from security duties in Macedonia. As a result, aftera series of frequently contentious negotiations, a new NATO force wasauthorized for the country. This new operation was called Amber Fox.The principal mission of Task Force Fox, consisting of about 700 troops,was to provide security for international monitors overseeing theMacedonian peace arrangements.56 The mission was subsequentlyrenewed, and in March 2003 EU forces stepped in to assume the role ofNATO troops.57

The United States also took some unilateral diplomatic andeconomic measures against Albanian insurgent groups. In June 2001,Washington barred entry into the United States of the commandersof the NLA and froze any of their US-based assets. In December, simi-lar measures were taken against the ANA, together with a purportedfront group, the National Committee for the Liberation and Defenseof Albanian Lands.58 Further, on 15 October, US officials reportedlytold Albanian leaders in Pristina that “any provocative acts by armedAlbanian groups would be seen as support for terrorism.”59

One somewhat murky aspect of the foreign response to the opera-tions conducted by former KLA fighters in Presevo is the role of theUnited States in initially supporting these forces. According to severalsources, while Milosevic was still in power in Serbia, the CIA was activein supporting and training Kosovan insurgents in launching missionsinto southern Serbia. The intention reportedly was to destabilize theregime, but this motivation of course disappeared once Milosevic fellfrom power. Unfortunately, the Albanians who purportedly had beentrained by the United States had an agenda different from theirAmerican trainers and operations intensified rather than ended upon thechange of regime. According to a European KFOR battalion comman-der, “the CIA has been allowed to run riot in Kosovo with a private armydesigned to overthrow Milosevic. Now he’s gone, the US StateDepartment seems incapable of reining in its bastard army.”60

Evidence of direct covert US support for the cross-border operationsis circumstantial at best, but such support (at least in its initial stages)was at least perceived by a number of actors and observers.61 At the veryleast, during the Milosevic regime, local Albanians along both sides ofthe Kosovo–Serbia border expressed the belief that any Serbian assaultsagainst the insurgents would result in a US–NATO military response.62

Similarly, during the upsurge in violence in Macedonia, someMacedonian government officials accused the United States andNATO of supporting the insurgents.63 In this case, however, it should



be noted that there is a US company, Military Professional ResourcesIncorporated (MPRI), with close links to the Defense Department (itspersonnel are predominantly retired senior officers and noncommis-sioned officers) in Macedonia training its military. Although the train-ing provided is not directly linked to counterinsurgency operations, it isdesigned to make the Macedonian army more effective in all operationalaspects.64 Also, NATO reportedly provided intelligence support to theMacedonian government.65

Conclusions

Clearly, the scope and severity of the insurgencies in Presevo andMacedonia pale in comparison with earlier Balkan wars. Nevertheless,they are very significant for several reasons. Most importantly, the insur-gent movements represent a threat to the international efforts to main-tain the new status quo for the former Yugoslavia. With the (partial)exception of Kosovo, international and regional organizations clearlyview the current geographical situation in the Balkans as the best attain-able in the near term. Cross-border operations that potentially threatenthis status can be very destabilizing.

It is far from clear that the majority of the Albanian fighters, partic-ularly in Macedonia, ascribe to secessionist or irredentist goals. ThePresevo insurgents, on the other hand, certainly do seem to have suchmotivations. The historical existence of ideologies calling for a “GreaterAlbania” or “Greater Kosovo” are sufficient to give existing governmentsin the region considerable concern as to the ultimate goals of such insur-gencies. Given Balkan history, ethno-national ideologies by their verynature can prove to be highly destabilizing.

The NATO tilt toward the Serbian and Macedonian governments inresponse to the insurgencies can also prove to be problematic. The degreeto which the Albanian insurgents view this as a form of betrayal couldimpact on the level of their cooperation with KFOR. A feeling of betrayalwould, of course, be exacerbated if the speculation is correct that some ofthe Presevo insurgents had been part of a covert anti-Milosevic program.Although a Kosovan Albanian direct insurgent campaign against KFORtroops is unlikely, many of KFOR’s missions rely on at least some level ofcooperation by the Kosovans for success. An active campaign by disgrun-tled Kosovan Albanians who no longer trust KFOR or NATO could seri-ously complicate KFOR’s operations in the province.

Ultimately, of course, the insurgencies in Macedonia and Presevohave been conducted by what may be considered fringe elements.



Unfortunately, given the history of instability in the Balkans, even fringeelements can play a highly significant role. At the time of writing, bothmovements have been essentially controlled, but neither has been extir-pated. Ethnic Albanian guerrilla movements, particularly in the criticalborder region around Kosovo, Serbia, and Macedonia, can have animpact far out of proportion to their numbers. Particularly worrisome isthe evidence of active cooperation and cross-membership between theinsurgent groups. Some of this can of course be ascribed to a commonhistory of KLA membership, but such links can be used to maintain atleast a cadre of guerrilla leaders and potential safe areas across borders.The insurgent movements around the borders of Kosovo likely shouldremain of significant security concern to the international communityfor some time to come.

Notes

1. One note on terminology should be mentioned. The term “border” is usedfor the demarcation of Kosovo, although it is of course technically stilla provincial boundary. Also, the chapter uses the name of “Serbia” eventhough it is formally a rump part of former Yugoslavia or the currentSerbia–Montenegro union.

2. Agence France-Presse, Text of the Demilitarization Agreement, 21 June 1999,published by the New York Times, www.nytimes.com/library/world/Europe/afp-kla-nato-text.

3. For details of the withdrawal agreement, see Associated Press, Text of MilitaryTechnical Agreement, 10 June 1999, www.nytimes.com/library/w . . . /061099kosovo-military-text.

4. International Crisis Group, Peace in Presevo: Quick Fix or Long TermSolution? ICG Balkans Report Number 16, 10 August 2001, p. 3.

5. For reporting on Serbian–NATO public diplomacy (which began early in theinsurgency) over the GSZ, see Associated Press, “Serbia Official Gives NATO Deadline,” 24 November 2000; Aleksandar Vasovic, Associated Press, “NATO Postpones NATO Deadline,” 27 November 2000; AssociatedPress, “Yugoslav General Claims Incursions,” 28 November 2000; CarlottaGall, “NATO Won’t Allow Serbian Use of Force in Three-Mile Buffer,” the NewYork Times, 15 December 2000. During this period, the Serbian governmentseemingly approached the issue with a “good cop–bad cop” routine, with someofficials threatening unilateral action while others publicly urged patience.

6. Quoted in ICG, Peace in Presevo, p. 5.7. For NATO’s operational conditions on Serbian reentry, see KFOR News

Release, “Re-entry of FRY Forces into the Ground Safety Zone,” Pristina,20 May 2001. It should be noted that fighting intensified as the NATO councilwas meeting to decide whether to permit Serbian troops to deploy to Sector B.

8. BBC, 24 May 2001, http://news.bbc.co.uk.



9. Malcolm Brabant, “Eyewitness: Inside Presevo Valley,” BBC, 24 May 2001,http://news.bbc.co.uk.

10. ICG, Peace in Presevo, p. 10.11. For a survey of the Macedonian Muslim populations—including Torbesi,

Turks, Roma, and “Egyptians,” see Hugh Poulton, “Non-Albanian MuslimMinorities in Macedonia,” in James Pettifer, ed., The New MacedonianQuestion, New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1999, pp. 107–25.

12. Alice Ackermann, Making Peace Prevail: Preventing Violent Conflict inMacedonia, Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press, 2000, p. 64.

13. For a series of maps showing the series of modern borders of Macedonia, seePettifer, The New Macedonian Question, pp. xxxiii–xxxv.

14. James Pettifer, “The Albanians in Western Macedonia After FYROMIndependence,” in Pettifer, The New Macedonian Question, p. 138.

15. Ibid., p. 140.16. Ackermann, Making Peace Prevail, p. 89, argues that the proclamation of

the “Republic of Ilrida” was the “action of a handful of ethnic Albanianextremists.”

17. Ackermann, Making Peace Prevail, p. 61. The Albanian referendum wasparticularly irritating to Slavic Macedonians since the Albanians hadboycotted the 1991 referendum on Macedonian independence.

18. Ibid., p. 146.19. The true number is very difficult to accurately estimate, since many

refugees stayed with relatives or unrelated Macedonian Albanians instead offormally registering as refugees.

20. Duncan Perry, “Macedonia’s Quest for Security and Stability,” CurrentHistory, No. 99/635, March 2000, p. 133, cites a figure of 11,000–12,000troops plus some minimal reserves for the Macedonian military. The coun-try also received military equipment donations from Germany and Bulgaria.

21. BBC, 21 November 2001, http://news.bbc.co.uk. In May, British officialsreportedly intercepted communications from guerrilla leaders in Presevooffering to provide 1,000 troops to the NLA. BBC, 21 May 2001,http://news.bbc.co.uk. It is not known how many, if any, of the insurgentsactually made it to Macedonia.

22. For further details of the political complications involved in passing thesemeasures, see [email protected], “Security Watch,”September–November 2001. Also, BBC, 21 November 2001, http://news.bbc.co.uk. Many of the promised reforms and constitutional changes havefaced significant opposition in parliament. On 20 December 2001 theMacedonian government amnestied the final nine insurgents that it consid-ered eligible for amnesty. The total number amnestied was 64 out of a totalof 88 names initially submitted. Reuters, “Macedonia Pardons Last NineEthnic Albanian Rebels,” 20 December 2001.

23. The inclusion of some former guerrilla leaders in the government particu-larly enraged Macedonian nationalists, with some Albanians also expressingthe attitude that the Albanians in government would be marginalized.



Albanians also agreed to halt their boycott of service in the Macedonianmilitary. See International Relations and Security Network, “Macedonia:Former Rebels Become Ministers,” 29 October 2002, and “Albanians DropBoycott of Macedonian Army,” 15 November 2002, isn.ethz.ch.

24. An example is the killing of an Albanian reported on 14 December 2001.Police claimed he fired at them while trying to run a roadblock; localAlbanians claimed that he was shot without provocation. Reuters,“Macedonia Pardons 11 Rebels But New Tension Stirs,” 14 December2001. More recent reports also suggest continued low-level violence,including the killing of two ethnic Albanians in April 2002. As with manysuch incidents (also included in the story are reports of unprovoked beat-ings of other Albanians), the significance of the reports is less their truth orfalsity, but rather as a marker for simmering tensions.

25. The actual goals of the KLA have been debated by outside observers, espe-cially the desire of the leadership for a Greater Albania versus autonomy orindependence. Miron Rezun, Europe’s Nightmare: The Struggle for Kosovo,Westport, CT: Praeger, 2001, p. 55 argues that Greater Albania has in factbeen the “basic tenet.”

26. Tim Judah, Kosovo: War and Revenge, New Haven, CT: Yale UniversityPress, 2000, p. 301.

27. Ibid., pp. 103–4.28. See the discussion on this attitude in Kosovo, Independent International

Commission on Kosovo, Kosovo Report: Conflict, International Response,Lessons Learned, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000, pp. 239–41.

29. Paul Wood, “The Rebels’ Agenda,” BBC, 11 March 2001,http://news.bbc.co.uk.

30. Judah, War and Revenge, pp. 301–2.31. See www.mfa.gov.al. The statement is undated, but was issued after KFOR’s

deployment and before Milosevic’s fall. For an earlier Albanian assessmentfocusing on security issues see Brigadier General Ali Koceku, “Albania andits Security Policy in the Context of Cooperation with Western Institutionsfor Regional Stability,” Foreign Military Studies Office, Ft. Leavenworth,KS, August 1995. Koceku was the Commandant of the Albanian Academyof Defense.

32. See the series of official Foreign Ministry statements, 2001, atwww.mfa.gov.al. Of particular interest is the statement of 30 January 2001,in which Tirana condemns the killing of Macedonian police officers. Oneunderlying motivation for Albanian support for the Macedonian govern-ment likely is the fact that ethnic Albanian parties are in fact part of thegoverning coalition in Skopje. For a discussion of this coalition see Institutefor International Strategic Studies, “Ethnic Tensions in Macedonia:Between Coexistence and Conflict,” Strategic Comments, Vol. 7, No. 3,April 2001.

33. For a more pessimistic assessment, stressing the appeal of a “GreaterKosovo” and the legal weaknesses of the borders around Kosovo, see



Stefan Troebst, “From Bar to Bitola?” Central Europe Review, Vol. 3, No. 26 (24 September 2001, www.ce-review.org). Also, it should be noted thatthere are a number of ethnic Albanian émigré groups, at least some of whichpush the concept of one Albanian people. Some of these groups have beenheavily involved in political and financial support for all the ethnicAlbanian insurgencies from Kosovo onward. For a profile of the activities ofone such group, see Claire Doole, “The Albanian Fund-raising Machine,”BBC, 28 May 2001, http://news.bbc.co.uk.

34. Judah, War and Revenge, pp. 111–15. As a sidebar, it should be noted thata number of Kosovan Albanians also served with the Croatian militaryduring the war with Serbia, receiving further military training.

35. Judah, War and Revenge, p. 282. Çeku claimed that his forces received nopractical support from any NATO countries. As discussed later, somealleged US covert anti-Milosevic support for Kosovars after the war wouldcast some doubt on this claim. Also, given the economic crisis faced byAlbania during this period, it is difficult to see how Albania could afforddirect assistance.

36. Rezun, Europe’s Nightmare, p. 142.37. Ibid., p. 55. Judah, War and Revenge, p. 129, states that the KLA was buying

AK-47s for five dollars apiece, indicating just how available weapons were.The problem of these looted military weapons remained significant at leastthrough mid-2002. See International Relations and Security Network,“Albania Still Awash with Looted Weapons,” 6 November 2002,www.isn.ethz.ch.

38. Nina Dobrkovic, “Yugoslavia and Macedonia in the Years 1991–6: FromBrotherhood to Neighbourhood,” in Pettifer, The New MacedonianQuestion, p. 89.

39. Ibid., p. 143. The issue of organized crime is significant for two reasons. Inthe Balkans (as elsewhere), organized criminal groups frequently have foundinternal instability to be good for business, and will actively support insur-gent groups. Second, criminal groups commonly have well-establishedsmuggling routes, which are just as valuable for transiting men and weaponsas they are for illegal goods.

40. Jane Perlez, “NATO Says Milosevic Incites Violence Covertly in Kosovo,”the New York Times, 23 February 2000.

41. Klaus Reinhardt, “KFOR Peacekeeping in Kosovo,” Internationale Politik,No. 2, Summer 2001, pp. 48–9. The missions listed were prevention ofa return by Yugoslav armed forces; improvement of personal security forKosovans; demilitarization of the KLA; coordination of UNMIK; andhumanitarian assistance. This mission set was in line with UN SecurityCouncil Resolution 1244 authorizing the mission. The only mention ofborder security in 1244 was the call for “Conducting border monitoringduties as required.”

42. Association of Former Intelligence Officers, Weekly Intelligence Notes,1 December 2000, [email protected].



43. KFOR News Release, “No Yugoslav Troops in Kosovo,” Pristina,21 September 2001.

44. Steven Erlanger, “Kosovo Rebels Regrouping Nearby in Serbia,” the NewYork Times, 2 March 2000.

45. Ibid.46. NATO Update 29 November–5 December 2000, www.nato.int/docu/

update/2000/1129.47. For example, see Sophia Clement, “Former Yugoslav Macedonia, the

Regional Setting and European Security: Towards Balkan Stability?” inPettifer, The New Macedonian Question, pp. 285–302.

48. For details see Ackermann, Making Peace Prevail, pp. 85–7. The height ofSerbian activism was in 1992–93.

49. KFOR Press Release, “Statement by General Cecchi, DCOM KFOROperation Eagle 1,” Pristina, 8 June 2001, www.kforonline.com. Fora description of these operations at the tactical level, see Lt. DieterOrtmeyer, Jr., “The Fate of Illegal Border Crossers,” 27 September 2001,www.kforonline.com/news/reports.

50. For example, between June and mid-August 2001, KFOR elementsdetained 484 persons trying to cross the border, together with 626 rifles,56 crew-served weapons, and 1058 anti-tank weapons. KFOR NewsRelease, Pristina, 13 August 2001, www.kforonline.com. Beyond theseizures along the border, weapons seizures within Kosovo itself have ofcourse served the dual purpose of preventing their use within Kosovo as wellas being smuggled across borders. As of December 2000, KFOR claimed tohave removed over 15,000 weapons from circulation; NATO Ministerial,“Final Communiqué,” 5 December 2000. KFOR regularly reports onweapons seizures at www.kforonline.com.

51. See [email protected], “Security Watch,” 7 May 2001. Forsomewhat more diplomatic, but nonetheless strongly worded, condemna-tions of the NLA, see inter alia NATO Secretary-General’s Press Releases of21 March and 24 May 2001.

52. KFOR News Release, Pristina, 13 August 2001, www.kforonline.com.53. Allied Forces South, “Task Force Harvest Mission,” www.afsouth.nato.int.54. For details of force composition, see www.afsouth.nato.int.55. Further evidence for a lack of complete disarmament is that the

Macedonian security forces have reported finding arms caches in Albanianareas, and there have been reports of “nightly” weapons firing, apparentlyunconnected with the insurgency. “World Briefing: Macedonia: Army TurnsUp Rebel Arms Cache,” the New York Times, 12 October 2001; MarkHeinrich, “Macedonia Rebels Lay Low in Enclaves, Await Amnesty,”Reuters, 4 December 2001.

56. For details of force operations and composition, see “Task Force Fox,”afsouth.nato.int.

57. A minor diplomatic furor erupted in November 2002 when France initiallyblocked extension of the NATO mandate in an effort to have the EU take



over the mission more quickly. After some (apparently heated) talks, Franceagreed to extend NATO’s mandate for six months, with the proviso that ifthe EU was ready to take over in February it would.

58. Reuters, “U.S. Bars Ethnic Albanian Radicals, Freezes Assets,” 4 December2001.

59. International Crisis Group, “Bin Laden and the Balkans: The Politics of Anti-terrorism,” 9 November 2001 (Executive Summary, p. 2), www.crisisweb.org.

60. Quoted in Brendan O’Shea, “Macedonia on the Brink?” Peacekeeping andInternational Relations, Vol. 30, No. 4, April–September 2001, p. 5.

61. For example, see the comments in the ICG Report, Peace in Presevo, p. 3.62. For example, see Steven Erlanger, “Kosovo Rebels Regrouping Nearby in

Serbia,” the New York Times, 2 March 2000.63. STRATFOR, “Macedonia Accuses NATO of Siding with Militants,”

26 July 2001, www.stratfor.com, provides a survey of Macedonian charges.Also, see the interview with Boris Trajkovski, the Macedonian President, bySam Vaknin in Central Europe Review, Vol. 3, No. 26, 24 September 2001,www.ce-review.org., in which Trajkovski discusses some of the roots ofMacedonian suspicions of NATO.

64. For MPRI’s synopsis of its training mission, see www.mpri.com. O’Shea,“Macedonia On the Brink,” p. 5, claims that MPRI also trained the KLA.The company, which normally is very open as to current and past trainingmissions, does not claim any connection with the KLA. It has operated andcontinues to run a major contract with the Croat military, and may wellhave trained some Kosovans connected with the Croatians during the war.For this (rather vague) connection, see Judah, War and Revenge, p. 282.

65. BBC, 21 May 2001, http://news.bbc.co.uk.



CHAPTER 5

Media and Communications Systemsin the Balkan Conflicts

Peter W. Reynolds

Introduction

The Balkan conflicts of the last decade have been as much aboutwinning the information war as defeating a physical opponent.The communications revolution has allowed the global society to

become intimately involved in events it may otherwise have ignored. Themain protagonists have used information much like any other weapons intheir armories.1 Over time the physical confrontations have given way topoliticking, but the information battles continue to be waged by all sidesvarying only in their intensity as they reflect the events of the moment andattempts to drive the competing agenda. The media have played andcontinue to play an integral role in delivering information to a wider audi-ence and in helping to shape opinions, and possibly policies, both locallyand around the world.2 Like the principal actors in these conflicts, theyhave also received their share of the blame for contributing to the ongo-ing crisis and a perceived lack of progress. Accusations of bias have beenleveled from all sides at the Western press, but were they willing conspir-ators, acting within a framework, defined by the “dominant institutions,”or are they also victims of other forces over which they have little or nocontrol?3 What has been the role and effect of the Balkan media?

This chapter will show that the involvement of, and pressure from,international and national news media, and the use of other communi-cations systems such as the Internet, has not brought about majorfundamental changes in Balkan politics and political systems, although


there have been some successes at the margins. The traditional politicalelites in the Balkans have, with one major exception, been able to retainpower and maintain the status quo, which seems to indicate that mediaand communications do not have the ability to influence Balkan audi-ence behavior and culture to the same extent as Western audiences, assome theorists contend.

One theoretical perspective is that all communications and thusinformation and knowledge are the precursors to actions. There is littlequestion that the media play a part in the shaping of policy and thatthey are not always acting as a mirror for the reality they see.4

Particularly in conflict situations journalists find it difficult to maintainan objective professional detachment from their subject, and thus in theeyes of some observers they and their product become tainted.5 If theproduct is tainted then the consumer is unlikely to be able to rely onwhat he or she hears, sees, or reads. However, the average Westernconsumer, and indeed a sizeable proportion of the Balkan population,are not reliant on a single source for information and are able to reachmany providers, for example by using a radio or the Internet, if theywish to avail themselves of these resources. This chapter will considerbriefly the various international media that have dealt with the Balkancrisis, their role and the influences that may have shaped their attitudes.Has their role changed over time and are the media part of the problemor the solution? Has technology affected their performance and gener-ally accepted standards of reporting? Finally I will briefly consider theimpact of information warfare, perception management, and the Balkanmedia. These subjects continue to be relevant while the various crises inthe Balkans continue to ebb and flow, as the many national and ethnicfactions seek to establish some political or economic advantage. At thesame time the international community continues to try to provide lead-ership and guidance in the hope of achieving political stability andsettlements, based on democratic institutions and self-sustainingeconomies.

Background

Throughout the Balkan conflicts of the 1990s most mainstream Westernmedia fully supported the campaigns against Yugoslavia once the deci-sion to do something was taken. However, numerous commentatorsagree that it took a long time to move Western governments to makea commitment. As James Gow noted in 1997, it was a “triumph of a lackof will” that despite the images on CNN and other television outlets,

76 ● Peter W. Reynolds


and the coverage of events in the printed media both European andNorth American governments held back from direct intervention for solong.6 At the same time the international press has been castigated forblatant unfairness in that they were thought to have taken sides from theoutset and had concentrated on Serb aggression while apparently ignor-ing anti-Serb acts of barbarism.7 In addition to this criticism they werealso accused of selective reporting in that not all the geographicallydiverse scenes of conflict were given equitable coverage. This wouldseem harsh as the many widely dispersed battles and events were neverlikely to be reported with the same intensity. The mainstream newsorganizations just did not have sufficient resources available or in placeand they could not possibly provide the sort of blanket coverage that iscommon when addressing events in a strictly confined space and fora limited period.

Not unnaturally, in those countries where fear of US hegemony ishigh, the media did not wholeheartedly support the policies of NATOmembers and were much more critical in their reporting of events andpolicies. Even within NATO member countries there were times whenthe mainstream media were less than fulsome in their support of theirgovernment policies. In Greece, for example, not only the media butalso members of the government were critical of the United States andNATO both in the run-up to and during the Kosovo air campaign.Hammond and Herman provide further examples from other parts ofthe world, where public and government hostility toward NATO actionswas reflected widely in the media.8 For those who cared to look furtherthan their national sources of information, there were other channels ofnews and information, not least in the Serbian media.

New Technologies

While the traditional forms of communication continue to be veryimportant within the region, those living in other parts of the worldhave been able to use the newer technologies to gain information tobetter effect. Here, for example, the Internet has played its part in bring-ing events to an ever-growing audience.9 Not only through the exchangeof email between those who lived in the former Yugoslavia and corre-spondents around the world, but also by using the Serbian websites thatcould be accessed from outside the region. Radio B92, for example,maintained a dissenting voice against the policies of Slobodan Milosevicfor several years by using its OpenNet website.10 A number of attemptswere made by the government to prevent access but by using mirror

Media and Communications Systems ● 77


sites in other countries the information was still available to a globalaudience. Using tapes, the Voice of America and Radio Free Europe alsorebroadcast B92’s programs from outside the country at a time when itsown transmitters were closed by the incumbent regime. The Internetcontinues to be a most powerful tool and most governments recognize itas such. The challenge for governments is its decentralized nature, whichmakes it almost impossible to control.

This lack of control is also evident in the rise of the citizen journal-ist or as Nik Gowing calls him or her, “Robohack.”11 The arrival ofcheap video technology has transformed the capability of the averagecitizen to contribute to the surfeit of information that is available.A video camera was all it took to severely embarrass the Los AngelesPolice Department and the same has happened numerous times togovernments and international organizations when wrestling with thechallenges in the Balkans over the last decade.12 Thus the Balkanconflicts have seen the involvement of the traditional media and also anew form of information gatherers and disseminators who have used thenew technologies to good effect.

Unlike the traditional media, where presses could be closed, radioand television transmitters shut down, or pressure brought to bear oneditors, these new cyber journalists work outside the confines of main-stream journalism, where journalistic ethics are unknown and occasion-ally derided. While it was relatively easy for NATO to affect thetransmission capability of the state organs in Serbia by destroying thetransmitters, it is much more difficult to get all the Western media, whohave an established tradition of independence, to pull stories producedby “Robohacks” that might prove embarrassing.

The conflict between a journalist’s desire to report on events and tospeculate as to future actions and the necessity of retaining military plansand operations secure has not changed. However, it has been recognizedby most alliance militaries and the US forces in particular that somecontrol, through interaction, is better than no control.13 While thisaddresses the mainstream media it does not adequately deal with a keenand hungry “Robohack” who is willing to take risks in conflict areas.

This new breed of journalist is able to capture images and words withminimal equipment and support that can be aired almost immediately.And it is this immediacy and independence that make life so difficult forthe protagonists at the highest level on all sides. Both official govern-mental and military reporting chains suffer from time delays in theirinformation collection, collation, and assessment cycles that tend to givethe media a sustained advantage. NATO’s bombing on 1 May 1999 of



a bus on a bridge in Kosovo killing 23 people and NATO’s subsequentinability to confirm or deny the story until 24 hours later is just oneexample.14 The TV networks feel the need for immediacy most acutely.They must meet the demands of the audience (and not forgetting theiradvertisers) for stories that will attract attention and be new and inter-esting. Critics argue that the competitive nature of their environmentforces them to abandon traditional values such as checking stories andevents for accuracy in order to beat the opposition. This in turn hasincreased the need for governments to respond quickly in some way towhat may be distorted images of dramatic events that may not reflect thecontext in which they were taken. The images of the “Racak massacre”in Kosovo (January 1999) proved a powerful motivator in subsequentpolitical actions but did they show the whole story?15

The new technologies take advantage of the fact that images can bemuch more powerful that the written or spoken word. Joanna Neumannaddresses just what sort of effect they can have on the viewing publicand policy makers.16 Suffice it to say that images have underpinned therole of the media in the Balkans when delivering news and informationto all audiences and have been credited with helping to bring aboutchanges in foreign policy.17

The Media: Help or Hindrance? Friend or Foe?

Accepted wisdom inclines to the view that the very presence of camerasand journalists can prompt combatants to start shooting at each other.18

Indeed, terrorists rely on the media to draw attention to their actions.There are a number of practical examples of this phenomenon that haveoccurred in the Balkans, not least in the ethnically divided town ofMitrovica in Kosovo, which has seen serious rioting over the last twoyears.19 An additional complication is the media’s tendency to focus onviolence and conflict, thus further sensationalizing what may be isolatedincidents taken out of context.

Conversely there is an argument that media coverage can assist incontaining conflicts by allowing the parties to place their positions andemotions in the public domain. While this may actually help to preventthe demonization of one side or the other, this was certainly not the casein the buildup to the Kosovo air campaign and subsequent efforts tobring Milosevic to trial.20

The relationship between the media and the military and nongovern-mental organizations (NGOs) has always been a delicate one.21 One cansee why if one accepts that particularly for the military the media can



turn “victory into defeat.”22 There remains a mutual distrust, particu-larly of each other’s motives, a failure to fully understand the tasks thateach performs and yet no one party can stand alone. There is an inter-dependence that is unlikely to change in the foreseeable future. All theactors wish to communicate, not least because of a perception that theendorsement of positive public opinion lends credibility to their role.The media alone can act as conduits to a global audience where thisendorsement is sought.

The Information War

In order to gain some advantage all sides have used various methods toshape the opinions of a global audience. Information operations and itscomponent parts have become integral to both military operations andpolitical initiatives in the Balkans. Once the UNPROFOR had handedover to the NATO-led IFOR the Western mainstream media for themost part continued with their historical role of supporting theirnational policies and militaries.23 And it is at this stage that an extrainfluence was gradually brought to bear upon the watching, listening,and reading global audience.

In one form or another we are all affected by information warfare,either directly or indirectly. However, its significance has increased expo-nentially in this increasingly wired world described by Philip Taylor.24

Perception management is part of everyday life and has become an inte-gral part of all communications systems. That said, we may live in theinformation age, but it should not be forgotten that a large portion of theworld does not have access either to the Internet or a telephone and relieson other forms of communication.25 But those who can “surf the web,”and for the most part they can be found in the more technologicallyadvanced countries of Western Europe and North America, and who usecommunication tools, are highly likely to become the targets of the prac-titioners of perception management.26 This seems to indicate that NoamChomsky’s assertion is correct. If the object is to exercise influence onthose in leadership roles, those who influence and shape the opinions ofthe masses, then it would make eminent sense to retain control of themainstream communications systems in the hands of the privileged few.At the same time we must remember that the technologically challengedmasses also have highly structured although more mundane communica-tions systems. The many religions in the world provide, within theirstructures, the opportunities for a rapid form of communication.



Within the context of the Balkans all the protagonists have tried andcontinue to try to shape the opinions of the participants and the worldaudience. All forms of communication have been used, from face-to-facecontacts at the highest diplomatic levels to conversations in the streetsof Sarajevo, Belgrade, Pristina, and Skopje, from radio and TV trans-mitters within the region to satellites, from articles in the major newsorgans to leaflets distributed by military forces. Work has been under-taken to assess the effect of various campaigns and some proved less thansuccessful.27 Nonetheless, on occasion, international coverage of specificevents has been seen as the trigger for increased external involvement.28

It cannot be ruled out that future incidents will not elicit similarresponses from the international community.

NATO forces have used Information Operations and its subset,Psychological Operations, in order to support the peacekeeping efforts.At the operational level this has meant, for example, undertaking initia-tives in support of the international community to prepare local popu-lations for the introduction of a new currency, to highlight the dangersof unexploded mines, and to encourage local populations to exercisetheir voting powers. The establishment and use of radio stations, whichaddress such challenging subjects as interethnic violence, has become anintegral part of military operations.

However, at the strategic level, the overwhelming technological andweapons superiority of the allies counted for little as the protagonistsfought for the hearts and minds of a cyberspace audience. “CaptainDragan’s Serbian Cybercorps” was a group formed within Serbia toparticipate in chat forums, send email, and participate in the informa-tion war.29 In using cyberspace the Serbians proved very adept at provid-ing alternative sources of information. They were also able to gain entryto and manipulate the websites of their opponents.30 Use of email byboth pro and antigovernment groups and individuals became the normin the run-up to and during the Kosovo air campaign. Direct offensiveactions were also undertaken which sought to close down computernetworks and thus affect the opponent’s ability to communicate bothinternally and externally. At one point NATO indicated that its emailsystem had been attacked, causing a “Denial of Service.”31

It would be almost impossible to assert that Information Operationshave not affected all of the mainstream media covering the events andcrisis in the Balkans at some point. Attempts were made to exercise somecontrol over the movement of journalists. All sides denied access tomilitarily sensitive areas, while media opportunities were organized toplaces and events that were intended to generate favorable coverage.32



The BBC’s John Simpson made it quite clear that he was working underconditions of censorship at times, indicating that his access to informa-tion, as well as what he was allowed to report, were strictly controlled.Similarly, reporters at NATO headquarters for the daily press conferencewere not always given every tactical and operational piece of information.

Despite this determination to retain some control, mistakes havebeen made by all sides in their desire to shape information to theiradvantage and NATO was severely criticized for some of its statementsthat turned out to be totally wrong, or at best less explicit than theyshould have been.33 This in turn affected the whole credibility of theNATO information campaign particularly among Western journalistsand it has taken some time to make up the lost ground and perhaps itwill never be possible to regain the upper reaches of the moral highground that the Alliance seeks to reoccupy.

Perception Management and Credibility

The West’s attempts to pursue a successful perception managementcampaign in the months leading to the Kosovo air war are fully analyzedby Steven Collins, but it is worth reiterating several points.34 Perceptionmanagement is not merely what has often been described as “spin,” orattempts to portray one’s own actions in the best possible light while atthe same time perhaps taking the opportunity to denigrate an opponent.Detailed analysis and understanding of the target is required beforea campaign is started. Sensitivities and nuances in relation to language,particularly important in the Balkans where it defines the ethnic back-ground of a person, must be respected. Otherwise credibility will be lostand without credibility the potency of the message is also lost.

The effects of successful perception management can only bemeasured in the long term but in Serbia it became obvious that thepopulation was not swayed by NATO’s messages. A failure to under-stand the nuances of language and, more importantly, a failure tocorrectly appreciate the intellect of the target audience led to somesetbacks. Initiatives to change behavior and perhaps even culture, oncetranslated into campaigns can take many months if not years to come tofruition and in some respects they continue to this day throughout theBalkans. Lessons have been learnt at the highest levels, as the successfulmovement to oust Slobodan Milosevic from power in the autumn of2001 demonstrates. The effective application of a unified campaignbased on advice produced by a marketing company and the support ofboth the National Democratic Institute and the International



Republican Institute with funding to the tune of approximately $41 million from Congress, produced a nonviolent nationwide effort toensure a fair election.35

Milosevic has been ousted and is on trial in The Hague after a concertedcampaign to extradite him, but numerous challenges remain. The morefundamental tasks of attempting to reintegrate ethnic entities, to producetruly democratic governance for all the peoples, and self-sustainingeconomies while dismantling illegal institutions are “a work in progress.”

Balkan Media

The state controlled outlets such as Radia Televizija Srbije and RadioJugoslavija fully supported the policies and objectives of the Milosevicregime until its demise. Generally speaking most state or quasi-statemedia organizations in the Balkans have taken a similar position.36 Thatis not to say that there were no dissenting or independent voices.37

Within Bosnia and Kosovo most newspapers are aimed at particularethnic groups and thus tend to reflect the political aspirations of thosegroups. But here too, independent publishers continue to providebalanced coverage of the political agenda. In a similar vein, a largenumber of radio stations inside the region have been used as dissemina-tors of specific agendas, while some continue to provide balancedreporting. In fact after the arrival of international peacekeeping troopsin the region they too set up a number of radio stations with a view toinfluencing the local population.

The importance local politicians attach to such broadcasting devicescan be demonstrated by Biljana Plavsic’s efforts to acquire control ofa television transmitter in Banja Luka in 1997.38 After the Bosnianconflict the international community attempted to encourage a lessxenophobic form of broadcasting through the introduction of suchinitiatives as the Open Broadcast Network. Despite years of underfund-ing and being on the verge of financial collapse on several occasions, thecompany has at last secured sufficient investments to continue opera-tions for the foreseeable future.39 Originally seen as a better alternativethan trying to turn the state-owned stations into public broadcastingservices, it produces good quality independent programs. However,the withdrawal of international support and an inability to sustainoperations with advertising revenue soon caused difficulties. A recentrescue plan seems to have been successful, ensuring the survival of thisimportant independent resource.40



The Balkan media are still in transition. While there have alwaysbeen independent journalists and editors, it would appear that life hasnot become that much easier for them. Despite the efforts of interna-tional organizations to provide some impetus and support for the estab-lishment of media organizations with total editorial freedom, it hasproved a difficult challenge. After the political changes that occurred on5 October 2000 in Serbia, there was a mood of expectation among thestate and quasi-state broadcasters. However, the expected reforms havenot been forthcoming. There continues to be a feeling among Serbianjournalists that in some cases the same political pressures continue to beexercised over media seeking editorial independence.41 Similarly inBosnia a number of publications, radio and TV stations continue to beclosely linked to specific ethnic entities and thus continue to espouse thevalues of separate identities rather than the multiethnic state the globalcommunity is seeking to encourage and establish.

Conclusions

Information is power and thus its production, processing, and dissemina-tion has implications for international relations.42 Its control, and that ofthe technology associated with it, has an impact on the complex distribu-tion of power at both the global and local levels. While the major mediaorganizations undoubtedly still remain in the hands of the dominant socialgroups, new players have emerged, who, enabled by the new technologies,play their part in the production and dissemination of information. It isnot possible to challenge Chomsky’s assertion regarding the Western main-stream media but viable alternative models may appear in the not toodistant future. The appearance and wider distribution of cheaper commu-nication technologies could yet bring about major modifications in theway that information is exchanged thereby altering the balance of power.

Information Operations continue to be conducted but it is quiteclear that we have moved on from an age where, when in conflict, weadopted Churchill’s adage, saying “In wartime, truth is so precious thatshe should always be attended by a bodyguard of lies.”43 In part the newtechnologies and communication systems have contributed to this.

Despite the active involvement of many governments, national andinternational organizations and agencies, the major challenge of settlingall outstanding disputes in the Balkans is still unresolved; Bosnia’sRS remains almost a pariah, Bosnia continues to be divided along ethniclines, nearly one million people are still officially classified as displacedwithin Bosnia by the United Nations High Commission for Refugees



(UNHCR), relations have yet to be fully normalized with the formerRepublic of Yugoslavia, Kosovo is deeply troubled, Montenegro maysoon decide to declare independence from Serbia, the aspirations ofthose who seek a Greater Albania have not been met and conditions inthe FYROM are not yet fully back to normal.44

The saturation media coverage of the middle to late 1990s has ended.Of the 3,842 media personnel accredited to NATO’s KFOR at theoutset of operations, most have departed. Similarly, the number ofaccredited foreign journalists in Sarajevo has declined to single figures.45

Apart from a very small rearguard of Western journalists who remain atthe scene, the rest have moved on to address issues of global terrorism,other conflicts, and the next humanitarian disaster. The communica-tions systems remain in place and have in some cases undergone funda-mental changes in an attempt to provide more equitable coverage ofwhat is still a challenging political, social, and economic situation.Whether they will be able to attain and then maintain these idealizedWestern standards remains to be seen. The provision of sufficient fund-ing in this area is fundamental to assisting the process to bring aboutpermanent change. Conversely a lack of funding may prove more costlyin the long term as the impetus for change is halted by problems withcash flow. Pressures on the local media also remain in place and despiteefforts by the international community to effect wholesale change it hastaken a long time to make any progress. These attempts to introducechange within the information and dissemination machinery can beseen as part of the international community’s attempt to use “softpower” in its search to produce a solution for all ethnic groups.

Is it wrong to try to use “soft power” to achieve desirable outcomessuch as democratically elected governments in ethnically diverse states,self-sustaining economies, and freedom of expression? To answer in theaffirmative presupposes that the desirable outcomes are acceptable to thepeoples of the Balkans. But the successful application of “soft power,” asdefined by Robert Keohane and Joseph Nye, would mean that thecultures of the Balkan states are perhaps discarded in favor of a modelthat has been approved by the international community as a whole.46 Inthe short term the local populations and their leaderships continue toprevaricate; in the longer term, the effects of perception shaping, inconcert with political and economic pressures, may be more successful.If the history of the Balkans has shown us anything it is that unless theethnic entities are fully persuaded that their future lies in discarding theold enmities and moving on, then they are quite capable of “out-waiting”the international community.



While this speaks for a continuation of a concerted coherent effort toshape and influence opinions using the broad spectrum of informationand communications systems, it also points to the fact that the challengeof the Balkans might be better addressed as a whole rather than attempt-ing to impose solutions in a piecemeal manner.

This chapter, with its narrow focus on the Balkans, has not attemptedto consider related issues such as how organizations and decision-makerscan deal effectively with the enormous amount of information that isproduced and disseminated on a daily basis. Neither has it sought toaddress the changing structures of Western media organizations thathave resulted in fewer subject matter experts being deployed to conflictzones. What it has tried to do is to look at the role of the traditionalcommunicators and their impact, as well as to consider some of theother organizations that produce messages and whether their roles havechanged over time. As much as there has been some realignment at themargins, there is no evidence to suggest that the role of the media haschanged dramatically in this region. In a cynical vein it might be appo-site to suggest that the Balkans have the communications systems andmedia they deserve, in the same sense that they have the leadership theydeserve, despite externally initiated efforts to encourage change.

Notes

1. In this chapter the term “protagonists” is used to describe a wide range ofactors encompassing the international community, led by the UN, NATO,and the various leaderships and communications assets of the many nationaland ethnic groupings in the Balkans.

2. The term “media” in this context includes both national and internationalmainstream print and broadcast organs as well as those sites on the Internetconcerned with the dissemination of information relating to the Balkans.

3. See Philip Hammond and Edward S. Herman, eds., Degraded Capability; TheMedia and the Kosovo Crisis, London: Pluto Press, 2000, p. 113 for an expla-nation of “willing conspirators” and Peter R. Mitchell and John Schoeffel,eds., Understanding Power; The Indispensable Chomsky, New York: New Press,2002, p. 13 for a view that elaborates “dominant institutions.”

4. For a much fuller discussion of the influence media can exercise see: JohannaNeuman, Lights, Camera, War; Is Media Technology driving InternationalPolitics? New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1996; B. Dan Wood and Jeffrey S.Peake, “The Dynamics of Foreign Policy Agenda Setting,” American PoliticalScience Review, Vol. 92, Issue 1, March 1998, pp. 173–84; Diana C. Mutzand Joe Soss, “Reading Public Opinion: The Influence of News Coverage on



Perceptions of Public Sentiment,” Public Opinion Quarterly, Vol. 61, Issue3, Autumn 1997, pp. 431–51.

5. Susan L. Carruthers, The Media at War, New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2000,p. 273.

6. The phrase “triumph of the lack of will” is taken from James Gow, Triumphof the Lack of Will: International Diplomacy and the Yugoslav War, London:Hurst & Co, 1997. An analysis of the relationship between media attention/coverage and foreign policy, and in particular military intervention is to be found in Steven Livingstone, “Beyond the CNN Effect.” A transcriptof his address is at: http://www.pubpol.duke.edu/cgi-bin/dewitt/papers/listpapers.cgi?action�display&id�19.

7. Peter Brock, “Dateline Yugoslavia: The Partisan Press,” Foreign Policy,No. 93, Winter 1993, p. 152. Also see Tariq Ali, ed., Masters of theUniverse? NATO’s Balkan Crusade, London: Verso, 2000, p. xiv.

8. Hammond and Herman, Degraded Capability, p. 200.9. Neil MacFarquhar provides a brief examination of the role that e-mails

played during the air campaign in the spring of 1999 in an article entitledFor First Time in War, E-Mail Plays a Vital Role written for News Online on29 March 1999. It provides evidence of the use that the Yugoslav diasporasmade of the Internet. The full text can be found at http://www.panam-bydesign.net/communal/forum/voxpop00048.html (19 March 2002).Additional material relating specifically to a CNN story which recounts thee-mail exchanges between Finnegan Hammill and a 16-year-old Albaniangirl, known as Adona, is at: http://europe.cnn.com/SPECIALS/1998/10/kosovo/email/archive.html (19 March 2002). The development of theInternet as a direct challenger to traditional newspapers is addressed by ColinSparks in his chapter “From Dead Trees to Live Wires: The Internet’sChallenge to the Traditional Newspaper,” in James Curran and MichaelGurevitch, eds., Mass Media and Society, London: Arnold, 2000, pp. 268–92.

10. http://www.usip.org/oc/cibriefing/roundtworp.html.11. The phrase is taken from a speech given by Nik Gowing at King’s College

London, in the Liddell Hart Centre for Military Archives on 2 March 2000.12. For a full discussion of this topic and the pressures of real time information

see: http://kcl.ac.uk/lhcma/infi/lec00.htm.13. Hammond and Herman, Degraded Capability, pp. 80–3.14. http://www.nato.int/docu/pr/1999/p99-074e.htm.15. In an interview with PBS Madeleine Albright indicated her motivation by

saying “It was a galvanizing event . . . Despite all the efforts, something asterrible as Racak could happen. It energized all of us to say that this requiresa larger plan, and a steady application of military planning for an aircampaign.” For the rest of the interview see: http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/pages/frontline/shows/kosovo/interviews/albright.html. Another version ofthe widely reported events is provided in Hammond and Herman, DegradedCapability, pp. 117–19.



16. Johanna Neuman, Lights, Camera, War; Is Media Technology DrivingInternational Politics? New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1996, pp. 229–48.

17. David Halberstam makes the point that by the late 1980s the US networkshad become isolationist. He contends that coverage of foreign newsdepended on an obvious close relationship to US matters of interest and“lots of carnage.” See David Halberstam, War in a Time of Peace: Bush,Clinton, and the Generals, New York: Scribner, 2001, p. 161.

18. Philip M. Taylor, lecture at US Special Forces University, Fort WaltonBeach, 15 October 2001. Indeed there is a view that by constantly predict-ing a catastrophe the media starts to engender a feeling of inevitability andthereby inflames situations further. For examples see Fergal Keane’s speechon “The Role of the Media in Humanitarian Crisis” at http://jpn.cec.eu.int/english/press-info/4-2-63.htm.

19. http: / /news.bbc.co.uk/hi/engl i sh/wor ld/europe/newsid_652000/652228.stm.

20. Hammond and Herman, Degraded Capability, pp. 203–5 and StevenCollins, “Shaping Perceptions During the Latest Balkans Imbroglio,”European Security, Vol. 9, No. 3, Autumn 2000, pp. 38–61. SlobodanMilosevic had been acknowledged as a man with whom Western leaders“could do business” in the aftermath of the DPA and in the space of a fewyears has become an indicted war criminal who attracted such headlines as“Clobba Slobba” in the British tabloids.

21. For a fuller analysis of the relationship between journalists and the military inconflicts see: Philip M. Taylor, Global Communications, International Affairsand the Media since 1945, London: Routledge, 1996, pp. 124–30. Similarlyfor a journalist’s view of the association between the media and NGOs seeFergal Keane’s remarks at http://jpn.cec.edu.int/english/press-info/4-2-63.htm, where he describes his experience of this “love/hate” relationship.

22. Halberstam, War in a Time of Peace, p. 467.23. Taylor, Global Communications, p. 131.24. Ibid.25. It is interesting to note that even in the United States computer ownership

and access to the web has not reached those numbers predicted some yearsago and persistent inequalities remain. A more comprehensive review onthis subject can be found at http://www.rand.org/publications/MR/MR1109 which is a report named “Citizens, Computers, and Connectivity:A Review of Trends” written by Bikson and Panis. The inequalities identi-fied in the report can only be greater in parts of the world less technologi-cally developed than the USA.

26. The practicalities of perception management can take many forms but itsaims are perhaps best described in the following definition: “Actions toconvey or deny selected information and indicators to foreign audiences toinfluence their emotions, motives, and objective reasoning; and to intelligencesystems and leaders at all levels to influence official estimates, ultimatelyresulting in foreign behaviors and official actions favorable to the originator’s



objective.” US Joint Publication 1-02, 1994. Simply put, perceptions are anamalgam of information that is received and processed to give it meaning.This allows it to be placed it in a context that makes sense and then allowsthe recipient to act on it. In essence, one makes sense of what one hears,sees, and feels. Images are particularly potent since they allow the viewer animmediate definition of the world.

27. Carlotta Gall, “NATO TV is Sent to Serbs, Who Are Harsh Critics,”New York Times, 26 May 1999, p. A17.

28. Steven Collins, “Shaping Perceptions During the Latest BalkansImbroglio,” European Security, Vol. 9, No. 3, Autumn 2000, pp. 38–61.

29. Ibid.30. Ibid.31. For a more complete list of targets under attack during the campaign see:

http://www.content-wire.com/Home/Index.cfm?ccs�86&cs�900 (20 March2002).

32. Collins, “Shaping Perceptions,” fn. 24.33. An excellent example of the misunderstandings that occurred can be found

by reading the transcript of the NATO Press conference on 15 April 1999at: http://www.nato.int/kosovo/press/p990415a.htm.

34. Collins, “Shaping Perceptions.”35. A fairly complete account of the advice and assistance provided to Yugoslav

opposition parties by US companies and organizations was produced byMichael Dobbs, “US Advice Guided Milosevic Opposition; PoliticalConsultants Helped Yugoslav Opposition Topple Authoritarian Leader,”Washington Post, 11 December 2000.

36. The following web site carries a growing archive of media monitoring fileswhich demonstrate the slanted coverage of various media in the Balkans:http://www.mediacenter.org.yu/english/monitorarhe.asp.

37. Today in the former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia newspapers such asNova Makedonija and Vecher are seen as pro-government, while UtrinskiVesnik, Dnevnik, Vest, and Makedonija Denes are regarded as independent.The ethnic minority Albanian population has Albanian language newspa-pers such as Flaka (which, although published by the editors of NovaMakedonija, is generally acknowledged as independent) and Fakti.

38. “War of the Airwaves: Bosnia,” Economist, 30 August 1997, p. 37.39. ht tp : / /ba lkanrepor t . to l / c z / look/BRR/ar t i c l e . tp l ? IdLanguage�1

&IdPublication�9&NrIssue�1&rSection�10&NrArticle�3155&ST_max�0.

40. Ibid.41. A report on the state of the Serb independent media written by Veran

Matic, Chairman of the Association of Independent Electronic Media is at:http://www.xs4all.nl/~pressnow/media/servie/twelve_months_on.html.

42. Walter Lippman highlighted the importance of access to information justafter the Great War in his seminal work Public Opinion, New York: FreePress, 1997, pp. 27–9.



43. Attributed to Winston Churchill in remarks made to Joseph Stalin at theTeheran Conference in Iran on 30 November 1943. See http://www.etcetra.com/05071999/quote.htm.

44. Christopher Hope, “This is the Balkans, No One is Nice,” Guardian,26 June 2001.

45. In early 2002 there were only four foreign journalists accredited to theNATO SFOR in Bosnia. At one stage in 1996 there were 4,288. Thenumber of international journalists accredited to the UN in the Balkansrose from 1,032 in 1993 to 4,919 in 1995 and subsequently reduced to 682in 1996. The Coalition Press and Information Centre in Sarajevo, Bosnia,has provided these figures.

46. Robert O. Keohane and Joseph S. Nye, Jr., “Power and Interdependence inthe Information Age,” Foreign Affairs, Vol. 77, No. 5, September/October1998, pp. 81–94.



PART TWO

The International Law and Organization


CHAPTER 6

The UN Response to the Balkan Wars

Frances Pilch and Joseph Derdzinski1

Introduction

The involvement of the UN in the Balkans has been labeled atragic failure by some and a valiant but flawed humanitarianeffort that saved thousands by others.2 In spite of this discrep-

ancy in interpretation, there is no doubt that the experiences of the UNduring the Yugoslav wars from 1991 through 1995 have led to deep self-examination by that body, and substantial institutional and doctrinalchanges concerning peacekeeping operations and the appropriate UNrole in conflict situations. Central to consideration of this role are ques-tions concerning the relationship between Security Council mandatesand the ability of operational forces to carry out those mandates; the useof force by the UN and by regional organizations to support mandates;the security of deployed peacekeeping forces during ongoing civil wars;and questions concerning impartiality. Some view this as a conflictbetween traditional peacekeeping and second (or third) generationpeacekeeping, in which the old rules—such as consent of parties,neutrality, use of force only in self-defense, and demilitarized bufferzones—no longer apply.3

In Bosnia, the UN clearly intervened in an unresolved conflict, inwhich some of the parties to the conflict were non-state actors. Civilianagencies and regional organizations, as well as state and internationalactors, were important ingredients in actions designed to resolve theconflict or ameliorate human suffering. The UN mandates, originally of


limited scope, were greatly expanded over a four-and-a-half-year periodinto a complex operation that spanned five republics of the formerYugoslavia. In the end, it brought into high relief difficult issuesconcerning impartiality, peace enforcement, and gaps between mandatesand resources. The UN response to the unfolding Balkan wars has led toa total reevaluation of the realities of UN peace operations, and subse-quent examination of what the UN has the capacity to do, and shoulddo, in areas involved in violent and ongoing conflict.

No analysis of the role of the UN in the former Yugoslavia wouldpresent an accurate picture without an examination of the internationalcontext in which the events took place. The conclusion of the Cold Warled to unprecedented cooperation within the UN Security Council(UNSC), especially between the permanent five. This cooperation wasmanifested during the Persian Gulf War of 1991. The UNSC, actingwithin this new framework of cooperation and employing new processesof consensus formation in its decision-making, was quick to authorizemultiple new peacekeeping operations to respond to several differentcrises. For example, one of the most complex peacekeeping operationsever undertaken, the United Nations Transitional Authority inCambodia (UNTAC), lasted from March 1992 to December 1995.Within that time frame, peacekeeping operations were also undertakenin Somalia (August 1992–March 1995) and in Haiti and Rwanda. Thepeacekeeping mission in the former Yugoslavia, the UNPROFOR,began in February 1992 and lasted until December 1995, when theDPA finally brought the conflict in Bosnia–Herzegovina to an end. TheUN had assumed peacekeeping responsibilities, several of them involv-ing complex operations, in several regions at the same time. Its resourceswere stretched very thin, and the management structures within theinstitution proved to have serious limitations, along with the inherentproblems and contradictions of peacekeeping itself in areas of continuingconflict.4

Crisis in the Balkans Unfolds

While the world focused on the Middle East and the conflict with Iraq,Yugoslavia was disintegrating. By 1987, Serb nationalist ambitions wereopenly promulgated by political leaders like Slobodan Milosevic. By1990, the communist party apparatus in Yugoslavia had virtuallycollapsed, and the constraint imposed on Yugoslav politics by a threat ofSoviet intervention had evaporated. Franjo Tudjman’s party, preaching a Croatian nationalist doctrine, dominated Croatian elections in 1990.

94 ● Frances Pilch and Joseph Derdzinski


In May 1991, after the Serbs blocked a Croat from the rotating Yugoslavpresidency, a referendum concerning the status of Croatia backed theconfederalist proposal led by Slovenia and Croatia against the federaloption supported by Milosevic. In June 1991, both Slovenia and Croatiadeclared their independence from the SFRY. At the end of the year theywere recognized, first by Germany and then, in January 1992, by theother members of the EC. Meanwhile, after a brief Slovene war that endedwith the Brioni Accords brokered by the EC, Slovenia’s independence wassecure. Macedonia held a referendum for independence in September1991, while Bosnia–Herzegovina followed in early March 1992.

The situation in Croatia differed from that in Slovenia due to thepresence of a more substantial Serbian minority, particularly in theKrajina. Actions by the Tudjman government relieving several Serbsfrom high-level posts, disallowing the Cyrillic alphabet, and promotingvitriolic and pro-Croat nationalist rhetoric sparked concerns within theSerbian minority regarding their future status in an independentCroatian state, and fighting erupted in the region. The Serb-dominatedJNA actively attempted to maintain and expand an area of control;when a cease-fire was eventually implemented in Croatia after January1992, almost one-third of Croatia was controlled by the Serb Republicof Krajina.

Involvement of the UN in the former Yugoslavia began in September1991 when the Security Council unanimously adopted Security CouncilResolution (SCR) 713, which called on all states to implement immedi-ately a “general and complete embargo on all deliveries of weapons andmilitary equipment to Yugoslavia.”5 In October 1991, then Secretary-General Javier Perez de Cuéllar appointed Cyrus Vance, former USSecretary of State, as his personal envoy for Yugoslavia. Vance undertooknumerous missions to Yugoslavia and other states to discuss the feasibil-ity of deploying a UN peacekeeping operation. In November of thatyear, the UNSC passed SCR 721, calling for the deployment of a peace-keeping force upon request of the parties to the conflict in conjunctionwith a cease-fire agreement. The secretary-general submitted a peace-keeping plan to the Security Council, and in December 1991, SCR 724was passed, authorizing the deployment of a small group of militarypersonnel to prepare for such a peacekeeping operation.

In January 1992, the Croatian conflict was suspended with a cease-fire negotiated by Vance, in which the Tudjman government andCroatian Serbs consented to a UN peacekeeping force. SCR 743, passedin February 1992, created UNPROFOR to supervise the cease-fire andto demilitarize UN “protected areas”—primarily areas in Croatia where

The UN Response ● 95


the JNA had been assisting the Croatian Serbs; UNPROFOR was toreplace the JNA as it withdrew. The headquarters for UNPROFOR wasto be Sarajevo, perceived as a venue that would provide more security forthe operation, as at that time the majority of active fighting was takingplace in Croatia. The initial mandate was for a period of one year, andthe operation was originally intended solely for Croatia.6

The Conflict in Bosnia

The nature of the crisis in the former Yugoslavia was fundamentallyaltered between February and March 1992, when a referendum on thestatus of Bosnia–Herzegovina, boycotted by Serbs in Bosnia, produced amajority in favor of independence. Bosnian Muslims had feared minor-ity status in a greater Serbian state in which leaders espousing a virulentform of Serbian nationalism prevailed. Serbs declared their own capitalof Pale in a “greater Serbian republic.” The United States and the ECstates quickly recognized Bosnia–Herzegovina as an independent state;in May 1992, Bosnia–Herzegovina was admitted to the UN, over theprotests of the Serbs. By the spring of 1992, intensive armed conflictwas underway in Bosnia, involving massive displacement of peoples andhuman rights violations, and the siege of Sarajevo by the Serbs hadbegun. Sarajevo had become so dangerous by May 1992 that the head-quarters of UNPROFOR was relocated to Zagreb. SCR 749 (April1992) authorized the deployment of a UN Protection Force of 10,400military and 2,740 support personnel.

Although the original SCRs concerning UN actions in the Balkanswere of limited scope, efforts to respond to the evolving crisis weremultifaceted. The UN provided an umbrella for diplomatic initiativesdesigned to end the conflict, and agencies such as UNHCR becameincreasingly involved as large-scale displacement of populations tookplace. Underlying the SCRs from early 1992 to December 1994 was thedesire to alleviate the worst suffering caused by the war through human-itarian relief, while attempting to create a climate in which diplomacycould work toward a peace settlement. Other initiatives involvedattempts to contain or limit the conflict to the greatest extent possiblethrough arms embargoes, the establishment of no-fly zones and“weapons exclusion zones,” and a preventive peacekeeping operation inMacedonia. In addition, sanctions regimes designed to bring parties tothe conflict to the table were put into place. The desire to protectnoncombatants from the violence surrounding them ultimately found



expression in the controversial “safe area” policies. Concomitantly,initiatives were taking place to establish an ad hoc international crimi-nal tribunal to bring the worst offenders of international humanitarianlaw and human rights standards to justice.

As the crises on the ground escalated, SCRs and mandates prolifer-ated in response. In June 1992, SCR 758 extended UNPROFOR’smandate to Bosnia–Herzegovina, primarily to provide security for theairport at Sarajevo and to facilitate the delivery of humanitarian aid tothat city and its environs. On 13 August 1992, the UNSC, citingChapter VII, adopted SCR 770, which extended the mandate ofUNPROFOR to ensure the delivery of humanitarian aid in Bosnia–Herzegovina. The fact that this resolution was based on Chapter VIIsignaled a change from “peaceful resolution of disputes” to enforcementaction in response to a situation threatening international peace andsecurity. The UNPROFOR mandate was thereafter continually revised.For example, in September 1992, its mandate was further enlarged toinclude the support of the UNHCR in the delivery of humanitarianrelief throughout Bosnia and Herzegovina and the protection of convoysof released civilian detainees if the International Committee of the RedCross so requested.

The first-ever “preventive” peacekeeping force was authorized bySCR 795, in December 1992. UNPROFOR was deployed in theFYROM to monitor and report developments that might threaten thatrepublic’s stability, in the hope of preventing the communal violencethat had erupted in other areas of the former Yugoslavia.7

Regional organizations were an integral component of UN strategy inthe Balkans from the beginning. SCR 757 (May 1992) imposed compre-hensive economic sanctions on the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia (FRY),the union of the former Yugoslav republics of Serbia and Montenegro.In July 1992, NATO and WEU ships began monitoring compliancewith SCRs 713 and 757. In November 1992, when the SecurityCouncil, through SCR 787 called upon states to enforce the embargoes,the NATO operation was expanded, to include the inspection of shipsbound for the rump Yugoslavia. SCR 820 (April 1993) imposed totaleconomic and diplomatic sanctions on Yugoslavia. In response, NATOand the WEU combined to form a joint operation.8 The Organizationfor Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE) appointed a “sanctionscoordinator” to assist in the monitoring of the sanctions regime.Overseas Yugoslav funds were frozen, commercial traffic within theterritorial waters of Yugoslavia was banned, controls were placed on theuse of the Danube, and border and customs controls were put into



place—all of which required the cooperation of bordering states andEuropean organizations.

In October 1992, SCR 781 established a no-fly zone over Bosnia,prohibiting military flights in specified airspace. A ban on other types ofaircraft in the no-fly zone was spelled out in SCRs 786 (November1992) and 816 (March 1993). While technically monitored byUNPROFOR, Chapter VIII of the UN Charter was invoked by SCR 816,and in reality the no-fly zone was enforced by NATO. NATO also estab-lished “exclusion zones” for heavy weapons on the ground aroundSarajevo and Bihac. These were acknowledged but not explicitly autho-rized by the UNSC.

As the conflict progressed, some actions by regional organizationswere relatively autonomous from the UNSC. For example, in anticipa-tion of the need for reserves able to assist UN peacekeepers and possiblyalso to provide cover for withdrawing UN forces, several Europeannations developed a “rapid reaction force” for use in the Balkans.Ultimately, the use of NATO airpower in August 1995 against the Serbsin the exclusion zone around Sarajevo, Operation Delta Force, wasundertaken with minimal UN direction.

As the Serbs attempted to secure a corridor from Belgrade throughnorthern portions of Bosnia to Krajina, reports of ethnic cleansing ofMuslims and Croats from these areas and serious human rights viola-tions began to emerge. In 1992, the journalist Roy Gutman fromNewsday, after visiting the Manjaca camp near Banja Luka and inter-viewing refugees from the area, reported that thousands of Muslims wereincarcerated in camps where they were being held in deplorable condi-tions and subjected to torture, degrading treatment, and death at thehands of the Serbs. Reports of widespread and systematic rape began tocirculate. Concerns about these and other human rights violationsfound expression through the Security Council and other UN instru-ments. For example, SCRs 752 and 771 explicitly referenced the ongo-ing practice of ethnic cleansing and other violations of internationalhumanitarian law.

The UN was involved in attempts to resolve the crisis in the formerYugoslavia on several diplomatic fronts. For example, in August 1992,the London Conference (International Conference on the FormerYugoslavia), cochaired by the EC and the UN, debated and agreed onprinciples for the settlement of the conflict. This was to become apermanent body, with headquarters in Geneva. In 1993, it presentedthe Vance–Owen Peace Plan, which was signed by the parties in May.That plan called for a partition of Bosnia–Herzegovina that roughly



legitimized some of the gains made by the Serbs through military means.However, this, and other cease-fires that were concluded, did not hold.On the contrary, it offered the pretext for a new phase of the war,when in Travnik, in April 1993, fighting between Muslim and Croatarmies erupted. In the autumn of 1991, in fact, the Croatian national-ist party in Herzegovina (the HDZ, using the same name as Tudjman’sparty in Zagreb) had started to create autonomous regions, an army, andseparate institutions in order to prepare the “unification” of Croatianlands. This process inevitably led into a war with the Bosnian army(which became a de facto Muslim army) when the Croat force tried toimpose control over the three cantons assigned to the Croats by theVance–Owen peace plan. This conflict, which led to new waves of viola-tions, war crimes, and ethnic cleansing between Croats and Muslims,was conducted with the direct involvement of Croatia, which senttroops and military assistance to the Bosnian Croats. As for Serbia, theUNSC had to threaten Zagreb with sanctions in the autumn, and thisforced Croatia to withdraw from Bosnia at the end of 1993. Eventually,the conflict was stopped when the Clinton administration imposedupon Tudjman and Izetbegovic the creation of a Croat–Muslim federa-tion in Bosnia–Herzegovina, connected to Croatia through a sortof confederation, as established in the Washington Agreement of 18 March 1994.

Meanwhile, because of the targeting of civilians through the ethniccleansing policies of the Serbs, the UN adopted a “safe area” policy inApril 1993, beginning with the town of Srebrenica in eastern Bosnia(SCR 819). This small town was a strategic target for the Serbs, as it layclose to the border with Serbia and was an integral part of the corridorlinking other Serbian controlled areas of Bosnia and Croatia. The townsof Bihac, Gorazde, Sarajevo, Tuzla, and Zepa were protected as safe areasby SCR 824. SCR 836 (June 1993) extended the mandate of UNPROFOR“to deter attacks against the safe areas.” Implicit in the “safe area”concept was the idea that these enclaves would be demilitarized, and notused as bases of operations for any of the parties to the conflict.

The secretary-general reported in December 1994 that the safe areaconcept was dangerously flawed.9 He noted the limitations of deterrenceand the consequences of the use of airpower, the use by factions of safeareas for military purposes, and the lack of a clear delineation of the safeareas themselves. He noted the vulnerability of UNPROFOR to beingtaken hostage, the lack of suitable air targets, and the inconsistencybetween airpower and the primacy of a humanitarian mission. He notedthat if UNPROFOR was truly to be used to deter attacks on the safe areas,



it would have to be reinforced with troops, weapons, and equipment.The secretary-general also noted the paradox that by disarming the safeareas, UNPROFOR may have made them more vulnerable to attack.

In July 1995, the Serbs overran the safe area of Srebrenica.10 The smallDutch contingent of peacekeepers deployed there was unable to preventthe fall of Srebrenica, and the NATO air strikes they called for nevermaterialized in any substantial way—some having been vetoed by highUN officials such as the Special Representative of the Secretary-General(SRSG) to Bosnia, Yasushi Akashi. In the aftermath of the collapse of thetown, more than 5,000 Muslim men and boys who were marching out ofSrebrenica in an attempt to escape the Serbs were hunted down andmassacred. Serbs deported Muslim women and children from the town.Males who attempted to leave Srebrenica on the deportation buses wereremoved at checkpoints; most were summarily executed.

The tragedy of the fall of the safe area of Srebrenica and the subse-quent fall of the Zepa “safe area,” profoundly altered the course of UNconduct in Bosnia. When the Serbs bombarded the Sarajevo market-place a few months later, killing and wounding numerous civilians,NATO responded forcefully through “Operation Deliberate Force,”bombing Serb targets and forcing the withdrawal of Serb heavy artilleryfrom the surrounding mountains. As the Bosnian Serb military with-drew from the hills surrounding Sarajevo, their military campaigns,especially in eastern Bosnia, intensified. Operation Deliberate Force,however, and the establishment of the rapid reaction force, were amongthe factors contributing to the negotiated end of the Bosnian conflict.

In 1994, the UNPROFOR operation in Croatia was renamed theUnited Nations Confidence Restoration Operation (UNCRO); itsmandate included the monitoring of troop deployment lines and promo-tion of the process of reconciliation. This included implementinghumanitarian aid and facilitating refugee return. Eventually, however, theCroatian government moved to eliminate the protected areas, and thesubsequent flow of Serbian refugees out of these areas was substantial.UNCRO was unable to prevent this, and subsequently its mission endedin January 1996, although two new and smaller missions were establishedto monitor Prevlaka and other areas and to train law enforcement units.

The International Criminal Tribunal for Yugoslavia

The DPA of 1995, brokered by the United States, brought an end to theactive conflict in Bosnia. In December 1995, UNPROFOR was replacedby a 60,000 NATO-led peace Implementation Force (IFOR). This was



re-designated as SFOR in December of the following year. A small UNpresence remained until 2003, through the UN mission in Bosnia–Herzegovina (UNMIBH), which focused on fostering law enforcementcapabilities.

Though peacekeeping faced challenges and problems in Bosnia, anentirely different initiative was underway to bring justice to victims ofatrocities in the region. As the media began to focus attention on viola-tions of the laws of war in the conflict, the Security Council established aCommission of Experts to investigate allegations of war crimes and atroc-ities. SCR 808 (February 1993) requested the secretary-general to submita proposal for a tribunal to prosecute the perpetrators of these crimes.SCR 827 (May 1993) established the International Criminal Tribunal forYugoslavia (ICTY) under Chapter VII of the UN Charter. The first inter-national criminal court since the Nuremberg and Tokyo Tribunals follow-ing World War II, the new court had jurisdiction over four categoriesof crimes—grave breaches of the 1949 Geneva Conventions, violations ofthe laws or customs of war, genocide, and crimes against humanity—committed on the territory of the former Yugoslavia since 1991.11

As of February 2003, 34 accused have been tried before the court,which has rendered extremely important judgments in cases involvingthe command responsibility doctrine, the interpretation of rape astorture or as a crime against humanity, and genocide. In July 1995, theICTY indicted Radovan Karadzic and Ratko Mladic, the political andmilitary leaders of the Bosnian Serbs. Judgments have been handeddown on Croats, Muslims, and Serbs. In August 2001, Radislav Krstic,former Commander of the Drina Corps of the Bosnian Serb Army, wasconvicted of genocide for his involvement in the massacre of Muslimmen and boys after the fall of Srebrenica. This first conviction by theICTY of the crime of genocide has set an important precedent for theSlobodan Milosevic case currently before the court.12

Challenges Encountered by the UN in the Balkans

UN operations in the Bosnian wars encountered numerous challenges.These can be grouped roughly into four problem areas—the nature of theconflict itself, especially as it related to the vulnerability of UN peace-keepers and their ability to carry out their mandates; disparity betweenUNSC mandates and resources and operational difficulties; commandand control issues, especially as they related to troop contingents and theuse of NATO airpower; and disagreement within the UN itself on ques-tions concerning the use of force and the doctrine of impartiality.



Nature of the Conflict

Throughout most of the period of UN involvement in the Balkans, nostable cease-fire existed. Monitoring the actions of parties to the conflictwas extremely difficult due to inhospitable terrain and the sophisticationof the weaponry, especially that possessed by the Bosnian Serbs, most ofwhich had been inherited from the JNA. In addition, the political goalsof the parties to the conflict were diametrically opposed to the humani-tarian goals of the UN missions. One analyst noted, “The war in Bosnia,and to a lesser extent in Croatia, involved explicit strategies by one ethnicgroup to kill or drive out members of another ethnic group. Placing ablockade around a city and shelling it was among the tactics employed.For those pursuing such actions, it would be incongruous to allow reliefagencies access to those areas . . . ”13 Another noted that, “[t]he peace-keepers were responsible for safeguarding large cities and for transportinghumanitarian assistance across great distances. With respect to the cities,safe havens could not be guaranteed . . . ”14

Fulfilling the mandate to alleviate the suffering of the civilian popula-tion became increasingly difficult. The victims of the conflict were notsimply collateral, they were themselves targets as ethnic cleansingcampaigns accelerated. That transformed the delivery of aid to distressedpopulations and centers into essentially a political question. Therefore,convoys were blocked and the deliverers of aid themselves were targeted.Provisions became bargaining chips, and assisting besieged populations hadto be habitually renegotiated, as ethnic groups were deliberately targeted.

Freedom of movement of UN personnel, one of the principal require-ments of most cease-fire agreements, was also extremely problematic.Freedom to travel unimpeded is essential to monitoring activities,supplying peacekeepers, and delivering humanitarian aid. By late springof 1995, it was almost impossible for UNPROFOR to move about inBosnian Serb-controlled territory. In effect, peacekeepers attempting todeter attacks on safe areas and assist the civilians present in them werecut off from outside help and unable to fulfill their mandates.

Peacekeepers themselves were increasingly targeted by belligerents.When NATO airpower struck against Serb ammunition dumps in Palein May 1995, in response to violations of the “total exclusion zone” forheavy weapons around Sarajevo, Bosnian Serb forces retaliated by takingmore than 400 UN personnel hostage. In some cases these hostages wereused as human shields to deter further bombing of Serb positions.In 1994 Serbs had taken several Dutch military observers hostage, andin July 1995, Bosnian Serbs advancing on Srebrenica took hostage



members of the Dutch battalion there. Concerns on the part of govern-ments supplying contingents for the safety of their nationals had directimplications for the dialogue concerning the appropriate use of force bythe UN in the Balkans.

One of the major problems encountered in the search for stablecease-fires and negotiated solutions to the conflict was the involvementof paramilitary groups, militias, and other “rogue” elements, operatingindependently of recognized negotiating authorities.15 For example, theBosnian Serb army participated in the conflict as a non-state actor, asdid paramilitary forces on all sides. This made negotiations extremelycomplicated; as a consequence, cease-fires were frequently violated andrepeatedly failed. As one commentator noted, “The peacemaking effortsof the United Nations were ambitious in Bosnia, but general failure heremay not be attributable to the organization, although its non-neutralstance and the behavior of some of its leading members did not help.Finding a way to resolve the crisis has been difficult because, as notedabove, incentives exist for the sides to keep fighting, and it is not clearthat agreements made by political leaders will hold on the battlefield.”16

Because diplomatic efforts were not able to achieve lasting cease-fires,the conflict continually erupted, endangering peacekeepers and civiliansalike. In traditional peacekeeping, parties to the conflict must consentto peacekeeping. In the Bosnian wars, consent was tenuous at best, andcooperation of parties to the conflict was notably lacking. Because thedelivery of humanitarian aid was considered UNPROFOR’s primarymandate, UN decision-makers were deeply reluctant to deviate fromimpartiality and to take forceful action against any of the parties, as theyfelt that this would undermine the ability of the UN to carry out itsmost important mission. As one analyst noted, “The closer a peace-keeping mission approaches peace enforcement, the more likely themission is entering not a gray zone, as some would have it, but rather azone of paralysis, wherein any mandate component, be it the delivery ofhumanitarian aid, the monitoring of weapons, or simply self-supportmissions, becomes difficult if not impossible to achieve. Peacekeepingand peace enforcement are, in fact, separate and distinct.”17

The Mandate–Mission Gap and Operational Difficulties

The UN response to conflict in the Balkans essentially involved ad hocarrangements designed to address rapidly changing UNSC mandates,which in turn reflected contingencies on the ground. Overall strategic



focus was minimal, and there was a decided disconnect between theUNSC, the Secretariat entrusted with operationalizing the mandates,and those laboring “in the trenches.”

UN intervention in the Bosnian conflict began as non-forciblehumanitarian intervention, but shifted in 1995 to an enforcementaction.18 Prior to the creation of UNPROFOR, the emphasis within theUNSC and the EC had been the maintenance of the political and territo-rial integrity of Yugoslavia. The initial arms embargo imposed by SCR 713,a future key component of UN policy in Bosnia, in reality favoredYugoslavia and later Serbia—as they possessed the lion’s share of theweapons. UNPROFOR itself was created originally to help the ICRCwith humanitarian efforts and to monitor the January 1992 cease-firebetween Croatia and Yugoslavia. Therefore peacekeepers were already inplace in Croatia and Bosnia when the Bosnian conflict erupted inearnest. When the mandate was extended to authorize greater use offorce, the peacekeepers on the ground, primarily trained for humanitarianmissions, were ill equipped to respond.

Once Bosnia–Herzegovina had been recognized by the internationalcommunity and granted admission to the UN as an independent, sover-eign state in 1992, intervention by Serbian and Croatian troops in Bosniawas technically a violation of Article 2(4) of the UN Charter. Rather thandefend the new state of Bosnia robustly, however, the UN chose the pathof humanitarian intervention. For example, some of the earliest efforts ofthe UN involved the opening of the Sarajevo airport, so that humanitar-ian aid could be delivered. Meanwhile, the arms embargo imposed on allparties to the conflict, in effect discriminated primarily against theBosnian Muslims. When the rump FRY withdrew the JNA from Bosnia,it left behind well-trained, well-armed troops to join local militias.Various agreements by Croatia and Serbia to respect the sovereignty ofBosnia–Herzegovina and withdraw their military forces from activeparticipation in the Bosnian conflict were extremely difficult to enforce.The lack of manpower and restrictions on freedom of movementmade effective monitoring of these agreements by peacekeepers almostimpossible.

As SCRs multiplied in response to events in Bosnia, mandates some-times were unclear or imprecise, and in other instances, did not matchcapabilities on the ground. For example, peacekeeping forces initiallyintended to monitor demilitarized zones were now called to support andprotect humanitarian relief efforts. In Bosnia the delivery of aid hadpolitical connotations and was fraught with danger. Aid convoys werestopped at checkpoints along difficult terrain, aid supplies were often



hijacked, and peacekeepers themselves were sometimes deliberate targetsof violence.

The resources to carry out UNSC mandates often were not forth-coming from governments. The dire financial straits in which theUN found itself were exacerbated by the multiple needs of complexpeacekeeping missions. Force requirements recommended by thecommanders on the ground were sometimes ignored by the UNSC. Forexample, the UNPROFOR commander had estimated in 1993 that34,000 troops would be needed to protect the safe areas and humani-tarian aid convoys.19 Instead, a light option of 7,600 troops, recom-mended by the secretary-general, was chosen, with NATO providing thepossibility of airpower if needed. Even these 7,600 additional troopstook more than a year to materialize. Nine months after the light optionhad been chosen, only 5,000 troops had been deployed.20 The ability toutilize NATO airpower to enforce mandates had been spelled out;however, the command and control involved (the dual-key problem) wasnever adequately solved.

In reality, the “safe areas” were never demilitarized. The small UNpeacekeeping force in Srebrenica, for example, lacked the manpower,and perhaps the will, to do so. In addition, the Bosnian Muslims in theenclave did not fully cooperate with the requirements of demilitariza-tion. The Bosnian Serbs used the presence within Srebrenica of arma-ments and some Bosnian Muslim military forces as a pretext to surroundthe enclave and finally overrun it. By 1995, when Srebrenica fell, theDutch battalion was woefully short of supplies, especially fuel.Demilitarization was frequently part of the UN mandates in Bosnia. Inmost cases, demilitarization was not effectively achieved. In Croatia, forexample, deployment of the initial peacekeeping force was delayedapproximately six months after the peace plan was negotiated, leaving asmall group of military observers to begin the complicated tasksinvolved in demilitarization of UN Protected Areas (UNPAs).

The ad hoc multinational character of peacekeeping has been calledits “political strength and operational weakness.”21 By March 1994,36 nations had provided military contingents to UNPROFOR. WhileBritain and France provided almost 25 percent, other NATO orEuropean nations contributed another 50 percent.22

In addition to the fact that force levels were inadequate to fulfillUNSC mandates, there were significant delays in deployment ofauthorized troops for peacekeeping. “This meant that new tasks wereundertaken at reduced levels by troops already on the ground and atthe expense of existing tasks, consequently diluting effectiveness.”23



In addition, rotation of national contingents often did not take place ina timely manner. For example, it took more than six months to replaceCanadian peacekeepers in Srebrenica with the Dutch battalion. Thisdelay contributed negatively to complete and effective communicationsbetween contingents as the changeovers took place.

Due to the proliferation of peacekeeping operations around theworld and the reluctance of many countries to contribute troops topeace operations in obviously dangerous and hostile environments,troops were often recruited from states with little peacekeeping experi-ence. These contingents were poorly supplied and sometimes inade-quately trained. One episode highlighted the difficulty of incorporatingless well-equipped units into UN peacekeeping forces. In 1994, theSerbs shelled the safe area of Bihac, which was defended by a Bangladeshicontingent. The shelling of Bihac prompted disagreements within theSecurity Council concerning the appropriate response. Those withnational contingents on the ground, such as the United Kingdom,generally opposed a hard-line response to the Serbs, as did the Russians.The United States and France argued for a forceful response to Serbencroachments on safe areas. Eventually, the Bangladeshi contingent wasreplaced. While some units were under-equipped and less well trained,other contingents from Russia, Ukraine, and Nigeria were censured bythe UN for “racketeering, illegal dealings in weapons and fuel, prostitu-tion, drug dealing and other charges.”24

While the Security Council attempted to provide strategic vision forpeacekeeping, coordination with the Secretariat and with commanderson the ground became increasingly problematic. In late spring of 1995,when it had become clear that NATO air action would provoke theBosnian Serbs to retaliate against UN personnel, the secretary-general,on the advice of the force commander and the UN commander inBosnia–Herzegovina, was prompted to suggest to the Security Councilfour options for UNPROFOR in Bosnia–Herzegovina: (1) withdrawal;(2) continue on the same course; (3) change the mandate to permitgreater use of force; and (4) change the mandate to include only thosefunctions that could reasonably be expected to be successful. Against thewishes of the secretary-general, the Security Council attempted tocombine options (2) and (3), continuing on the same course, but autho-rizing the new rapid reaction force, to give additional firepower to theoperation.25 While most analysts agree that communications betweenNATO and UN commanders on the ground were effective, the discon-nection between New York and force commanders in the Balkans wasa source of concern throughout UN engagement in the region.



Command and Control

The UNSC provided strategic direction for UN operations in Bosniathrough SCRs and their mandates. The Secretaries-General Javier Perezde Cuéllar (1982–91) and Boutros Boutros-Ghali (1992–96) wereresponsible for recommendations to the Security Council and for themissions themselves. The SRSG in Bosnia was the key intermediarybetween the field and UN headquarters; UNPROFOR commanders onthe ground attempted to carry out the UNSC mandate, and maderecommendations and requests, primarily through the SRSG.

UNPROFOR had serious command and control problems. Troops inUNPROFOR remained under national control; added to this was thecommand and control level of NATO, to which some of the troop-contributing nations belonged.26 The SRSG possessed a higher level ofdecision-making authority than that office had held in the past. Approvalfor bombing by NATO warplanes was under a dual-key structure, withthe special representative controlling the first key. The complicatedroute from field commander to special representative of the secretary-general and then to NATO led to delays and confusion, ultimatelycontributing to the failure to protect the security of Srebrenica andother safe areas.

Because UN personnel in the Balkans were increasingly targeted,even taken hostage, national governments were reluctant to have theircontingents fulfill SCR mandates through the use of force. The “phonehome syndrome,” in which national contingents answered not only toUN commanders but also to their national governments, also compli-cated military chains of command.27 As Dutch peacekeepers surren-dered to Bosnian Serbs advancing upon Srebrenica, the SRSG reportedlyreceived a phone call from a highly placed Dutch official demandingthat air strikes against the Serbs not take place, for fear of casualtiesamong the peacekeepers.28

The fact that national peacekeeping contingents essentially answeredto two masters, their own governments and the UN, is clearly illustratedby the fact that during UNPROFOR, “ . . . French President JacquesChirac bypassed UN commanders on several occasions and gave directorders to French units deployed in Sarajevo. In May 1995, this interfer-ence led to French UN troops taking the first ground-based offensiveaction against Bosnian Serb units on the Vrbanja Bridge in Sarajevo.Similarly, Turkish UNPROFOR troops provided limited logistic andmedical support to Bosnian Muslim Army units during the offensivesagainst Serb positions on Mount Vlasic during early 1995.”29



Questions concerning the legitimate use of NATO airpower tosupport peacekeepers in the safe areas were among the most contentiousissues during the Balkan wars. In addition to the fundamental philo-sophical differences concerning the relationship of force to peace opera-tions and impartiality on the part of the different actors, the mechanicsof the dual-key system were complicated and cumbersome. In the courseof the Balkan conflict, triggering mechanisms for the use of airpowerbecame somewhat streamlined; some NATO operations, such as thoseinvolving the monitoring of “no-fly zones,” proceeded relativelysmoothly.

When the Serbs targeted Sarajevo in early 1994, leading to substan-tial loss of life, the UN secretary-general called on NATO to prepare forair strikes. In February 1994, with strong Russian support, BosnianSerbs were called upon to withdraw heavy weapons from the hillssurrounding Sarajevo. Faced with impending air strikes, the Serbs agreedto comply, although much of the weaponry was monitored in placerather than removed entirely.

Prior to that, however, NATO air forces patrolling the “no-fly zone”and offering air support to the UN mission had acted offensively on onlyeight occasions in “the first 710 days of Operation Deny Flight—this outof over 36,500 combat sorties.”30 Following the minimal resort toairpower in the context of the fall of Srebrenica, the Serbs returned to themountains around Sarajevo. A brutal mortar attack on 28 August 1995,on the Sarajevo marketplace, perhaps combined with the memory of thetragedy that followed the violation of the safe areas, stiffened the resolveof NATO and certain UN decision-makers to employ airpower. In thisinstance the first of the dual keys on air response fell to the UNPROFORCommander in Sarajevo. He requested NATO air strikes, and the firstkey was turned, without consultation with UN superiors or troopcontributing countries. NATO Southern Command held the second key,and on 30 August 1995, Operation Deliberate Force commenced.

In the view of Richard Holbrooke, the top US negotiator “. . . thedual-key arrangement between NATO and the United Nations is a terri-ble idea. Let us never see it again. It took two of the most important orga-nizations in the world . . . with incompatible mandates and incompatiblemissions, and linked them in a way which weakened them both.”31

It was not until 1995 that UNPROFOR used the services of French,British, and Dutch combat troops from the European rapid reactionforce and significant NATO combat air forces operating under NATOcommand, to shell Bosnian Serb forces. The heavy guns of the rapidreaction force in combination with NATO airpower ended the siege of



Sarajevo, and were among the principal factors that pushed the Serbs tothe negotiating table.32

The complexity of operations in Bosnia compounded the difficulty ofcoordination between military chains of command and the many semi-autonomous civilian components that were also operating in the theater.The provision of aid was accomplished primarily by civilian componentsof the mission and NGOs.33 Over 150 NGOs actively functioned in theUNPROFOR area of operations; of these, only 41 regularly coordinatedtheir operations with UNPROFOR.34 These problems of coordinationhave also occurred in other UN operations, such as those in Rwanda andZaire in 1994 and 1995, and have led to serious debate through theBrahimi Report and other venues, concerning the relationship betweenpeacekeepers and other actors.35

Legitimate Use of Force

Even though the use of force in self-defense was at the discretion of localUNPROFOR contingent commanders, UNPROFOR was essentially anon-forcible humanitarian intervention until the end of 1994. Contingentswere largely designed to assist in the delivery of humanitarian aid, andwere small and lightly armed. General Sir Michael Rose, the UNCommander in Bosnia–Herzegovina in 1993–94, noted that his UN force was neither structured for nor, in his mind, authorized to usecoercive force. He clarified this by saying, “[h]itting a tank [in self-defense]is peacekeeping. Hitting infrastructure, command and control, logistics,that is war, and I’m not going to fight a war in white-painted tanks.”36

SCR 836 (June 1993) fundamentally changed UNPROFOR’smandate, invoking Chapter VII and noting that, acting in self-defense,UNPROFOR could take necessary measures in response to bombard-ment, armed incursion or deliberate obstruction, to deter attacks on thesafe areas. It also noted that member states acting nationally or throughregional organizations could use all necessary means (authors’ emphasis),including airpower, to support UNPROFOR. The command system inplace to enforce SCR 836 required UN commanders on the ground torequest close air support through the UN chain of command to theSRSG, who would first approve and then communicate the request tothe North Atlantic Council, the governing body of NATO. Althoughthis cumbersome decision-making structure was somewhat streamlinedin February 1994, after which the SRSG would call only the commanderof NATO’s southern region, response time from decision to the use ofairpower was still inadequate.



Ambiguity in the language of SCR 836 contributed to confusion onthe legitimate use of force, as the resolution lent itself to alternativeinterpretations. SCR 836 was worded as follows:

(The Security Council) Authorizes UNPROFOR . . . acting in self-defense, to take the necessary measures, including the use of force, inreply to bombardments against the safe areas by any of the parties or toarmed incursion into them or in the event of any deliberate obstructionin or around those areas to the freedom of movement of UNPROFOR orof protected humanitarian convoys.37

(The Security Council) Decides that . . . Member States, acting nationallyor through regional organizations or arrangements, may take, under theauthority of the Security Council and subject to close coordination withthe Secretary-General and UNPROFOR, all necessary measures throughthe use of air power, in and around the safe areas, in the Republic ofBosnia and Herzegovina, to support UNPROFOR in the performance ofits mandate set out in paragraphs 5 and 9 above.38

The lack of clarity of the mandate on the use of force was largely dueto the linking of the use of force with “self-defense.” Clearly, the SCRleft open the possibility for either a broad or narrow interpretationof the use of force. The use of force was also circumscribed by theavailability of force to use. Airpower was clearly an option, with appro-priate authorization. However, troop levels were often inadequate tothe tasks at hand, and were sometimes, as already noted, ill trained andill equipped, posing practical problems in the potential employmentof force.

It was extremely difficult to attain consensus on the proper and legiti-mate use of force by UN peacekeepers and by NATO during the conflict.National contingents of UNPROFOR, such as the Dutch battalion atSrebrenica, were required to consult their governments as well as the UNchain of command. Governments that had supplied peacekeepers werevery reluctant to authorize force, fearing the safety of their nationals. UNleaders were even more reluctant—citing concern for the safety of peace-keepers, the desire to retain complete impartiality in order to facilitatediplomatic initiatives to end the conflict, and the basic incompatibility ofthe notion of the use of force with the idea of peacekeeping. On theSecurity Council, Russia frequently expressed deep reluctance to useairpower to bomb Serbian targets. After an initial refusal by the SRSG toauthorize NATO air strikes in response to increased targeting of civiliansin Sarajevo by Serbs, in May 1995 air strikes were authorized. Thehostage crisis ensued, with some Serbs even dressing in French uniformsand using French equipment to deceive peacekeepers. Even though



the French commander counterattacked and ultimately accomplishedthe release of UN hostages, these incidents provoked a hardening ofattitudes on the utility of the use of force. The secretary-general clearlybecame more adamant that the use of airpower presented perils forthe UN and that “the logic of peacekeeping flows from political andmilitary premises that are quite distinct from those of enforcement.”39

Enhancement of the UNPROFOR troops became a possibilitythrough the innovation by the governments of France and the UnitedKingdom of a rapid reaction force or theatre reserve. European andNATO defense ministers met and agreed to constitute two heavilyarmed brigades to supply a ground force option if needed. This rapidreaction force became operationally ready in August 1995, and consistedof 12,500 soldiers equipped with artillery, heavy mortars, tanks, andarmed helicopters.40 This idea met with significant resistance fromthe SRSG, who cautioned that even the name, Rapid Reaction Force,was too confrontational. Once again, the ambivalence within the UNleadership concerning the use of force became readily apparent.

The difference in philosophy concerning the use of force was neverreally resolved in Bosnia. Even though SCR 770 opened the possibilityof the use of force by states and regional organizations to facilitatehumanitarian assistance within the UN framework in Bosnia, the secretary-general argued as early as May 1992 that to depart from a basis ofconsent would “risk involving the force in hostile encounters with thosewhose cooperation will be necessary if UNPROFOR is to succeed infulfilling its existing mandate . . .”41

When IFOR was established, subsequent to the DPA, the lessons ofUNPROFOR were heeded. “In discharging their numerous mandates,UNPROFOR commanders had to consult political authorities in bothNATO and the UN before force could be used. UN authorities werevery reluctant to authorize forceful measures. Consequently, this unwieldy,‘dual-key’ command and control arrangement rendered UNPROFORpowerless to respond to tactical developments. The Contact Groupcountries . . . especially the US, insisted that IFOR would not operateunder the same emasculating constraints . . . IFOR would be endowedwith a single chain of command (NATO), executive powers, robust rulesof engagement and overwhelming force.”42

Conclusion

The involvement of the UN in the Balkan wars precipitated a major trans-formation in UN response to situations of conflict. The “lessons learned”from Bosnia were many and varied. The first was that newfound consensus



on the UNSC had mandated ambitious operations that lacked resourcesand management capabilities. In addition, these operations were to takeplace in dangerous and intractable conflicts, in which consent of thebelligerents was lacking. Indeed, peacekeepers themselves could be targeted.

The former SRSG in Yugoslavia has commented, “The ambiguity,imprecision, and lack of consistency in the relevant Security Council reso-lutions, particularly the tragic lack of correspondence between the mandateproclaimed in New York and the resources given to the field, were amongthe main reasons for the Yugoslav consequences.”43 He adds, however, that“under difficult and even dangerous conditions the UN force did help inlimiting the scope of conflict and was able to achieve a measure of stabi-lization through a series of cease-fires and weapons-withdrawal agreementsconcluded and monitored under its auspices, and through substantialhumanitarian relief operations which enabled internally displaced andencircled civilian populations to survive four winters and summers.”44

The idea of enlarging mandates after an initial, limited mandate wasauthorized, or “mission creep,” was characteristic of UN actions withregard to Bosnia. The modest beginnings of UNPROFOR in Croatiarapidly changed. By March 1995, it consisted of 38,599 military person-nel, including 684 UN military observers.45 Its mandate had beencontinually revised, from that of an interim arrangement to create condi-tions under which a peace could be negotiated, particularly by demilita-rizing and safeguarding UNPAs in Croatia, to ensuring the security andfunctioning of the airport at Sarajevo and the delivery of humanitarianaid to that city and its environs, to support of the UNHCR to deliver aidthroughout Bosnia and Herzegovina, to monitor the no-fly zone, and toprotect UN safe areas. In addition, it was to monitor the cease-fires thatcame and went throughout the area. UNPROFOR was also deployed inMacedonia as a preventive peacekeeping mission. These rapidly chang-ing mandates led to ad hoc procedures. All of these problems were exac-erbated by the ambitious nature of multiple, highly complexpeacekeeping operations, in different geographic regions around theworld simultaneously.

Certain objectives were contracted to non-UN organizations, espe-cially NATO, in order to take advantage of their unique capabilities.However, the disparities in philosophy of peacekeeping and theawkwardness of “dual-key” command and control structures were notsufficiently addressed prior to the enactment of SCRs.

Two comprehensive reports emanated from UN experiences inBosnia.46 Upon the conclusion of the Bosnian conflict with the DPA of1995, the secretary-general, pursuant to a General Assembly Resolution,



issued an incredibly thorough and painstakingly honest report onSrebrenica. This Srebrenica Report, as it became known, coupled withthe report on the failures of the UN in Rwanda, led to the importantand controversial Brahimi Report.

The Srebrenica Report represents deep soul searching concerningmany issues. It questioned why the Dutch battalion at Srebrenica did notfire on the Serbs as they were advancing toward the blockade; it criticizedthe fact that the Bosnian Muslims never disarmed completely and thatthey attacked out of the safe area, even though those incidents were few.It questioned the very concept of a “safe area,” and drew attention to thegap between the mandate and the resources of the mission. It analyzedthe failure to use airpower, noting that there was deep reluctance to useairpower due to a desire not to appear to “take sides,” fear of reprisal—especially the concern for peacekeepers taken hostage, concern aboutdisruption of the primary humanitarian mission of UNPROFOR, andfear of losing control of the operation (authors’ emphasis).47 The reportconcludes that, in retrospect, it was wrong to declare repeatedly andpublicly a reluctance to use airpower except as a last resort.

It notes that many of the errors of the UN flowed from a well-intentioned effort to respond to the plight of civilians in Bosnia–Herzegovina. However, the arms embargo deprived the BosnianMuslims of the right of self-defense. There was no peace agreement priorto the deployment of UNPROFOR. Irregular forces on all sides of theconflict made negotiations almost impossible, as there often was nogovernment authority with which to negotiate.

Conceptual flaws in the safe area policy were apparent from thebeginning. Safe areas were not clearly defined, and the mandate toprotect them was open to multiple interpretations. Most importantly, “. . . [The] Council obviously expected that the warring parties on theground would respect the authority of the United Nations and wouldnot obstruct or attack its humanitarian operations.”48

Hardly alluded to in the report with the exception of a paragraph inits last pages, was the pervasive view in top UN quarters that all partieswere equally responsible for the conflict. The report acknowledges “thefailure to fully comprehend the extent of Serbian war aims,” and notesthat reporting from the field “may have been illustrative of a moregeneral tendency to assume that the parties were equally responsible forthe transgressions that occurred.”49

The report concludes with a seemingly deeply felt assumption ofresponsibility for the Srebrenica massacres: “The United Nationsexperience in Bosnia was one of the most difficult and painful in our



history . . . Through error, misjudgment and an inability to recognizethe scope of the evil confronting us, we failed to do our part to help savethe people of Srebrenica from the Serb campaign of mass murder.”50

The Brahimi Report constituted a major new study on UN peace-keeping and peace operations, and was prepared at the request of thesecretary-general by a panel of ten respected experts, headed byAmbassador Lakhdar Brahimi of Algeria. Many of the criticisms of pastUN missions and recommendations for future UN peace operations canbe directly linked to the UN response to the Balkan wars.

From April 1992, to the DPA in November 1995, more than 20 UNsoldiers died and more than 1,500 were wounded or injured.51 Humansuffering was addressed, negotiations were facilitated, and the outbreakof violence was prevented in Macedonia through UN involvement.According to the UNHCR, “At the height of the conflict, UNHCRassisted 3.5 million people in Bosnia and surrounding regions andanother 700,000 who became refugees and helped establish history’slongest running air bridge, which fed the Bosnian capital of Sarajevothrough four severe Balkan winters.”52 The Security Council hadenacted more than 100 resolutions.

The successes of UN intervention in the Balkans have been largelyovershadowed by the tragedies that took place, in particular the ethniccleansing policies that remained largely unchecked by the internationalcommunity and wholesale massacres and rapes of innocent civiliansthroughout the conflict. The UN has been indicted not simply for lackof vision and resources, but also for lack of political will by its membersto address effectively the consequences of its own policies—namely thecreation of “safe areas” and “protected zones” that were neither safe noradequately protected. Poor organization and communication andprofound philosophical disagreements on appropriate use of forcepervaded the UN response to the crises in the region.

The rich conclusions of the Brahimi Report included recommendationsconcerning the closing of the mandate–mission gap, the need for strategicplanning of peacekeeping operations, the importance of rapid deploymentin support of mandates, the need for better coordination with regionalorganizations, and the recognition that future peace operations willundoubtedly take place in ambiguous, hostile, and dangerous environ-ments. The report notes, “There are many tasks which United Nationspeacekeeping forces should not be asked to undertake and many places theyshould not go. But when the United Nations does send its forces to upholdthe peace, they must be prepared to confront the lingering forces of war andviolence, with the ability and the determination to defeat them.”53



Notes

1. The views presented in this chapter are solely those of the authors andshould not be attributed in any way to the US Air Force Academy or the US Department of Defense.

2. For a scathing indictment of Western involvement in Bosnia see DavidRieff, Slaughterhouse: Bosnia and the Failure of the West, New York: Simonand Schuster, 1995. For an excellent critical analysis of the UN in theBosnian conflict, see Barry Ashton, “Making Peace Agreements Work:United Nations Experience in the Former Yugoslavia,” Cornell InternationalLaw Journal, Vol. 30, 1997.

3. See for example, Oliver Ramsbotham and Tom Woodhouse, HumanitarianIntervention in Contemporary Conflict, Cambridge: Blackwell, 1996;Stephen Ryan, The United Nations and International Politics, New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2000; and Katherine E. Cox, “Beyond Self-Defense:United Nations Peacekeeping Operations and the Use of Force,” DenverJournal of International Law and Policy, Vol. 27, Spring 1999.

4. Satish Nambiar, “UN Peacekeeping Operations in the Former Yugoslavia—From UNPROFOR to Kosovo,” in Ramesh Thakur and Albrecht Schnabel,eds., United Nations Peacekeeping Operations: Ad Hoc Missions, PermanentEngagement, Tokyo, New York, Paris: United Nations University Press,2001.

5. United Nations Security Council Resolutions are available on-line athttp://www.un.org/documents/scres.htm, arranged according to resolutionnumber and year in which it was adopted.

6. Department of Public Information, United Nations, “Former Yugoslavia—UNPROFOR,” available on-line at http://www.un.org/Depts/dpko/dpko/co_mission/unprof_b.htm. See also Norbert Both, From Indifferenceto Engagement: The Netherlands and the Yugoslav Crisis 1990–1995,Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2000.

7. Peace and Security Section of the United Nations Department of PublicInformation, “United Nations Preventive Deployment Force: FormerYugoslav Republic of Macedonia,” available on-line at http://www.un.org/Depts/DPKO/Missions/unpred_b.htm.

8. For an excellent analysis of the relationship of regional actors to UNactions, see Davis Brown, “The Role of Regional Organizations in StoppingCivil Wars,” Air Force Law Review, Vol. 41, 1997.

9. Report of the Secretary-General Pursuant to SC Resolution 959, S/1993/1389.10. There are many excellent accounts of the fall of Srebrenica. Among the best

are David Rohde, Endgame: The Betrayal and Fall of Srebrenica, Europe’sWorst Massacre Since World War II, New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux,1997 and Jan Willem Honig and Norbert Both, Srebrenica: Record of a WarCrime, New York: Putnam, 1997. See also The Betrayal of Srebrenica: Whydid the Massacre Happen? Will It Happen Again? Hearing before theSubcommittee on International Operations and Human Rights of the



Committee on International Relations, House of Representatives, 105thCongress, Second Session, 31 March 1998.

11. For information on the background of the ICTY and the cases it hasprosecuted, see http://www.un.org/icty/glance/index.html.

12. For a detailed analysis of the Radislav Krstic case, see Frances T. Pilch, “TheProsecution of the Crime of Genocide in the ICTY: The Case of RadislavKrstic,” forthcoming in USAFA Journal of Legal Studies, Spring 2003.

13. Ibid., p. 193.14. Paul F. Diehl, International Peacekeeping, Baltimore: Johns Hopkins

University Press, 1994, p. 193.15. Ashton, “Making Peace Agreements Work,” p. 773.16. Ibid., p. 196.17. John A. MacInnis, reported comments on panel entitled “The Role of the

United Nations with Respect to the Means for Accomplishing theMaintenance and Restoration of Peace,” Georgia Journal of Internationaland Comparative Law, Vol. 26, Fall 1996, p. 3.

18. Ramsbothan and Woodhouse, Humanitarian Intervention in ContemporaryConflict, p. 167.

19. John Hillen, Blue Helmets: The Strategy of UN Military Operations,Washington and London: Brasseys, 1998, p. 154.

20. Ibid.21. Ibid.22. Ibid., p. 155.23. Ashton, “Making Peace Agreements Work,” p. 781.24. Hillen, Blue Helmets, p. 156.25. Ashton, “Making Peace Agreements Work,” p. 780.26. Ibid., p. 195.27. Hillen, Blue Helmets, p. 164.28. Ruth Wedgewood, “Prosecuting War Crimes,” Military Law Review, Vol. 149,

Summer 1995, p. 6.29. Stuart Gordon, “Icarus Rising and Falling: The Evolution of UN Command

and Control Structures,” in D. S. Gordon and F. H. Toase, eds., Aspects ofPeacekeeping, London: Frank Cass, 2001, p. 33.

30. Hillen, Blue Helmets, pp. 142–3.31. Hearing on The United Nations, NATO, and the Former Yugoslavia,

Commission on Security and Cooperation in Europe, Washington, DC, 6 April 1995, p. 8. Available on-line at http://www.house.gov/csce/UNNATOandFORMERYUGO4_6-95.htm.

32. Report of the Secretary-General Pursuant to General Assembly Resolution 53-35 (1998), referred to as the Srebrenica Report, par. 497. Available on-lineat http://www.haverford.edu/relg/sells/reports/UNsrebrenicareport.htm.

33. For an excellent analysis of the problems of cooperation and interoperabilitybetween not only NATO and the UN, but also with humanitarian aidagencies, WEU forces, and individual states, see Leurdijk, The UnitedNations and NATO in Former Yugoslavia.



34. Hillen, Blue Helmets, p. 173.35. Satish Nambiar, the first force commander and head of mission of

UNPROFOR (March 1992–March 1993), notes that the gap between civil-ian and military components in complex operations may in fact be widen-ing rather than narrowing. Nambiar, Thakur and Schnabel, United NationsPeacekeeping Operations, p. 177.

36. Hillen, Blue Helmets, p. 143.37. SCR 836 (1993), par. 9.38. SCR 836 (1993), par. 10.39. Srebrenica Report, par. 202.40. “Ebbing Force,” Economist, 8 July 1995, 44.41. UN Doc. S/23900. 10, 12 May 1992.42. Robert B. Oakley, Michael J. Dziedzic, and Eliot M. Goldberg, eds.,

Policing the New World Disorder: Peace Operations and Public Security,Washington, DC: National Defense University Press, 1998, p. 269.

43. Yasushi Akashi, “The Politics of UN Peacekeeping from Cambodia toYugoslavia,” in Thakur and Schnabel, United Nations PeacekeepingOperations, p. 152.

44. Ibid.45. United Nations Protection Force Former Yugoslavia Profile, available on-line

at http://www.un.org/Depts/dpko/dpko/co_mission/unprof_p.htm.46. Srebrenica Report and Report of the Panel on United Nations Peacekeeping

Operations, A/55/305-S2000/809, referred to as the Brahimi Report, avail-able on-line at http://www.un.org/peace/reports/peace_operations/.

47. Srebrenica Report, par. 482.48. Srebrenica Report, par. 493.49. Srebrenica Report, par. 496.50. Srebrenica Report, par. 503.51. United Nations, Force Commander’s End of Mission Report 1 (1996), cited

in Ashton, “Making Peace Agreements Work,” p. 770.52. UNHCR, “The Balkans,” available on-line at http://www.unhcr.org.53. Brahimi Report, par. 1.



CHAPTER 7

International Norms of TerritorialIntegrity and the Balkan Wars

of the 1990s*Mikulas Fabry

Introduction

This chapter investigates the role of post-1945 norms, rules, andpractices pertaining to state recognition of territorial claims inthe Balkan wars of the last decade. These moral and legal

norms—Robert Jackson and Mark Zacher call them “the territorialcovenant”—stipulate that territorial change attained through the use ofmilitary force cannot be accepted by the society of states as valid.1 Theyoutlaw conquest and permit only territorial modifications attained byway of consent of all parties involved. The same applies to non-sovereignjurisdictions that become sovereign: unless their governments decideotherwise, their former administrative borders must remain intact. I suggest that territorial norms had a significant presence in externalattitudes toward the Yugoslav wars and that the actual internationaldecisions with respect to the Balkans were by and large consistent withthese norms.

There are two types of territorial norms. Constitutive norms laydown how a state may come into being or cease to exist, what entityqualifies as a legitimate claimant of statehood and in what borders a newstate can be recognized as sovereign. Territorial regulative norms spellout modus operandi for changing title to a particular territorial segment


between already established states. In Croatia and Bosnia–Herzegovinaboth types of norms were relevant, in Kosovo only the former.

In Croatia and Bosnia–Herzegovina the territorial covenant meantthat the Serbian drive to forcibly change the borders of these republicsand the Croatian effort to attach parts of the Herzegovina region toCroatia were repudiated internationally. Whereas Western states andinternational organizations displayed plenty of expediency, inconsis-tency, and wavering toward the Balkans, this position remained princi-pled and consistent throughout the wars in the two republics. Yet one would be hard-pressed to find any sustained inquiry into the insis-tence on Croatian and Bosnian territorial integrity in the vast literatureon the two conflicts. If the policy is acknowledged, the tendency is todismiss it casually as misguided, especially in regard to Bosnia,2 toremain ambivalent,3 or, much more frequently, to take for granted thatit was right. Whatever their view, scholars typically concentrate onthe means that were used or could have been used to bring peace to theregion, reflecting less on the normative foundations of that peace. Thisis also true of some direct participants in the events.4

Yet, such a reflection is much needed. While the business of foreignpolicy makers is to make judgments on whether an intended course ofaction is in the interest of their country, they do not make these assess-ments without, or in isolation from, considerations of international moral-ity and law. Even wars over territory take place within a framework ofnorms that shape and limit political choices. Those making decisions onthe Yugoslav wars confronted the general inadmissibility of forcibleterritorial acquisition.

International territorial norms were upheld in Croatia and Bosnia eventhough they were not necessarily followed by peace in the Balkans. In fact,the manner in which external actors drew on them did, certainly in theshort run, more harm than good. The decisions to recognize the tworepublics in their previous republican borders—coming when they did—made the underlying reasons for hostilities in Croatia more difficult toaddress and a war in Bosnia much more likely to erupt. Yet after Croatiaand Bosnia–Herzegovina had been recognized as sovereign, internationalsociety did not allow their forcible partition. The insistence on territorialnorms was maintained even though their infringement might havebrought at least short-term termination of violence or, in the case ofBosnia, perhaps even prevention of its further escalation. Given their rela-tively modest military capability, the Bosnian Muslims could not haveeasily challenged an early reversal on the recognition of Bosnia by way ofinternational endorsement of Serbian and Croatian territorial gains.

120 ● Mikulas Fabry


In Kosovo there were no attempts to change the province’s statuswithout the acquiescence of the FRY, despite the fact that NATO inter-vened militarily against the FRY. Whereas most members of the ContactGroup in Rambouillet wanted Yugoslav commitment that the province’sfinal status would be negotiable in three years’ time, once the Belgradegovernment refused, the matter was not further pressed. UNSC resolu-tions both prior to and following the intervention stress that Kosovo isan integral part of the FRY. Yugoslavia’s sovereignty over the provincehas been routinely trivialized as a “technicality,” but the stated purposeof the interim UN administration is to make Kosovo effectively autonomouswithin the FRY.

The Yugoslav Conflict and its International Dimension

The dispute in Yugoslavia was fundamentally about who has the right togovern whom, where, and in what form. The war broke out as a resultof the conflicting secessionist and irredentist claims of its peoples.However, in the society of states there can be no permanent and legiti-mate territorial change without international recognition.5 This is because“Boundaries are . . . international and not merely national. They markthe limits of the territorial jurisdictions and the domestic society ofsovereign states; but they also constitute an institution shared by statesand form an important part of an international society between states.”6

Something comparable can be said of a territory’s acquisition of sover-eign status, for sovereignty, too, pertains to the state and the society ofstates. Though the impulse to achieve sovereignty ordinarily comes fromwithin a political community—through assertion of its constitutionalseparateness—a state cannot be said to be sovereign only in terms of itsconstitution. In addition to the internal aspect of sovereignty estab-lished by domestic law, there is an external aspect delineated by interna-tional law. The nexus linking them is state recognition.

Sovereignty in international law is attained when the already existingstates deem a claimant to have sovereign rights and duties, or interna-tional legal personality. The common practice of using quotation marksdifferentiates those who merely self-proclaim to be sovereign from thosewho are actually sovereign in the eyes of international law. Since Croatiaand Bosnia ultimately became sovereign in terms of international lawand Kosovo did not and since the territories of Croatia, Bosnia, and theFRY were not allowed to diminish as a result of secessions or acquisi-tions by outsiders, it is indispensable to investigate the role of foreignstates and relevant intergovernmental organizations. It is above all crucial

Territorial Integrity and the Balkan Wars ● 121


to assess if they were guided by anything other than their momentarywhims and interests when they recognized certain claims and deniedothers.

The Global Territorial Covenant

The beginnings of the post-1945 territorial integrity norm may betraced to the prevalent opinion in some Allied countries in the aftermathof World War I that territorial enlargement by force is unacceptable andthat territorial modifications can be made only with the consent of allparties involved. In Article 10 of its Covenant, the League of Nationssanctioned the territorial status quo as a criterion of international legal-ity and legitimacy. The illegitimacy of conquest, however, hardly tookroot during the 1930s as not only the former central powers, but alsoseveral former allied states rejected it in practice.

The settlement of World War II moved the world closer to the hopesof those who 20 years earlier had pleaded that wars of conquest be madeunlawful. With a few exceptions, international borders in Europe after1945 reflected those of the 1919 settlement. The inadmissibility of terri-torial change by force became entrenched in numerous internationaldocuments, most notably the UN Charter, UN General AssemblyResolutions 2625 and 3314, and, in the European context, the HelsinkiFinal Act and the Charter of Paris for a New Europe. Resolution 2625on Friendly Relations and Cooperation among States, for instance,states that it is a basic principle of international law that “the territoryof a State shall not be the object of acquisition by another state resultingfrom the threat or use of force” and posits that “no territorial acquisitionresulting from the threat or use of force shall be recognized as legal.”The Helsinki Final Act specifies, “frontiers can [only] be changed . . .by peaceful means and agreement.”

The constitutive aspects of the territorial covenant can be traced backto 1945. Products of Axis aggression such as the Independent State of Croatia or Manchukuo were, for example, denied their continuedexistence. More importantly for the postwar development, colonialterritories that came to be regarded as possessing the right of self-determination could become sovereign only in their colonial bound-aries. This norm, called uti possidetis juris, prescribes that formeradministrative borders are in the absence of voluntary agreement bya new sovereign government to do otherwise, inviolable.

The growing reliance on uti possidetis, first used as a rule of interna-tional law in nineteenth-century Latin America, seems to have been



propelled by two beliefs. One was that in case of disputes, the existingcolonial boundaries provide the only basis for preventing social disinte-gration and maintaining international order.7 It was desirable to havestable states. By restricting the number of peoples entitled to self-determination, the society of states was to prevent multiple partitionsinto smaller and smaller units and guarantee that international law didnot become “a suicide club for states.”8 The second was a normativeshift from the belief, evident in the 1919 settlement, that ethno-nationalself-determination may sometimes be optimal. Despite the ideologicaldivisions of the Cold War, virtually all countries extolled the virtues ofmultiethnic society and civic nationhood. Insistence on the politicalexclusivity of ethno-nations was seen as a recipe for catastrophe anda direct cause of World War II.

Jackson and Zacher summarize the post-1945 territorial constitutiveand regulative norms as follows: (1) only existing international bound-aries are legal and legitimate; (2) borders can be changed only with theexplicit consent of all states affected by the change; (3) change ofborders by way of armed force is illegal and illegitimate; (4) the onlyrecognized political community for international purposes is the statewith its juridical boundaries; (5) colonialism is illegal and illegitimate;and (6) a norm that does not have “the strength of those noted above,but does deserve mentioning”: secessions are to be dissuaded, but if theyappear inescapable, the international borders of a new state ought toreflect the internal administrative boundaries of the state from which itseceded.9

While this is an elegant synopsis of territorial norms, the normagainst secession is more robust than Jackson and Zacher would allow.There has been only one instance of widespread recognition of a seced-ing entity without the approval of its government, that of Bangladeshfrom Pakistan in the early 1970s.10 The end of the Cold War has notchanged the norm. Self-determination has not been reinterpreted tosanction recognition of unilateral secession in some instances. TheCharter of Paris reaffirmed in 1990 the right of peoples to self-determination but it stressed, as did General Assembly Resolution 2625and other UN texts, that the realization of the right must be “in confor-mity with the Charter of the United Nations and with the relevantnorms of international law, including those relating to territorialintegrity of states.” The breakup of the Soviet Union or Czechoslovakiawere instances of state dissolution, not secession.11 International societytreated the disintegration of Yugoslavia in the same way. Conceptually,the distinction between secession and dissolution may be murky because



dissolution of the original state and its central government can begin asa unilateral secession by one or more of its parts. But state practice doesdistinguish between an attempt at secession and a successful secession:the latter is achieved only when a seceding entity is recognizedinternationally without the consent of its legitimate sovereign government.

The Territorial Covenant and the Wars in Croatia andBosnia–Herzegovina

How was the territorial covenant relevant in the Balkan wars of the early1990s? From the first salvo in Croatia in July 1991 until the signatureof the DPA in November 1995 international society insisted thatborders between the federal republics and then sovereign states not beallowed to change by force. As for the constitutive aspect of the Yugoslavdisintegration, the separating republics were initially treated by outsideactors as integral parts of Yugoslavia and their acts were described asattempts to secede, but as Macedonia and Bosnia had joined Slovenia andCroatia in declaring their sovereignty and had ceased to retain their offi-cials in federal agencies, the SFRY became regarded as a federation in theprocess of dissolution and its government was no longer treated as legit-imate. Though this was a novelty in the practice of state recognition thatmay indicate evolution of the post-1945 territorial norms, it must bestressed that the collapse of Yugoslavia was itself unprecedented. Neverbefore had a majority of constituent units, comprising the majority ofthe population and territory, attempted to secede from a federal state. Itis extremely significant that no foreign country protested againstportraying the Yugoslav breakup as a case of dissolution and that theclaims of Serbia and Montenegro that they represented a legal continu-ation of the SFRY were uniformly rebuffed. Only with their federationdissolving did the republics become eligible for recognition. BecauseCroatia and Bosnia did not give consent to loss of parts of their terri-tory, their borders became international ones. They became, as a matterof international legal right, safeguarded against secessions and externalterritorial designs.

International society opposed the independence of Slovenia and Croatiawhen these republics announced that they would declare it unilaterally.On 19 June 1991, the 35-member Council of Foreign Ministers of theConference for Security and Cooperation in Europe (CSCE) expressedsupport for the territorial integrity of Yugoslavia. During his visit toBelgrade on 21 June US Secretary of State James Baker made it clear that“neither the US nor any other country will recognize unilateral



secession” of Slovenia and Croatia.12 He did not deny that the Yugoslavrepublics had a right of self-determination, but insisted that “self-determination cannot be unilateral and must be pursued by dialogueand peaceful means,” and reminded republican and federal leaders of “[aprinciple] of the Helsinki Conference” that “borders must not bechanged except by consent.”13 The USSR and the EC voiced identicalsentiments; the EC by way of a statement of its foreign ministers twodays before the declarations of independence of 25 June.14 After hisreturn from Belgrade, Baker suggested to President George H.W. Bushthat the United States should “work with the Europeans to maintain acollective nonrecognition policy against any republic that unilaterallydeclared independence.”15

After the fighting began, the EC with the blessing of the UnitedStates, the USSR, CSCE, and the UN, got involved. Though its activi-ties helped to terminate the confrontation in Slovenia, the efforts tomediate between the government in Zagreb and the Croatian Serb para-militaries and the JNA proved futile. The Brussels Declaration of27 August 1991 was the first significant EC statement on the mountingviolence in Croatia. It censured the Serb irregulars for trying to solveproblems of “a new constitutional order through military means” andcondemned the JNA’s support of the Serbian side.16 For this chapter,though, the most notable are the following lines—they would, in oneway or another, be later reproduced in most EC, UN, NATO, CSCE,WEU, Group of Seven, or Organization of the Islamic Conferencedocuments on the Balkan crises:

[The Community and its member States] remind those responsible for the violence of their determination never to recognize changes of frontierswhich have not been brought about by peaceful means and by agreement . . .The Community and its member States will never accept a policy of faitaccompli. They are determined not to recognize changes of borders by forceand will encourage others not to do so either. Territorial conquests, notrecognized by the international community, will never produce the kind oflegitimate protection sought by all in the new Yugoslavia.17

The escalating conflict in Croatia was difficult to curb, but the inter-national legal personality of the SFRY remained unaffected either by thefighting or by an additional declaration of sovereignty, this time byMacedonia. Soon, however, that legal standing began to look increas-ingly tenuous. On 3 October, the representatives of Montenegro, Serbia,and the Serbian-controlled provinces of Kosovo and Vojvodina on theSFRY presidency met in the absence of members from the other four



republics. They determined that the country was in the condition of “an immediate threat of war” and, on that ground, decided to conductthe affairs of the SFRY by only “the majority of votes of the Presidencymembers present and voting.”18 On 5 October EC foreign ministersrejected “the seizure of the Presidency by Montenegro and Serbia, whichhas already been condemned by other Republics of Yugoslavia,” andstated that they were “not prepared to acknowledge any decisions takenby a body which can no longer pretend to speak for the whole ofYugoslavia.”19 On 28 October the EC called the decision a “coupd’etat.”20 In his 25 October report to the Security Council, UNSecretary-General Javier Perez de Cuéllar described the SFRY presidencyas “rump” and observed that “JNA no longer has political direction froma civilian authority that enjoys the support of all the republics and allcommunities of the Federation.”21

On 11 October, the “rump” presidency, in conformity with the posi-tions of Serbia and Montenegro, rejected accusations of seizure andwarned that any attempt to recognize unilateral secessionist acts wouldbe flagrant interference into the SFRY’s internal affairs and “an actdirected against its international subjectivity and territorial integrity.”22

Still, at a 4 October meeting at The Hague, which included PresidentsSlobodan Milosevic and Franjo Tudjman, Serbia agreed that what wasneeded was “a political solution on the basis of the perspective of recogni-tion of the independence of those republics wishing it, at the end ofa negotiating process conducted in good faith.”23 This process was toinvolve “all parties concerned” and recognition was to be granted as partof “the framework of a general settlement” which would permit “nounilateral changes in borders.” On 8 November, the EC repeated “theprospect of recognition of the independence of those republics wishingit can only be envisaged in the framework of an overall settlement.”24

The negotiations at the EC peace conference, however, bore no fruit.Two issues in particular were plaguing the talks and needed to bereferred to the Badinter Commission of jurists established by the confer-ence: one was the legal description of events in Yugoslavia and the otherthe status of Serbs outside Serbia. On the first one, Serbia and Montenegrocontended that the four republics sought to secede from Yugoslavia andthat the SFRY continued to exist. In contrast, the other four republicsmaintained that Yugoslavia had been breaking up as a result of concur-ring exercise of the right to self-determination by the majority ofrepublics. The question was not one of secession and, therefore, therepublics were to be considered equal successors to the SFRY, withoutany of them being able to claim its continuation.



The Commission’s judgment was made public on 7 December asOpinion No. 1. After noting that four republics expressed their desirefor independence, the justices observed that “the composition and work-ings of the essential organs of the Federation . . . no longer met thecriteria of participation and representativeness inherent in a federalState.”25 Their conclusion was that “the Socialist Federal Republic ofYugoslavia is in the process of dissolution” and that “it is incumbentupon the Republics to settle such problems of state succession as mayarise from this process in keeping with the principles and rules of inter-national law.” According to James Crawford, the rationale for OpinionNo. 1 was that “in the absence of a reconstituted federal governmentwhich represented the population of Yugoslavia as a whole, there was nogovernment which had the authority to seek to prevent the separation ofthe constituent republics, and that such separation would lead inevitablyto the disappearance of the Socialist Federal Republic itself.”26 Be thatas it may, the only parties disagreeing with the opinion were the rumppresidency and the two republics sitting on it. The rest of the worldidentified as the cause of the SFRY breakup “a non-functional govern-ment rather than the secession of several republics.”27 Foreign states andintergovernmental organizations declined to treat the federal authoritycomposed of Serbia and Montenegro as the legitimate government ofthe SFRY. This implied that any decision on recognition could be made,at least as far as international law was concerned, without seeking consentof this government.28

A no less critical item that had to be agreed upon in any overall settle-ment was that of the Serbian population in Croatia and Bosnia and, byextension, the boundaries of those republics. Serbs in Croatia wereengaged in rebellion against Zagreb and in this they were supported bySerbia and what remained of the federal government, the former argu-ing at the EC conference on 8 October that “it was essential for all Serbsto live in one state, not in number of independent republics bound bylittle more than interstate relations.”29 The Bosnian Serb deputies in theSarajevo parliament boycotted the vote on the republic’s declaration ofsovereignty, denouncing it as an unconstitutional act contravening thethree-nation consensus principle, and established their own “Assemblyof the Serbian people of Bosnia–Herzegovina.” They also announceda referendum for November on remaining in Yugoslavia to be held inSerb-inhabited regions.

The question of the rights of the Croatian and Bosnian Serbs wasthus of utmost urgency. As he inquired into the status of the SFRY, LordPeter Carrington, the head of the EC peace conference, also requested



the Badinter Commission to provide an opinion on Serbia’s question:“Does the Serbian population in Croatia and Bosnia–Herzegovina, as oneof the constituent peoples of Yugoslavia, have the right to self-determination?”All republics save Serbia and Montenegro argued no: that right belongedto the republics and all citizens within their boundaries. On 18 December1991, the rump SFRY presidency put forward this position:

The right of self-determination can only be exercised by a people in thesense of the nation and not in the sense of “demos.” This means thata decision based on the said right cannot be made by a vote of all citizensof a particular region, republic or state, except if they are populated byonly one people, i.e. nation. Otherwise, the said right would be trans-formed into self-determination of citizens, instead of the people in thesense of a nation. Neither can this decision be made by the republicanassembly (parliament) because it is also an assembly of citizens, ratherthan a one-nation assembly.

The presidency argued emphatically that the right of self-determinationapplied to ethnos (i.e. the ethno-nation) as opposed to demos (i.e. all citi-zens of a particular republic or the civic nation), that the Serbs ofCroatia and Bosnia had the right of self-determination as a constituentnation of Yugoslavia and of those republics, and that they had to be, asa result, consulted on their wishes in separate Serbian, not all-republican,referenda.30

The Commission, in Opinion No. 2 of 11 January 1992, assertedthat “. . . it is well-established that, whatever the circumstances, theright to self-determination must not involve changes of existing fron-tiers at the time of independence (uti possidetis juris) except where theStates concerned agree otherwise.”31 In the absence of such agreement, it contended, the Serbs in the two republics were only entitled “to all therights accorded to minorities and ethnic groups under international law . . .”In Opinion No. 3, released on the same day as a response to Serbia’squery whether its internal borders with Croatia and Bosnia could be regarded as frontiers in terms of public international law, theCommission maintained that “except where otherwise agreed, theformer boundaries become frontiers protected by international law.” Itthen underlined the global character of uti possidetis:

Uti possidetis, though initially applied in settling decolonization issues inAmerica and Africa, is today recognized as a general principle, as stated bythe International Court of Justice in its Judgment of 22 December 1986in the case between Burkina Faso and Mali (Frontier Dispute, (1986) ICJ



Reports 554 and 565): “Nevertheless the principle is not a special rulewhich pertains solely to one specific system of international law. It isa general principle, which is logically connected with the phenomenon ofthe obtaining of independence, wherever it occurs. Its obvious purpose isto prevent the independence and stability of new States being endangeredby fratricidal struggles . . .”32

The Commission also noted that “the principle applies all the more read-ily to the Republics since . . . Article 5 of the Constitution of the SFRYstipulated that the Republics’ territories and boundaries could not bealtered without their consent” and underscored that “according to a well-established principle of international law the alteration of existing fron-tiers or boundaries by force is not capable of producing any legal effect.”

Many Serb politicians were enraged by these verdicts and vowed toignore them. Offers of recognition of Bosnian and Croatian sovereigntywithout some sort of prior settlement with Serbia and the Serbs of thetwo republics were thus bound to create, especially in the still-peacefulBosnia, a highly explosive environment. Yet this is exactly took place inthe end. With no settlement on the future of Yugoslav republics andarmed with the Badinter Commission opinion that the SFRY was in theprocess of dissolution, the EC changed its 8 November position. On 16 December 1991, the EC proposed in its “Declaration on Yugoslavia”to recognize independence of all republics wishing it, provided that theyfulfilled the “Guidelines on the Recognition of New States in EasternEurope and in the Soviet Union.” Among others, the republics had topledge they had no territorial ambitions vis-à-vis their neighbors andrespected the inviolability of all frontiers, and adopt extensive minorityrights legislation in line with the strictest CSCE criteria.

The main driving force behind the shift in EC policy was Germany.The Bonn government became strongly convinced that the fighting inYugoslavia was a consequence of “Serbian aggression.” It contended that“preventive recognition” would have a constitutive effect and providelegal grounds for declaring the presence of the JNA in Croatia an unso-licited intervention against a sovereign country. International law allowsin such a case counter-intervention, including all forms of foreign mili-tary assistance, against the intervening state. Germany’s foreign ministerof the day, Hans-Dietrich Genscher, writes that his government workedon the assumption that “delaying recognition would lead to further esca-lation of violence by Yugoslavia’s People’s Army, since the troops wouldnecessarily regard our refusal to recognize the republics as an encouragementfor their policy of conquest toward Croatia.”33



The German initiative within the EC was resisted most strongly bythe United States and the UN. While not rejecting recognition ofYugoslav republics in principle, UN Secretary-General Javier Perez deCuéllar in his letter to the Dutch foreign minister (the Netherlands atthe time held the EC presidency) of 10 December, expressed apprehen-sion that premature recognition of some of them without an overallsettlement could be a “potential time bomb.”34 He added:

Let me be clear: I am not in any way calling into question the principleof self-determination which is enshrined in the Charter of the UnitedNations. However, I am deeply worried that any early, selective recogni-tion could widen the present conflict and fuel the explosive situationespecially in Bosnia and Herzegovina . . .

Lord Carrington, opposing the planned decision of his own organiza-tion, wrote to the Dutch minister on 2 December that premature recog-nition of Croatia by the EC “might well be the spark that setsBosnia–Herzegovina alight.”35 Cyrus Vance, the UN envoy for Yugoslavia,assessed the situation in a 5 December conversation with US AmbassadorWarren Zimmermann in these terms: “My friend Genscher is out ofcontrol on this. What he is doing is madness.”36 Carrington and Vancewanted recognition to be withheld until the Yugoslav republics had allagreed on their mutual relationships. To do it before meant, in their view,that the situation was being prejudged in favor of some and at the expenseof others. And that promised more war. Prophetically, Zimmermannhimself cabled to Washington on 20 December that “let nobody believethat the ten thousand or so who have died so far [in Croatia] mean thatviolence has reached its peak. A war in Bosnia could increase that numbertenfold.”37

These voices were ignored and Croatia was recognized first byGermany on 23 December and then by the other 11 EC member stateson 15 January 1992.38 The German government did not even wait for,and others did not take into account, the Badinter Commission’s adviceas to the suitability of Croatia for recognition. Opinion No. 5, releasedfour days before EC recognition, actually suggested that the CroatianConstitution did not provide sufficient guarantees for protection ofminorities and that, hence, Croatia did not meet all the conditions listedin the EC’s own “Guidelines.”

The EC heeded the advice of the Badinter Commission’s OpinionNo. 4 of 11 January 1992 that Bosnia should not be recognized since“the will of the peoples of Bosnia and Herzegovina” to constitutea “sovereign and independent State cannot be held to have been fully



established.”39 The EC and the United States pressed the Sarajevogovernment to hold a referendum on independence similar to the onesin Slovenia and Croatia. But the difficulty with the plebiscite, held on29 February–1 March, was that it was predicated on the simple major-ity of all citizens, a principle the Bosnian Serbs, a constituent nation ofthe republic, fervently rejected as contrary to the Bosnian constitu-tion.40 Zimmermann’s admonition of the leader of Bosnian Serbs,Radovan Karadzic—“why do not you participate in the referendum onindependence and come to terms with the fact that with 30 percent ofthe population Serbs cannot be expected to dictate the outcome?”—might have been grounded in a sound civic precept but, given theBosnian consociational system in which two peoples could not imposea constitutional change on the third one, it was fundamentallymisguided.41 Stipe Mesic, the last president of the SFRY presidency andcurrent president of Croatia, warned in a 15 February speech that hold-ing a referendum on which there was no consensus among the threeBosnian peoples would lead to war.42 Almost all Bosnian Serbs boycottedthe “illegal” referendum and their leaders predicted disaster if the republicwere to be recognized internationally.

Even though the US administration heavily criticized Germany forbreaking the collective nonrecognition consensus, it virtually replicatedthe German reasoning in Croatia and in March 1992 pressed for speedyrecognition of Bosnia. This shift in the aftermath of the majority votefor independence took place even though one of the Bosnian peoplesvehemently rejected independence. Zimmermann, echoing Genscher inDecember 1991, later wrote that “our view was that we might be able tohead off a Serbian power grab by internationalizing the problem.”43

He elaborated:

The Community’s action had changed the whole political landscape. Nowthe Europeans had recognized Croatia and Slovenia, and [Alija]Izetbegovic’s Bosnia was threatened with isolation in a Milosevic-dominated “Serbo-slavia.” To keep Bosnia in international limbo wouldincrease that isolation and assist Serbian designs . . . I believed that earlyWestern recognition, right after the expected referendum majority withindependence, might present Milosevic and Karadzic with a fait accomplidifficult for them to overturn.44

The American conjectures that recognition would deter the Serbsfrom fighting failed miserably. As Steven Burg and Paul Shoup contend,no matter how hard it might have been to accomplish, “only a negoti-ated solution agreed by all three nationalist parties could avert the



mounting crisis.”45 As in the case of the Croatian Serbs, the BosnianSerbs feared living as a minority and would not watch passively whilebeing reduced to that position. Hostilities in Bosnia began almostimmediately after US and EC recognition on 7 April 1992. The coun-try descended into a brutal war in which the Bosnian Serbs weresupported by the JNA and the Bosnian Croats by the Croatian Army.

What can one say at this point about international norms of territo-rial integrity? Do not the evident instrumental calculations of Germanyand the United States actually demonstrate that norms did not count,the very opposite of this chapter’s argument? The answer is no. A normestablishes “rules of the game” or boundaries of permissible politicalactivity and legitimate state interests. It prescribes broad standards ofconduct that ought to be followed because the norm is deemed binding.But while norms constrain and enable political choices, they do not fullydetermine these choices. They are not and cannot be all-encompassingforeign policy guidelines. Being noninstrumental by definition, normsprovide no guide to instrumental questions like timing or effectiveness,indispensable in any foreign policy decision.

Put differently, one must distinguish between the stipulation ofnorms and acting in accordance with norms. The Badinter Commissionclarified what the international norms of territorial integrity were in thecircumstances of a country’s dissolution. Besides Serbia and Montenegro,no state disagreed with the panel’s opinions. The Commission impliedthat those Yugoslav republics wishing independence could be recognizedin their previous borders without the assent of the rump SFRY govern-ment. However, the EC and other governments still had to decide when andhow to recognize the republics. They had a choice of going the Genscheror Vance–Carrington–Perez de Cuéllar route. Perez de Cuéllar warnedthe UN members in his 25 October 1991 report on Yugoslavia that“wisdom and prudence are . . . required in connection with the seekingof recognition of unilateral declarations of independence.”46 These qual-ities might have been largely missing from the decision to recognizeCroatia and Bosnia—which came about in the midst of dangerouslyunsettled conditions on the ground and without any commitment tointervene should the situation subsequently deteriorate—but that doesnot imply that norms played little or no role.

One can clearly register the constitutive and prescriptive effects ofBosnian recognition as early as May 1992. Once recognized, Bosniacould seek membership in international organizations and on 22 May itbecame, along with Slovenia and Croatia, a member of the UN. Evenbefore this act, UNSC Resolution 752 (15 May 1992) referred to



“the former Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia” and demanded thatall units of the JNA and the Croatian Army “now in Bosnia andHerzegovina must either be withdrawn, or be subject to the authority ofthe Government of Bosnia and Herzegovina, or be disbanded anddisarmed.” Resolution 757 (30 May 1992) then imposed stringent sanc-tions on Serbia and Montenegro for failing to do this and stated that “noterritorial gains or changes brought about by violence are acceptable . . .and the borders of Bosnia and Herzegovina are inviolable.”47 Both reso-lutions also classified the JNA and Croatian Army presence in Bosnia as“interference from outside.” Given that the Council had not even reactedto the plea of Slovenian President Milan Kucan on 28 June 1991—lessthan a year before Resolution 752—that the UN take action against theJNA “invasion and foreign occupation,” on the ground that the armedclashes in Slovenia constituted an internal Yugoslav matter, the contentof these resolutions was indeed a remarkable reflection of the swiftchange in the political/juridical map of the Balkans.48

Over the three years of its duration the Bosnian war became a themeof protracted debates both within national governments and intergov-ernmental organizations. The five international peace plans, the liftingof the arms embargo so that the Bosnian Muslims could better defendthemselves, the effect of the sanctions against Serbia and Montenegro,the plan for of a Muslim–Croat federation in the face of intense antag-onism between the two communities, the competence of UN peace-keepers, the sagacity of creating UN safe areas when the publiclydeclared determination to enforce them appeared to lack credibility,and, most agonizingly, the question of direct military involvement, allgenerated heated discussions. Yet, whereas the extent of internationalresponsibility toward the new state was much debated, the normativeunderpinnings on which the end of the war was to be based did notbecome subject to any real dispute. This is perhaps why they have notbeen widely emphasized by scholars. The repeated suggestion of promi-nent realist John Mearsheimer and his colleagues that an imposed parti-tion of Bosnian territory is the only viable solution to the conflict was,for instance, never seriously considered.49 Mearsheimer might well havebeen right to believe that giving parts of Bosnia to Serbia and Croatiawould decrease human and other costs both for the people of Bosnia andfor outsiders involved, but these were not the only relevant considera-tions. There was nobody who would publicly endorse forcible changesof international borders.

How is one to understand this persistent refusal to contemplate modi-fications of Bosnian borders? After all, whilst the International Conference



on the Former Yugoslavia (ICFY) in August 1992 repudiated all“attempts to gain territory by the use of force” and called for recognitionof Bosnia by “all the former Yugoslav Republics” as a condition of thepeace settlement, it expressly allowed for frontier changes by mutualagreement.50 Yet even though the Sarajevo government could legallynegotiate territorial changes with Croatia and the FRY, this option wasnever suggested to the Bosnian leadership by international diplomacy.Such a position would have inevitably implied that the multiethnicBosnia was a failure and that ethnic cleansing, so universally reviled, wasan authentic expression of the reluctance of the Bosnian peoples to livetogether in an independent country. UNSC Resolution 836 (4 June1993) instead stressed the following general outline for the Bosniansettlement:

The lasting solution to the conflict in Bosnia and Herzegovina must bebased on the following principles: immediate and complete cessation ofhostilities, withdrawal from territories seized by the use of force and “ethnic cleansing,” reversal of the consequences of “ethnic cleansing”and recognition of the right of all refugees to return to their homes, andrespect for the sovereignty, territorial integrity and political independenceof Bosnia and Herzegovina.

Throughout the war, the “Republic of Serbian Krajina,” the “RepublikaSrpska,” and the “Croat Community of Herzeg–Bosna” were deniedforeign recognition. The Serb entities became, as did Serbia andMontenegro, which continued to support them, targets of debilitatinginternational embargo. For the Krajina Serbs the war had a dire end: inAugust 1995 the Croatian Army bypassed the UN peacekeepers’ lines andattacked Serb-held regions in two out of four UNPAs. While the operation“Storm” evoked earlier scenes of ethnic cleansing undertaken by theBosnian Serb Army against the Muslim population, international protestswere tepid partly because the Croatian government was “reintegrating” itsown, that is, internationally recognized, territory.51 The war in Croatia ineffect ended with the exodus of most Krajina Serbs from Croatia.

In Bosnia, the war ended after the position of the Bosnian Serb Armyhad weakened as a result of joint Muslim–Croat ground offensive andNATO air strikes in August 1995. The formal termination of the warcame with the DPA of 21 November 1995 between Bosnia–Herzegovina,Yugoslavia, and Croatia, the two key articles of which read as follows:

Article I . . . the Parties shall fully respect the sovereign equality of oneanother, shall settle disputes by peaceful means, and shall refrain from any



action, by threat or use of force or otherwise, against the territorialintegrity or political independence of Bosnia and Herzegovina or anyother State.

Article X The Federal Republic of Yugoslavia and the Republic of Bosniaand Herzegovina recognize each other as sovereign independent Stateswithin their international boundaries.

The Territorial Covenant and the Kosovo War

If there had been an instance in the last decade’s long saga of Balkanconflicts when the international territorial norms could have been disre-garded, Kosovo must surely have been it. After all, NATO not onlyintervened militarily against the very country the province had been partof; the Alliance also justified its attack by reprehensible treatment of theKosovo Albanians in the hands of the Yugoslav forces. The alliancemembers could have endorsed independence of Kosovo withoutYugoslavia’s consent on the basis of the unmistakable wishes of KosovoAlbanians, the absolute majority of the province’s population, to sepa-rate from Yugoslavia and the repression they had to endure, and thendemand Yugoslav acquiescence as part of the conditions of truce. Yetthis is not what took place.

Serbia’s unscrupulous revocation of Kosovo’s autonomy in 1989 wasmet by the near total boycott of republican and federal institutions bythe ethnic Albanian population. Still, when the “Republic of Kosova”was proclaimed sovereign following the September 1991 undergroundreferendum on secession, no country except Albania recognized it. TheKosovo Albanian leadership applied for EC recognition in December1991, right in the aftermath of the EC’s offer to recognize those Yugoslavrepublics wishing it, but the Community, as in the case of CroatianSerbs, refused even to consider the application.52 However one chose toread the 1974 federal constitution, neither the jurisdiction of Kosovonor the Kosovo Albanians had a right of self-determination. Kosovo wasnot a republic of Yugoslavia but a province of one of its republics, andthe Kosovo Albanians were not a constituent nation but a nationalminority. Later, in June 1992, the EC would issue a statement thatplainly mischaracterized the real Kosovo Albanian aims:

The Community and its member States recall that frontiers can only bechanged by peaceful means and remind the inhabitants of Kosovo thattheir legitimate quest for autonomy should be dealt with in the frame-work of the EC Peace Conference. They also call upon Albanian governmentto exercise restraint and act constructively.53



The unequivocal rejection of the Kosovo Albanians’ claims byinternational society left Yugoslavia at first unhindered in dealing withthe adverse situation. When in early 1998 it had been confronted byarmed attacks by the KLA, external involvement in the conflict increasedsharply. The KLA’s guerrilla-style assaults were usually followed byreprisals of the government troops designed to stem the fledgling insur-gency and to reestablish control of the whole Kosovo territory. Becausethey caused extensive suffering to the civilian population, Yugoslav coun-terinsurgency tactics were judged unacceptably harsh.

Nevertheless, every international attempt to deal with the violentdevelopments in Kosovo stressed that Kosovo was part of the FRY andthat the territorial integrity of Yugoslavia was guaranteed. Even whileUNSC Resolution 1160 (31 March 1998) imposed a mandatory armsembargo on Yugoslavia until Belgrade had “withdrawn the special policeunits and ceased action by the security forces affecting the civilian popu-lation,” it reaffirmed “the commitment of all Member States to the sover-eignty and territorial integrity of the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia.”Contrary to the aspirations of Kosovo Albanians, the Security Council,similarly to the EC in 1992, expressed sympathy only “for an enhancedstatus for Kosovo which would include a substantially greater degree ofautonomy and meaningful self-administration”; that is, roughly thestatus Kosovo enjoyed under the 1974 SFRY constitution. These objec-tives did not change with the worsening situation in Kosovo and theNATO threat of force against the FRY issued in October 1998: inResolutions 1199 (23 September 1998) and 1203 (24 October 1998) theCouncil repeated them in language identical to that of Resolution 1160.

As international appeals for a cease-fire did not materialize, inFebruary 1999 the Contact Group summoned Yugoslavia and theKosovo Albanians to negotiate in Rambouillet, France. The parties werepresented with a set of “non-negotiable principles/basic elements” fora settlement. These contained “territorial integrity of the FRY andneighbouring countries” and “high degree of self-governance forKosovo.”54 One must mention in this respect that in January the NATOCouncil decided again that NATO’s secretary-general could authorizeair strikes against the FRY. The aim was to compel Yugoslavia to cometo France and to agree to an interim political settlement. Given theexplicit threat, whatever consent the FRY might have given to change inKosovo’s status or boundaries could not have easily been deemed to meetthe condition of “mutual agreement” as understood by the ViennaConvention on the Law of Treaties (1969).55 Still, NATO member stateshad no intention of simply recognizing the province’s independence.



This would have entailed acting against the wishes of its legitimatesovereign government and contravened the territorial covenant.

The second draft of the Rambouillet document, which Russia claimedits envoy had been excluded from seeing before it was presented to thetwo parties, and which Yugoslavia claimed had not been negotiated butimposed, provided for an international conference on Kosovo’s ultimatestatus in three years.56 Its Article I (3) contained an ambiguous referenceto “the will of the people” as forming a basis of the final settlement and,as Marc Weller writes, “the delegation of Kosovo obtained certain assur-ances that this formula actually establishes a legal right to hold a refer-endum of the people of Kosovo (as opposed, say, to the people of theFRY or the Serb Republic).”57 Being suspicious that this was the realmeaning by the reference, the joint Yugoslav–Serb delegation rejectedArticle I and, ultimately, the entire Rambouillet proposal.

What came after this rejection is not subject to debate. In March1999 NATO, invoking the notion of humanitarian intervention,launched air strikes against the FRY. Operation Allied Force was haltedonly with the June cease-fire agreement, which obligated the Yugoslavforces to withdraw from Kosovo. After Rambouillet, however, Yugoslaviawas confronted with no text that could have been interpreted as permit-ting change in Kosovo’s status without the consent of its government.Resolution 1244 (10 June 1999) that authorized the UN military andcivilian presence in the province reaffirmed “the commitment of allMember States to the sovereignty and territorial integrity of the FederalRepublic of Yugoslavia.” The UN civilian administration was itselfdirected “to provide an interim administration for Kosovo under whichthe people of Kosovo can enjoy substantial autonomy within the FederalRepublic of Yugoslavia.”

Concluding Reflections

International territorial norms had considerable bearing on the Balkanconflicts of the 1990s. The international response to these wars was not,as it is sometimes portrayed, entirely haphazard, opportunistic, or arbi-trary. Still, it is undeniable that the way in which these norms wereemployed in Yugoslavia privileged certain claims over others and thatthis had deplorable repercussions. While it would be erroneous to saythat reliance on international territorial norms “caused” the war inBosnia, hasty recognition of Croatian and Bosnian sovereignty never-theless added fuel to the fire and contributed to the immediateescalation of the conflict.



However, once the society of states had extended recognition toCroatia and Bosnia in their former republican boundaries, this realitybecame paramount and no reversals were contemplated. The interna-tional legitimacy of the Bosnian state certainly carried more weight thanits dramatic internal illegitimacy or, as numerous Croatian and Serbianpoliticians liked to put it, its “artificiality.” Regardless of how much theBosnian Serbs and Croats, who together make up between 50 and53 percent of Bosnia’s population, might have wished to unite with their“motherlands,” they were denied this choice and uti possidetis jurisprevailed. Uti possidetis triumphed even in Kosovo where the beneficiaryof this norm, the FRY, became the target of relentless bombing. TheZagreb government operated with the juridical reading of the right ofself-determination in regard to Croatia and with the ethnonationalinterpretation in Bosnia. Similarly, Serbia invoked the former in Kosovoand the latter in Croatia and Bosnia. In all these cases, international soci-ety accepted the juridical arguments and spurned the ethno-national ones.The political identity of the Serbs in Croatia and Bosnia, Croats inBosnia, and Albanians in Kosovo derived from their ethnicity, but thepertinent identity for the outside world was their citizenship withininternationally legitimate states.

If the settlements of the Yugoslav wars, principally those concerningBosnia and Kosovo, leave doubts as to their wisdom and viability, it isperhaps worthwhile to ask whether these doubts should be about theterritorial norms, possibly outdated relics of the Cold War era, or the waythey were handled by international diplomacy. I am firmly convincedthat the latter is the case. The normative and practical emphasis onmutual consent with respect to international territorial disputes is betterthan a return to the “realist” pre-1914 right of conquest. When agree-ment on border changes is missing, territorial conservatism seeks to doaway with countries’ belief that resort to military force can settle theirquarrel. It seeks to avert a return to the age when power alone could, andoften did, ensure a state’s expansion in size.

Even so, the imperative task of diplomacy—indeed its raison d’être—is to examine all possible consensual outcomes and this was not done inany of the Yugoslav conflicts. While there is no guarantee that it wouldhave brought peace, there was never any earnest attempt to find outwhether there could be mutual agreement on border changes in Croatiaand Bosnia. This option was not even kept as an alternative so as toallow diplomatic flexibility. Instead, recognition of these two republicswas rushed through even though mutual agreement had been lackingand the recognizing countries had been deeply reluctant to get involved



militarily should the violence worsen. In his memoirs David Owen, the Co-Chairman of the Steering Committee of the ICFY until June 1995,complained bitterly that

My view has always been that to have stuck unyieldingly to the internalboundaries of the six republics within the former Yugoslavia . . . beforethere was any question of recognition of these republics, as being bound-aries for independent states, was a folly far greater than that of prematurerecognition itself. The refusal to make these borders negotiable greatlyhampered the EC’s attempt at crisis management in July and August 1991and subsequently put all peacemaking from September 1991 onwardwithin a straitjacket that greatly inhabited compromises between theparties in dispute.58

One can take exception to this argument by saying that opening theborder issue would have benefited mostly Serbs (and Croats in Bosnia)who relied more on the use of force than on negotiating a mutually satis-factory solution. But this objection cannot but avoid facing the realsource of discord in Croatia and Bosnia. If the dispute was primarilyabout statehood and borders, then a territorial compromise should havebeen seriously explored before granting these states international recog-nition. Would not have such a compromise in Bosnia, if the BosnianMuslim leadership could have been persuaded by international diplo-macy to think in that direction, been better than war, particularly whenthis war was anticipated so widely? Is not human life more importantthan the unity of a territory, even if that territory is inhabited by diverseand intermingled ethno-national groups? A bargain that could havegiven each group something—if not making all of them happy at leastmaking each more or less equally unhappy—would have been preferableto ignoring the claims of some even at the high risk of worsening theconflict. The prospects for such an agreement diminished rapidly afterrecognition, but even then there would have been a moral and legaldifference between one-sided international recognition of Bosnian Croatand Bosnian Serb entities against the wishes of the Sarajevo governmentand a friendly suggestion to the Bosnian Muslims that the mass-scaleviolence engulfing the country might be a rather compelling indicationthat the other two Bosnian peoples do not want to live with them in anindependent state and that this must be dealt with politically. As grimas it may sound to a Western liberal ear, an early compromise on divid-ing Bosnia, while not bringing the good life of multiethnic society,could have at least prevented the bad life, of which the 1992–95 war wasundoubtedly the worst example.



In a speech during the Dayton negotiations US Secretary of StateWarren Christopher said that the United States and the EU “share theconviction that Europe’s post–Cold War peace must be based on theprinciple of multiethnic democracy.”59 The final peace agreement andthe new Bosnian constitution attached to it, written largely by StateDepartment lawyers, reflect this creed. But what is a unified Bosniagood for when about half of its population is not even genuinelycommitted to its existence? James Lyon, the former director of an influ-ential NGO’s Sarajevo office, concluded that “two of Bosnia’s threeethnic groups actively oppose Dayton and are prepared to wait until theinternational community withdraws and the agreement can be laid torest . . . The Croat goal . . . is eventual union with Croatia, while theSerb nationalist goal . . . is eventual union with Serbia.”60 The realproblem has not gone away.

If anything, the political future of Kosovo is even more intractableand, again, largely because of diplomatic failures. Rather than to exhaustall diplomatic avenues with the Belgrade government, NATO inter-vened militarily on behalf of the Kosovo Albanians while being againstwhat they had desired—independence. The alliance wanted Kosovo tocontinue to be part of the FRY, the very objective of the Yugoslav forces.Sharing a key goal with its adversary, NATO could not but undermineits prospects by using force against the FRY.

As in Bosnia, far more attention was paid to the symptoms than to thecauses of the disease. On the one hand, this is understandable: to spot thesuffering of fellow human beings is much easier than to comprehend allthe underlying issues that might have precipitated it. On the other hand,the gist of the Kosovo conundrum lay not in the Serb repression of theKLA and the civilians in the KLA-held areas or even in the subsequentmisery of refugees, reprehensible as these were, but in the fact that theKosovo Albanians did not wish to live under Yugoslav sovereignty. Whatis the long-term solution of the Kosovo problem if all related UN reso-lutions proclaim that Kosovo is an integral part of Yugoslavia and theKosovo Albanians want more than ever out of it? The elimination ofsymptoms eliminates only symptoms, not the disease. The disease persistseven if it remains, for the moment, asymptomatic.

Notes

* A longer version of this chapter was published in Global Society, Vol. 16, No.2, 2002, pp. 145–74. I am grateful for the permission of the publisher tomodify the original version.



1. Robert Jackson and Mark Zacher, “The Territorial Covenant: InternationalSociety and the Stabilization of Boundaries,” Working Paper No. 15,Vancouver: Institute of International Relations, 1997. Zacher called themmore recently “the territorial integrity norm.” See Mark Zacher, “TheTerritorial Integrity Norm: International Boundaries and the Use of Force,”International Organization, Vol. 55, No. 2, 2001, pp. 215–50.

2. See, for instance, John Mearsheimer and Robert Pape, “The Answer: A Partition Plan for Bosnia,” the New Republic, 14 June 1993, pp. 22–8;and John Mearsheimer and Stephen Van Evera, “When Peace Means War,”the New Republic, 18 December 1995, pp. 16–21.

3. For examples see Susan Woodward, Balkan Tragedy: Chaos and DissolutionAfter the Cold War. Washington, DC: Brookings Institution, 1995; SusanWoodward, “Redrawing Borders in a Period of Systemic Transition,” inMilton Esman and Shibley Telhami, eds., International Organizations andEthnic Conflict, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1995; Steven Burg,“The International Community and the Yugoslav Crisis,” in Milton Esmanand Shibley Telhami, eds., International Organizations and Ethnic Conflict,Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1995; and James Steinberg,“International Involvement in the Yugoslavia Conflict,” in Lori Damrosch,ed., Enforcing Restraint: Collective Intervention in Internal Conflicts,New York: Council on Foreign Relations, 1993.

4. See, for instance, Richard Holbrooke, To End a War, rev. ed., New York:The Modern Library, 1999; and John Major, The Autobiography, London:Harper Collins, 1999, pp. 532–49.

5. Michael Akehurst, A Modern Introduction to International Law, 6th ed.,London: Routledge, 1992, p. 152.

6. Robert Jackson, “Boundaries and International Society,” in B. A. Roberson, ed.,International Society and the Development of International Relations Theory,London: Pinter, 1998, p. 159.

7. Malcolm Shaw, “The Heritage of States: The Principle of Uti Possidetis JurisToday,” British Year Book of International Law 1996, Oxford: ClarendonPress, 1997, p. 111.

8. Martin Rady, “Self-determination and the Dissolution of Yugoslavia,”Ethnic and Racial Studies, Vol. 19, No. 2, 1996, pp. 379–89.

9. Jackson and Zacher, “The Territorial Covenant,” p. 10.10. James Crawford, “State Practice and International Law in Relation to

Secession,” British Year Book of International Law 1998, Oxford: ClarendonPress, 1999, pp. 114–15.

11. Both Czechoslovakia and the USSR dissolved constitutionally, by the agree-ment of their constituent republics. When the Slavic population of Moldova,the Abkhaz and Ossetian peoples of Georgia, and the Armenians ofNagorno–Karabach in Azerbaijan declared they did not want to be part of the newly sovereign states, their separatist or irredentist attempts were condemned internationally. The claims of sovereignty of the



“Trans-Dniester Republic,” the “Abkhaz Republic,” and the “Republic ofSouth Ossetia” were not recognized.

12. James Baker, III with Thomas DeFrank, The Politics of Diplomacy:Revolution, War and Peace 1989–1992, New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons,1995, p. 482.

13. Ibid., pp. 480, 482–3.14. Peter Radan, “The Badinter Arbitration Commission and the Partition of

Yugoslavia,” Nationalities Papers, Vol. 25, No. 3, 1997, p. 543.15. Baker, The Politics of Diplomacy, p. 483.16. Snezana Trifunovska, ed., Yugoslavia Through Documents: From Its Creation

to Its Dissolution, Dordrecht, The Netherlands: Martinus Nijhoff Publishers,1994, p. 333.

17. On 3 September 1991 participants at a CSCE meeting declared that terri-torial gains within Yugoslavia brought about by violence are unacceptable;this statement became explicitly noted in UNSC Resolution 713 (25 September 1991), the first UN resolution on the Balkan wars.

18. “Public Statement—3 October 1991,” Review of International Affairs(Belgrade), Vol. 42, No. 995–7, October 5–November 5, 1991, p. 11.

19. Trifunovska, Yugoslavia through Documents, p. 351.20. Ibid., p. 368.21. See paragraphs 21 and 31, UN Document S/23169; The secretary-general

makes clear in his memoirs that the UN did not consider the SFRY presi-dency legitimate after what he says had been its hijacking by Serbia andMontenegro. One practical consequence of this “de-recognition” hementions was that the letter of vice president of the Presidency MilanVereus was not allowed to circulate as an official document in the SecurityCouncil. See Javier Perez de Cuellar, Pilgrimage for Peace: A Secretary-General’s Memoir, New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1997, pp. 482, 487–8.

22. Trifunovska, Yugoslavia through Documents, p. 354.23. See UN Document S/23169, Annex II.24. Trifunovska, Yugoslavia through Documents, pp. 379–80.25. Ibid., p. 417; Opinion No. 8 of 4 July 1992 further explained that “the exis-

tence of a federal state, which is made up of a number of separate entities,is seriously compromised when a majority of these entities, embracinga greater part of the territory and population, constitute themselves assovereign states with the result that federal authority may no longer beeffectively exercised.” See ibid., p. 635.

26. Crawford, “State Practice and International Law in Relation to Secession,”p. 100.

27. Paul Szasz, “Remarks,” Proceedings of the 88th Annual Meeting, April 6–9,1994, Washington, DC: American Society of International Law, 1994, p. 47.

28. Matthew Craven, “The European Community Arbitration Commission onYugoslavia,” British Year Book of International Law 1995, Oxford:Clarendon Press, 1996, p. 367.



29. Quoted in Laura Silber and Alan Little, The Death of Yugoslavia, rev. ed.,London: Penguin Books, 1996, p. 192.

30. Trifunovska, Yugoslavia through Documents, pp. 478–9.31. Ibid., pp. 474–5.32. Ibid., p. 480.33. Hans-Dietrich Genscher, Building a House Divided: A Memoir by the

Architect of Germany’s Reunification, trans. Thomas Thornton, New York:Broadway Books, 1998, p. 489.

34. See UN Document S/23280, Annex IV (11 December 1991).35. Quoted in Woodward, Balkan Tragedy, p. 184.36. Warren Zimmermann, Origins of a Catastrophe, New York: Times Books,

1999, p. 177.37. Ibid., p. 178.38. Most EC states were very uneasy about recognition, but, following

Germany’s notification that, if necessary, it would recognize Croatia unilat-erally, they concurred to demonstrate the EC’s unity in foreign relations. Inthe wake of the Maastricht Treaty, the EC members did not want to bepublicly seen as marring the prospects of the newly instituted “CommonForeign and Security Policy.” But privately grave doubts remained. FrançoisMitterrand, the French president, asked in an early December newspaperinterview whether states that were pressing for immediate recognitionplanned to dispatch troops to support the fact of Croat and Slovene state-hood. Roland Dumas, his foreign minister, later said that by recognizingCroatia German diplomacy fueled the war in Bosnia. See, respectively,Thomas Grant, The Recognition of States: Law and Practice in Debate andEvolution, Westport, CT: Praeger, 1999, p. 175; and Michael Thumann,“Between Ambition and Paralysis—Germany’s Policy Toward Yugoslavia1991–93,” Nationalities Papers, Vol. 25, No. 3, 1997, p. 581.

39. Trifunovska, Yugoslavia through Documents, p. 486.40. The Bosnian Croats participated in the referendum and voted for an inde-

pendent Bosnia, but for tactical reasons. Croatia and those Bosnian Croatswho wanted to amalgamate with Croatia thought that this goal would beeasier to accomplish in a Bosnia that had already been separated fromYugoslavia. See Steven Burg and Paul Shoup, The War in Bosnia–Herzegovina: Ethnic Conflict and International Intervention, Armonk, NY:M. E. Sharpe, 1999, p. 107.

41. Zimmerman, Origins of a Catastrophe, p. 187.42. Burg and Shoup, The War in Bosnia–Herzegovina, p. 108.43. Quoted in Emil Nagengast, “German and U.S. Intervention Against

Yugoslav Sovereignty,” in Andrew Valls, ed., Ethics in International Affairs,Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield, 2000, p. 160.

44. Zimmerman, Origins of a Catastrophe, pp. 191–2.45. Burg and Shoup, The War in Bosnia–Herzegovina, p. 105.46. See paragraph 32, UN Document S/23169.



47. Later, dozens of UNSC resolutions would repeat the commitment of UNmember states to “the sovereignty, territorial integrity and political inde-pendence of the Republic of Bosnia and Herzegovina and the responsibilityof the Security Council in this regard” and “preserving the territorialintegrity of all the States [in the Balkan region] within their internationallyrecognized borders” (italics added). One text, Resolution 787 (16 November1992), expressed deep concern at “the threats to the territorial integrity ofthe Republic of Bosnia and Herzegovina, which, as a State Member of theUnited Nations, enjoys the rights provided for in the Charter of the UnitedNations” and affirmed that “any entities unilaterally declared or arrange-ments imposed in contravention [of Bosnia’s territorial integrity] will not beaccepted.”

48. Perez de Cuéllar, Pilgrimage for Peace, p. 477; Silber and Little, The Deathof Yugoslavia, p. 156; Steinberg, “International Involvement in theYugoslavia Conflict,” p. 38.

49. See note 2 and John Mearsheimer, “The Only Exit from Bosnia,” the NewYork Times, 7 October 1997.

50. Trifunovska, Yugoslavia through Documents, pp. 701–2.51. “Reintegration” was used, for instance, in the UN secretary-general’s report

on Croatia to the Security Council. See paragraph 32, UN DocumentS/1995/730 (23 August 1995).

52. Roland Rich, “Recognition of States: The Collapse of Yugoslavia and theSoviet Union,” European Journal of International Law, Vol. 4, No. 1, 1993,pp. 61–2.

53. Trifunovska, Yugoslavia through Documents, p. 615.54. Quoted in Marc Weller, “The Rambouillet Conference on Kosovo,”

International Affairs, Vol. 75, No. 2, 1999, p. 225.55. Its Article 52 states that “a Treaty is void if its conclusion has been procured

by the threat or use of force in violation of the principles of internationallaw embodied in the Charter of the United Nations.”

56. Ruth Wedgwood, “NATO’s Campaign in Yugoslavia,” American Journal ofInternational Law, Vol. 93, No. 4, 1999, p. 831.

57. Weller, “The Rambouillet Conference on Kosovo,” p. 245.58. David Owen, Balkan Odyssey, updated ed., San Diego, CA: Harcourt Brace

and Company, 1997, p. 34; Owen discusses (pp. 32–5) what in retrospectwas a very unique proposal of the Dutch government—at the time in chargeof the EC presidency—that the option of boundary changes should belooked at. The Netherlands suggested in this 13 July 1991 document “a voluntary redrawing of internal borders as a possible solution” andpointed out that “if the aim is to reduce the number of national minoritiesin every republic, better borders than the present ones could be devised.” Ifthe republics were to become independent, the proposal stressed, “the firstprinciple of Helsinki should be applied, which means that the frontiers ofYugoslavia’s constituent republics can only be changed ‘in accordance withinternational law, by peaceful means and by agreement.’ ” One can only



speculate what course the events would have taken had the Dutch proposition,introduced less than three weeks after the first shots in Slovenia, not beenso promptly rejected by the other EC members on 29 July 1991.

59. Warren Christopher, In the Stream of History: Shaping Foreign Policy fora New Era, Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1998, p. 364.

60. James Lyon, “Will Bosnia Survive Dayton?” Current History, Vol. 99, No. 3,2000, pp. 111 and 113.



CHAPTER 8

The Balkan Wars and theInternational War Convention

R. Craig Nation

Introduction

Armed conflict on the territory of the former Yugoslavia between1991 and 2001 claimed over 200,000 lives, gave rise to atroci-ties unseen in Europe since the World War II, and left behind a

terrible legacy of physical ruin and psychological devastation. A numberof incidents during the conflict provided egregious examples of warcrimes. In the spring and summer of 1992, Serb paramilitaries, some-times abetted by the regular forces of the JNA, pursued a purposefulcampaign of ethnic cleansing in the Drina valley and western Bosnia,killing the residents of occupied communities at random and forcingthousands into flight.1 On 16 April 1993, Croat forces perpetrated adeliberate massacre of the inhabitants of the predominantly Muslimvillage of Ahmici in western Bosnia’s Lasva Valley, burning the village tothe ground and dynamiting the minaret of the central mosque.2 Afterthe fall of Srebrenica to the Army of the Serb Republic in July 1995,more than 8,000 prisoners were massacred while representatives of theinternational community looked on helplessly.3 These episodes wereextreme cases, but they also typified patterns of abuse that characterizedthe entire Yugoslav conflict.

In addition to the toll on human life, the new Balkan wars took ona cultural dimension, manifested by the intentional destruction ofhistorical monuments and artistic treasures. It has been estimated that


already by 1992 up to 70 percent of the architectural inheritance ofBosnia–Herzegovina had been damaged or destroyed, including over300 mosques, 150 Orthodox churches, and 50 Catholic churches.4

Destruction of the Ivo Andric monument in Visegrad by the BosnianMuslims, the dynamiting of the sixteenth-century Ferhadija andArnaudije mosques in Banja Luka by the Bosnian Serbs on the night of5–6 May 1992, the Serb shelling of the Bosnian National Library, theVecnica, in Sarajevo and the destruction of thousands of irreplaceablehistorical manuscripts on the night of 25–26 August 1992 immediatelypreceding the opening of the London Conference on Former Yugoslavia,the targeting of the sixteenth-century Old Bridge (Stari most) in Mostarby Croat artillery in November 1993—these are only particularly shock-ing examples of the widespread cultural vandalism.5 Most of theseactions were in direct contravention of the 1954 Hague Convention onthe Protection of Cultural Property in the Event of Armed Conflict.6

Many had an explicitly anti-Muslim character, and were justified as actsof historical revenge directed against the Ottoman legacy, “the continua-tion in an extreme form of a process of de-Islamization that had begundecades earlier.”7

Though the Balkan wars were replete with rare inhumanity, they werenot unique. The 1990s saw numerous regional conflicts—in Haiti,Colombia, Tajikistan, the Caucasus, Chechnya, Afghanistan, Nepal,Sri Lanka, Somalia, Rwanda, Sudan, Sierra Leone, and Congo amongothers—that were comparable to or, in some cases, more destructive thanthe Yugoslav imbroglio. Few of these conflicts have received anything like the intense scrutiny devoted to the Balkans, for reasons good andbad. The Balkans is a part of Europe, and therefore more accessible to theinternational media, and engagement by external powers, than conflictswaged in less developed and approachable regions. The atrocitiescommitted in the Balkans were no more or less lamentable than thosecarried out in parallel conflicts in Africa, Asia, or the Americas, but theywere prominently displayed and extensively discussed on televised newsreports. The resulting impact on elite and public opinion made theBalkan conflict politically compelling—it was a war that could not beignored.

As a consequence of its visibility, and in view of the extraordinaryabuses to which it gave rise, the Yugoslav conflict of the 1990s posed aparticularly sharp challenge to the capacity of international law andinstitutions to address the problem of violence in the internationalsystem, in regard both to interstate conflict and cases of humanitarianabuse perpetrated by domestic authorities. The extensive media coverage

148 ● R. Craig Nation


extended to the Balkan conflict, the intensive involvement of the inter-national community in the conflict management effort, the high thres-hold of humanitarian violations, and the new field for activismapparently opened up by the end of cold war bipolarity combined tomake the conflict a particularly fertile ground for efforts to expand themodern war convention.8 The extent to which those efforts have or havenot succeeded represents an important part of the legacy of the Balkanwars themselves, a test of the protracted effort by the internationalcommunity to manage them, and a challenge for hopes to preventcomparable outbursts in the future.

Attempts to broaden the capacity of international instances to punishviolations of legal or humanitarian norms rest upon the universalisticpresumption that in an increasingly interdependent international systemcommon values must come to take precedence over the egoistic concernsof individual units. The goal is sometimes described as a shift from a“Westphalian” order, based upon the autonomy of nation-states in ananarchic system without effective supranational authority, toward aninternational society where at least some of the elements of domesticorder pertain to the conduct of interstate relations as well. Internationalreactions to the wars of Yugoslav succession embodied this argument inat least three ways. First, Western interventions were justified in thename of a doctrine of humanitarian intervention asserting that in casesof massive crimes against humanity, international instances and respon-sible national actors are obliged to respond, if need be in defiance of thepresumption of sovereignty.9 Second, armed intervention and peaceenforcement strategies were sanctioned as a legitimate use of force underthe rubric of humanitarian war.10 Third, the law of war was broadenedto encompass a growing body of international humanitarian law thatdemands more intrusive monitoring of national behavior, including theconvocation of tribunals to prosecute violators.11

In the wake of the bloodletting in Bosnia–Herzegovina, the relevanceof a doctrine of humanitarian intervention was widely asserted. TheDPA, which brought an end to the fighting in Bosnia–Herzegovina in1995, specifically committed its signatories “to cooperate in the investi-gation and prosecution of war crimes and other violations of interna-tional humanitarian law,” and to “cooperate and provide unrestrictedaccess to . . . the International Tribune for the Former Yugoslavia andother organizations authorized by the UN Security Council with amandate concerning human rights or humanitarian law.”12 NATO’s warin Kosovo was formally justified as a humanitarian war, where the inter-vening powers were presumed to resort to arms, not in respect of

International War Convention ● 149


national interest, but in response to intolerable ethical violations. TheICTY has been in existence for more than a decade and is mandated toimpose legal accountability for humanitarian abuses. The Hague is nowthe site of history’s first international prison, and home to the first headof state ever placed on trial by an international tribunal on criminalcharges.13 Inspired and influenced by these initiatives, a permanent ICChas been ratified by the UN, to take up its functions in The Hagueduring 2003.14

These are meaningful initiatives, but whether they will add up toa substantial extension of the international war convention remainsunclear. The present international legal regime rests upon what is stilla clumsy dichotomy between classic international law in the Grotiantradition understood as the law of states, and international humanitar-ian law seeking to limit sovereignty on behalf of universal norms withthe human individual as its subject.15 The outcomes of external inter-ventions in both Bosnia–Herzegovina and Kosovo, where peace enforce-ment strategies have given rise to de facto international protectorateswith open-ended mandates without achieving notable progress towardthe resolution of underlying differences, have been problematic, andmany of the states that were the most adamant champions of a doctrineof humanitarian intervention in the specific circumstances of theYugoslav conflict have since cooled to the idea as a general premise ofstatecraft. Alfred Rubin asserts a widely held conviction in arguing thatto presume “enforcement of the international laws of war by thecommunity of nations is consistent with the current international legalorder of separate states” is “dubious” at best.16 War is not a humanitar-ian institution—the resort to arms may occasionally be just, or justifi-able, but it is seldom humane. The ICTY is a contested institution, andthe ICC lacks the support of many of the world’s most significantnational actors, including China, the Russian Federation, and theUnited States. As the Yugoslav wars of the 1990s fade into the past, theemotional reactions that galvanized opinion will begin to pale as well.Many of the conceptual and legal innovations that were applied duringthe Yugoslav conflict remain insufficiently institutionalized, and few restupon a substantial international consensus.

The promulgation of a disputed doctrine of “preemptive war” by theUS administration of George W. Bush has further muddied the waters.17

Assertions of humanitarian motivation, designated as proactive or“anticipatory,” can provide a convenient justification for preemptivewar.18 But the concept of preemption, something quite different thanthe notion of anticipatory self-defense in the face of imminent



aggression that has long been a part of customary international law, doesnot sit comfortably alongside the restrictions against the external use offorce written into the UN Charter. The Bush administration’s NationalSecurity Strategy recognizes that anticipatory self-defense was tradition-ally justified on the basis of “the existence of an imminent threat—mostoften a visible mobilization of armies, navies, and air forces preparing toattack,” but argues that the premise needs to be adapted “to the capa-bilities and objectives of today’s adversaries.”19 The explanation isunlikely to convince, and concern for the possible abuse of a premise ofhumanitarian intervention as a justification for preemptive war may wellincrease skepticism concerning its relevance.20

Humanitarian Intervention

There are few convincing precedents for the invocation of a legal rightof humanitarian intervention. Cases of intervention that could withsome justification have been grounded upon a logic of humanitarianism(Indian intervention in East Pakistan during 1971, Vietnamese inter-vention in Kampuchea in 1978, Tanzanian intervention in Uganda in1979) were in fact not so justified. States have tended to prefer the self-defense logic of Article 51 of the UN Charter as a more substantial andrespectable foundation for unilateral military action.

NATO intervention during the war in Bosnia–Herzegovina was alsonot formally sanctioned on the basis of a doctrine of humanitarian inter-vention. The use of force against the Serb faction (and occasional threatsof a resort to force against the Croat and Muslim factions) came inresponse to violations of UN guidelines, and at UN request. In theKosovo conflict, however, NATO intervention was not based upon anykind of convincing mandate from the UN or other relevant instance.UN SCRs Nos. 1199 and 1203 were cited by the United States and itsallies as providing an “implicit” justification for intervention, butneither resolution specifically authorized a resort to force.21 HilaireMcCoubrey speaks of attempts to ground intervention in Kosovo uponformal UN approval as “vanishingly thin.”22 Rather, a right to resort toforce was asserted unilaterally by NATO Secretary-General Javier Solanain a letter to the North Atlantic Council dated 9 October 1998 on thebasis of an interpretation of Resolution No. 1199, which defined thesituation in Kosovo as “a danger for peace and security in the region” butalso cited the imminent danger of “a humanitarian disaster.” Thecircumstance of humanitarian necessity, according to Solana, providedNATO with “a legitimate basis for threatening the use of force, and if



necessary a resort to force.”23 At the beginning of the bombingcampaign, the notion would be elevated by British Prime Minister TonyBlair into an ethnical imperative to “act to save thousands of innocentmen, women and children from humanitarian catastrophe,” grandilo-quently described as a “new internationalism where the brutal repressionof whole ethnic groups would not be tolerated.”24 Blair’s new interna-tionalism implied a significant revision of classic just war theory, whichdemands right authority as a prerequisite for a resort to coercion. Incases of urgent humanitarian necessity, it was suggested, legal premisesdefining right authority, at least as they have been understood by themodern, or Westphalian tradition of international law, could be over-ridden and responsible nations or international organizations self-empowered to fight in a just cause. As Blair put it in a speech before theEconomic Club of Chicago on 22 April 1999, a “doctrine of inter-national community” had “shifted the balance between human rightsand state sovereignty.”25 For the neo-Kantian Jürgen Habermas, the warin Kosovo had encouraged “a leap away from classical international lawunderstood as a law of states toward the cosmopolitan law of a societyof world citizens.”26

The doctrine of humanitarian intervention is compelling, but willnot be convincing until several basic issues are resolved. The first is theissue of institutionalization. Ad hoc operations, such as that undertakenby NATO in Kosovo, do not rest upon a sound legal foundation. Article 2paragraph 4 of the UN Charter forbids recourse to force by states withonly two exceptions: (1) Self-Defense as referenced in Article 51 of theCharter (the same premise is mentioned in Article 5 of the NorthAtlantic Treaty); and (2) Collective Security measures under the auspicesof the Security Council as defined in Chapter VII. NATO demonstratedits sensitivity to the issue during the Kosovo conflict by tying its actionsto earlier UN resolutions, but by any measure the campaign’s legalitywas suspect.27 In order to make a doctrine of humanitarian interventionmore credible, international institutions and the collective securityregime presided over by the UN will have to be considerably strength-ened.28 The UN Charter should ideally be rewritten to sanction suchinterventions, and consistent procedures for identifying violationsdeveloped. Likewise, in the spirit of consistent institutionalization, itwould be best if some kind of formally constituted intervention force,such as that recommended by former UN Secretary-General BoutrosBoutros-Ghalli in his 1992 Agenda for Peace, could be placed at thedisposition of the UN as an instrument of enforcement.29 Such proce-dures would represent significant steps away from the Westphalian



premise of state sovereignty toward more robust world governance. Forthat very reason they are unlikely to be undertaken.

The issue of standards represents another dilemma. When do human-itarian violations create a situation of urgent necessity sufficient tojustify a resort to arms? During the Balkan conflicts of the 1990s, deci-sions to intervene were often accompanied by a conscious exaggerationof the extent of abuses in order to shape elite opinion and win publicsupport. Effective manipulation of the media by Muslim and Croatopponents placed the Serb faction in the dock before the court of worldopinion early on in the conflict, and predisposed public and elite opin-ion to assign the lion’s share of guilt for the abuses associated with theYugoslav conflict to the Serb party. The conclusion was not altogetherunjustified—the Serbs did indeed carry a heavy burden of responsibility.But all factions in the Balkan wars were to some extent complicit in warcrimes. Robust intervention requires a target. In the confused circum-stances of armed conflict, how can responsibility be assigned in caseswhere all belligerents are to some extent complicit in the illicit use offorce?

The use of the accusation of genocide is particularly notable in thisregard. Serbia’s repression of the Kosovo Albanians was initiated on thebasis of accusations of genocide in progress against the province’s Serbminority.30 During the run-up to the outbreak of war in the spring of1991 all three of Bosnia–Herzegovina’s communal factions raised thecharge of genocide against their rivals.31 Croatian commentators accusedSerb forces of perpetrating genocide during their 1991 campaigns inCroatia.32 During the Bosnian conflict the Muslim community wasrepeatedly described as the victim of genocide.33 In the winter of1998–99, when the victims of the fighting in progress in Kosovonumbered in the thousands, the charge was leveled against the Serbianauthorities once again. As a result of the mass expulsion (but not neces-sarily systematic mass killing) of Kosovo Albanians during the war, it hasfound its way into the indictment against Milosevic drawn up by theICTY.34 The UN’s 1948 Genocide Convention, with its assertion thatgenocide constitutes “a crime under international law which [the signato-ries] undertake to prevent and to punish,” is a pillar of modern humani-tarian law.35 Article 4(2) of the 1993 Statue of the ICTY makes genocidea part of the organization’s mandate by repeating the text of the 1948Genocide Convention verbatim. But the broad and imprecise languageused to define genocide in the text, the fact that the Genocide Conventiondoes not unambiguously authorize a resort to force as a response, the diffi-culty of demonstrating genocidal intent even in cases of massacre, and the



inevitable ambiguities of interpretation in real-life situations (effectivelydemonstrated by the ongoing controversy between Armenians and Turksconcerning the purported Ottoman genocide of 1915) make the accusa-tion an extremely difficult and volatile one.36 Unavoidably tied to theunprecedented crimes of the World War II holocaust, the term genocidein fact tends to provide a “high yield source of hatred,” and has thereforebecome liable to abuse as an “indecent tool of propaganda.”37

Determining when humanitarian abuses become liable to sanctionwill often demand an essentially subjective judgment based upon imper-fect or inadequate knowledge. In an age of instantaneous information,where public perception is often decisively conditioned by sensationalmedia images and reporting, the risk that excessive emotionalism builtupon compelling language may misconstrue events, and therefore createan irresistible momentum to “do something” before chains of causalityare clear, is very real. Armed conflicts do not always produce unam-biguous distinctions between victims and victimizers. Systematic moni-toring by impartial observers and lucid adjudication of evidence are theonly means to move beyond uncertainty. At present, internationalinstances are far from having the means, or the requisite moral author-ity, to accomplish such tasks reliably.

A doctrine of humanitarian intervention must also come to termswith the issue of commitment. Nations have traditionally crafted inter-national policy on the basis of a discourse of interest. Though humani-tarian concerns are not entirely foreign to this discourse, they are seldomat its essence. When interests are not deemed to be vital, a commitmentof lives and treasure can seldom be sustained. During the war ofYugoslav succession, the uncertain commitment of the Western powerswas repeatedly demonstrated. The West pursued a containment policyfor three long years while over 200,000 Yugoslavs were cut down in warsand massacres. In Kosovo, NATO was willing to go to war on behalf ofthe Kosovo Albanians, but not to risk mass casualties.38 The Bushadministration came to office in January 2001 to a chorus of calls frominfluential supporters urging US military disengagement on the groundsthat vital national interests were not at stake. The Balkan case makesclear that humanitarian motivation by itself will seldom provide thekind of sustained commitment that effective intervention demands.

Humanitarian War

The case for humanitarian intervention presumes that organizedviolence can be mobilized as an instrument of justice in complex



regional contingencies within the confines of the test of proportionality.The very character of modern war calls this presumption into doubt.

Wesley Clark’s account of Operation Allied Force is imbued with theconviction of fighting in a just cause, but his analysis leaves no doubtthat in order to prevail in armed conflict belligerents must respect thelaws of warfare and pursue victory uncompromisingly. In limited warsintended to provide “regional stability and humanitarian assistance,”where there is arguably a substitute for victory, the result will often havemore in common with imperial policing actions than classic armedconflict between peer competitors.39 The difficulty of mobilizing andsustaining public support pushes inexorably toward a reliance uponairpower in order to reduce or eliminate casualties among one’s ownforces, while maximizing the pain inflicted upon the enemy. In Kosovo,according to Michael Ignatieff, “the political leaders of NATO talkedthe language of ultimate commitment and practiced the warfare of mini-mum risk.”40 Reluctance to contemplate a ground incursion even in theface of massive humanitarian abuses, reliance upon medium altitudebombing with its unavoidable complement of collateral damage,attempts to assassinate the opposing leadership from the air, and attacksupon “dual use” infrastructure intended at least in part, in the spirit ofGiulio Douhet’s call for terror bombing, to break the enemy’s will, werea consequence of that choice.41 The structure of modern war, as definedby Clark, strains at the limits of the test of proportionality.42 Moreover,according to Ignatieff, a zero casualties imperative imposed uponcommanders by civilian authority “transforms the expectations thatgovern the morality of war.”43 The honor of the combatant—the ethicalcontext that distinguishes warfare from crime—has always rested uponthe assumption of reciprocal risk in service of a cause. If that contract isbroken, Ignatieff insists, war becomes little more than a kind of bully-ing or chastisement.44

The capacity to wage war with minimum risk makes the decision toresort to force easier to make. If not carefully monitored, such capacitymay lead to precipitous and unconsidered actions, discourage thepursuit of diplomatic alternatives, and undermine the just war criterionof last resort. On the eve of Croatia’s Operation Storm in the summer of1995, confident of US support, Franjo Tudjman used internationalnegotiations as a pretext to buy time for last minute preparations. TheRambouillet negotiations have been portrayed as little more than a ployintended to justify a resort to force.45 Such circumstances will recurshould the presumption of a right to humanitarian intervention becomeimbedded in the operational code of the great powers. War without the



risk of consequences likewise makes the temptation to use humanitarianpretexts harder to resist. The obvious danger is the transformation of anagenda based upon an assertion of universal human rights into adisguised form of hegemonism—Hedley Bull, for example, has notedthe continuity between the theme of humanitarian intervention and themissionary and colonial traditions.46 “The concept of humanitarianwar,” writes Danilo Zolo, “restores to states an indiscriminate ius adbellum, voids the ‘pacifistic’ functions of international law, and discred-its the cosmopolitan ideal of the universal citizen.”47 If these critiquesare credited, the more widespread acknowledgment of a thesis ofhumanitarian war can be interpreted as a step backward for the interna-tional war convention.

The Limits of Law

The ICTY, created in May 1993 by the UNSC on the basis of Chapter Iof the UN Charter, with a mandate retrospective to 1991, is the mostambitious dimension of efforts to use the Yugoslav wars as a context forexpanding the oversight of the international community in regard to warand armed conflict. The wars in Bosnia–Herzegovina and Kosovo werethe first conflicts in history fought in the presence of an internationaltribunal considered competent to judge crimes committed and toimpose penalties upon those determined to be responsible.

The effort to move judicial means toward the center of the warconvention is a twentieth-century innovation. In the early moderncenturies, the European traditions of pacifism and international law(Erasmus, Hugo Grotius, Emeric Crucé, the Duc de Sully, the AbbéSaint-Pierre, William Penn, Emmerich Vattel, Jean-Jacques Rousseau,Immanuel Kant) emphasized interstate relations and political organiza-tion as the foundations of lasting peace.48 Following World War I, theVersailles peacemakers’ attempt to put the Kaiser, together with otherGerman leaders (the surrender of 90 individuals was requested) on trialbefore an international tribunal with judges representing the UnitedKingdom, the United States, France, Italy, and Japan, was unprece-dented. But Holland refused the Kaiser’s extradition, Germany declinedto surrender anyone, and in the end little came of the project. A moresignificant precedent was established at the end of World War II. TheLondon Accord of 6 August 1945 created the Nuremberg Tribunal onbehalf of the victorious nations of the war, and one year later anInternational Military Tribunal for the Far East was called into being inTokyo. The Tokyo tribunal conducted two years of hearings before



11 judges designated by US General Douglas MacArthur. All 28 of theaccused who were placed before the court were convicted, and sevenexecuted. The Nuremberg process began on 25 November 1945, with 22accused placed before US, British, French, and Soviet judges. One yearlater it concluded with three not guilty verdicts, condemnations toprison terms of varied lengths, and ten death sentences, which werecarried out immediately.

Though it is often described as a continuation of the Nurembergtradition, the ICTY rests upon a different set of premises. TheNuremberg Tribunal’s charter specifically cited the “sovereign legislativepower of the countries to which the German Reich unconditionallysurrendered” as the basis for its authority. The ICTY is not a militarytribunal, and Article 16 of its statute calls for action completely inde-pendent of any government.49 A priority for the authorities atNuremberg, noted in the opening address of Justice Robert H. Jacksonciting “the privilege of opening the first trial in history for crimesagainst the peace of the world,” though they also took account of warcrimes ( jus in bello) and crimes against humanity, was legal responsibil-ity for instigating war (crimes against peace in the tradition of jus adbellum).50 The Hague Tribunal has focused almost exclusively uponcrimes against humanity, and represents a conscious assault against statesovereignty on behalf of universal norms—though it should be notedthat unlike the ICTY, the ICC includes the Nuremberg criterion ofcrimes against peace in its statute. At Nuremberg the German statearchives were opened to the defense, and some acquittals were basedupon evidence thus obtained. No comparable sources have been placedat the disposal of attorneys for the defense before the ICTY. At Tokyo,verdicts were accompanied by a dissenting opinion (the Indian judge),statements of partial disaccord (the Dutch and French judges), and aseparate opinion (the Philippine judge). Nothing similar has occurred atThe Hague, under the aegis of what Rubin calls “a hypothesized butnon-existent international criminal law.”51 Nuremberg and Tokyo didnot establish ongoing traditions—after the processes were concluded theidea of an international criminal tribunal lay dormant until the 1990s.

The ICTY’s legitimacy has been challenged on legal grounds, notablyby Slobodan Milosevic in the deposition at the outset of his trial.52 Doesthe Security Council have the authority to appoint a court underChapter VII of the Charter, and to remove juridical authority fromsovereign states? These decisions, after lengthy review, were made by theICTY itself, on its own behalf and in its own favor, in the Miroslav Tadiccase.53 The judgment may be contested, but it is substantial.



The issue of the Tribunal’s autonomy is perhaps more troubling. Theabsence of any multilateral accord as a basis for the Tribunal (as opposedto the ICC) makes it a sort of subsidiary of the Security Council, whichcannot be considered either impartial or universal. The same may besaid of the procurator general, who is directly appointed by the SecurityCouncil. Although Article 29 of the Tribunal’s Statute obligates all statemembers of the UN to collaborate with its work, the real circle ofcollaborators has been quite narrow. Article 32 of the Statute specifiesthat revenues must derive from the UN’s general operating funds, butalready in 1993 a special fund for the ICTY was established on the basisof voluntary contributions. The Tribunal is in practice financiallydependent upon a small number of Western powers led by the UnitedStates.

The Tribunal’s procedures have also exposed it to the charges of biasand selective prosecution. Justice has been neither swift, sure, nor equi-table. Coercive detainment of indicted defendants was not initiateduntil the summer of 1997, and has proceeded irregularly and withnumerous glitches. On 10 July 1997, British commandos in Prijedorapproached Simo Drljaca, a local police chief whose area of responsibil-ity during 1992 included the Omarska, Keraterm, and Trnopolje prisoncamps, in mock Red Cross vehicles, a blatant violation of Red Crossneutrality. Drljaca was killed in the resultant shoot out. On 25 August1999 Momir Talic, former commander in chief of the armed forces ofthe RS, was arrested on the basis of a secret warrant after he was baitedto travel to Vienna as an invited guest of the OSCE. Irregular proce-dures such as these, inconsistency in enforcement of warrants, inabilityto bring in most wanted suspects including Radovan Karadzic andRatko Mladic, and difficulties of prosecution lacking representativecorroborative testimony, have cast considerable discredit upon theICTY. In the ten years that it has been in existence, at a cost of over$400 million, 67 defendants have appeared before the court, more than30 of whom have been tried. Eleven defendants are currently on trial,and approximately 30 indictees are still at large. The majority ofindictees have been Serbs. A smaller number of Croats and BosnianMuslims appear on the list, and only in 2003 were four Albanianmembers of the KLA, and the Bosnian Muslim Nasim Oric, accused oforganizing attacks against Serb villages from within the Srebrenicaenclave, brought under indictment. At its present pace, the work of theTribunal is likely to stretch over the better part of the next decade, atescalating cost, and with only the tip of the iceberg of abuses subjectedto scrutiny. This is too slow, partial, and contested a result to represent



a standard of justice, contribute meaningfully to reconciliation, orprovide effective admonition to other world leaders contemplatingaggression.54

There are clearly a large number of guilty parties in the dock at TheHague who merit exemplary punishment. The premise of legal account-ability in regard to the law of war is in principle admirable—if suchaccountability could be enforced reliably and fairly the international warconvention would make a significant step forward. This will perhaps bethe challenge confronting the ICC. The experience of the ICTY callsattention to how difficult the challenge is likely to be.

Conclusion

In his classic On War, the Prussian military philosopher Carl vonClausewitz makes a distinction between the harsh logic of war pursued inits own terms, and the political and social context that constrains itstendency toward unbridled violence. War is an act of force, and “such adangerous business that the mistakes which come from kindness are thevery worst.”55 To speak of humanitarian war, in this realistic frame ofreference, is a contradiction in terms. But real war is not uncon-strained—wars are usually fought for limited aims, and the institution ofwar has become more subject to control as social mores have evolved. “Ifwars between civilized nations are far less cruel and destructive than warsbetween savages, the reason lies in the social conditions of the statesthemselves and in their relationships to one another. These are the forcesthat give rise to war; the same forces circumscribe and moderate it.”56

Have international reactions to the Balkan wars of the 1990s, reflectiveof a maturing international society with evolving legal and normativestructures, created a more rigorous international war convention, morecapable of “circumscribing and moderating” the conduct of warfare?

Distinguished authors such as the jurist Antonio Cassese have arguedthat even if the Western intervention in Kosovo was technically contraryto the letter of the UN Charter, the experience provides a positive prece-dent for “forcible humanitarian countermeasures” upon which the inter-national community can aspire to build.57 Cassese’s argument ishopeful, but also potentially flawed. First, it rests upon an interpretationof the Balkan conflict of the 1990s that does not necessarily reproducethe dynamics of that conflict accurately. At a minimum, the assignmentof primary responsibility to the Serbian faction must be conditioned bya careful analysis of the complex circumstances that led up to thecollapse of multinational Yugoslavia, and the involvement of other



armed factions in war crimes and acts of military aggression. The diffi-culty of determining responsibility amidst the fog of war should imposecaution upon proponents of an aggressive international morality.Second, the international community, even in those cases where consen-sus is achievable, is not sufficiently institutionalized to support andsustain protracted humanitarian interventions. Without a strong insti-tutional foundation as a basis for international humanitarian law, theabuse of humanitarian motivation as a fig leaf for imperial policies risksdiscrediting the entire enterprise. Third, except in cases of extraordinaryviolations, the dynamic of modern war itself makes it difficult if notimpossible for decisive interventions to be conducted within the limitsof a test of proportionality. Fourth, humanitarian motivation has rarelybeen accompanied by the kind of commitment required to see externalinterventions through to a successful conclusion. The conditions informer Yugoslavia today, where de facto international protectorates inBosnia–Herzegovina, Kosovo, and Macedonia stand guard over dysfunc-tional polities that have scarcely begun the hard work of post conflictpeace building, bears witness to that fact. Humanitarian motives mustnot only be directed at egregious violations of human rights, usuallyonly the tip of an iceberg of social and economic injustice, but alsoaddress underlying sources of disaffection. Finally, the attempt to usejuridical means to impose standards of conduct has suffered as a resultof the flawed standards, questionable legal means, and inadequateenforcement procedures of The Hague tribunal. The ICC represents anattempt to address some of these inadequacies, but its work has beenhampered from the start by great power opposition.

What Yugoslavia’s destructive war of secession, and the frustratedengagement of the international community as would be conflictmanager and peace builder, have made crystal clear, is how far the socialconditions of states and interstate relations still are from providing anadequate framework for a truly exiguous international war convention.In a world of competing sovereignties where force is still a decisive toolof statecraft, the space provided for an “imposed” humanitarianismremains even more vanishingly thin than that allowed for the diplomacyof conflict resolution. The attempt to create such a framework can onlyprogress along the high road of “doctrine” promulgated from above (atpresent more likely to be honored in the breach than in the observance)if it is preceded by the difficult spadework of purposeful effort to promote greater social equity and international comity from theground up.



Notes

1. Smail Cekic, The Aggression in Bosnia and Genocide Against the Bosnians,1991–1993, Sarajevo: Ljiljan, 1994; and Hans Trotter et al., “EthnischeSauberungen” in der nordostbosnischen Stadt Zvornik von April bis Juni 1992,Vienna: Ludwig Baltzman Institute for Human Rights, 1994.

2. Robert Stewart, Broken Lives: A Personal View of the Bosnian Conflict,London: HarperCollins, 1994, pp. 278–99. In a military history of theYugoslav wars prepared by the US Central Intelligence Agency, the incidentis described as “the Guernica of the Bosnian conflict.” Central IntelligenceAgency, Office of Russian and European Analysis, Balkan Battlegrounds: AMilitary History of the Yugoslav Conflict, 1900–1995, 2 vols., Washington,DC: Central Intelligence Agency, May 2002, Vol. 1, p. 130.

3. Jan Honig and Norbert Both, Srebrenica: Record of a War Crime, New York:Penguin Books, 1997; and David Rohde, Endgame: The Betrayal and Fall ofSrebrenica, Europe’s Worst Massacre Since World War II, New York: Farrar,Straus and Giroux, 1997. The Dutch battalion assigned peacekeepingresponsibilities in Srebrenica under UN auspices has been subject to partic-ular criticism for its failure to intervene, but, left to their own devices, theDutch did not have sufficient force structure to impose their will. See thecarefully study prepared by the Netherlands Institute for WarDocumentation, Srebrenica, A “Safe” Area: Reconstruction, Background,Consequences and Analyses of the Fall of a Safe Area, Amsterdam: NetherlandsInstitute for War Documentation, April 2002.

4. “Vise od lomace,” Vreme, 23 November 1992, pp. 50–1.5. The fate of Mostar’s Old Bridge has become an appropriate symbol for this

aspect of the conflict. See Miso Maric, “Pogubljeni most,” Vreme, 3 January1994, pp. 28–9.

6. Text available at www.icomos.org/hague/hague.convention.html.7. Mark Mazower, The Balkans: A Short History, New York: Modern Library,

2000, p. xxxviii.8. The war convention is defined here as the wide variety of ways, ranging

from the formalities of international law through the evolving norms andconventions of international behavior, in which the international commu-nity attempts to constrain the inherent violence of the institution of war.

9. Robert L. Phillips and Duane L. Cady, Humanitarian Intervention: Just War vs.Pacifism, Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, Inc., 1996.

10. For the concept of humanitarian war, Adam Roberts, “Humanitarian War:Military Intervention and Human Rights,” International Affairs, Vol. 69,No. 3, July 1993, pp. 429–49.

11. For the argument in classic form see Hans Kelsen, Peace through Law, 2nded., New York: Garland Publishing, Inc., 1973. Paul R. Williams andMichael P. Scharf, Peace With Justice: War Crimes and Accountability in theFormer Yugoslavia, Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, Inc.,2002 applies the argument to the Yugoslav case.



12. The Dayton Peace Agreement, Annex 6, Article XIV, 4.13. Gary Bass, “Milosevic in The Hague,” Foreign Affairs, Vol. 82, No. 3,

May/June 2003, pp. 82–96.14. Afsané Bassir Pour, “La Cour pénale internationale deviendra une réalité le

11 avril,” Le Monde, 4 April 2002, and William A. Schabas, An Introductionto the International Criminal Court, Cambridge: Cambridge UniversityPress, 2001.

15. Geoffrey Best, Law and War Since 1945, Oxford: Clarendon, 1994 developsthe distinction at length.

16. Alfred P. Rubin, “Dayton, Bosnia, and the Limits of Law,” National Interest,Winter 1996–97, p. 41.

17. The National Security Strategy of the United States, Washington, DC:Government Printing Office, September 2002, pp. 15–6.

18. See the contribution in this volume by Christopher C. Joyner and AnthonyClark Arend, “Rethinking the Legal Nuances of Kosovo: Toward anEmerging Norm of Anticipatory Humanitarian Intervention.”

19. The National Security Strategy of the United States, p. 15.20. Anthony Clark Arend, “International Law and the Preemptive Use

of Military Force,” Washington Quarterly, Vol. 26, No. 2, Spring 2003, pp. 89–104.

21. Bruno Simma, “Die NATO, die UN und militärische Gewaltanwendung:Rechtliche Aspekte,” in Reinhard Merkel, ed., Der Kosovo-Krieg und dasVölkerrecht, Frankfurt am Main: Edition Suhrkamp, 2000, p. 19.

22. Hilaire McCoubrey, “Kosovo, NATO and International Law,” InternationalRelations, Vol. 14, No. 5, August 1999, p. 33.

23. Cited in Simma, “Die NATO, die UN und militärische Gewaltanwendung,”p. 20.

24. See Stanley Henig, “Britain: To War for a Just Cause,” in AnthonyWeymouth and Stanley Henig, eds., The Kosovo Crisis: The Last AmericanWar in Europe?, London: Reuters, 2001, pp. 39–58. Blair’s remarks appearon page 55.

25. Tony Blair, “Speech to the Economic Club of Chicago,” 22 April 1999.26. Jürgen Habermas, “Bestialität und Humanität: Ein Krieg an der Grenze

zwischen Recht und Moral,” Die Zeit, 29 April 1999, p. 4.27. Robert Tomes, “Operation Allied Force and the Legal Basis for

Humanitarian Intervention,” Parameters, Vol. XXX, No. 1, Spring 2000,pp. 38–50, attempts to make the case for the legality of intervention usinga jus cogens argument.

28. Hilaire McCoubrey, “Kosovo, NATO and International Law,” InternationalRelations, Vol. XIV, No. 5, August 1999, pp. 29–46.

29. Boutros Boutros-Ghali, An Agenda for Peace: Preventive Diplomacy,Peacemaking and Peace-Keeping, New York: United Nations, 1992.

30. The term genocide appears in the 1986 Memorandum of the SerbianAcademy of Sciences, Nacrt memoranduma Srpske Akademije Naukeu Beogradu, Toronto: Srpske Narodne Odbrane, 1987, p. 12.



31. These factions (the HDZ, SDS, and SDA) were of course formally engagedin a coalition government prior to Bosnia’s descent into war—a governmentironically described in the critical Yugoslav press as the “coalition of geno-cide.” “Koalicija genocida,” Borba, 27 May 1991.

32. Dragan Ogurlic, Svejdocanstva hrvatskog domovinskog rata ’91/92: Dnevnikreportera, Rijeka: Tiskara Rijeka, 1992, p. 167.

33. The relevance of the term in the Bosnian case is carefully analyzed in StevenL. Burg and Paul S. Shoup, The War in Bosnia–Herzegovina: Ethnic Conflictand International Intervention, New York: M. E. Sharpe, 1999, pp. 181–5.

34. Milosevic indictment cited from www.guardian.co.yu/article/o,2763,514441,00.html.

35. Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide,Article 1.

36. See Jeffrey S. Morton and Neil Vijay Singh, “The International LegalRegime on Genocide,” Journal of Genocide Research, Vol. 5, No. 1, March2003, pp. 47–70: the comments by Henry Huttenbach, “The GenocideFactor in the Wars of Yugoslav Dismemberment: An Essay,” in this volume;and the case studies in Stjepan G. Mestrovic, ed., Genocide After Emotion:The Postemotional Balkan War, London: Routledge, 1996.

37. Cédrick Allmang, Les masques de guerre, Paris: Stock, 1999, p. 47.38. Tobias K. Vogel, “ ‘Preponderant Power’: NATO and the New Balkans,”

International Journal, Vol. 55, No. 1, Winter 1999–2000, pp. 15–34.39. Wesley K. Clark, Waging Modern War: Bosnia, Kosovo, and the Future of

Combat, New York: Public Affairs, 2001, p. 419.40. Michael Ignatieff, Virtual War: Kosovo and Beyond, New York: Metropolitan

Books, 2000, p. 111.41. Nat Hentoff, “Morality at 15,000 Feet,” Washington Post, 19 June 1999,

p. A19. For Douhet’s classic defense of the strategic logic of terror bombing,Giulio Douhet, The Command of the Air, Washington, DC: Office of AirForce History, 1983, pp. 55–61.

42. See the argument in Raju G. C. Thomas, “NATO, the UN, andInternational Law,” Mediterranean Quarterly, Vol. 10, No. 3, Summer 1999,pp. 25–50.

43. Ignatieff, Virtual War, p. 161.44. On this “force protection” issues see also Martin L. Cook, “Immaculate

War: Constraints on Humanitarian Intervention,” Ethics and InternationalAffairs, Vol. 14, 2000, pp. 55–65.

45. The most detailed Western account of US decision-making during the crisisargues baldly that the purpose of Rambouillet was not to promote a diplo-matic accord, but rather “to create a consensus in Washington and amongthe NATO allies that force would have to be used.” Ivo L. Daalder andMichael E. O’Hanlon, Winning Ugly: NATO’s War to Save Kosovo,Washington, DC: Brookings Institution Press, 2000, p. 85.

46. Hedley Bull, “Human Rights and World Politics,” in Ralph Pettmen, ed.,Moral Claims in World Affairs, London: Croom Helms, 1978, p. 81.



47. Danilo Zolo, Chi dice umanità: Guerra, diritto e ordine globale, Turin:Einaudi, 2000, p. 106.

48. Geoffrey Best, Humanity in Warfare: The Modern History of the InternationalLaw of Armed Conflict, London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1980, p. 44 speaksof an “enlightenment consensus” in this regard.

49. Article 16.2 of the ITFY Statue reads: “The Prosecutor shall act indepen-dently as a separate organ of the International Tribunal. He or she shall notseek or receive instructions from any Government or any other source.”

50. Cited from John Laughland, “This is not Justice,” Guardian, 16 February2002.

51. Rubin, “Dayton, Bosnia, and the Limits of Law,” p. 46.52. “Excerpts from Milosevic’s Address to the Hague Tribunal,” Guardian,

14 February 2002.53. Jolyon Naegele, “The Hague: Court’s Legitimacy and Longevity Remains

Uncertain,” Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty (RFE/RL), 15 February 2002.54. Jenny S. Martinez, “Troubles at the Tribunal,” Washington Post, 3 July 2001,

p. A19.55. Carl von Clausewitz, On War, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1984,

p. 75.56. Ibid., p. 76.57. Antonio Cassese, “Ex iniuria ius oritur: Are We Moving Toward

International Legitimization of Forcible Humanitarian Countermeasures inthe World Community?” European Journal of International Law, Vol. 10,No. 1, 1999, pp. 23–30.



CHAPTER 9

Rethinking the Legal Nuances ofKosovo: Toward an Emerging

Norm of Anticipatory Humanitarian Intervention?

Christopher C. Joyner and Anthony Clark Arend

Introduction

Under the UN Charter framework for recourse to force, states areproscribed from using force against the “territorial integrity” or“political independence” of states. Force is only explicitly

permitted when it is undertaken for self-defense or pursuant to SecurityCouncil authorization. Within the state, the right of the government toregulate the lives of its citizens is viewed by international law undermost circumstances as a legitimate exercise of national sovereignty,whereas in international relations, transnational intervention is seen asa violation of sovereignty. Thus under the Charter paradigm, noninter-vention is considered to be a principle of international law fosteringfriendly relations among states.

The NATO action in Kosovo falls beyond the bounds of the lawfuluse of force under the scope of the UN Charter, and can therefore beconsidered illegal under this Charter framework. But as this chaptercontends, that action by NATO may be viewed as evidence of an emerg-ing legal norm that permits states to use military coercion to impedea government from committing large-scale atrocities in its own territoryin circumstances where the Security Council is incapable of respondingto the crisis. Under these special conditions, a customary practice


appears to be emerging that legitimates the use of force by states, evenin the absence of prior authorization by the Security Council.

The premise for this emerging norm rests in human rights law. Inrecent decades, increasing concern has arisen over massive human rightsabuses within states. Following World War II, the preeminent aim of theUN was to outlaw the use of force by states against each other. Theworld had been devastated by two global conflicts, and the framers ofthe Charter earnestly wanted to prevent another. The great importattached to the principle of nonintervention flows from this aspiration.While the goal of preventing war is admirable, such a blanket prohibi-tion on the use of force makes it impossible to respond forcibly in casesnot permitted under the Charter, even in the face of what appears to bean overwhelming “just cause.” But in the aftermath of the Cold War andthe rise of ethno-nationalism in the 1990s, world war appears to befading from concern. At the same time, massive human rights depreda-tions in internal conflicts, without sufficient efforts by the governmentto protect innocent victims, are becoming notably prevalent.

These developments point to critical questions involving the externaluse of force to protect the human rights of people in other states. Shouldthe right of individual and collective humanitarian intervention be deemedpermissible? If so, when? Must intervention lawfully occur only after large-scale, egregious violations of human rights have taken place? Or, can someconcerned state or group of states exercise armed humanitarianism ina preemptive fashion? That is, can some state or group of states use armedforce against another state if gross, violent, massive human rights violationsare unmistakably imminent? In the aftermath of Kosovo, considerablethought suggests that individuals, as well as states, should properly beconsidered subjects of international law. Use of military intervention toassist persons whose human rights are about to be egregiously violated bytheir government may be perfectly legitimate, on condition that the causeis real and just. This conclusion stems from changing political develop-ments in the international system that appear to be causing profoundchanges in the substance and reach of international law. But then, even ifhumanitarian intervention were accepted as a lawful means to protect thehuman rights of innocent civilians, must a potential intervener wait untilmassive suffering has occurred before taking action to halt the atrocities?Given recent events, international legal trends suggest this might not be thecase. This study builds on that premise, and calls for a reformulation of thenormative foundations on which the principle of nonintervention rests.Toward that end, the article presents the case for a novel legal approach—resort to a strategy of anticipatory humanitarian intervention.1

166 ● Christopher C. Joyner and Anthony Clark Arend


The Charter Framework

The Intent of the Charter’s Framers

The UN Charter framework proclaims three principal goals: the preser-vation of the peace, the protection of human rights, and the promotionof self-determination. The Charter system, however, creates a tensionbetween these goals, with peace upheld as predominant among them.“Justice”—the pursuit of human rights, self-determination, and othergoals such as economic development and the correction of pastwrongs—was to be sought, but not at the expense of “peace.” Given theexperience of two devastating world wars, the framers of the Charterbelieved that force was too dangerous to be seen as a legitimate meansof altering the political or territorial status quo. Under the Charter,other mechanisms were established to allow states the means to seekjustice peacefully. The cornerstone of this Charter framework for therecourse to force is Article 2, paragraph 4. This Article provides:

All Members [of the United Nations] shall refrain in their internationalrelations from the threat or use of force against the territorial integrity orpolitical independence of any state, or in any other manner inconsistentwith the Purposes of the United Nations.

Article 2(4) constitutes a basic proscription on the use—and even thethreat—of force that in some manner violates the territorial integrity orpolitical independence of states or that in some other way transgressesthe purposes of the United Nations. In the Charter, there are only twoexplicit exceptions to this prohibition that are still applicable: forceundertaken in self-defense and force authorized by the Security Council.First, under Article 51 of the Charter, states maintain “an inherent rightof individual” and “collective self-defense if an armed attack occurs”“until the Security Council has taken measures necessary to maintaininternational peace and security.” Hence, if one state commits an armedattack against another state, the aggrieved state may use force to repelthe attack until such time as the Security Council acts. Moreover, thevictim state can call upon other states to assist it in collectively defend-ing itself. Second, under Article 39, the Security Council is empoweredto determine if there is a “threat to the peace, breach of the peace, or actof aggression . . . .” If the Council so determines, it is permitted underArticle 42 to authorize the use of military force against the recalcitrantstate.2 Under Chapter VIII of the Charter, regional organizations areallowed to deal with a “matter relating to international peace and

Legal Nuances of Kosovo ● 167


security,”3 but those organizations cannot undertake an “enforcementaction” without the authorization of the Security Council.4

Under UN Charter law, for armed force to be permissible to addressa humanitarian crisis, the Security Council must determine that massiveviolations of human rights have occurred—or are about to occur—insome state, conclude that such an event actually constitutes a threat to international peace, and then authorize an enforcement action toprevent those violations. In the absence of such authorization, resort tomilitary means for compelling some government not to perpetrate, oreven not to tolerate, the commission of human rights atrocities withinits territory would constitute a breach of Article 2(4) of the Charter, andthus be considered unlawful. Moreover, so long as that humanitariancrisis did not transcend national borders and precipitate armed attacksagainst other states, recourse to Article 51 is not available.

Human rights law aims to promote and protect the dignity and worthof the human person. The UN Charter in fact makes promotion ofhuman rights a foundational purpose of the UN and asserts so in theCharter’s preamble. Articles 55 and 56 of the Charter obligate each UNmember to “take joint and separate action” to ensure the “universalrespect for, and observance of, human rights and fundamental free-doms.” Thus, a conflict arises between the dual objectives of the UNCharter when a regime deprives its citizens of fundamental humanrights. Critical questions are thus starkly raised for states persons anddiplomats: Do these acts, even if they are the most heinous crimes imag-inable, remain within the sovereign prerogatives and jurisdiction of thatstate? Do they pose any actual military threat to world peace? If not, isthe United Nations still empowered to act, and if the Security Councilopts for whatever reason not to do so, must thousands or even millionsof peoples die from violence, starvation, and disease for the sake of sovereignty? International law commentators remain divided on theseissues.

Challenges to the Charter Framework

Since the Charter entered into force in 1945, commentators have calledinto question the efficacy of this framework. In connection with anexamination of the use of force for purposes of humanity, two challengesseem particularly relevant. First, questions may be raised about theproper interpretation of the Charter. One could begin with Article 2(4).What does it mean to use force against the “territorial integrity” or



“political independence” of a state? Is it possible to use force in the terri-tory of a state in such a manner that it is not against the territorialintegrity or political independence of that state? Many credible writershave argued, for example, that the use of force by one state in the terri-tory of another state purely to rescue nationals of the first state, does notconstitute a violation of Article 2(4).5 Perhaps the use of force forhumanitarian purposes also would not rise above the Article 2(4) thresh-old. Similarly, the same types of interpretive questions could be raisedabout Article 51. What is an “armed attack”? Does the reference inArticle 51 to a right of self-defense “if an armed attack occurs” meanthat a soon-to-be-attacked state must wait until the troops move into itsterritory or the bombs actually begin to fall, before it can act individu-ally or collectively to defend itself? As noted below, under customaryinternational law developed before the Charter was adopted, states hada right of “anticipatory” or “preemptive” self-defense, if an attack wereimminent. Does Article 51 deny to states that right? Questions have alsobeen raised about the right of regional organizations to use force.6 Whatdoes the Article 53 prohibition on “enforcement actions” mean? Arethere times when a regional organization can use force other than incollective self-defense or when authorized by the Security Council?

Second, as the international system moved away from World War II,states have evinced a growing preference for “justice” over “peace.” Theyhave claimed a right to use force to pursue just goals in circumstances otherthan those permitted under the Charter. During the Cold War, the Johnson,Brezhnev, and Reagan doctrines reflected this value shift. The Soviets arguedthat it was “just” to use force to prevent a socialist state from reverting tocapitalism, and the United States asserted that it was permissible to support“freedom fighters” in Nicaragua, Afghanistan, and a variety of other places.More recently, “justice” was advanced by the Clinton administration asa main reason for NATO intervention in the Kosovo crisis.7

In light of these and a variety of other challenges, many commenta-tors question whether a strict legalist interpretation of the Charter stillaccurately describes the current state of international law dealingwith the use of force. Some even subscribe to the radical position thatArticle 2(4) no longer reflects the contemporary international law dealingwith the recourse to force.8 While perhaps true, one does not need to reachthat conclusion to appreciate one potential exception to the Article 2(4)prohibition on the use of force that may be emerging—namely, the useof military force to intervene preemptively in anticipation of massivehuman rights atrocities.



The Doctrine of Anticipatory Humanitarian Intervention

The Nature of Anticipatory Humanitarian Intervention

In assessing the nature and lawfulness of anticipatory humanitarianintervention, it is essential to understand the meaning of the concept.Each element of the notion must be explained in order to appreciate theconcept’s implications for international law. In this respect, the notionof “anticipatory” refers to the ability to foresee the consequences of someaction and take measures aimed at checking or countering those conse-quences. An anticipatory act is one that deals with likely outcomes inadvance—one that acts in order to forestall some later action. An antic-ipatory act is able to visualize the future conditions, foresee their conse-quences, and take remedial measures before the consequences occur. In effect, anticipatory action serves the purpose of preempting foresee-able outcomes, presumably those that are likely to be negative.

The notion of “humanitarian” reflects concern for human welfare.Four core principles encompass the concept of humanitarian. For one,there is the principle of “humanity” itself—a concern for the interestsand well-being of human beings, in particularly those who are suffering,threatened, or in harm’s way. Humanitarianism involves action on behalfof the victims, in essence to defend the common humanity. A secondprinciple is that of impartiality. No discrimination should be made ongrounds of race, ethnicity, religious belief, social class, gender, sexualorientation, political opinion, or national origin. Humanitarianism aimsto relieve the suffering of any and all people. Accordingly, a humanitar-ian action is dictated only by necessity. All people are of equal worth andconcern because they are human beings, not because of other distinc-tions. A third principle underlying humanitarianism is neutrality. Therationale for engaging in humanitarian efforts must not be narrowlypolitical or ideological. An act motivated by humanitarian concern mustnot take sides; it must serve the interests of the victims of conflict, notthe narrow interests of any belligerent faction. Finally, there is the prin-ciple of universality. Humanitarianism reflects equal values for allpeoples. It does not discriminate based on the political or strategicimportance of the state in question.

An act of “intervention” may be defined as the coercive interferenceby one state into the affairs of another state. Intervention connotes theuse or threat of force by a government to compel or prevent some action,or to change conditions, in some other state. When brought together,“anticipatory humanitarian intervention” means the coercive interfer-ence by one state or group of states into the affairs of another state for



the express purpose of preempting or mitigating human rights atrocitiesthat are about to be committed in the latter state.

Finally, it should be noted that from a legal perspective it is impor-tant to distinguish any uses of force authorized by the Security Councilfrom those that have not been so authorized. When the Security Councilauthorizes a use of force under Chapter VII of the Charter—even if fora so-called humanitarian reason—there is no real question about thelawfulness of that action. It is not generally disputed that the SecurityCouncil can deem an act to be a threat to the peace, a breach of thepeace, or an act of aggression and legitimately authorize a forcibleresponse. The debate about lawfulness arises when such interventionsare undertaken without the approval of the Security Council. As a conse-quence, the term “anticipatory humanitarian intervention” will be usedto refer to actions undertaken for humanitarian purposes that have notbeen authorized by the Security Council.

In light of this definition, the overarching motivations for anticipa-tory humanitarian intervention remain humanitarian. The need for suchintervention is triggered by the scale and intensity of human sufferingand by the failure of governmental authorities to fulfill their principalduties under international law. The moral case to intervene becomesoverwhelming when a government is revealed to be on the verge ofordering or permitting unspeakable crimes to be committed against itspeople. It seems reasonable to conclude that humanitarian interventionconstitutes “an emergency action intended to save lives,” thereby justi-fying the use of force. When such a massive threat to human lives istruly imminent, we believe that a state would be morally justified to useforce. But whether such action would be legally justified remainsunclear.

The Legal Status of Anticipatory Action

In nearly all the scholarly debates about humanitarian intervention, theterm “anticipatory” is normally not linked to the concept. In the classiccases often cited—the Congo, the Dominican Republic, East Pakistan,Angola, Kampuchea, Uganda, and Grenada—an intervention occurredfollowing allegations that massive human rights abuses had alreadytaken place. In the Kosovo intervention, however, the massive violationswere only beginning. President William Clinton spoke of acting “to protect thousands of innocent people in Kosovo from a mountingmilitary offensive.”9 While certain atrocities were alleged to have takenplace, Clinton explained that one of NATO’s goals was “[t]o deter an



even bloodier offensive against innocent civilians in Kosovo, and, ifnecessary, to seriously damage the Serbian military’s capacity to harmthe people of Kosovo.”10 As a consequence, to develop argumentssupporting the notion of anticipatory humanitarian intervention, it isnecessary first to explore the arguments relating to anticipatory action.

Under customary international law developed before the Charter wasadopted, states had a right to anticipatory self-defense. The classic artic-ulation of this doctrine was the so-called Caroline case. The Caroline wasa vessel that was accused of providing assistance to rebels fightingagainst the regime in Canada. On 29 December 1837, while theCaroline was docked on the American side of the Niagara River, Britishtroops attacked the ship, set it on fire, and ultimately sent it overNiagara Falls. The United States protested the British action and, afterthe exchange of diplomatic correspondence, eventually the British apol-ogized. Nonetheless, in the course of the controversy, two principles forlegitimate anticipatory self-defense were articulated. First was the prin-ciple of necessity. Then Secretary of State Daniel Webster told theBritish that in order to be able to act, a state would need to prove thatthe “necessity of that self-defense is instant, overwhelming, and leavingno choice of means, and no moment of deliberation.”11 Second, for astate’s action to be lawful the response must be proportionate to thethreat. As Webster noted, in order for the response to be permissible itmust not be “unreasonable or excessive.”12

In the period since 1945, considerable debate has arisen over thecontinuing vitality of the concept of anticipatory self-defense. Somecommentators, such as Ian Brownlie,13 Yoram Dinstein,14 and PhilipJessup,15 adhere to a “restrictionist” interpretation of the Charter. Theyargue that the intent of Article 51 was to limit the recourse to force inself-defense only to circumstances in which an armed attack has actuallyoccurred. Other commentators, “counter-restrictionists,” such as DerekBowett,16 William V. O’Brien,17 and Myres McDougal,18 contend thateven following the adoption of the Charter, states maintain a right to anticipatory self-defense. While neither the Security Council nor the International Court of Justice has authoritatively spoken on thequestion of anticipatory self-defense, the practice of states and treatycodifications would seem to confirm the existence of this right undercontemporary customary international law.19 In three cases in whichquestions of anticipatory self-defense arose—the 1962 Cuban MissileCrisis, the 1967 Six Days’ War in the Middle East, and the 1981 Israelibombing of the Osirak nuclear reactor in Iraq—spirited discussionsoccurred within the Security Council. In the course of these debates,



states made a variety of arguments on both sides of the question of thelegal permissibility of anticipatory self-defense. What becomes clearafter examining these debates is that there was no clear consensus amongCouncil members that Article 51 limited the right to self-defense tocircumstances in which an actual armed attack had already occurred. Asa consequence, there would seem to be no prohibition on the right touse force preemptively for self-defense, provided that the criteria ofnecessity and proportionality are met. But how does this right to antic-ipatory self-defense connect to humanitarian intervention? The studynow turns to address this question.

The Legal Status of Humanitarian Intervention

Over the course of the post–World War II period, much attention hasfocused on the notion of humanitarian intervention.20 As with theconcept of anticipatory self-defense, scholars seem to fall into one oftwo broad categories: restrictionists and counter-restrictionists. On onehand restrictionists—such as Michael Akehurst,21 Natalino Ronzitti,22

and Ian Brownlie23—argue that Article 2(4) should be interpreted asa general proscription on the use of force against states. As a conse-quence, in the absence of a clear case of an actual armed attack or theexplicit authorization of the Security Council, states cannot lawfully useforce—even for humanitarian purposes. On the other hand, counter-restrictionists—such as John Norton Moore,24 W. Michael Reisman,25

and Richard Lillich26—have advanced a series of arguments supportingthe lawfulness of humanitarian intervention. Some suggest that human-itarian intervention should be regarded as permissible because it fallsbelow the Article 2(4) threshold. That is, humanitarian intervention isnot unlawful because it is not a use of force against the “territorialintegrity” or “political independence” of states, nor does it transgress thepurposes of the UN. It does not violate the “territorial integrity” of astate, since the purpose of such intervention is not to gain territory oralter an existing border. Nor does it violate the “political independence”of states because it does not seek to subject the recalcitrant state to thepolitical domination of the intervening state. Moreover, humanitarianintervention is not inconsistent with the purposes of the UN. In fact, itis in consonance with the UN Charter goals of promoting human rightsand self-determination.

Another argument in support of humanitarian intervention suggeststhat the dual goals of the Charter—the promotion of peace and thepromotion of human rights—should not be seen in an inflexible



hierarchical relationship. At times, the goal of promoting human rightsshould be able to trump the goal of promoting peace. In other words, at times the need to end human suffering should override the desire toavoid the use of force. But while legal arguments exist on both sides of theissue, the ultimate determinant of customary international law is statepractice.27

State Practice in Kosovo

Kosovo represents the most recent case concerning the question ofhumanitarian action. Kosovo is a province of Yugoslavia, not an inde-pendent state. Though 90 percent of its population is ethnic Albanian,the international community has not supported a right of succession forKosovo. Given that Kosovo is a part of Yugoslavia in fact and in law, themilitary action by NATO raises questions about the lawfulness of exter-nal intervention in internal strife.

Critics of NATO’s bombing action in Kosovo are quick to point outthat NATO unlawfully intervened in a sovereign state’s (i.e., Serbia’s)internal dispute, which of course rests on the UN Charter provisions thatprohibit the use of force except in self-defense, when a state is threatenedby aggression, or when the Security Council authorizes a military opera-tion for humanitarian or other reasons. While the Security Council didadopt resolutions expressing concern over the situation in Kosovo, it neverexpressly authorized the use of force by any state or group of states.28

In September 1998 the Security Council adopted Resolution 1199(1998), which expressed deep concern for the deterioration of thehumanitarian situation in Kosovo and, on the basis of Chapter VII,determined that the situation there constituted a “threat to peace andsecurity in the region.”29 By invoking Chapter VII, the Security Councilimplicitly asserted that there had occurred a threat to the peace, orbreach of the peace, or an act of aggression of an international charac-ter. The Council also called upon states to provide humanitarian assis-tance in the region. Resolution 1199 thus acknowledged that a situationexisted in Kosovo that was covered by Chapter VII and recognized thatYugoslav forces had played a role in creating the crisis. But at no timedid the Council give its express authorization for any state or group ofstates to use forcible intervention.

UNSC Resolution 1203 acknowledged the Security Council’s deci-sion to act under Chapter VII and “demanded” that the FRY “complyfully and swiftly with resolutions 1160 (1998) and 1199 (1998) andcooperate fully with the OSCE Verification Mission in Kosovo and the



NATO Verification Mission over Kosovo. . . .”30 It also “demanded”that immediate action be taken by the authorities of the FRY and theKosovo Albanian leadership “to cooperate with international efforts toimprove the humanitarian situation and to avert the impending human-itarian catastrophe.”31

As noted above, the UN Charter provides a means for legitimatingarmed intervention by NATO. Regional arrangements, such as NATO,are permitted in Chapter VIII of the Charter. But Chapter VIII, Article 53,prohibits enforcement action (as distinguished from measures taken inself-defense) by regional bodies without the authorization of theUNSC.32 If the bombing action by NATO were undertaken to coercethe Yugoslav government into accepting the Western peace plan for Kosovo, Security Council authorization would be required. If, on theother hand, the NATO action aimed to ensure humanitarian relief forthe people of Kosovo, or merely assist them to repel armed aggression,an argument could be marshaled that Security Council permissionmight not be necessary. In any event, NATO never went to the SecurityCouncil to seek permission; nor was permission ever granted by theSecurity Council to legitimize NATO’s “enforcement action” in Kosovo.

Difficulty arises in legitimizing the NATO action as humanitarianintervention to halt genocide as well. In the case of genocide, a state orgroup of states is explicitly obligated under the 1948 GenocideConvention to oppose acts of genocide. While massive violations ofhuman rights occurred in Kosovo, however, genocidal atrocities did notoccur, at least as defined under the Genocide Convention.33 Nor didthose violations constitute an armed attack as defined in Article 2(4) ofthe UN Charter, since no military force was used by Serbia against theterritorial integrity or political independence of any NATO member.Consequently, any threat or use of force could not be justified as self-defense against an armed attack.

The reaction of the international community to the NATO actions iscritical to any assessment of the status of the NATO bombardment ofSerbia as humanitarian intervention. Reaction of the nonaligned move-ment appeared blunted. In a statement about the NATO action issuedin early April l999, the movement expressed “deep alarm” at the “wors-ening crisis” and was “deeply concerned by the deteriorating humanitar-ian situation in Kosovo,” but there was no condemnation explicitly orimplicitly of NATO’s use of military force.34 Appeals were made forNATO to resume diplomatic efforts under the auspices of the UN andthe relevant SCRs, but no forthright condemnation of NATO wasmade. Similarly, in a statement issued in late March by a group of Latin



American states, “anxiety” was expressed “about the commencement ofair strikes by the North Atlantic Treaty Organization against Serbianmilitary targets . . .” and regret was expressed over the “recourse to theuse of force in contravention of the provisions of Article 53, paragraph 1,and Article 54 of the Charter of the United Nations,” which assert therequirement that the Security Council authorize enforcement actions.Even so, no declared condemnation of the NATO action was explicitlyasserted by these Latin American governments.35 Interestingly enough,Secretary-General Kofi Annan implicitly endorsed the air strikes againstSerbia on the grounds that Yugoslav authorities persistently refused toaccept a political settlement. Force sometimes is necessary for restoringor preserving peace, and the case of Kosovo bore that out.36

Legal Assessment

Given the post–Cold War experiences, it is still not possible to concludethat anticipatory humanitarian intervention is clearly lawful. What canbe said, however, is that these recent developments seem to indicatea tendency to accept the practice, without acknowledging the lawfulnessof the concept. This contention seems on the mark for three reasons:First, states have demonstrated an increased willingness to recognizea growing body of international human rights law. As noted earlier,these emerging norms impose duties upon states party to those agree-ments to treat their nationals in accordance with international stan-dards.37 Clearly, human rights norms now occupy a center place ofinternational law. The realization is underscored even in the Preamble ofthe UN Charter as the people’s determination “to reaffirm faith infundamental human rights, in the dignity and worth of the humanperson,” and expressed in the dedication “to ensure, by the acceptanceof principles and the institution of methods, that armed force shall notbe used, save in the common interest.”38 There is little doubt that thesepreambular provisions, in tandem with those specific articles in theCharter that reaffirm the UN commitment to promote universal respectfor and observance of human rights and fundamental freedoms for allpeoples, generate a constructive obligation for member states to takeaction in defense of human rights.39 Under the Charter, but no lessimportant in light of the development of recent international humani-tarian legal norms, human rights protections should be accorded thesame priority as the maintenance of international peace. In conjunction,in an important decision, the International Court of Justice specificallystated that given the saliency of human rights, “all states can be held to



have a legal interest in their protection.”40 The Court observed that suchobligations derive in contemporary international law “from the outlaw-ing of acts of aggression, and of genocide, as also from the principles andrules concerning the basic rights of the human person, including protec-tion from slavery and racial discrimination.”41

Second, there is an increasing willingness on the part of the UN torecognize that humanitarian crises may in and of themselves be threatsto international peace and security. The UN actions in northern Iraq,Bosnia, Somalia, and Rwanda point directly to that conclusion.

Third, in the only bonafide example of anticipatory humanitarianintervention, the international community was remarkably silent. Eventhough there was no authorization from the Security Council for theNATO action, the member states of the UN were extremely muted intheir response. Unlike past intervention led by the United States—suchas the 1983 invasion of Grenada or the 1989 intervention in Panama—there were no strong unified voices condemning the Kosovo action.Indeed, as noted earlier, even Secretary-General Kofi Annan may havegiven his tacit support for the actions by NATO.

While international public opinion is still very much in flux, thesethree points suggest that a norm of customary international law may beemerging. Anticipatory humanitarian intervention may not yet be estab-lished law—lex lata—but it may be developing law—lege ferenda. If thisis the case, the issue becomes how this norm can best be developed. Inother words, what criteria would best set the parameters for this norm?Our proposal will be set forth in the next section.

Anticipatory Humanitarian Intervention: A Proposal

Anticipatory humanitarian intervention is not the legal equivalent ofwaging war against another state. To the contrary, such use of force maybe justified for the protection of fundamental human rights. In a statewhere the human rights of innocent persons are being egregiouslyviolated, another government or group of governments must weighpursuing two inherently contradictory obligations: on the one hand,there is the obligation to protect innocent persons under human rightslaw, and on the other, there is the obligation to avoid the use of force ininternational relations. If we assume that in certain circumstances theobligation to protect human rights should outweigh the obligation torefrain from using armed force, then in those cases another state orgroup of states may interfere in the affairs of that state whose govern-ment is committing (or at least not attempting to halt) gross human



rights atrocities. Such a determination of relative values, however, isneither easily arrived at, nor quantitatively verifiable.

The concern persists that resort to anticipatory humanitarian inter-vention might be susceptible to abuse. Under the pretext of preemptivehumanitarian intervention, a state could invade another state for its ownpurposes. As a consequence, the following criteria will assist in deter-mining the legal permissibility of anticipatory humanitarian interven-tion. Such conditions should include the following: (1) the exhaustionof peaceful means; (2) the inability of the Security Council to act;(3) the proportionate character of the intervention; (4) the humanitarianmotivation for intervention; (5) the scale, scope and nature of thehuman rights violations; (6) a preference for multilateral action; and(7) non-opposition from the international community.

Exhaustion of Peaceful Alternatives

Prior to using force, an intervening state is legally bound to pursue allreasonable peaceful means available aimed at resolving the situation.These means might include diplomatic protests, appeals to the UNSC,and even economic sanctions. Even so, the time available for resort tothese peaceful means remains contingent upon the situation in thetarget state. If human rights conditions worsen, or the threats to thesecurity of persons in that state escalate, the lawful justification—andneed—for anticipatory humanitarian intervention correspondingly willrise. The lawful prerequisite to undertake peaceful means of disputesettlement evaporates with the deterioration of the human rights condi-tions in the offending state. International law does not say that thesearch for means to restore domestic peace in a state must go forwardwhile thousands of innocent persons in that state are killed. In suchcircumstances, the procedural search for conflict resolution must giveway to the substantive protection of potential victims through preemp-tive armed intervention. To do otherwise not only could prompt theperpetrators to begin killing, but might also trigger the slaughter ofinnocents on a massive scale.

In any event, clear and compelling evidence must indicate that grossand egregious violations of human rights involving the deaths ofhundreds or even thousands of innocent people are actually going tooccur in the territory of a sovereign state.42 The threat of theseatrocities, which would amount to crimes against humanity, is made realeither with the complicity or support of the governmental authorities, orbecause those authorities are unable or unwilling to prevent them.



The Inability of the Security Council to Act

In order for action outside the Charter framework to be justified, theSecurity Council is unwilling or not able to take coercive action toprevent the impending massacres or massive human rights depredations.Such UN inaction might originate from disagreement among perma-nent members on the Council, or from one of them casting a veto,or simply from that body opting to adopt a resolution condemningthe situation and admonishing the state in question to refrain fromany massive atrocities, rather than take any effective preventive actionaimed at stopping human rights atrocities.

Proportionate Character of the Intervention

The force used preemptively for human rights protection must belimited to the minimum level necessary to halt impending human rightsviolations.43 The intervening state must plan and carry out its militaryaction carefully so as not to inflict more harm, deaths, or injury than itseeks to prevent. Generally the authority structure of the offending stateshould not be overthrown, nor should the domestic political process ofthat state be permanently altered. However, if the government of anoffending state is responsible for planning or committing massivehuman rights abuses, it does so at the risk of being removed by an inter-vening humanitarian force, but only if necessary to halt the loss of life.An action undertaken on grounds of anticipatory humanitarian inter-vention must also be limited in duration, meaning the time that isnecessary to stop the atrocities from taking place or to halt their execu-tion. Anticipatory humanitarian intervention cannot be a legal rationalefor military occupation of some state, nor is it acceptable as a justifica-tion for annexation or integration of territory by another state.

The armed force taken is used exclusively for the limited purpose ofpreventing or halting the atrocities and restoring respect for humanrights. Such humanitarian coercion must be stopped as soon as thepurpose of the intervention is secured. The use of force, moreover, mustbe proportionate to the threat that it seeks to put down.

The critical point remains that human rights have evolved such thatthe quality of rights of all people merits protection under internationallaw. International law must be directed at protecting the sovereigntyinherent in people, not merely the legal polity known as the state. Thatis, sovereignty inures in the citizens of the state, not in the governmentas sovereign, particularly when that government by commission or omis-sion fails to halt brutal depredations of human rights or is actually



engaged in perpetrating them against its own citizens. The bottom linein our view is this: if force is used consistently with other principles inthe UN Charter without being directed against the territorial integrityor political independence of another state, it may well be held ascommendable rather than condemnable under the UN Charter.

Humanitarian Motivation for the Action

The manifest motivation for undertaking anticipatory humanitarianintervention must be the clear and present protection of human rightsfor endangered persons. While pure humanitarian motives seemunlikely, the predominant reason for intervention must be humanitarianconcern, rather than for some political, economic, or ideological gain bythe intervening state. This stipulation might seem reasonable enough,but it is difficult to gauge with compelling precision. In any event,anticipatory intervention for humanitarian purposes must be taken so asto ensure respect for the general rule of law and not to pursue the real-ization of some government’s individual advantage. In effect, states actas trustees and defenders of the law of humanity when that law isviolated in some state. They are not to use the law to prosecute theirown self-interested ends under the guise of humanitarian concerns.

The Scale, Scope, and Nature of Human Rights Violations

It is also important that humanitarian action only be taken in response toor in anticipation of large-scale violations of human rights norms. Butwhat should be considered a large-scale atrocity or a massive human rightsviolation? Such a determination must be a matter of fact, based on theparticular circumstances. Obviously, the anticipated murder of a singleperson in some state can hardly be a reason for another state or states tolaunch an armed humanitarian intervention. Likewise, the death tollshould not have to escalate into the hundreds of thousands to justifyexternal resort to force to halt the atrocities. A government engaged inperpetrating genocidal atrocities or crimes against humanity against itsown people makes itself a legitimate target for international humanitarianintervention to suppress those atrocities.

A legacy of past large-scale atrocities can furnish a legitimate prereq-uisite for undertaking anticipatory humanitarian intervention. Whenthe government of a state has a history of killing, torturing, or creatingconditions of intolerable suffering for large numbers of its own citizens,then anticipatory humanitarian intervention may be a viable prospect in



the course of future events. The right to life is a fundamental humanright that civilized governments are supposed to protect through dueprocess, not take away en masse through genocidal acts.

Action in Concert

It seems preferable that anticipatory humanitarian intervention beundertaken, or at least authorized by a regional organization, or a recog-nized coalition of states acting on behalf of the international commu-nity. The least preferable means of anticipatory humanitarianintervention is that done unilaterally by some state. Even so, unilateralintervention taken preemptively to protect innocent persons threatenedwith massive human rights atrocities must be preferred over no action at all. Multilateral intervention is preferred, not only because greaterlawfulness might accrue from more states committed to the same objec-tive of human rights protection, but also because joint action by severalstates makes it less likely that the intervention is undertaken for ulteriormotives aimed at satisfying more parochial national interests.

Non-Opposition from the International Community

Finally, in order for preemptive humanitarian action to be lawful, thevast majority of the international community needs to either support or,at the very least, not actively oppose the action. If the above criteria aremet, and the overwhelming number of states do not oppose the action,such lack of opposition can be seen as enabling—even if not explicitlyauthorizing—the humanitarian action.

Conclusion

A conflict arises between objectives in the UN Charter when a govern-ment egregiously deprives its citizens of fundamental human rights.That unjust action no longer remains within the domestic jurisdictionof that state. The recent post-Charter period suggests new trends emerg-ing in the development of international law. Principles such as sover-eignty, nonintervention, and respect for human rights are undergoingtransformation in terms of their relative priority as perceived by govern-ments, and resultant state practice could shift considerations affectingthe perceived lawfulness of anticipatory humanitarian intervention.These trends suggest that if a government intends to commit, or allowsto be committed, the most heinous crimes imaginable, but refrains from



engaging in actions that traditionally might be considered a threat tointernational peace, armed intervention for humanitarian protectionmay be undertaken by concerned states under certain conditions to stopthe perpetration of those crimes against humanity.

National sovereignty after Kosovo is becoming more porous to inter-national human rights concerns. All interventions must not becondemned simply because they penetrate sovereign prerogatives of astate. To assert that intervention, in whatever form, for whatever reasonit is undertaken should be considered impermissible because it intrudesupon the independence of a state and respect for its sovereignty is tomiss the trees for the sake of the forest. It is the government of the state,not the state itself, which is at issue. If a government is culpable of—oris unwilling or unable to protect its people from—gross human rightsabuses and large-scale atrocities, the fig leaf of sovereignty no longerpermits the massive abuse of those people. At what human price doesthe shield of sovereignty erode the protection of human rights? From this new perspective, there is a point where the promotion ofjustice must outweigh the presumption in favor of peace. Anticipatoryhumanitarian intervention furnishes the normative justification forexercising the departure from peace.

Some will still argue that a restrictionist understanding of theCharter is the most beneficial to the international community. Giventhat the maintenance of peace and security is the primary goal of theUN, they will assert that the only permissible use of force in contempo-rary international law should be in cases of individual or collective self-defense under Article 51 and UN enforcement actions in cases of threatsto the peace, breaches of the peace, and acts of aggression as set out inChapter VII. Their conclusion will remain that any unilateral exercise offorce other than in the exercise of the right of self-defense would beunlawful, irrespective of the justification or the aim pursued. Article 2(4)contains an absolute, unconditional prohibition on the use of force,which renders any goal or intention of a state initiating force unlawful.Any use of force, regardless of motive or purpose, would be a violationof the Charter unless justifiable under one of the explicit exceptions.

This chapter respectfully disagrees with this understanding as thepremise for conducting contemporary international relations in the newcentury. Intervention to protect human rights, even before the slaughterbegins, should be permissible. The use of forcible self-help to preventdeath, serious injury, or massive human rights atrocities to any particu-lar group of people deemed “innocent” by the standards of internationalmorality ought to be considered legitimate under international law.



Interventions to protect the rights of innocent persons can be legiti-mated as operations not directed at the territorial integrity or politicalindependence of a target state. As a consequence, these acts of forcibleself-help do not impinge on the aforementioned two essential elementsof state sovereignty.

Norms are not static. They must evolve with the society in whichthey hold moral sway. When the values and priorities of a societychange, so too will change the norms that guide that society.Accordingly, the nonintervention principle must not apply when mili-tary action is required to remedy situations in which human rights arebeing massively violated, particularly in cases of genocide and crimesagainst humanity. The prophylactic of law should not be used to protectthose persons who commit gross violations of human rights. Justiceshould not be made the victim of unjust state sovereignty. Internationallaw must change to accommodate these new needs and authorize aslawful the possibility to protect all peoples in all states, even if it requirespenetrating the traditional shield of national sovereignty. Attaininguniversal acceptance of that ambition will remain a preeminent challengein the twenty-first century.

Notes

1. Working independently, Jonathan Charney has also employed this term. See“Editorial Comments [Jonathan I. Charney]: NATO’s Kosovo Intervention:Anticipatory Humanitarian Intervention in Kosovo,” American Journal ofInternational Law, Vol. 93, 1999, p. 834.

2. Article 42 provides: Should the Security Council consider that the measuresprovided for in Article 41 [diplomatic and economic sanctions] would beinadequate or have proven to be inadequate, it may take such action by air,sea, or land forces as may be necessary to maintain or restore internationalpeace and security. Such action may include demonstrations, blockade, andother operations by air, sea, or land forces of Members of the UN.

3. Ibid., art. 52.4. Ibid., art. 53.5. See e.g. Julius Stone, Aggression and World Order, Vol. 43, pp. 95–6 1963;

Derek W. Bowett, “The Use of Force for the Protection of NationalsAbroad,” in Antonio Cassesse, ed., The Current Legal Regulation of the Use ofForce, 1986; Lee Stuesser, “Active Defense: State Military Response toInternational Terrorism,” California Western International Law Journal,Vol. 17, No. 4, 1987, pp. 30–1; and generally Natalino Ronzitti, RescuingNationals Abroad Through Military Coercion and Intervention on the Groundsof Humanity, Dordrecht: Kluwer Academic Publishers, 1985.



6. See Anthony Clark Arend, “The United Nations, Regional Organizations,and Military Operations: The Past and the Present,” Duke Journal ofComparative and International Law, Vol. 7, No. 3, 1996; David Wippman,“Military Intervention, Regional Organizations, and Host State Consent,”Duke Journal of Comparative and International Law, Vol. 7, 1996, pp. 209; and Joachim Wolf, “Regional Arrangements and the U.N.Charter,” Encyclopedia of Public International Law, Vol. 6, Heidelberg: MaxPlanck Institute, 1983.

7. See generally NewYork Times, Feb. 14, 1999, p. 11; Ibid. Feb. 25, 1999, p. A25; and Ibid. Nov. 24, 1999, pp. A–I.

8. See Anthony Clarke Arend and Robert J. Beck, International Law and theUse of Force, London: Routledge, 1993, pp. 177–95.

9. William Jefferson Clinton, Statement by the President to the Nation,24 March, 1999, cited at http://www.pub.whitehouse.gov/urires/ 12R?urn:pdi://oma.eop.gov.us/1999/3/25/1.text.l (consulted, 23 June, 1999)(emphasis added).

10. Ibid.11. Letter from Daniel Webster, cited in John Bassett Moore, “The Destruction

of the Caroline,” Digest of International Law, Vol. 2, 1906, p. 412.12. Letter from Mr. Webster to Mr. Fox, April 24, 1841, British & Foreign State

Papers (1857), 1129, 1138 cited in Louis Henkin, Richard Crawford Pugh,Oscar Schachter and Hans Smit, International Law: Cases and Materials 872(3rd ed. St. Paul, MN: West Publishing Co., 1993). For various analyses ofthis incident, see R. Y. Jennings, “The Caroline and McLeod Cases,”American Journal of International Law, Vol. 32, 1938, pp. 82–99; TimothyKearley, “Raising the Caroline,” Wisconsin International Law Journal,Vol. 17, 1999, p. 325, and Martin A. Rogoff and Edward Collins, “TheCaroline Incident and the Development of International Law,” BrookJournal of International Law, Vol. 16, 1990, p. 493.

13. Ian Brownlie, International Law and the Use of Force by States, Oxford,Clarendon Press, 1963, pp. 275–8; and “The Principles of Non-Use ofForce in Contemporary International Law,” in W. E. Butler, ed., The Non-use of Force in International Law, Brill, 1989, pp. 24–49.

14. Yorum Dinstein, War, Aggression and Self-Defense (Cambridge: CambridgeUniversity Press, 2nd ed. 1994), p. 244.

15. Philip Jessup, A Modern Law of Nations: An introduction, New York:Macmillan, 1948, p. 166.

16. Derek W. Bowett, Self-Defense in International Law, Manchester:Manchester University Press, 1958, pp. 184–93.

17. William V. O’Brien, “International Law and the Outbreak of War in theMiddle East,” 11 Orbis, Vol. 11, 1967, pp. 716, 721.

18. Myres McDougal and Florentino Feliciano, Law and Minimum WorldPublic Order: The Legal Regulation and International Coercion, NewHaven: Yale University Press, 1961, pp. 232–44.



19. See George K. Walker, “Anticipatory Collective Self-Defense in the CharterEra: What the Treaties Have Said,” Cornell International Law Journal, Vol. 31,No. 2, 1998, pp. 321–76.

20. For a bibliography on humanitarian intervention, see Richard B. Lillicheds., International Human Rights: Problems of Law, Policy and Practice,Boston: Little, Brown, 2nd ed., 1991, pp. 604–6, 631–2. The theoreticaldebates over humanitarian intervention are summarized in Fernando R.Tesón, Humanitarian Intervention: An Inquiry into Law and Morality,2nd ed., Irvington-On-Hudson: Transnational, 1997, p. 251. See also SeanD. Murphy, Humanitarian Intervention: The United Nations in an EvolvingWorld Order, Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1996; andOliver Ramsbotham and Tom Woodhouse, Humanitarian Intervention inContemporary Conflict: A Reconceptualization, Cambridge, Mass.: PolityPress, 1996.

21. Michael Akehurst, “Humanitarian Intervention,” in Hedley Bull, ed.,Intervention in World Politics, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1984, p. 99.

22. Natalino Ronzitti, supra note 9.23. Ian Brownlie, International Law and the Use of Force by States.24. Moore, supra note 34, pp. 154–5. See also John Norton Moore, “Toward an

Applied Theory for the Regulation of Intervention,” in John N. Moore, ed.,Law and Civil War in the Modern World, Vol. 3, Baltimore: Johns HopkinsPress, 1974, pp. 24–5.

25. W. Michael Reisman, “Sovereignty and Human Rights in ContemporaryInternational Law,” American Journal of International Law, Vol. 84, 1990,pp. 866, 869.

26. See Richard B. Lillich, “Humanitarian Intervention: A Reply to Ian Brownlieand a Plea for Constructive Alternatives,” in Law and Civil War in the ModernWorld, supra note 53, at 229; “Forcible Self-Help by States to Protect HumanRights,” Iowa Law Review, Vol. 53, 1967, p. 325; and “Intervention toProtect Human Rights,” McGill Law Review, Vol. 15, 1969, pp. 205–39.

27. W. Michael Reisman, “Coercion and Self-Determination: ConstruingArticle 2(4),” American Journal of International Law, Vol. 78, 1984, p. 642.

28. See UN Doe. S/RES/ 1160 (31 March 1998); S/RES/1199 (23 September1998); S/RES/1203 (24 October 1998); S/RES/1244 (10 June 1999).

29. S/RES/l199 (23 September 1998).30. S/RES/1203 (1998), para. 1.31. Ibid., para. 11.32. In 1962, the International Court of Justice stated that enforcement action

is coercive action as set out in Chapter VII, which concerns threats to thepeace, breaches of the peace and acts of aggression. Certain Expenses of theUnited Nations (Art. 17, Para. 2, of the Charter). [1962] ICJ Reports 151(Advisory Opinion of 20 July 1962).

33. Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide,9 December 1948, 78 UNTS 277, 280. The Convention does not, however,



explicitly authorize the use of force to combat genocide. Under theConvention:

Genocide means any of the following acts committed with intent todestroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnical, racial or religiongroup as such:

(a) Killing members of the group;

(b) Causing serious bodily or mental harm to members of the group;

(c) Deliberately inflicting on the group conditions of life calculatedto bring about its physical destruction in whole or in part;

(d) Imposing measures intended to prevent births within the group;

(e) Forcibly transferring children of the group to another group.

34. “Statement on the Situation in Kosovo, Federal Republic of Yugoslavia,issued on 9 April 1999 by the Movement of Non-Aligned Countries,”appended to UN Doc. S/1999/451 (21 April 1999), p. 2.

35. “Communique issued on 25 March 1999 by the Rio Group,” appended toUN Doc. A/53/884, S/1999/347 (26 March 1999).

36. See Judith Miller, “The Secretary General Offers Implicit Endorsement ofRaids,” NewYork Times, 25 March 1999.

37. At a minimum, these standards should reflect the rights set out in theUniversal Declaration of Human Rights, G.A. Res. 217 (III 1948), 10December 1948, as codified in the 1966 International Covenant on Civiland Political Rights, opened for signature 10 December 1966, entered intoforce 23 March 1976. 999 UNTS 171 and the 1966 InternationalCovenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights, opened for signature19 December 1966, entered into force 3 January 1976. 993 UNTS 3. Seealso note 104 infra.

38. UN Charter pmbl.39. Ibid., arts. 1, 55, and 56.40. Concerning the Barcelona Traction, Light and Power Co., Ltd (Belg v.

Spain) 1970 ICJ 4, 134 (second phase).41. Ibid.42. Such evidence could be gleaned from independent human rights organiza-

tions, United Nations observers, media reports, eyewitness accounts ofrefugees, and national embassy and diplomatic assessments in the country.

43. Obviously, the concept of “minimum” is fraught with difficulties, since sucha threshold will depend upon different circumstances in different situations.The force must be necessary to prevent human rights atrocities, but at thesame time protect the troops being sent to accomplish that mission.



PART THREE

Reflections on the Balkan Wars


CHAPTER 10

Managing Ethnic Conflict in Bosnia: International Solutions

to Domestic Problems1

Patrice McMahon

Introduction

One of the most important but least recognized changes in thelast decade is the shift from violent ethnic conflict to themanagement of ethnic disputes.2 Nearly two dozen violent

ethnic conflicts were sparked by the end of the Cold War, and by theearly 1990s more than 100 ethnic groups were relying on violence toachieve their goals.3 Yet, by the decade’s end, ethnic conflict started towane and nationalist groups were more likely to rely on compromise anddiplomacy than on guns and force. This is particularly true in the post-communist world where speeches laden with references to democracyand joining the West quickly replaced nationalist rhetoric. Even inBosnia–Herzegovina, where ethnic strife turned to genocide, concentra-tion camps, and over 200,000 casualties, stability and peace now reign.While hardly resolved, how have ethnic differences been managed?

This chapter argues that the ability of Bosnia’s three ethnic groups tolive peacefully in one state is due mainly to the international commu-nity’s intimate involvement in Bosnian politics.4 After four years ofstanding on the sidelines, the United States decided to take a leadershiprole to end the bloody ethnic war. By the summer of 1995, it had devel-oped an endgame strategy that included three basic elements: concertedmilitary action led by NATO; a political compromise with Bosnian


Serbs that resulted in the territorial division of the country; andguarantees that the international community would remain activelyinvolved in Bosnia’s future.5 These elements have since become strate-gies for encouraging accommodation and reconciliation among thecountry’s Muslim, Serb, and Croat populations. Seven years and over$9 billion spent have not resolved all problems, but the strategies usedby the international community have stopped the violence, calmedethnic fears, and, I argue, generated potentially significant domesticattempts to reconcile the past and plan for a joint future. This chaptercontends that Bosnia represents an excellent example of the strategies, aswell as the pitfalls, of international attempts to manage ethnic differ-ences in divided societies. For good reason, the DPA will be a referencepoint for future intervention efforts, serving as a test case of the natureand extent to which the international community can influenceintrastate politics.6

In the first section, I identify and explain the strategies used to helpgroups in Bosnia live side by side. I argue that international solutions,rather than domestic ones, have been most important to encouragingpeace and stability in Bosnia. Taken together, the military solution, theinstitutional solution, and the civil society solution represent different,but reinforcing ways of promoting compromise in fragile, heterogeneousenvironments. Section two provides a more critical evaluation of theseefforts. It argues that while international involvement is important forunderstanding the shift away from violence, such initiatives havereached their limits. In lieu of a conclusion, the final section demon-strates that many Bosnians themselves acknowledge the limits of inter-national involvement and have started taking ownership over the peacebuilding process, developing local institutions to counter the country’sethnic problems.

International Strategies for Bosnia–Herzegovina

Led by the United States, the international community was crucial toending the three and half year war in Bosnia that began in the spring of1992. The DPA, which consisted of the General Framework Agreement forPeace and 11 detailed annexes described in general terms the role the inter-national community would play in implementing the peace. In the yearssince, the international community has devoted itself not merely to recon-structing Bosnia as it was before but recreating it anew. The goal of thepeace agreement was to establish a multiethnic, democratic Bosnia wherehitherto there had been communism, genocide, and chaos. Inherent in this

190 ● Patrice McMahon


goal was that the groups once at war would eventually reconcile themselvesto the past, live side by side, and anticipate a shared future.7

Toward these ambitious endeavors, the international communitydevoted substantial resources to reconstructing Bosnia. About $1,200 perperson was made available for the reconstruction of this country, or aboutnine times the Marshall Plan.8 In some places, the figure is almost doublethis amount. While pecuniary commitments are easy to calculate, thesymbolic importance of Bosnia to the international community is moredifficult to estimate. International involvement in Bosnia represented anew, post–Cold War agenda, one that was broad in scope and relied onboth top-down and bottom-up strategies for managing ethnic strife.

The Military Solution

While the international community used military strikes as early as 1993to protect relief workers, it was not until the summer of 1995 that mili-tary force was used decisively to end the conflict. Led by the United Statesand backed by NATO, the international community relied primarily oncoercion to broker a peace agreement. Talks in November 1995 led theleaders of Bosnia, Croatia, and the FRY to sign the DPA a month later.The first and central task of the international community lay in the fieldof security.9 Annexes 1 and 2 of the DPA govern the cessation of hostili-ties, regional stability, boundary demarcation, and they entrust NATOwith responsibility for the multinational, military force that would beestablished to guarantee peace. In the past seven years, the internationalmilitary presence has been the most important force in the reconstructionof this small state sandwiched between Serbia and Croatia.

The Implementation Force or IFOR initially consisted of 60,000troops from 36 countries. With a one-year mandate, IFOR was givenfour related responsibilities: bringing about and maintaining an end tohostilities; separating the armed forces of Bosnia’s two newly createdstate entities; delineating and transferring territory between the entities;and moving the parties’ forces and weapons into storage sites.10 NATO’sAmerican, British, French, and other contingents divided Bosnia upinto sectors and successfully ended the violence.11 By all accounts, IFORcompleted its narrowly defined military mission within a matter ofmonths. IFOR’s one-year mandate was extended in January 1997; itssuccessor, the SFOR, was given a broader mission, even though thenumber of troops dropped to about a third. As suggested by its new titleand explained by NATO itself, the “Stabilization Force wouldcontribute to a secure environment within which civilian agencies can

Managing Ethnic Conflict in Bosnia ● 191


continue to carry out the process of economic development, reconstruc-tion, developing political institutions, and creating an overall climate ofreconciliation.”12 This revised mandate implied SFOR’s assistance inproviding security for national and municipal elections and promotingtransparency and democratization among the country’s three armedforces. In addition to its short-term achievements, NATO officials havepromoted security projects meant to help Bosnia wean itself from itsdependence on international forces. Dayton mandated the creation of aStanding Committee for Military Matters to bring together the coun-try’s three main ethnic groups for consultation on security and defenseissues. To stimulate such dialogue and give meaning to this Committee,NATO launched its Security Cooperation Program in 1997.

While NATO was charged with military and defense matters, the UNwas entrusted with providing security for the general population. TheInternational Police Task Force (IPTF) took a leadership role in reform-ing Bosnian law enforcement and ensuring that it met Western stan-dards of policing.13 Since many of the demobilized soldiers had simplymoved into law enforcement, the IPTF focused on downsizing, inte-grating, and depoliticizing the country’s three separate police forces.These challenges proved to be too great for the unarmed voluntary UNforce, so in 1998 SFOR created an armed, multinational police force toassist the UN force. In the summer of 2000, the Peace ImplementationCouncil (PIC), the intergovernmental authority that oversees theBosnian peace process, acknowledged the continued need for extensiveinternational involvement in providing security for the country. Inlaying out a framework for the country’s future security, the PIC calledfor the transformation of the Standing Committee into a state-leveldefense institution, the development of sustainable and affordable forcestructures consistent with the long-term security needs of Bosnia, trans-parency of external military assistance, as well as unified command andcontrol of armed forces. Members of the international community,primarily NATO, but also the OSCE, the UN Mission in Bosnia, andthe EU, will remain instrumental in moving this vision forward by over-seeing and monitoring the activities of Bosnian groups.

The Institutional Solution

Military coercion was linked to the second strategy employed by theinternational community to manage Bosnia’s ethnic problems, thecreation of a complex state that, at the same time, partitioned the countryand kept it together. The militarized Inter-Entity Boundary Line



partitioned Bosnia and created two semiautonomous entities, the RSand the Federation of Bosnia–Herzegovina, with 49 and 51 percent ofthe territory respectively. The peace agreement also defined the institu-tional arrangements of the new Bosnian federal state; the new constitu-tion incorporated top-down and bottom-up mechanisms for integratingethnic groups and eventually unifying the state. A fundamental problembefore Dayton was whether to partition the country or reunify it. Ratherthan resolve this dilemma, the peace agreement structurally incorpo-rated it. Thus, territorial and military divisions exist alongside jointpolitical institutions, power sharing practices, and the right of return forrefugees and internally displaced persons (IDPs). The institutional solu-tion offered short- and long-term mechanisms for pleasing everyonewithout satisfying anyone.

Dayton, indeed, created a unified state, which Bosnian Muslims andthe international community desperately wanted. Yet, the DPA alsoensured that the state was decentralized enough to please the BosnianSerbs and, to a lesser extent, the Bosnian Croats. Decentralization andpower sharing were the twin principles underpinning the Bosnianfederal state. Given the military realities on the ground and the interna-tional community’s intense desire to end the violence as quickly as possi-ble, the entity governments were given vast responsibilities. Forexample, the governments of the RS and the Federation, rather than thestate, were given primary responsibility for the collection of taxes,education and property rights, and even defense.14 To accommodateBosnian Croats, power was further decentralized within the Federationby the creation of ten, ethnically defined cantons.

To prevent any one ethnic group from dominating the decision-makingprocess, each group was given a fixed number of seats in state institutions.Power sharing between the country’s three main ethnic groups was, thus,ensured by the use of ethnic and regional quotas. Bosnia’s three-memberpresidency, for example, requires one representative from each of the coun-try’s three constituent peoples. To maintain this delicate balance and regu-late the power of majorities, representatives could block legislation if itundermined the “vital interests” of a particular ethnic group. The country’sbicameral legislature was similarly constructed. The 15 seats in the Houseof Peoples, the upper house of parliament, were divided equally among thecountry’s three main ethnic groups, while seats in the House ofRepresentatives required that two-thirds of the members come from theFederation and one-third from the RS.

Imposing a complex constitutional arrangement on the country’sethnic groups was just one part of the institutional solution. Other



institutions, namely the Office of the High Representative (OHR), werecreated to help implement peace from above, while certain practices,like minority return, would be adopted to reverse the effects of ethniccleansing and recreate a multiethnic Bosnia from below. Since localactors were coerced to the bargaining table, the constitution acknowl-edged the central role the international community would need to playin the country’s transition. The OHR, established in Sarajevo, wascharged with overseeing civilian implementation, coordinating theactivities of international actors, and, if necessary, imposing the inter-national community’s will on Bosnia. Managing ethnic tensions alsomeant recreating the multiethnic reality through refugee returns. By thewar’s end, almost half of the country’s prewar population of 4.4 millionbecame either refugees or IDPs. Ethnic cleansing campaigns were quitesuccessful in separating Serbs from Croats and Muslims and, to a lesserextent, Croats and Muslims. To reverse the effects of these campaigns,Annex 7 of the DPA guaranteed all refugees and IDPs the unqualifiedright to freely return to their homes of origin. In addition to reversingthe criminal acts committed against these peoples, minority returns, inparticular, would encourage moderate politicians and dilute the signifi-cance of the ethnic and regional quotas in state institutions.

The Civil Society Solution

It was generally believed that for the other solutions to work beyond thewithdrawal of the international community, a democratic state neededto be created in postwar Bosnia. The international community tried toensure this outcome in a variety of ways, including international moni-toring of national and local elections. Yet, elections were only a startingpoint and somewhat superficial. Democratic consolidation necessitatedsubstantial investments in the country’s civil society. Support for theassociational sphere of interest groups, which stands between the privatesphere of the family and the market and the public sphere of the stateand government, had become a hallmark of assistance to other post-communist countries. In Bosnia in particular, small investments in civilsociety development would yield numerous short- and long-term bene-fits, such as helping to develop a democratic culture of tolerance andpromoting interethnic moderation and compromise.

In Bosnia and elsewhere in the post-communism world, buildingcivil society was synonymous with support for the creation of localNGOs.15 As a 1998 UN report explains, “. . . the strengthening of civilsociety, notably through support to non-governmental organizations



(NGOs), is of primary importance.”16 The number and diversity oforganizations focused on developing civil society in Bosnia is astound-ing. According to the International Council for Voluntary Agencies,over 173 international and some 365 local NGOs, along with interna-tional organizations, embassies and government ministries, wereinvolved in civil society in 1999. Local NGOs, almost exclusivelysupported by external funds, can be divided into two broad categories:democracy NGOs and development or service NGOs.17

Democracy NGOs are organizations devoted to “public interest”causes, such as human rights, the environment, and women’s issues.These NGOs are said to be vital for Bosnia’s transformation becausethey represent diverse interests and traditionally marginalized groupsoften ignored by political parties. Since they are interested in affectingpolicy, they are seen as important tools of sociopolitical change. Intheory, the existence of such societal groups mitigates extreme positions,undermines ethnic nationalism, and ultimately creates a culture of toler-ance necessary for democracy to take root.18

For Bosnia, any activity that can be undertaken in such a way that itcrosses ethnic or political boundaries can become a potential challengeto ethnic divisions. According to Ian Smillie, building tolerance andpluralism in Bosnia is particularly important because without it, “theDayton Accords . . . and the hope of a united Bosnia and Herzegovinawill be lost . . .”19 Most Bosnian NGOs are not democracy NGOs, nordo they seek to challenge nationalist politicians. Reflecting a differenttradition and understanding of civil society, members of the interna-tional community have also invested heavily in what are known as devel-opment NGOs. Rather than engaging political leaders or directlychallenging the government, these organizations emphasize the provi-sion of services, community development, and are more likely to beinvolved in agricultural projects, provide psychosocial services, orprograms that focus on youth education. These NGOs are created basedon the assumption that in societies with dysfunctional governments thebest way to build a robust civil society is to invest in groups that goaround government and pursue self-help methods.20 In this context,NGOs provide a different, yet equally important function of promotingsocioeconomic development, empowering the population, and indi-rectly bringing the country together.

Annex 3 of the DPA gave authority to the OSCE to “lay the founda-tion for representative government and ensure the progressive achieve-ment of democratic goals.”21 Since civil society was part and parcel ofthe achievement of such goals, the OSCE was also put in charge of the



international community’s effort to encourage the voice and activities ofcitizens. Along with the United States Agency for InternationalDevelopment (USAID) and numerous international NGOs, the OSCEhas worked to promote “civil society through support for the work ofBosnian NGOs and civil groups.”22 Seven years of support has dramat-ically altered the composition and nature of Bosnia’s civil society.23

According to one estimate, some 400 NGOs are working throughoutBosnia, three-quarters of which are located within the Federation.24

These local organizations exist in small towns, as well as large cities, andare involved in everything from human rights monitoring to women’sissues to refugee returns. Some members of the international commu-nity believe that Dayton’s success and the creation of a multiethnicBosnia, in fact, hinges on its ability to strengthen civil society.

The Pitfalls of International Solutions

While solutions developed and imposed on Bosnia by the internationalcommunity have, indeed, been crucial to managing ethnic tensions,glaring problems and inconsistencies remain. In fact, the internationalcommunity’s cumulative effect on Bosnia, as well as the status of Bosniaitself, remains uncertain. Conventional wisdom contends that the reasonfor this is due to the problems associated with civilian implementationwhile the military mission identified by Dayton has largely been asuccess.25 Such an analysis assumes that the two are easily separated, andthey are not. The reality in Bosnia is that military and civilian activitiesare highly interdependent, and despite the achievements of militaryinvolvement, a great deal more needs to be done. In fact, problems withcivilian implementation are directly related to the international commu-nity’s desire to keep the military mission as narrow as possible and sepa-rate from civilian activities. Unless such thinking and strategies change,international solutions are unlikely to achieve their ultimate objectivesin Bosnia.

The Reluctant Military

The most important military goals of Dayton have, indeed, beenachieved. Perhaps the most important change in Bosnia is the palatablesense of security most Bosnians now feel and foreigners require forcontinued involvement.26 External military involvement has been bene-ficial in other ways, maintaining the boundary between the two entitiesand ensuring that all sides of the conflict reduced their weapons. Yet,



upon closer inspection, particularly when one looks at the obstacles tocivilian implementation of the peace agreement, the shortcomings of themilitary solution become more apparent. Although SFOR continues tobroaden its mandate, its reluctance to do so, particularly when it comesto refugee returns, the arrest of war criminals, and the unification ofBosnian institutions, hinders the creation of a self-sustaining peace.

Annex 7 of the DPA, which pertains to refugee return, is the singlemost significant way of restoring multiethnicity to Bosnia. “All otherannexes either depend on refugee return, or were created to assist inimplementing refugee returns.”27 Under Dayton, SFOR is authorized toprovide security in support of the “free movement of civilian popula-tions, refugees, and displaced persons.” Despite this authority, it did notassume responsibility for protecting returnees until 1999. As a directconsequence, refugee returns were disappointing; by early 2000, less thanone-third of Bosnia’s original pool of refugees and IDP (some 350,000refugees and 296,000 IDPs) returned to their prewar places of residenceand most of these were majority rather than minority returns.28

Since SFOR has become involved in this process, return rates haveimproved greatly. This is a main reason, according to the InternationalCrisis Group, why 2000 saw significant minority returns throughout thecountry and included “breakthrough returns” to areas of the easternRS.29 Minority returns have either occurred in isolated rural communi-ties or happened with a large SFOR presence and regular IPTF patrols.30

The UNHCR recorded almost 68,000 minority returns in 2000, whilethe first five months of 2001 registered an even larger increase, withsome 30,000 returns.31 These numbers are inspiring and demonstratethe continued and expanded need for SFOR involvement. It alsosuggests that because impediments to return included problems withhousing and unemployment, the dominance of nationalist elites in localareas, and rule of law, as well as a fear for personal security, the militarymission needs to be better coordinated with civilian activities.

The military solution has also neglected another issue that is crucial forthe creation of a self-sustaining Bosnian state—the arrest of war criminals.Annex 1A of the DPA requires that local authorities cooperate fully withthe War Crimes Tribunal in The Hague. While Muslims have for the mostpart, neither Serbs nor Croats have done much to further this promise.Unfortunately, neither did NATO-led troops for the first two years afterthe peace agreement was signed. Not only do war criminals remain in theFederation and the RS, but law and order in the country also remainsprecarious because “the local authorities in many areas of Bosnia are thesame thugs” responsible for the war.32 As of August 2001, the Tribunal



publicly indicted 94 individuals; of these only 22 were arrested by SFOR,20 surrendered voluntarily, while 27 are still at large.33

Some claim that the failure to arrest war criminals presents the largestobstacle to reconciliation. In a meeting with the Citizens of SrebrenicaAssociation outside Sarajevo, one widow expressed her frustration andanger with the international community, noting that everyone wants themto forget what happened and go home, but Srebrenica is now located inthe Serb-controlled RS. Not only are their homes presently inhabited bySerbs, but also many of those in positions of power in the town are thevery same individuals responsible for the deaths of their loved ones andthousands of others Muslims.34 As one former resident of Srebrenicadeclared, “we all know who committed these acts. How can they walkfreely among us? How can we return home and ever feel safe?”35

The final limitation of the military mission is the failure to foster thecreation of common defense and security institutions. The continuedexistence of three separate armies, the Muslim Armija Bosne iHerzegovine (Army of Bosnia–Herzegovina), the Croat Defence Council(HVO) and the Army of the Republika Srpska (VRS) perpetuates inse-curity, as they each maintain doctrines to fight against each other. Thethree armies also provide nationalists with resources for sustaining theirpower and exerting their influence. In March 2001, for example,Croatian nationalists exhibited their ties to Croat soldiers when theyproclaimed “temporary autonomy” within the Federation and requestedthat Croat soldiers leave the Federation army.

Despite discrete accomplishments, the cumulative effect of the mili-tary mission as it is currently conceived and implemented obstructs thecreation of a truly multiethnic Bosnia, maintaining what is an artificialdistinction between military and civilian implementation. The simpleanswer to this problem is the expansion of international militaryinvolvement in these specific areas and greater efforts to support civilianactivities more generally. However, implementing a mandate that wouldfacilitate the creation of a unified Bosnian state is more complex becauseit requires fundamental changes in the country’s present institutionalstructure. In other words, problems associated with the military’s reluc-tance are directly tied to the international community’s institutionalapproach for managing ethnic problems.

Institutional Dilemmas

Since Dayton put great faith in military intervention, institutionalarrangements developed to accommodate ethnic differences were given



cursory attention.36 In contrast to the military mission, few people paidattention to the inherent inconsistencies associated with the Daytonconstitution and the problems that were likely to result. According toone of the main architects of the Accord, the principle guiding theagreement was “what we didn’t get at Dayton we would never get later,”so everything was put on paper rather than settling for a short and ulti-mately ignored agreement.37 The product was a complex documentplagued by ambiguity and highly dependent on the will of the interna-tional community. For Bosnia, the outcome was the creation of adoomed state that does not work and that most do not want.38

The most serious criticism leveled against the international commu-nity’s institutional solution is its de facto division of the country. AsAnnex 4, The Constitution, notes, Bosnia–Herzegovina shall consist ofthe two entities, the Federation of Bosnia and Herzegovina and the RS.While the intention was certainly not to reward the Serbs, critics main-tain that this one decision not only legitimized Serb aggression but, inthe process, overlooked ethnic cleansing, mass rapes, and genocide. Thestrategy relied on the use of non-sovereign boundaries to divide ethnicgroups as an interim solution while the military restored peace and newlycreated state institutions worked to create a more moderate, less ethni-cally charged political environment. While the international communityhas ended the violence, the promise of an effective central governmentexists largely on paper. In fact, in the last six years the internationalcommunity has done little to upset the temporary arrangement. Insteadof phasing out what was once conceived of as a temporary piece ofa complex puzzle in favor of implementing integrationist mechanisms,the international community continues to support the status quo.

The admirable principles upon which Dayton established the federalstate, decentralization and power sharing, have unintentionallycontributed to the creation of a Federal government that simply doesnot function. In an effort to please everyone, decentralization gave theentities too much power, providing them with key attributes of sover-eignty, such as the right to raise and maintain armed forces, which hasseverely hampered the state’s ability to function domestically or interna-tionally. Since the state is unable to levy taxes and thus lacks an inde-pendent source of revenue, it must rely on the good will of entity leadersto finance its activities. Good will is hard to come by given that manyleaders, particularly in the RS and Croat parts of the Federation, arebent on restricting the state’s influence as much as possible. The decen-tralization of power within the Federation by the creation of ethnicallyempowered cantons has similarly undermined the viability of this entity.



Critics of Dayton claim that today’s problems are caused by the interna-tional community’s institutional house of cards, which is not only unsta-ble but institutionalizes the very problems that need to be overcome.39

Power sharing techniques, such as the use of ethnic and regionalquotas to avoid domination by any particular ethnic group, have notonly failed to produce intended outcomes, they have made ethnic iden-tity even more important. The existence of ethnic quotas in theParliamentary Assembly, alongside other provisions created to limit thepower of the majority, means that it is almost impossible for state insti-tutions to get things done. According to the OHR, approximatelya quarter of all parliamentary sessions were wasted squabbling over theagenda.40 Even when state institutions are able to agree on the agenda,passing legislation is difficult. Constitutional provisions have created “a formally limited but in practical terms unlimited veto for each of themajor groups.” 41 The Parliamentary Assembly has passed some 20 laws,but only because the international community forced them to do so, andfew of these laws have been implemented.42

Bosnia’s three-member presidency has suffered a similar fate. Whilepower sharing and consensus building were the reasons the joint presi-dency was created, the constitution allows any of its members to blocklegislation if it is “deemed destructive to the vital interests” of anygroup.43 Deadlocks and parochial interests have negated this institu-tion’s effect, as each of the presidents’ pursues the interests of his ethnicgroup as well as separate foreign policies. Moreover, the office of thepresidency has limited constitutional power and no real administrationcapacity. Similar power sharing arrangements were institutionalized intomost of the state government’s decision-making bodies. Yet, withoutrefugee returns or the creation of counterbalancing institutions thatwould encourage interethnic cooperation or moderation, these institu-tions barely function.44

The institutional deadlocks would not come as a big surprise to thosewho were closely involved in constructing the peace agreement. Byincorporating the dilemmas presented to the international communityin 1995 rather than attempting to resolve them, “Dayton assured that itsimplementation would become little more than the continuation ofconflict by other means.” 45 In other words, it left the division or unifi-cation of Bosnia in the hands of the international community andspecifically the OHR, the chief civilian implementing body representingthe international community. When the OHR was created, it had noinstitutional base to carry out its goals. Its staff now exceeds 600, with220 internationals and 450 locals, and an annual budget of $30 billion.46



Its growth in numbers matches the increasing powers it has been givenin recent years, as the international mission moved from reconstructionto economic and political reform. After two years of “working at themargins,” members of the PIC decided in late 1997 to broaden thepowers of the High Representative. The so-called “Bonn powers”provide the OHR with nearly unchecked authority, including theauthority to impose legislation and dismiss any public official fromoffice who stands in the way of the implementation of Dayton.Frustrated by local obstruction of Dayton, the OHR has increasinglyimplemented what Susan Woodward calls a “trusteeship model” ofimposing peace from above.47 The principle strategy under this model isto override Bosnian sovereignty in the short term in order to establisha preferred foundation for building it in the long term.

Despite its ability to adopt more integrationist measures, the OHRhas only selectively made use of its powers, resisting any interpretationof Dayton that might upset the country’s current political balance.Instead of trying to strengthen the central government and underminethe power of the entities and nationalist parties, the OHR has insteadfortified its own position, routinely using its powers to introduce legis-lation to advance international goals.48 By January 2001, over 100 lawsand binding decisions were imposed on Bosnia by the OHR. Thisinvolvement in the day-to-day management of Bosnia has meant thatthe international mission to “implement the Dayton Peace Agreement”has never seemed as broad and open-ended as it is now.49 Importantbreakthroughs aside, the OHR’s actions have sealed the fate of Bosnia’sweak state. Rather than creating a meaningful central government, it hassubstituted international power for domestic authority.

This “substitution effect” has made the OHR, rather than the Bosnianstate, the locus for debate and decision-making. It is, thus, not uncom-mon for Bosnian politicians, civil society organizations, and evenmembers of the government to lobby the High Representative for legis-lation reform. Most inside and outside of Bosnia believe that some exter-nal authority is still necessary, but the risks to both the internationalcommunity and Bosnia of such a cautious reading of Dayton alongsideinternational attempts to dictate changes are obvious. If the OHRcontinues to use its powers to fill in for a state that exists only on paper,the international community will become a central pillar of Bosnia’sdomestic constitutional structure. Imperceptibly, the substitution effectbroadens the mandate of the international community, making it evenmore difficult for international actors to extradite themselves or to allowcentral institutions to function independently. The bottom line is that



international involvement in Bosnian governance, even when it furthersthe goals of Dayton, simultaneously distorts the political process andcontributes to dysfunctional Bosnian institutions.

An Uncivil Society

In theory, military intervention and new institutions would provide fertileground for civil society initiatives to flourish, and Bosnia’s civil societywould generate a wide range of interests, replacing nationalism witha democratic culture of tolerance and moderation and ultimately trans-forming the state.50 Despite the impressive numbers of international anddomestic civil society initiatives working to develop a healthy civil societyin Bosnia, the state has yet to be transformed nor has the society becomeparticularly civil.51 The reason for this, at least in part, is because thepeace agreement itself and international involvement in the yearssince have directly and indirectly strengthened, rather than weakened,nationalist groups. Moreover, external attempts to engage in what is ulti-mately an internal process have contributed to the creation of weak anddependent NGOs that rely on international rather than domestic support.

Even the constitution emphasizes national identities and downplaysindividual rights. The Preamble mentions the country’s three constituentnations of Serbs, Croats, and Bosnian Muslims; “others” are recognizedas an afterthought, with mere “citizens” barely worth mentioning.52 Theconstitution foreshadows what would become a reality in post-DaytonBosnia—the state would be hijacked from the citizens and transferred tothe country’s three main ethnic groups. Because of the incentives andbenefits of thinking in ethnic terms, Bosnians have not surprisingly clungto their national identities. The most important reason to think innationalist terms, especially for Croats, is the possibility that if theycontinue to stand in the way of the peace agreement, the internationalcommunity might acquiesce to the creation of three entities. Accordingto many, ongoing recognition and support for the existence of the RScontinues to fuel Croat nationalism and opposition to Dayton.

Other compromises made to end the war have also had a significantimpact on the strength of nationalist politicians. For the most part, theinternational community wanted to start reconstruction as soon as possible.Working with those in power rather than trying to undermine themmeant that many of the same individuals involved in building the peaceeither started the war or were vehemently opposed to the goals of thepeace agreement. Institutionally, it meant that the communist powerstructures remained in place and party control over political and



economic decisions hardly changed after the war. The three nationalistparties shared a common interest in maintaining existing power struc-tures and sustaining ethnic divisions. As the official representatives oftheir ethnic groups, the Serbian Democratic Party, the Party forDemocratic Action, and the HDZ controlled political appointments andpromotion and were responsible for distributing economic resources.These parties were given a boost right after the peace treaty was signedbecause policy makers in the West wanted elections to take place as soonas possible, even though no organized opposition to nationalists existed.The first election thus resulted in “votes that legitimized the grip of thenationalist leaders already in power—the very same people who had prof-ited politically and economically from the war.” 53

In the last seven years, the power of the nationalist regimes has beensustained, and sometimes strengthened by the international commu-nity’s willingness to work with those in power based on the mistakenbelief that nationalist elites are the “exclusive conduits between thepopulation and the international community.” 54 When the World Bankentered Bosnia, for example, it did so on the basis of its “post-naturaldisaster model.” This meant that the Bank’s programs excluded politicalobjectives, based on the false assumption that reconstruction assistancewas a public good and was, thus, apolitical. Despite their beliefs andintentions, international assistance has profound political effects. In aneffort to rebuild bridges, roads, and infrastructure as quickly as possible,international groups cooperated readily with local authorities, transmit-ting money and resources through local leaders, even if they wereopposed to Dayton. Consequently, nationalist politicians gained evenmore control over scarce jobs and apartments, and were sometimes putin charge of the distribution of international assistance. Nationalistleaders not only profited materially from aid monies, but their ability tocontrol which local companies were given business for reconstructionwork meant that they also gained loyal political followers. The WorldBank acknowledged in 1999 that the “implementation of reconstructionprograms has been most effective in those sectors where priorities ofdonor assistance have been established jointly with local authorities.” 55

What this meant was that if they did not work with local groups, theyrisked delaying the reconstruction process. Yet, if they did accept powerrelations as they were and agreed to work with local groups, the unin-tentional effect of their involvement was the strengthening of forces thatwere opposed to the goals of Dayton and the peace process itself.

Ironically, the task of challenging nationalist politicians and unitingthe country fell to the most vulnerable actors with the fewest



resources—NGOs working to develop civil society from the ground up.Research in Bosnia and elsewhere, however, concludes that investmentsin civil society often do not produce intended effects and they some-times produce quite harmful results. David Chandler and RobertBellogini’s work on Bosnia’s civil society claims that there is little evidenceNGOs, whether democracy or development in orientation, are effectivein any sense at all. As Chandler notes, “there seems to be a large gapbetween the civil society associations funded and supported by theOSCE, and other international institutions, and the Bosnian people.” 56

Investments in development NGOs, according to Bellogini, havereplaced the local public sector and, thus, undermined the country’slong-term ability to develop an efficient state.57 Local NGOs are notonly proving ineffective, but on occasion may perhaps be described ascounterproductive. Some evidence suggests that international involve-ment in this sector has hindered transparency and contributed to intenserivalry among local NGOs that are forced to compete for dwindlingresources. International involvement in civil society has contributed togreater social fragmentation and, unintentionally, created new hierar-chies, with those supported by the international community on top andthose that are not on the bottom. In fact, in some respects Bosnia’s civilsociety is developing according to the preferences of the internationalcommunity and many NGOs, particularly democracy NGOs, are prov-ing irrelevant to democratic development.

Ownership and the Rise of Domestic Solutions

International solutions have been crucial to the management of ethnicproblems in Bosnia. At the same time, this involvement has yieldedmixed results. The inability to achieve the goals of Dayton has puzzledmembers of the international community. “We are disappointed andmystified that people want a better life and financial support from theWest, and yet they are not prepared to vote for the parties which couldhave made it happen.” 58 Lack of desired results has contributed todonor fatigue, and the number of international organizations involvedin Bosnia continues to decrease. While the international community’sdeclining involvement in Bosnia is not positive, it is not entirely nega-tive, as many Bosnians are becoming frustrated with internationals andthe dependent mentality that has emerged in their country. From thisfrustration and disappointment, domestically driven solutions to thecountry’s ethnic and political problem have gradually surfaced.

Since 1997, the leaders of Bosnia’s three religious communities havetried to work together to help their respective communities heal and



promote reconciliation in Bosnia. In 2000, under the direction of JacobFinci, president of the Jewish community and former chairman of theInter-Religious Council, the development of a Truth and ReconciliationCommission started to take shape. The point of this domestic groups is tolisten to people and legitimate their experiences and suffering.59

The Commission will hear and record testimonies from three groups: thevictims, those who helped or sheltered victims during the war, and theperpetrators of the violence. In February 2001, a Truth and Reconciliationroundtable was held where representatives of more than 100 NGOs wereinvited to talk about the creation and potential complications of sucha Commission. As of July 2001, plans were underway to hear testimonyin 13 places throughout the country within a period of 18 months, withthe goal of recording testimonies from 5,000 to 7,000 individuals.Although the estimated cost of the Commission’s activities are between$12 and 15 million, members of the international community havesupported this Bosnian initiative, believing, as some Bosnians do, that thisdomestically inspired and led organization will speed up the process ofhealing.

A second example of a domestic solution is the Coalition for Return,which was formed in late 1996 to facilitate the return process. Thisnetwork of local, grassroots organizations with some 220 members wascreated to provide refugees/IDPs with legal assistance, information onproperty laws, as well as to coordinate with other domestic and interna-tional groups. According to a coalition representative based in Sarajevo,people in Bosnia could not really talk about or contemplate returninghome because the nationalist parties wanted people to stay put and wereopposed to the goals of Dayton. Before the coalition was created, littleinformation or assistance was available for those wanting to return.Coalition members provide individuals with a place to go where theycould obtain official information, free legal advice, as well as moralsupport to return home. Moreover, there are scores of what are knownas “localized international NGOs” working in Bosnia. These interna-tional NGOs rely on money from abroad but they hire a local staff andare often run by local representatives and a local board that decide thepriorities as well as relevant strategies for developing civil society inBosnia. Catholic Relief Services (CRS) represents such an NGO. Aftereight years of providing emergency relief programs in Bosnia, the CRScreated a range of civil society programs. In simple terms, the CRS’s civilsociety program provides small grants to communities with good ideas.The only criteria for these grants are that, when appropriate, they incor-porate a community’s different ethnic groups and try to build interethnicties. It also runs Parents School Partnership (PSP) Councils that try to



get parents, students, and teachers to become more involved in publiceducation. For CRS, education is a key part of the reconciliation andreconstruction process. Despite the arguments made that NGOs havehad no effect on Bosnia’s civil society, certain individuals and particulargroups have, in fact, benefited greatly from international involvementand the presence of local NGOs. For example, some 100 women’sgroups exist in Bosnia and these NGOs have produced tangibleoutcomes for individuals and, some believe, been important to socialhealing and reconciliation.60 While it is difficult to measure the impactof these NGOs, interviews throughout the country indicate thatwomen’s NGOs have been effective in providing counseling and supportfor rape victims, assisted with training and reemployment, and promot-ing interethnic initiatives in divided communities.

This chapter demonstrates that international influence on intrastatepolitics is not about success or failure but about the range of outcomesinherent when external actors become intimately involved in a state’s poli-tics. For Bosnia in particular it suggests that at the least three fundamen-tal changes are necessary if Dayton’s goals are to be realized. First, theinternational community must follow through on the promises and objec-tives identified by Dayton in 1995, which inherently means a broadermilitary mission more closely tied to civilian activities. Second, as manyhave argued, fundamental changes in the country’s institutional structureare necessary. Finally, international solutions alone will never solveBosnia’s ethnic problems. In fact, international attempts to control thepolitical process tend to produce distorted outcomes. Self-sustainingchanges require, more than anything else, domestic input, institutions andideas for resolving ethnic dilemmas. To be sure, international solutionsand the presence of the international community will remain fundamen-tal to the country and region’s stability, but the best, most long lastingsolutions for ethnic harmony are those that will emerge from a dialoguewith domestic actors. While neither democracy nor self-sustaining peacehas been achieved in Bosnia, a modification of international solutions andmore domestic solutions would reason for guarded optimism.

Notes

1. The author thanks David Forsythe, Christopher Joyner, and Jon Western fortheir comments on earlier versions of this chapter.

2. Ted Gurr, “Ethnic Warfare on the Wane,” Foreign Affairs, Vol. 79, No. 3,May/June 2000, pp. 52–64.



3. In this chapter I use the terms ethnic and ethnopolitical synonymously. SeeRaymond C. Taras and Rajan Ganguly, Understanding Ethnic Conflict, NewYork: Longman, 2002, pp. 6–9.

4. Like others, I talk about three ethnic groups in Bosnia because of my inclu-sive definition of ethnic. For more on this see Misha Glenny, The Balkans,New York: Penguin Booms, 1999, p. 78.

5. Ivo H. Daalder, “Decision to Intervene: How the War in Bosnia Ended,”Foreign Service Journal, Vol. 73, No. 12, December 1998, pp. 24–31.

6. See Marianne Hanson, “Warming from Bosnia: The Dayton Peace Agreementand the Implementation of Human Rights,” in Ken Booth, ed., The KosovoTragedy: The Human Rights Dimension, London: Frank Cass, 2001; andRaimo Vayrynen, “Economic Incentives and the Bosnian Peace Process,” inDavid Cortright, ed., The Price of Peace: Incentives and International ConflictPrevention, New York: Carnegie and Lanham: Rowman and Littlefield, 1997.

7. Andrew Rigby, Justice and Reconciliation After the Violence, Boulder: LynneRienner, 2001, p. 12.

8. See Robert Belloni, “Civil Society and Peace Building in Bosnian–Herzegovina,”Journal of Peace Research, Vol. 38, Issue 21, March 2001.

9. Elizabeth M. Cousens and Charles K. Cater, Toward Peace in Bosnia,Boulder: Lynne Rienner, 2001, p. 53.

10. For information on the history and involvement of NATO in Bosnia, seeNATO’s website at www.nato.

11. See Chuck Sudetic, “The Reluctant Gendarme,” Atlantic Monthly, April2000, and The ICG Balkans Report, No. 10, “No Early Exit: NATO’sContinuing Challenge in Bosnia,” May 2001.

12. “History of the NATO-led Stabilisation Force (SFOR) in Bosnia andHerzegovina,” SFOR Informer Online Available at http://www.nato.int/sfor/docu/d981116ahtm. Accessed on 1 July 2001.

13. Cousens and Cater, Toward Peace in Bosnia, p. 59.14. David Chandler, Bosnia: Faking Democracy After Dayton, London: Pluto

Press, 2000, p. 67.15. Interview with Vladimir Stanisic, Civil Society Department, Office of the

High Representative, September 2000, Sarajevo.16. Quote taken from Belloni. The actual report is from the UNDP, Human

Development Report, Bosnia–Herzegovina 1998.17. For the differences in NGOs, see Thomas Carothers, Aiding Democracy

Abroad: The Learning Curve, Washington, DC: Carnegie Endowment forInternational Peace, 1999, pp. 207–51.

18. For more on civil society development and its role in Yugoslavia, see DavidChandler, “Democratization in Bosnia: The Limits of Civil SocietyBuilding,” Democratization, Vol. 5, No. 4, Winter 1998, pp. 78–102.

19. Ibid., p. 80.20. Carothers, Aiding Democracy Abroad, pp. 214–15.21. The Dayton Peace Agreement, Annex 3.



22. Chandler, “Democratization in Bosnia,” p. 82.23. I hardly think that the number of NGOs in a country indicates the real

strength of civil society, but this is at least one way to get at the real and poten-tial changes in a country’s civil society. See Axel Hadenius and Fredrik Uggla,“Making Civil Society Work, Promoting Democratic Development: WhatStates and Donors Do?” World Development, Vol. 24, No. 10, 1996, p. 1627.

24. Zlatko Hertic, Amela Spacanin, and Susan Woodward, “Bosnia andHerzegovina,” in Shepard Forman and Steward Patrick, eds., GoodIntentions Pledges of Aid for Postconflict Recovery, Boulder: Lynne Rienner,2000, p. 342.

25. Elizabeth M. Cousens, “Building Peace in Bosnia,” in Cousens and Kumar,Toward Peace in Bosnia, p. 130.

26. Daalder and Froman, p. 107.27. Is Dayton Failing? Bosnia Four Years after the Peace Agreement. Brussels:

International Crisis Group, 1999, p. 31.28. Cousens and Cater, Toward Peace in Bosnia, pp. 73–5.29. For more on this see, ICG Balkans Report, No. 110, “No Early Exit:

NATO’s Continuing Challenge in Bosnia,” May 2002.30. Belloni, “Civil Society and Peace Building,” p. 42.31. Ibid., p. 9.32. Sudetic, p. 2, available at http://www.theatlantic.com/issues/2000/04/

sudetic.htm. Accessed on 2 January 2002.33. See the website for the Washington-based Coalition for International

Justice, an independent organization monitoring the tribunal, available atwww.cij.org. Accessed, 8 January 2001.

34. Exact numbers vary but according to David Rohde, about 7,000 Muslims,mostly men died at Srebrenica. See David Rohde, Endgame: The Betrayaland Fall of Srebrenica, Europe’s Worst Massacre Since World War II, New York:Farrar, Strauss and Giroux, 1997.

35. Interview with Citizens Association of Srebrenica, September 2000,Sarajevo.

36. Ivo H. Daalder, Getting to Dayton: The Making of America’s Bosnia Policy,Washington, DC: Brookings Institution, 2000, p. 153.

37. Richard Holbrooke, To End a War, New York: Random House, 1998, p. 233.38. This is one of the arguments I made in “What Have we Wrought? Assessing

International Involvement in Bosnia,” Problems of Post-Communism,January/February 2002.

39. See Tony Borden’s comments in his debate with Daniel Serwer, “ReviewDebate: Is it Time to Rewrite Dayton?” NATO Review, 2000–01, No. 3, pp. 22–7.

40. Is Dayton Failing?, p. 53, fn. 99.41. Steven L. Burg and Paul S. Shoup, The War in Bosnia-Herzegovina:

Ethnic Conflict and International Intervention, Armonk, NY: M. E. Sharpe,1999, p. 370.




42. Is Dayton Failing?, p. 53.43. Burg and Shoup, The War in Bosnia–Herzegovina, p. 370.44. Woodward, “Bosnia After Dayton,” p. 143.45. Daalder, Getting to Dayton, p. 180.46. See the OHR’s website at http://www.ohr.int.47. Cousens and Cater, Toward Peace in Bosnia, p. 129.48. Marcus Cox, “State Building in Post-Conflict Reconstruction: Lessons from

Bosnia,” Report from Cluster of Competence, The Rehabilitation of WarTorn Societies (CASIN) Geneva, January 2001, p. 13.

49. Ibid., p. 2.50. Chandler, Bosnia: Faking Democracy After Dayton, p. 135.51. For a list of humanitarian and development agencies, see the ICVA

Directory published and distributed by the International Council ofVoluntary Agencies in Sarajevo.

52. For more on Annex 4, see Is Dayton Failing?, pp. 56–9, particularly page 57.53. Peter Singer, “Bosnia 2000: Phoenix or Flames?” World Policy Journal,

Spring 2000, p. 32.54. Ibid., p. 34.55. See “Reshaping International Priorities in Bosnia and Herzegovina.”56. Chandler, Bosnia: Faking Democracy After Dayton, p. 150.57. Bellogini, “Building Civil Society in Bosnia,” pp. 4–9.58. Zelijko Cvijanovic, “Bosnia Poll Sparks International Row,” Institute for

War and Peace Reporting, 1 February 2000.59. Interview with Jacob Finci, Sarajevo, July 2001.60. Martha Walsh, “Aftermath: The Role of Women’s Organizations in

Postconflict Bosnia and Herzegovina,” Report 308, US Agency forInternational Development, July 2000, p. 11.


CHAPTER 11

From Korea to Kosovo: MatchingExpectations with Reality for

Modern Airpower in Limited Wars

Conrad C. Crane

Introduction

During the 2001 Quadrennial Defense Review, some defensecommentators proclaimed that the recent bombing campaignagainst Yugoslavia further heralded a new era of warfare where

precision weapons and airpower alone promise swift and decisive resultsin war with little loss of life or collateral damage.1 However, a closer exam-ination of that 1999 operation reveals much more continuity than changein the American application of air weaponry in war. However unpalatablethat conclusion may be for decision-makers, airpower remains anextremely destructive force, which is most effective in achieving strategicgoals when targeted against the civilian elements of a society.

These technological advances in airpower are part of a broader trendthat some observers term a Revolution in Military Affairs (RMA). Visionsof this RMA have created a contradictory mix of increased capabilitiesand higher expectations. New precision-guided munitions (PGMs) ofgreat penetrating power have made warfare more lethal, though theirpromise has also inspired expectations that conflicts will now be lessbloody. Space-based communications and computers have exponentiallyincreased the amount of information available to commanders, but thathas not necessarily increased the quality of intelligence, dispelled the fogof war, or made warfare more predictable.


Historical analysis can provide us with a tool to get a true perspectiveon whether these technologies have indeed brought fundamentalchanges in the application of airpower, the element of military powermost dependent on and responsive to technology. A comparison ofgenerally limited conflicts in Korea and Kosovo illustrates the relativecontinuity in the capabilities of airpower to achieve a political settle-ment in such situations, and the resulting mismatch with current publicexpectations. This dichotomy, combined with a different set of ethicaland legal dilemmas accompanying the new means of warfare, has createda new moral morass for military commanders and political leaders tryingto combine force and diplomacy in international affairs today. Wars areusually decided by destroying an enemy’s capability or will to fight. InWorld War II American airmen espoused a doctrine of precision bomb-ing aimed at industrial targets that was perceived as more humane andefficient than the city bombing conducted by Royal Air Force BomberCommand against German morale.2 The fundamental tension betweenthese approaches persists today, and was very evident in air operations inKosovo.

Even though the advent of new military technology that is such animportant component of the American way of war often heightensexpectations that warfare will become less bloody and more civilized,enemies usually react quickly to complicate things. Potential counters toPGMs include threatening a nuclear response, or using shields ofnoncombatants, both of which threaten to expand, not limit, levels ofcollateral damage. We will probably never again be so lucky to have anenemy who leaves military forces out in the open desert to be destroyedat our leisure. War games project that future adversaries will hunkerdown in their cities and make friendly forces dig them out, all the whiledisplaying civilian bodies on CNN. The accuracy of PGMs and interre-lationship between the civilian and military sectors of the economytempt decision-makers to target many dual-use systems with the poten-tial to cause considerable harm to noncombatants.3

Recent events in the “No-Fly Zones” over Iraq have highlighted manyof these limitations and counters for precision munitions. After success-ful American air strikes against air defense positions that had tried toengage aircraft, the Iraqis moved their antiaircraft guns into residentialneighborhoods, and their command-and-control center into the historicruins at Nineveh. Wary about the number of air attacks and claims ofcivilian casualties, the Turkish government has limited the number ofdays jets can fly from Incirlik Air Base and forbidden night operations.Faced with a situation where virtually no collateral damage is acceptable,

212 ● Conrad C. Crane


the Air Force has sometimes resorted to filling 2,000-pound bombs withconcrete instead of explosives. In a scene that is reminiscent of anepisode from the Flintstones, multimillion dollar aircraft fly throughenemy fire to deliver what are basically laser-guided rocks. A perfect hitis necessary to take out a target, and the damage inflicted is much less,but there is little chance for the Iraqis to garner international sympathyby publicizing civilian casualties.4

Parties of conflicts are required by the Geneva Conventions to directoperations only against military objectives, but international courts haverecognized that some collateral impact on civilians is allowable as longas the intended target is primarily a military one. But the interrelatednature of modern economies creates a multitude of targets with bothmilitary and civilian uses. A power grid that runs air defense systemradios and computers might also pump fresh water to homes. Taking outmilitary communications will also disable civilian traffic. Even theUnited States routes 95 percent of all Department of Defense telecom-munications over public networks. Determining a formula of propor-tionality between civilian and military aspects of such dual-use systemsis open to much debate. Should the evaluation be based on lives ordollars saved or lost, or just on the amount of resulting permanent phys-ical destruction?5

This ethical calculus also applies to precision munitions. Generallysaving lives, on both sides, appears to have become the most importantlimiting consideration for modern warfare. Yet, just as with HarryTruman’s justification for dropping the atomic bomb, concerns aboutfriendly casualties predominate. Saddam Hussein was convinced that hecould deter the United States with the threat of heavy losses. Americanactions after the loss of the 18 rangers in Somalia reinforce such percep-tions. Joint Chiefs of Staff planners today acknowledge that predictedfriendly losses are a key factor in shaping any contingency operation. YetRAND studies suggest that potential adversaries should be wary ofassuming that killing a few soldiers will always result in American with-drawal. When casualties mount public opinion becomes less tolerant ofthe status quo, but aggressive and cohesive leadership can maintainsupport for current operations or even garner support for escalation.6

Lurking in the international consciousness is a suspicion that theUnited States is always willing to employ its military technology, espe-cially airpower, rather indiscriminately to achieve its goals. Observers inthe Third World and countries bombed by us in the past are quick tocondemn any significant application of our airpower. After the Gulf Waragainst Iraq, Yasuo Kurata of the Tokyo Shimbun complained that

From Korea to Kosovo ● 213


Americans are insensitive to civilian casualties because they have neverbeen bombed themselves, and tend to dismiss such “collateral damage”as an inevitable but acceptable “byproduct of aerial warfare.” He impliedthat Asians and Europeans, sensitized by their own experiences of beingbombed, were opposed to the air war against Iraqi cities but thatAmericans remained ignorant of the costs of such aerial bombardmentand did not seem to care.7

Recent limited conflicts have highlighted continuing asymmetriesabout worldviews concerning the impact of airpower, as well as theaforementioned ethical dilemmas about its application. The Americanmedia and military have heightened expectations of the precision thatcan be achieved in applying force, and consequently obscured many ofthe realities of war and the American way of fighting it, even when weare not engaged in a total conflict like World War II.

Korea and Kosovo

Almost half a century ago in Korea, the staff of the Far East Air Forces(FEAF) conducted the first systematic American study of the best way toapply airpower to produce a negotiated settlement in a limited war, ourfirst of the nuclear era. They wrestled with a number of complex issues.Though the quantity of air assets was limited and much was of WorldWar II vintage, Americans expected that their air force could overwhelmany enemy with atomic bombs and conventional firepower. The effects ofthe postwar drawdown and high wages in private industry left the US AirForce (USAF) deficient in many technical specialties, and some, such asphoto interpreters would not be brought up to strength until well intothe war. Airmen knew their limitations but were reluctant to reveal themto politicians or the press. By 1951 there was increasing disillusionmentwith airpower at command centers in Washington and UN forces head-quarters in Tokyo, though the FEAF continued to operate on a shoe-string. Disappointment was heightened by the marginal effectiveness ofaerial interdiction in a relatively static war against an adaptable enemy.Planners looking for a new approach for the application of aerial weaponryin 1952 had great difficulty in selecting the proper alternative targets toinfluence enemy decision-makers to accept desired terms. The FEAF staffdid not know whether the war was being run by leaders in Moscow, Beijing,or Pyongyang, how their minds worked, or what vulnerable items wereimportant to them. Planners also had to deal with the inescapable factthat airpower is primarily a destructive force that is perceived very differ-ently around the world. Its application could produce a political backlash



in a Third World that still associated any American bombing with thedevastation of Tokyo and Hiroshima, and even our UN allies were veryreluctant to unleash its full fury.8

The FEAF first decided to attack a dual-use target that had been basi-cally off-limits until mid-1952, North Korean hydroelectric dams andpower complexes. While General Matthew Ridgway had been in chargeof the UN efforts he had forbade any such operations, considering thepower system as primarily a part of the civilian economy. However, hisreplacement, General Mark Clark, was more aggressive, and leaders inWashington were getting increasingly frustrated with seemingly inter-minable peace talks. They all approved the escalation in the air war, andthe Americans bombed the power complexes in June 1952. The mainimpact was not in Moscow or Beijing but in London, where an enragedparliament almost brought down Winston Churchill’s government overcharges that the war was getting out of control. The raids also reinforcedimpressions in the Third World that Americans had no compunctionsabout bombing nonwhite peoples.9

FEAF next turned to an assault on supply and communicationcenters across North Korea, basically meaning that any town or villagewith standing buildings became a target. Aerial destruction of built-upareas reached phenomenal proportions during the war. Eighteen of the22 largest North Korean cities were at least half obliterated. POWsobserved that most towns were just “rubble or snowy open spaces.”Civilian casualties far exceeded military losses. That still had notbrought an armistice by 1953, so planners focused on what they consid-ered to be the last viable target system, irrigation dams that sustainedthe North Korean rice crop. The FEAF commander, General Otto P.Weyland, would not allow attacks on such obviously civilian facilities,but his staff convinced him and Clark that holing some of the damswould wash out key rail lines. The UN commanders emphasized toWashington and subordinates that the objective of the operation wouldbe interdiction of key transportation routes, but their planners reallywanted to exploit the threat to enemy food supplies. The attacks werecarried out in May and the railroads destroyed, though the flood fromone of the dams also washed out 27 miles of river valley and sent waterinto the streets of the North Korean capital. Communist countermea-sures such as lowering water levels in reservoirs and building backupbarriers soon negated the impact of the dam attacks, shortly before thearmistice was concluded in July 1953.10

The Air Force was quick to claim that the “Air Pressure” campaignagainst North Korean hydroelectric plants, supply centers, and irrigation



dams was the decisive factor in persuading the Communists to accept anarmistice. However, the actual impact of air operations at the time isunclear, though one important long-term legacy is the current NorthKorean missile development program inspired by memories of thedestruction of most of their cities and towns by American bombing.11

Though aerial technology has continued to improve since the KoreanWar, so have public expectations and USAF promises about airpower’sdecisiveness and accuracy. As a result key decisions about the applicationof military force in most American wars in the air age have been shapedby an overestimation of airpower’s capabilities, and disappointing resultshave led to an escalation of bombing operations against civilians.

The recent air campaign over Yugoslavia repeated that pattern. Againthere were high expectations for what airpower could accomplish, evenif many were skeptical that primary objectives could be achieved with-out at least some threat of a ground war. It cannot be denied thatairpower was the primary offensive arm that produced a settlementwithout risking ground casualties, though the results were not thoseenvisioned when the campaign started.

When the bombing campaign commenced, President Clintonannounced to the nation that the operation had three primary objec-tives: to stop the ethnic cleansing in Kosovo, to prevent an even blood-ier Serb offensive against civilians there, and to “seriously damage” theSerb military capacity to do such harm. Bombing did not achieve any ofthose goals, and in fact helped exacerbate the second. The resultingmassacre of thousands of Kosovars must be considered before anyonecan triumphantly proclaim the relative “bloodlessness” of the aircampaign. Serb ground forces in Kosovo responded to the high-tech airassault with a low-tech ravaging of the whole region. Peacekeepers onthe ground are finding that initial estimates of the degradation ofSerbian forces from air attacks were also exaggerated, primarily due toextensive use of decoys and deception. NATO reduced its initial claimsof tanks destroyed from 122 to 93, and admitted that its investigatorsonly uncovered 26 when they moved into Kosovo. Yugoslav vehiclecommanders proved very adept at hiding in villages, using the surround-ing community and inhabitants as the human shields. Whether or notthe air campaign motivated Serbians to remove Slobodan Milosevic frompower or only strengthened his hand against a fragmented opposition isstill debated. Achieving any of these objectives by airpower alone wasmade even more difficult by the gradual escalation in the pace of airattacks that reinforced the lessons learned about the drawbacks of thatapproach in Vietnam. One of the harshest critics of that aspect of the air



campaign against Yugoslavia was Colonel (retired) John Warden, whodeveloped the theories that inspired the aerial thunder and lightning ofOperation Desert Storm against Iraq.12

The full impact of problems caused by consensus building for the aircampaign within the 19-member NATO coalition are just being revealed,but it appears that targeting was micromanaged even more than inVietnam. Exchanges highlighted the differences between American andEuropean views of the application of military force. NATO commanderGeneral Wesley Clark and his air commanders wanted to hit powersupplies, communications facilities, and command bunkers in Belgradeon the first night, but NATO political leaders wouldn’t even approvestrikes on occupied barracks, fearing too many dead conscripts.13

Eventually Clark got approval for a wider target array, but still had toget clearance to attack each objective from any nation with pilots orplanes on the mission. New information systems facilitated an amaz-ingly sophisticated target review and development system. A computernetwork linked NATO planners in Germany, Belgium, and the UnitedStates with data analysts in England and weapons experts in Italy.Military lawyers in Germany assessed each target in terms of the GenevaConventions, confirming its military nature and evaluating whether itsvalue outweighed any risks of collateral damage. Clark held daily tele-conferences with NATO and European Command (EUCOM) leaders,and finished the process by passing target lists to the Joint Chiefs ofStaff and the White House for a final blessing.14

The political and legal constraints resulting from this system producedrules of engagement for pilots as strict as seen in any war in history. Yetwith all these controls and precision weaponry, young pilots searchingfor targets on four-inch square monitors made mistakes. Fears of Serbair defense kept aircraft at 15,000 feet or higher and further increaseddifficulties of target identification, contributing to the tragic attacks ontractors filled with refugees near Djakova on 14 April. The video replayof the unfortunate destruction of a Yugoslav train passing over a bridgejust at the moment that the bridge was struck by a NATO missile washighlighted on newscasts around the world. And as Clark rapidlyexpanded his target lists, the quality of his intelligence declinedmarkedly. Outdated CIA maps led to the accidental bombing of theChinese Embassy on 7 May 1999. Mid-level CIA analysts had actuallytried to warn of the target misidentification, but could not get theirinput into the targeting process in time to halt the mission. Up to thenno one at Clark’s headquarters had thought to question the accuracy ofthe information in their target folders. Newsweek reported that the



mistake also resulted from a shortage of qualified photo interpreters,repeating a USAF deficiency from 1950. This time the technicians hadbeen lured away by private satellite-imaging firms.15

These errors eroded support for the air war, and put considerablepressure on NATO political and military leaders to achieve results.Clark was close to running out of militarily useful and politically accept-able targets when he secured approval for probably the most importantraid of the campaign on 24 May. The destruction of the transformeryards of the Yugoslav power grid disabled everything from the airdefense command-and-control network to the country’s banking system.It demonstrated NATO’s strength and dominance to the political lead-ers and the civilian population. Knocking out the power grid also tookaway electricity from hospitals and water-pumping stations. Militarylawyers made the moral implications clear to Clark. One recalled, “We’dhave preferred not to have to take on these targets. But this was theCommander’s call.” All major Serb cities experienced extended powerdisruptions until a settlement was reached on 10 June.16

Despite obvious differences in coalition members and munitions,there are many similarities between the airpower experience in Korea andKosovo besides the last names of the theater commanders. Gauging thedecision-making process, vulnerabilities, and will of targeted leadersagain proved difficult. Problems with limited resources and allies’ sensi-bilities affected the conduct of the air campaign in both conflicts, thoughthere was an obvious escalation of the assault on dual-use targets as theconflicts continued. Attempts at aerial interdiction of Yugoslav forcesappear to have exhibited many of the same shortcomings that appearedin Korea and Vietnam. No technology has yet been developed to controlthe weather, and unpredictable storms and clouds remain a particularlyvexing problem for air operations. Even in Kosovo, airpower did getsome important assistance from traditional landpower and diplomacy.While a NATO ground offensive was not used, open discussions aboutits possibility and an apparent growing willingness to gather peacekeep-ing forces in the region probably had some influence on Yugoslav leaders.The KLA was also essential in drawing Serb forces out into the openwhere aircraft could attack them. As in Korea, the Russians, despite theirvocal opposition to the NATO attacks, played a key role in persuadingtraditional allies to accept a settlement. They also assisted NATO by not upgrading Yugoslav 1970s-vintage air defense systems. Modernizedantiaircraft technology would have downed more aircraft, and perhapstested coalition solidarity if casualties had mounted.



It is clear, however, that whatever sort of “victory” this air campaignachieved was not by “plinking” tanks, or by causing the strategic oroperational paralysis advocated by theorists like Warden. DespiteEuropean attempts to restrain attacks, a less than final settlement wasachieved by the same sort of “imposed cost” strategy as applied in Koreaand Vietnam, resulting in massive destruction of the civilian infrastruc-ture of Yugoslavia. Pentagon spokesman Ken Bacon speculated that themain factor in Milosevic’s acceptance of terms “was the increasing incon-veniences that the bombing campaign was causing in Belgrade and othercities.” A broad definition of the term “dual-use” opened up a wide arrayof targets for NATO airmen, including bridges, heating plants, and tele-vision stations. Black humor in Belgrade determined that even breadshops were valid targets because “soldiers also eat bread.” Serb propa-ganda videos of the damage and casualties wreaked by NATO airpowerin attacks on cities, factories, and power plants gained some interna-tional sympathy, but the same images that fanned anti-NATO and anti-American sentiments may have also reinforced a sense of futility in thebesieged civilian population, since their own air defenses seemed power-less to do anything to stop the mounting devastation. When the conflictended, 45 percent of Yugoslavia’s TV broadcast capability was degradedand a third of military and civilian radio relay networks were damaged.Petroleum refining facilities were completely eliminated. Seventypercent of road and 50 percent of rail bridges across the Danube weredown, affecting economies throughout the region. Destruction is whatairpower does best, and it contributed to an enormous Balkan repair billthat the president of the World Bank predicted would use up any moneyavailable to deal with other humanitarian crises in Asia and Africa.Many Yugoslavs remain very bitter about the NATO bombing, and theBelgrade Center for Human Rights predicts, “the biggest collateraldamage will be the shattered possibilities for democracy in Serbia,”because of the backlash against Western values.17

Evaluating and Judging Results

Recent RAND studies on the air campaign over Kosovo by BenjaminLambeth and Stephen Hosmer differ in their opinions about properAllied air strategy, but agree on why it eventually worked. Lambethargues that General Clark’s decision for a policy of incremental escala-tion designed to maintain alliance solidarity was a mistake. Lambeth doesnot even consider the disjointed air operations conducted to help Kosovo



as being worth of being called a “campaign.” However, the bombing didreveal significant weaknesses in NATO capabilities, especially in elec-tronic warfare and suppression of air defenses, flexible targeting ofground forces, and interoperability. Serb air defenses remained a threatthroughout the campaign, and Lambeth asserts that the air war hadalmost no effect on the actions of Serb forces within Kosovo. Despitethese deficiencies and the wrong strategy, eventually airpower’s ability todestroy fixed dual military–civilian infrastructure targets in Yugoslavia,helped to some extent by Milosevic’s loss of international support andindictment as a war criminal, induced him to accept NATO terms.18

While Lambeth’s greatest strength is his thorough operational assess-ment of Operation Allied Force, Hosmer offers a particularly compre-hensive strategic analysis of the air war’s impact. He sets out to answerthe questions as to why Milosevic did not settle earlier, and why he didnot attempt to hold out longer. Hosmer argues that the Serb leaderbelieved that accepting the Rambouillet terms would have endangeredhis rule, and that NATO could not conduct a sustained air campaignbecause of Russian pressure and coalition weakness. By holding out heexpected to get better terms. According to Milosevic and his subordi-nates, the reason they gave in when they did is because they interpretedNATO’s 3 June settlement offer as a last ultimatum before the beginningof a genocidal air campaign that would have devastated Yugoslavia.Hosmer concludes that the gradual NATO buildup of forces and esca-lating attacks, along with the bombing of targets the Serbs considered tobe civilian, convinced their leaders that the coming massive assaultwould cause immense hardship and endanger their rule. By JuneMilosevic believed that his war-weary people would now support hisdecision to avoid more intense bombing, and he could also justifiablyclaim that the new terms were less severe than those offered atRambouillet. Contrary to Lambeth, Hosmer believes the bombing’sgradual increase allowed time for pressures to build that would not havebeen present if General Clark’s airmen had gotten their wish to hitharder earlier. It also ensured the solidarity of the NATO alliance thatwas the center of gravity for the coalition effort.19

Though there was no hard evidence to support their claim, airmen inKorea were convinced that escalating their attacks to endanger theenemy rice crop forced a settlement. In Yugoslavia, it appears the grow-ing intensity of attacks on dual-use targets in Belgrade and other citiesserved that purpose. Accordingly, there is a good probability thatYugoslav civilian casualties exceeded their military ones. This is particularlyironic considering the expectations for a bloodless war caricatured so



well in contemporary Doonesbury cartoons and reinforced by NATObriefings on targeting accuracy. These high NATO expectations forextremely low casualties on both sides helped convince the more reluc-tant coalition members to support the air campaign, and increased theimpact of each scene of civilian dead and wounded. Media images andaccusations motivated UN war crimes prosecutors of the ICTY to beginassessing evidence in December 1999 that NATO commanders hadviolated the laws of war with their air attacks. Michael Ignatieff hasaptly pointed out that journalists’ accounts of the maneuvering of cruisemissiles in Iraq and fascination with precision munitions have rein-forced a myth in Western publics that war can now be thought of as lasersurgery. In the dogged pursuit of the ideal of “precision bombing” theUSAF has improved its capabilities tremendously, but the term “surgicalairstrike” remains an oxymoron. Some targeting errors and technicalfailures will always occur, and blast effects are often unpredictable. Theattack on the Chinese embassy looks even more sinister when we claimperfection. And the two British Gurkhas who died trying to disarmsome of the estimated 10,000 unexploded cluster munitions in the areawere victims of the flaws that exist in even the most modern ordnance.20

The International Criminal Tribunal declined to pursue formalcharges, though more war crimes accusations have come from AmnestyInternational, and the British parliament’s top foreign affairs panel crit-icized the bombing as being of “dubious legality.” Estimates of civiliandead from air attacks range from 500 to 2,000.21

Some ethicists are also troubled by NATO’s decision not to riskground troops and instead to conduct war from a distance. Yale legalphilosopher Paul Kahn argues that “riskless warfare in pursuit of humanrights” is a “moral contradiction.” Michael Walzer, author of the semi-nal Just and Unjust Wars, criticizes Western leaders who would not sendtheir own soldiers into battle but were willing to kill Serb soldiers bybombing and risk collateral damage to Serb and Kosovar civilians. Hecalls that an impossible moral position, and asserts, “You can’t kill unlessyou are prepared to die.” Just war theory cannot support the claim thatYugoslav lives are expendable, but American ones are not.22

One of the most significant similarities between Korea and Kosovo isthat many key decisions in employing military force were based oninflated expectations of what technology could accomplish. Another isthat the heaviest casualties in both conflicts were borne by civilians. Wemust be prepared to face the ethical implications of the success NATOairpower achieved because of the destruction wreaked on the civilianinfrastructure and the resultant noncombatant casualties. That does not



necessarily make this application of military force wrong, but it shoulddispel any mistaken impressions about the true nature of the destructiveforce of the new technology.

One nation has already begun to apply the lessons of Kosovo to its owninternational affairs. Though they opposed NATO air strikes onYugoslavia, the Russians quickly applied the same tactic againstChechnya, trying to force the withdrawal of Islamic militants from neigh-boring Dagestan without a bloody and unpopular ground war. Criticspointed out that Chechnya did not have an effective central governmentor control the invaders, but that did not halt the bombs. While Russiannewspapers declared “The Kremlin is using the scheme NATO applied inKosovo,” the Russian Air Force Commander conducted NATO-stylebriefings narrating combat footage of precision munitions striking targetsin Grozny. His forces were also conscious of the need to justify thedestruction of dual-use targets. Russian aircraft destroyed Chechnya’scellular telephone exchange to prevent the rebels from talking to eachother, bombed oil refineries to deprive the rebels from black marketrevenues, and presumably attacked the television station to stop the trans-mission of misleading propaganda, like NATO did. As the damage to thecivilian infrastructure, and the civilian death toll, mounted, more than100,000 Chechens became refugees fleeing the violence.23

Instead of demonstrating how advances in airpower will allow right-eous states to restrain transgressors with a minimum of bloodshed onboth sides, the recent conflict over Kosovo has instead shown howaggressive belligerents with air superiority can inflict massive destruc-tion at low cost to themselves. And modern technological change hasalso brought a merging of the civilian and military sectors of society toan unprecedented degree, creating a broader target spectrum that can bejustified for attack. Instead of restraining war or making it less likely, thenew technology has done the opposite. It is now much easier to getdomestic support to use force when all it requires is to launch a cruisemissile or drop a precision bomb. The expectation is that results will be clean and decisive. When they are not, it is also much easier to esca-late a conflict as impatience grows, especially when there is a consider-able technological mismatch between belligerents. This reality will mostlikely accelerate the search for ways to counter the new technologies,and further mute the effects of whatever RMA may have occurred.Instead of heading for the sort of future envisioned by airpower theoristslike John Warden, when paralyzing attacks on military structures willend wars quickly and with relatively little impact on the civilian sphere,we may be headed for that predicted by Giulio Douhet, when new



weapons will decide wars by inflicting the maximum amount of distresson the civilian population. As the Italian predicted, civilian will appearsto be more vulnerable to the destructive power of modern technologythan military capability. After concluding that the attacks on Yugoslavcivilians were the key to ending the conflict, one journalist wrote, “Thatmay produce an uncomfortable lesson for the politicians who call theshots during the next war: the most merciful way to conduct a war maybe to end it swiftly and violently.”24

The views expressed herein are those of the author and do not purport toreflect the positions of the United States Army War College, Department ofthe Army, or Department of Defense.

Notes

1. For some recent examples of versions of this point of view, see ChristianLowe, “Air Force QDR; America’s New 911 Force?” Defense Week, 8 January2001, p. 1; John Keegan, “West Claimed Moral High Ground With AirPower,” London Daily Telegraph, 16 January 2001.

2. For more on the different airpower approaches in World War II, see ConradC. Crane, Bombs, Cities, and Civilians: American Airpower Strategy in WorldWar II, Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 1993.

3. Charles J. Dunlap, Jr., Technology and the 21st Century Battlefield:Recomplicating Moral Life for the Statesman and the Soldier, Carlisle, PA:Strategic Studies Institute, US Army War College, 15 January 1999.

4. Steven Lee Myers, “U.S. Wields Defter Weapon Against Iraq: ConcreteBomb,” New York Times, 7 October 1999, p. 3A.

5. Ibid.6. Benjamin C. Schwarz, Casualties, Public Opinion, and U.S. Military

Intervention: Implications for U.S. Regional Deterrence Strategies, SantaMonica: RAND, 1994; Eric V. Larson, Casualties and Consensus: TheHistorical Role of Casualties in Domestic Support for U.S. Military Operations,Santa Monica: RAND, 1996.

7. Yasuo Kurata, “Americans Are Insensitive to Casualties Because TheirCountry Hasn’t Been Bombed,” Kansas City Star, 5 May 1991, p. 2K,reprinted from the Tokyo Shimbun.

8. On the Korean air war, see Conrad C. Crane, American Airpower Strategy inKorea, 1950–1953, Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 1999.

9. Ibid., pp. 118–22.10. Ibid., pp. 123–5, 168–9.11. For the USAF assessment of its performance in Korea, see Robert F. Futrell,

The United States Air Force in Korea, 1950–1953, rev. ed., Washington,USGPO, 1983, and James T. Stewart, ed., Airpower, The Decisive Force inKorea, Princeton: Van Nostrand, 1957. For a different perspective, see




Crane, American Airpower Strategy in Korea, pp. 164–5. On the inspirationfor North Korean missile programs, see Selig Harrison, “The Missiles ofNorth Korea: How Real a Threat?” World Policy Journal, Vol. 17, Fall 2000,pp. 13–24.

12. For the stated objectives of the bombing campaign, see the text of PresidentClinton’s speech in the New York Times, 25 March 1999, p. A15. On theSerb use of decoys and estimates of damage, see Steven Lee Myers, “Damageto Serb Military Less Than Expected,” the New York Times, 28 June 1999,p. 1. On how NATO damage estimates matched their findings after occu-pying Kosovo, see Richard J. Newman, “The Bombs that Failed in Kosovo,”U.S. News and World Report, 20 September 1999, pp. 28–30. Warden’sideas are expressed in his book, The Air Campaign: Planning for Combat,New York and London: Pergamon-Brassey’s, 1989. The best critique of histheories is LTC David S. Fadok, “John Boyd and John Warden: Airpower’sQuest for Strategic Paralysis,” in COL Phillip S. Meilinger, ed., The Pathsof Heaven: The Evolution of Airpower Theory, Maxwell Air Force Base, Al:Air University Press, 1997.

13. Michael Ignatieff, “The Virtual Commander: How NATO Invented a NewKind of War,” New Yorker, 2 August 1999, p. 32.

14. Ibid., pp. 32–4.15. Ibid., p. 34; “The Buzz,” Newsweek, 27 September 1999, p. 8.16. Ignatieff, “Virtual Commander,” p. 35; Martin L. Cook, “Applied Just War

Theory: Moral Implications of New Weapons for Air War,” Annual of theSociety of Christian Ethics, 1998, pp. 199–219; Rebecca Grant, The KosovoCampaign: Aerospace Power Made it Work, Arlington: Air Force Association,1999, p. 22.

17. Michael Dobbs, “Post-Mortem on NATO’s Bombing Campaign,”Washington Post National Weekly Edition, 19–26 July 1999, p. 23; Grant,The Kosovo Campaign, p. 22; Bert Roughton, Jr., “Yugoslavs Still BitterToward U.S.,” Atlanta Journal and Constitution, 25 March 2001, p. 12.

18. Benjamin Lambeth, NATO’s Air War for Kosovo: A Strategic and OperationalAssessment, Santa Monica: RAND, 2001.

19. Stephen T. Hosmer, The Conflict Over Kosovo: Why Milosevic Decided toSettle When He Did, Santa Monica: RAND, 2001.

20. Dobbs, “Post-Mortem on NATO’s Bombing Campaign”; Ignatieff, “Virtual Commander,” p. 32. The Doonesbury cartoons appeared in news-papers in early May 1999. For insight on the impact of NATO air attackson civilians, see Dobbs, “Post-Mortem.” He estimates that the Serbssuffered 1,600 civilian and 1,000 military casualties. In contrast, he acceptsa figure of as many as 10,000 massacred Kosovars.

21. Jamie Dettmer and Jennifer G. Hickey, “British MPs question legality ofKosovo Intervention,” Insight on the News, 3–10 July 2000, p. 6. The lowfigure of 500 comes from the group Human Rights Watch. They were stillvery critical of NATO targeting practices and concluded that half the


casualties could have been avoided. Elizabeth Becker, “Rights Group SaysNATO Killed 500 Civilians in Kosovo War,” New York Times, 7 February2000, p. A10.

22. Michael Ignatieff, Virtual War: Kosovo and Beyond, New York: Henry Holt,2000. 162; Michael Walzer, “Kosovo,” Dissent, Vol. 46, Summer 1999, pp. 5–7.

23. Michael R. Gordon, “Imitating NATO: A Script is Adapted for Chechnya,”New York Times, 28 September 1999, p. A3.

24. Newman, “The Bombs That Failed in Kosovo,” p. 30.



CHAPTER 12

The Future of Western Engagement in the Balkans

Stefano Bianchini and Paul Forage

Introduction

Relations between the Western world and the Balkans havesuffered from uncertainty and ambiguity since the beginning of the 1990s. These uncertainties were due to the political

and cultural lack of preparedness of the West in facing the changesimposed simultaneously by both the Communist collapse in EasternEurope and the violent break-up of Yugoslavia. Many scholars andpolicy makers have discussed the reasons for this lack of preparedness: ahuge literature has investigated the origins of the Western failure toanticipate the Communist collapse, while studies of Western behaviortoward Yugoslavia’s disintegration have been mainly focused on the fail-ure to prevent the war, or mediate effectively among the warringparties.1 Meanwhile, the very notion of the “West” has deeply changed.This homogeneous category, once used during the Cold War to identifyan undifferentiated political collective that included the United Statesand Western Europe, has increasingly shown an articulated set ofdiscrete political positions—illustrated by the dramatic tensions thatemerged on the eve of the second Iraqi war between the Bush adminis-tration and some EU member-states. The ongoing differentiation ofvisions and interests that constitute the Western world make it anincreasingly weaker category for the interpretation of the policies of itsconstituent countries and multilateral organizations.

Trends in this direction could already be seen during the final phasesof the Yugoslav collapse and the eruptions of the wars of secession.


Reading the contributions of our colleagues in this volume, we shouldrecall several key events during the Balkan wars that illustrate thisgrowing differentiation:

(1) The increasing tensions between France and Germany over thepolicies to be adopted toward Yugoslavia and the secession warsin Slovenia and Croatia during 1991 and the negative impact thishad on the European integration process;

(2) The first Bush administration’s cautious approach to the recogni-tion of Slovenia and Croatia compared with the aggressiveapproach of Germany and the Vatican in 1991;

(3) The EC decision, albeit accompanied by contrasts and irritationsamong member-states, to recognize these two countries in early1992, in the absence of a specific agreement with the UnitedStates. Washington joined in the decision only after severalmonths later, and in connection with the situation inBosnia–Herzegovina;2

(4) The difference of opinion that emerged between the Clintonadministration and some EU member-states when the Muslimand Croat leaderships proclaimed the end of the UN ban on thesale of weapons in order to face the pressure of the Serb armies;

(5) The “cautious” approach of French, British, German, and Italiandiplomacy to the Clinton initiatives that led to the Washingtonand Dayton agreements and encouraged the US administration toselect Paris for the official ceremony of the treaty signature andRome for the first donors’ conference, and to propose a taskdistribution among the Allies for Bosnian reconstruction;

(6) The resistance, expressed particularly by France, Germany, andItaly, to the continuation of the military campaign against Serbiaand Montenegro in 1999 and concern about the risks of a landoperation. These concerns strengthened the efforts of these countries—with the involvement of Finland—for achieving aceasefire, which was accepted by the United States with barelydisguised irritation.

All these and many other events have been noted by many observers,but their implications have been underestimated, probably as a result ofthe widely shared belief that the Western world was still a convincing,homogeneous, interpretative category. Scholars have preferred toemphasize lack of political will as an explanation for the inability to finda lasting solution for the interethnic tensions in the Balkans, in part

228 ● Stefano Bianchini and Paul Forage


because of the marginal geopolitical role of the region, rather thanexamine more fundamental reasons for this embarrassing failure to offera viable way out of the Yugoslav crisis.

Later, under the second Bush administration when a parallel, but stilluncertain and contradictory approach was followed by the Europeanmember-states in approaching the deepening and widening of their inte-gration processes, the pace of this differentiation increased rapidly. SinceJanuary 2001, the new US administration has tried to disengage militar-ily from the Balkans and leave the European allies with the responsibilityfor regional peacekeeping. When this project was presented, some unof-ficial proposals for redrawing the Balkan map that envisaged the recog-nition of an independent Kosovo and a possible partition of Bosnia, werealso outlined by members of the US State Department.3 As some authorsin the present volume argue, these highly controversial questions gener-ated discontent between allies. In fact, European member-states weregenerally uncomfortable with the prospect of US disengagement; in addi-tion, they strongly opposed any proposal for geopolitical change in thearea, even if unofficial, fearing that it could have been interpreted locallyas an encouragement to nationalist extremists.

Lack of a Common Vision

Divisions within the Western world did not concern only the diplomaticand political mainstreams as expressed by the official positions of thegovernments. The aims and prospects of the Balkans, the timetable forimplementation of the reconstruction programs, as well as the establish-ment of a stable geopolitical balance at the local level, were all controver-sial issues that divided the various representatives of the Western worldfrom within. In other words, when approaching the question of the futureengagement of the West in the Balkans—as suggested by the concludingchapter of the present book—scholars have to deal with the West as adifferentiated category, containing divergent strategies, and acknowledgethat governments, political parties, and international economic subjects,do not share a common geopolitical vision of the Balkan future.

This lack of a common vision is a consequence of the attitudes thathave shaped Western involvement in the Yugoslav crisis since 1991. TheWest was at first reluctant to play an active role in the area, but wasfinally forced to intervene when the crisis affected Europe stability forthe first time since the end of World War II, and when Western publicopinion was shocked by the horrors of the crimes committed in the region.In any case, the involvement occurred neither on the basis of a shared

Future of Western Engagements ● 229


analysis of the nature of the secession wars, nor with a clear—and shared—project for how to identify a consistent road toward a stable solution.

The main reason for this “involvement without a common founda-tion” lies with the strong challenge the Yugoslav secession war posed tothe system of international relations at the end of the Cold War: asystem still dominated by the absolute principle of sovereignty and thenational legitimization of state powers.4 Governments and multilateralorganizations, such as the UN or NATO, recognized the strong destabi-lizing potential of this challenge, but they were powerless to reactbecause they understood that the classic diplomatic approach, based onmediation between conflicting governments, was not up to the task,while at the same time an intervention from outside would have far-reaching consequences in the whole international relation system andwould need new justifications and legitimizations.

Indeed, mediation proved inadequate in the first half of the 1990s,when every attempt at conflict resolution—from the London conferenceto the Owen–Stoltenberg plan—failed.5 Intervention appeared, at leastin the beginning, to be a better option for stopping military actions andwar crimes, but it later proved unable to provide a long-term frameworkfor stabilization. While Dayton put an end to the war in Bosnia, andOperation Allied Force ended the persecution of Albanians in Kosovo,6

all these interventions—which affected national sovereignty, thoughsometimes undertaken without UN legitimacy—were unable to offer astable future for Bosnia, as its governance, along with Kosovo, southernSerbia, and Macedonia, came increasingly under the authority of theOHR or international bodies instead of the local leaderships, as many ofthe chapters in this book detail.7

In fact, Western engagement in the Balkans in the 1990s was basedon actions stemming from a poor understanding of the nature of theYugoslav secession war. Anticommunism in the West did not offer effi-cient tools for dealing with the Yugoslav crisis at the beginning of thedecade. Later, local campaigns—sometimes sophisticated as in Slovenia,sometimes brutal as in Croatia and Serbia—suggested to the West thata clash of civilizations was source of the military confrontation. Thehistory of Yugoslavia was interpreted locally, and accepted abroad, as along history of tragic clashes between ethno-national units, which wereculturally disposed not to have any common life. Believing this rhetoric,many saw partition as the “inevitable” way out.8

Thanks to this approach, the ethnic reconfigurations of the Balkanstates were pursued and justified by local leaders through war. As Sloveniadid not have significant minorities in its territory and Serbia was not



interested territorially in Slovenia, Presidents Milan Kucan andSlobodan Milosevic—in spite of their opposing visions and contrastingpolitical cultures—were able to reach a sort of agreement in January1991 and confirm it in July, when the Yugoslav collective presidencyvoted to withdraw the Army from Slovenia, even though the Croatianrepresentative opposed it, and the EC troika had not requested it duringits mediation between the parties.

On the contrary, Croatia and Serbia were both interested in parti-tioning Bosnia, but their territorial claims overlapped; in addition,Milosevic was interested in keeping control over a swath of Croatianterritory. For this reason, agreement was impossible between Zagreb andBelgrade in spite of the fact that some compromises were attemptedbefore the war erupted. Thanks to the declaration of a witness and otherwell-informed sources, we know that Milosevic and Franjo Tudjman metin Karadjordjevo in March 1991 and appointed a joint commission fordefining mutual borders; this commission met several times afterward,even after the start of heavy fighting between the Serbs and Croats.9

In this context, threatened by both the Croatian and the Serbian side,the Bosnian President Alija Izetbegovic followed an uncertain strategy,attracted by the idea of saving Bosnia–Herzegovina and accepting anindependent, but restricted Muslim state.10 In other words, the Yugoslavsecession war was not provoked by a clash of civilizations. The supposedclash was an image constructed at that time in order to legitimize incultural terms a political project based on the need of local leadershipsto redefine their territories, impose a new demographic distribution ofthe population in order to grant themselves loyalty on the basis of astrict cultural identification of rulers and ruled, and guarantee their ownaccess to local resources, taking advantage of the political turmoil andderegulation of politics in the late communist period.

In fact, the Yugoslav League of Communists was tormented by loss ofideological legitimization and by the declining capacity for mediation ofits directive organs, in particular the Central Committee and the otherparty organs. The League was connected to the growing oligopoliesemerging in all communist societies, because reforms were restricted tothe economic sphere for ideological reasons. In the 1980s, with commu-nist ideology in decline, territorial identification gradually became theunique source of political identification and a touchstone for pluralism.As a result, the power of local leaderships increased dramatically at theexpense of the center: when disorganization affected the ability of thecentral leaderships to govern, rapid disintegration along local or regionallines was an inevitable result.11



Local leaders pursued this decentralization project in order to achievea newly minted ethno-national legitimization, in spite of the fact thattheir approach was the single most important destabilizing factor atwork in the area. Due to the long centuries of cohabitation and interac-tion in the Balkans, a rapid project of political localization could not beachieved without violence. Ethnic cleansing, systematic rape, and calcu-lated war crimes were necessary to build powerful walls between peoplesquickly, to establish clear borders and a collective sense of belongingbased on separation from the “other,” and to avoid any further possibil-ity of reestablishing channels of communications among members of theYugoslav community.12

Once this set of priorities had been selected and set in motion by amobilization of religious bodies and public intellectuals who collabo-rated in the nationalist revision of language, history, art, and populartradition, the new ethnic nations were ready to be established. War wasthe preferred instrument for achieving their goals. The project wasattractive, particularly at the beginning of the 1990s, for many groupsin the region and some outside it, including the former Soviet areas ofTransnistria and the Caucasus, were in search of what seemed to be easyshortcuts to statehood and were beguiled by the illusion that culturalhomogeneity makes democracy-building easier, and that state-buildingoffers advantages in the international arena.

This nationalist project was consistently connected to the corner-stone principles of the nation-state, shared all over the world, with“nation” reinterpreted in its ethnic dimension and “sovereignty”grounded in a significant stream of thought in the Western world known as the souvérenist school in France. By way of confirmation, theinternational mediations of the early 1990s, in particular those led by David Owen and José Cutileiro, and by Cyrus Vance and ThorvaldStoltenberg, were aimed at accommodating these ethno-national inter-ests. The dominant approach was based on the assumption that nation-alist representatives had intrinsic legitimacy. It was an approach that wasnot shared by Yugoslav federal institutions, movements and groups thatopposed the war, and representatives of “Yugoslavs” or areas of ethni-cally mixed population. As a result, only nationalists were invited tointernational meetings convened in order to search for a compromise,although nationalist leaders held firmly to their opposing goals.Inevitably, mediation failed.

In the end it took time to understand how great was the risk of thisapproach for the future of European and international relations.Another stream of Western thinking on the Balkan crisis emerged



among liberal policy makers and diplomats who, with the support ofscholars, tried to emphasize the distinction between civic and ethnicnations, the first regarded as acceptable and the second condemned. The liberal approach focused attention on Milosevic and his henchmen,considered responsible for the destabilization of Yugoslavia and thesubsequent war. Nonetheless, Milosevic—who certainly initiated thedestabilization of Yugoslavia thanks to his aggressive policies and promo-tion of violent solutions—was not alone, because ethnic nationalism—as a political prospect—was shared by other leaders in the region,particularly Tudjman and Gojko Susak in Croatia, the leaders ofHerceg–Bosna, the Muslim fundamentalists in the Izetbegovic party, the Kosovo Liberation Organization (KLO or UÇK) in Kosovo, and theInternal Macedonian Revolutionary Organization (IMRO or VMRO) inMacedonia, among others. The liberal Western stream also proved to be culturally weak in understanding the nature of the war, and powerlessin attempting to define a viable stabilization.

Actually, liberals acted under the pressure of souvérenists and a publicopinion significantly influenced by their perceptions, who believed thatthe war could be stopped only by the acceptance of the status quo createdon the ground. As a result, they recommended inefficient or counter-productive measures, such as weapons embargos, no flight zones,economic sanctions, and restricted mandates to the UN missions, asanalyzed by many authors in this book.13 It is, however, important tonote that, on the occasions when the Western world made the decisionto intervene in the Balkans, either diplomatically or militarily, includingthe bombing campaign of 1999, the actions taken were systematicallyjustified as humanitarian.14 In other words, humanitarian, not politicalinterventions, were implemented in an area where political aims andambitions were in fact the source of war crimes and destabilization.

In sum, policy makers were culturally unable to recognize thatnationalism, as a political ideology, was responsible for the war. Instead,and crucially, the West looked for humanitarian justifications in order towin the support of public opinion and avoid resistance from souvérenists.Nonetheless, this approach proved to be powerless in offering a convinc-ing alternative to the ethnic nation, leaving the applied solutions, fromDayton to the 1244 UN Resolution on Kosovo, in a political limbo.15

The Stability Pact and the Balkan Initiative

A crucial turn arrived on 30 July 1999, when the Stability Pact waslaunched by the European Union in Sarajevo on the basis of a German



proposal. More or less simultaneously, the World Bank suggested its ownBalkan Initiative. Both approaches applied a regional perspective.16 TheStability Pact combined the regional approach to the Balkan problemswith a policy of inclusion, which envisaged the integration of the area inthe EU in the years to come. The Balkan Initiative paid particular atten-tion to the regional approach in order to implement social recoveryprograms. Previously, the United States had established a regional strat-egy dubbed the Southeast European Cooperative Initiative (SECI)devoted mainly to strengthening economic regional cooperation, andparticularly the development of small and medium-sized enterprises.Together, the West had outlined a network of corridors with roads andrailways throughout the Balkans, in order to connect the region toCentral and Southern Europe, while Italy—again in 1999 and 2000—redefined its regional strategy by giving new impetus to the CentralEuropean Initiative (CEI) and the Adriatic–Ionian Initiatives (AII).17

Why did this set of actions represented a crucial turn in comparisonwith the actions made in the 1990s? There are many reasons that needto be considered. First, these new strategies were political, not humani-tarian. Offering an inclusive perspective and a comprehensive methodfor recovering economies and societies, the Western world showed—forthe first time—its awareness that the Yugoslav collapse has opened aregional problem that would have to be overcome by regional measures.

Second, inclusion had a double dimension: on the one hand, aregional one, which was supported by many political actors outside theregion such as the United States, international economic organizations,and EU member-states; on the other, a specific prospect offered by theEU only, namely the possibility of becoming part of the European inte-gration process.

Third, by adopting a regional approach (instead of an exclusive bilat-eral one), the Western actors offered an alternative pattern to the newlycreated Balkan states, economically weak and culturally closed to theirneighbors. In fact, exclusive bilateral relations (which dominated theprevious phase) offered room for nationalist leaderships to imagine thatthey were “preferred” by the Western world against their neighbors,making relations with the West a sort of zero-sum competition, andposing the risk for Western countries to become hostages of nationalistrivalries in the Balkans. The regional approach had the advantage ofoutlining a pathway for overcoming these tensions, thanks to the factthat in 2000 a new leadership won office in Croatia, later—partially—in Bosnia, and then in Serbia, when Milosevic was overthrown. Asa result, a new political picture emerged at the beginning of the



twenty-first century, in spite of the fact that tensions were still growingin southern Serbia and Macedonia.

Fourth, the European Union found specific grounds for playing arole in the area, in connection with its widening and deepeningprocesses. In other words, the carrot of future integration into theEuropean institutions was part of a more complex and ambitious projectaimed at strengthening the integration of member-states, creating newinstitutions, and—gradually—a common defense policy.18

To a certain extent, the EU member-states were forced to speed upthe process as a consequence of the NATO bombing campaign in 1999,and later by the decision of the second Bush administration to restrictUS peacekeeping involvement in the Balkans. In addition, the EU inte-gration process offered a convincing frame of reference for diplomaticactivities that supported an agreement in Ohrid between the Slav andAlbanian Macedonians in August 2001, and a new treaty between Serbiaand Montenegro, signed in 2002 and implemented, with difficulties, in2003, which postponed the referendum for independence claimed byMontenegrin leader Milo Djukanovic, and created a new Republic ofSerbia and Montenegro in place of the FRY.

As a result, future Western commitment in the Balkans is largelyconnected to the implementation of the regional strategies outlined atthe end of the 1990s. However, the consistency of this implementationshould not be taken for granted, as many of the destabilizing factors anduncertainties that have been described above still play a role: thesouvérenists and nationalists still have the ability to mobilize emotions insuch a way that the peaceful evolution of the region might yet bederailed.

The Stability Pact has raised great hopes for a better future for thepeoples of the region.19 In spite of the fact that nationalists disagreedwith the regional approach, charging that it was an attempt to recreateYugoslavia, connections were established between countries in theregion and the prospect of inclusion within the EU defined a convinc-ing prospect for countries with disarticulated or destroyed economies,wide criminality, a low level of institutional credibility, and a strongsense of war fatigue, all of which contribute significantly to the contain-ment of persisting animosities.

Nonetheless, Western countries saw the Stability Pact more as a coor-dinating agency than as an autonomous agent able to implement specificregional projects. As a result, lacking substantial tools for its strategy, theStability Pact did not work as expected. Frustrations grew rapidly andthe quality of the Western involvement in the area was again questioned.



A key point is that Western policy makers do not see their commitmentin the Balkans as a long-term effort. Pressured by public opinion andattracted by short-term strategies that prepare the ground for their ownelections, they are generally reluctant to invest systematically in the areaor to make long-term commitments. At the same time, however, theYugoslav collapse and the ten years of war that followed require acomprehensive, regional, and long-term effort in order to create a last-ing framework for stability.

Many aspects should be considered within this framework. Stabilitycannot be restricted to the military dimension of peacekeeping andpeace enforcement alone. An effective Balkan state, based on the rule oflaw, needs not only a good legislation, but also an efficient police andwell prepared judges, able to provide a substantial sense of legalcertainty. Their activity has to be developed in countries with a func-tioning custom systems and effective control of borders, many of whichremain undefined in the region. In addition, Balkan state stabilityrequires economic reconstruction with a new approach to the productivesystem in term of sustainability, environmental protection, and efficientpublic administration.20

To achieve these goals, a new generation with requisite levels ofknowledge and training must take over responsibility. This generationshould be aware that the problems and issues it needs to resolve in anincreasingly globalized society require a high degree of sensitivity tointernational cooperation and harmonization. Nonetheless, the coun-tries in the Balkans have suffered, in addition to the other problems thatwe have mentioned before, from a significant brain drain. The war andthe psychological atmosphere promoting intolerance of “otherness” haveput a stop to mobility, negatively affecting the university world, thedevelopment of research, and the communications systems. In order to overcome the resultant deficits in innovation and development,a long-term regional approach by the West is required, including carefulcoordination of the strategies applied.

As for these strategies, they are connected to two sets of issues. Thefirst is linked to stabilization, the second to the challenge of integrationinto the EU. Both are interconnected. In fact, the controversies thatemerged during the Yugoslav secession war have not yet been overcome,but only frozen; as a result the Western commitment in the Balkans,from the military point of view, is not over. Nationalists have notrevoked their claims, as has clearly emerged in Kosovo, in Herzegovinaand among Serb democrats in Bosnia and radicals in Serbia at the beginningof the twenty-first century.



In the Bosnian elections of 2002, nationalists won at the ballot boxonce again, although their predominance was in part due to widespreadvoter abstention. As for Croatia, nationalists are leading the polls for theelections scheduled for 2004, although around 50 percent of potentialvoters declare themselves to be uncertain.21 In other words, frustrationsover the lack of results and the absence of speedy recovery are increasingpopular disappointment and encouraging a broad sense of disappoint-ment and disillusionment toward politics in general. These feelingsmight once again strengthen nationalist options, considering that thesupporters of such options have shown a high capacity for mobilization.Voter abstention gives them a new opportunity of taking control overthe levers of powers. These developments need not lead to new wars, but they can raise new waves of tensions, and promote long-termdestabilization.

These elements underscore the fact that Western engagement in theBalkans cannot be diminished. Rather, the quality of this engagementand the balance of commitments assigned to the political subjects of theWest require serious reconsideration. The United States will reduce itsparticipation in peacekeeping operations, but its political and militaryengagement will be strengthened, as new US military bases created inthe area and revived academic and cultural connections appear toconfirm. At the same time, however, the burden of peacekeeping is shift-ing to the EU. The event is a novelty, particularly because the militarydimension of involvement is connected to previous EU engagements in the area, which encompass a wide variety of measures ranging from economic and academic programs to the promise of inclusion intothe EU.

Conclusion: Today and Beyond

The EU’s current set of institutional problems, when compared withthose of Yugoslavia in the 1970s and 1980s, reveals unexpected similar-ities which offer a revealing interpretative angle and help in under-standing why it was practically impossible to find a way out forYugoslavia in 1991, and why it is so difficult for the EU to define aconsistent Balkan policy in 2003. In point of fact, Yugoslavia collapsedbecause its institutions were ineffective, the right of veto hinderedeconomic and political reform, and the Serbian leadership claimed anew, greater weight in the balance of power within the country.22

Substantially, these are some of the core issues that have been underdiscussion in the European Union since the Nice summit of December 2000.



German influence within the EU, the right of veto, and the ineffective-ness of European institutions are some of the most relevant topics thatare expected to be overcome once the work of the European Conventionis completed.

Fortunately, the EU does not share with former Yugoslavia an aggres-sive approach to reforms, as was the case with the Serbian leadership, ora lack of will among its political elites to mediate by institutional meansin order to define a new basis for governance. Nonetheless, the Europeangovernments must still decide whether the EU will gradually become anew form of state, or remain a large free market zone. In the first case, analternative to the ethno-national mobilization in the Balkans and inother regions of Europe will be offered in connection with a long-termregional strategy of stabilization and inclusion. In the second case, it isdoubtful that the EU engagement in the Balkans will be successful,considering that the crisis in the area was provoked by a wide variety ofpolitical factors and not only by poor economic performance.

In other words, regional strategies require a strong EU capacity fordealing with Balkan political institutions, legal frameworks, reconstructionof public administrations, sustainable development implementation, theeducation and training of young generations, university harmonizationand mobility, and social recovery with protection for weak categories.All these topics should be developed simultaneously through systematicprograms, as well as through institutional harmonization, which canlead to a gradual inclusion of the Balkans within the EU context. At thesame time, in order to be convincing, this needs to be connected to EUinstitutional development, as a viable alternative to narrow nationalism.

The political nature of the Yugoslav collapse makes clear that the stabi-lization of the Balkans is primarily a European problem. Nonetheless, EUengagement is not enough. A comprehensive approach requires the activeinvolvement of the other Western countries, particularly in economic andsocial recovery, training and financial support, and jurisdiction and legalcooperation through a coordination of strategies. This coordination,however, might be threatened by the disagreements within the Westernworld that, as mentioned before, appear to be increasing rather thandiminishing. If pursued further, their impact on the Balkans can haveunpleasant consequences. It is easy, for example, to predict that localpolitical actors will be attracted by the idea of playing on US–EU rivalry,according to a pattern experienced many times in the past.

The French reaction to the document signed in Vilnius by candidatecountries in support of the US action against Iraq in 2003, as well as thestrong US pressure on Eastern European and Balkan countries to obtain



exemption for US citizens from indictments from the newly establishedInternational Criminal Court are a few examples that illustrate how aUS/EU and EU member-states competition can be particularly detrimentalfor weak states and destabilized regions whose governments and politicaloppositions might be forced to make decisions at the international level.

This problem is further exacerbated by trends in US foreign policy,first evidenced during the conflicts in Bosnia and Kosovo and more fullydeveloped during the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. Prior to the NATOintervention in Bosnia, US military analysts decried the inability of theUnited Nations to conduct effective military operations. Many called forNATO, a tried and practiced military alliance, to step in and deliver amilitary solution in support of diplomatic efforts to broker agreementsbetween the warring parties.23 Operation Deliberate Force in 1995 wasjust such an effort, a demonstration of military power staged by NATO insupport of the diplomacy of Warren Christopher and Richard Holbrooke.

Kosovo, however, proved that even a well-rehearsed military alliancecould experience difficulties when confronted with differences of opinionin a multilateral decision-making body such as the North AtlanticCouncil. Though it now appears that many of the difficulties Americanplanners faced during Operation Allied Force were in fact self-inflicted,the bruising perception of the conflict left many in the United States toconclude that even Madeleine Albright’s “assertive multi-lateralism”should be replaced by a simpler and more aggressive unilateralism, espe-cially after the terror attacks of 11 September 2001.24 Although theNorth Atlantic Alliance rallied behind the United States to invoke Article 5of its Charter in response to these attacks, subsequent military actions inAfghanistan made multilateral efforts little more than sideshows in theUS war against the Taliban and Al Qaeda. The long anticipated war withIraq in 2003 demonstrated the US ability and willingness to go it alonemilitarily if need be, even at the expense of the British, America’s closestpolitical and most compatible European military ally.

Iraq reversed the political equation of the Balkans endgame: insteadof using the military in aggressive support of a diplomatic effort,however flawed, the overthrow of Saddam witnessed military objectivesoverriding diplomatic concerns even at the expense of the transatlanticrelationship and the notion of a united Western world. Even the conser-vative idea of a Western world united by a supposed clash of civilizationswas sacrificed to a divisive notion of creating a coalition of those willingto accept US leadership with little debate. Lines were drawn between anold and new Europe, the latter consisting of those supporting Americanleadership in order to assert a form of political independence from




France and Germany. These differences are in part a direct consequenceof the debates over the Kosovo war which highlighted policy differenceswithin the Alliance and demonstrated a glaring gap between the militarycapabilities of the United States and the rest of NATO. The air warexposed the inability of even the best equipped and trained European airforces to carry out extended campaigns of precision bombing and to doit at a distance from their home bases.25 In retrospect, it appears thatone of the lessons some US policy makers learned from the NATO inter-vention in the Balkans was that their new way of warfare requires littlemilitary support from their allies and, as a result, there is little need toaccommodate the political interests of their alliance partners in theirglobal wars against terrorists and rogue states.26

While these policies are usually considered in a global context andfrom a superpower perspective, in regional terms they can prove seri-ously counter-productive. They encourage the development of oppor-tunistic alternatives to pro-European ones. Nationalists, jealous andmindful of the power afforded by their proclamations of ethno-nationalsovereign rights, find new legitimization for their opposition to WesternEurope’s demands for legal and political harmonization when theworld’s superpower overrides collective security arrangements andmultilateral institutions to carve out bilateral arrangements with the“new” Europeans. Encouraging divisions between European countriessacrifices regional stability for short-term political interests, no matterhow legitimate they appear in a post–9/11 context. Once again, theBalkans highlight the political contrast between regional cooperationand the ethno-national construction of the state, a construction that ischallenged by the European integration process, whose implementationis complicated by resistance of member-states to accept a shifting ofsovereignty from national to supranational level.

The complexity of future Western engagement in the Balkans is char-acterized by the coexistence of these contradictory phenomena. Thesuccess or failure of future engagement with the Balkans depends on theability of Western countries to find a shared and long-term strategy ofstabilization. However, they should be aware that Balkan stabilizationcannot be achieved without serious changes in Europe. These changesconcern the national format of the state and the exercise of sovereignty.They are tremendous challenges, but the black hole left by the Yugoslavcollapse has far-reaching consequences in the European and interna-tional relations system. These are some of the challenges the Westernworld must face in the years to come.


Notes

1. For a critical overview see Paul Shoup, “The West and the War in Bosnia:Some Thoughts,” in Stefano Bianchini, Paul Shoup, and George Schöpflin,eds., Post Communist Transition as a European Problem, Ravenna: LongoEditore, 2002, pp. 173–84; Mario Zucconi, “The West and the BalkanConflict,” in Stefano Bianchini and Robert Craig Nation, eds., The YugoslavConflict and Its Implications for International Relations, Ravenna: LongoEditore, 1998, pp. 27–39; John Williams, Legitimacy in InternationalRelations and the Rise and Fall of Yugoslavia, Basingstoke: Macmillan Press,1998; James Gow, The Triumph of the Lack of Will: International Diplomacyand the Yugoslav War, London: Hurst, 1997; and Susan Woodward, BalkanTragedy. Chaos and Dissolution after the Cold War, Washington DC:Brookings Institution, 1995.

2. See on this topic see Daniele Conversi, German-Bashing and the Break-up ofYugoslavia, Donald W. Treadgold Papers No. 16, 1998; Sonia Lucarelli, TheEuropean Response to the Yugoslav Crisis: Story of a Two-Level Constraint,Florence: EUI Working Papers, 1995 as well as the chapters by Heinz Jürgen-Axt, Michael Lake, Simon Petermann, Hanspeter Neuhold, and OsmanOlcay in Günay Göksu Özdogan and Kemâli Saybasili, eds., Balkans: AMirror of the New International Order, Istanbul: Eren, 1995.

3. See in particular the report by Brigadier General Keith W. Dayton at theconference sponsored by the US Army War College, The Future of the USPresence in the Balkans, New York: Columbia University, 26–27 February 2001.

4. A significant new category (“conditional independence”) has been intro-duced in the report of the Independent International Commission onKosovo, Why Conditional Independence? The Follow-up of the Kosovo Report,Solna: Tryckeriet Asbrink Grafiska, 2001. See also Stefano Bianchini, “Post-Communism, Post-Westphalianism: Overcoming the Nation–State,” inBianchini, Shoup, and Schöpflin, Post-Communist Transition, pp. 185–201;S. A. Romanenko, Iugoslaviia: Krizis, raspad, voina—obrazovanie nezav-isimykh gosudarstv, Moscow: Moskovskii obshchestvennii nauchnii fond,2000; Andrew Linklater, The Transformation of Political Community,Cambridge: Polity Press, 1998; Metta Spencer, ed., Separatism, Lanham,MD: Rowman & Littkefield, 1998; Henry Huttenbach and FrancescoPrivitera, Self-Determination, Ravenna: Longo Editore, 1998; Luigi Ferrajoli,La sovranità nel mondo moderno, Bari: Laterza, 1997; and Anthony Giddens,The Nation-State and Violence, Berkeley: University of California Press, 1987.

5. An excellent reconstruction is that of Kasim Begic, Bosnia i Hercegovina odVanceove misije do Daytonskih sporazuma (1991–1996), Sarajevo: BosanskaKnjiga, 1997. See also Stjepan G. Mestrovic, The Balkanization of the West.The Confluence of Postmodernism and Postcommunism, London: Routledge,1994 and Sabrina P. Ramet, “The Bosnian War and the Diplomacy ofAccommodation,” Current History, Vol. 93, No. 586, 1994.



6. Ivo H. Daalder, Getting to Dayton: The Making of America’s Bosnia Policy,Washington, DC: Brookings Institution, 2000; Steve Burg and Paul Shoup,The War in Bosnia–Herzegovina: Ethnic Conflict and InternationalIntervention, Armonk: Sharpe, 1999 and the memoirs of Michael Rose,Fighting for Peace: Bosnia 1994, London: Harvill Press, 1998 and RichardHolbrooke, To End a War, New York: Random House, 1998. Compare these texts with Nerzek Curak, Geopolitika kao sudbina: Slucaj Bosna,Sarajevo: Fakultet Politickih Nauka, 2002. As for Kosovo, see Enika Abazi,Intrastate Conflicts, International Interventions and their Implications onSecurity Issues. The Case of Kosovo, in Copri-Working Papers No. 32, 2001;Enika Abazi, “Kosovo: War, Peace and Intervention in a Nutshell,” TurkishReview of Balkan Studies, Vol. 6, 2001, pp. 58–74; William J. Buckley, ed.,Kosovo: Contending Voices on Balkan Interventions, Grand Rapids, MI:Willian Eerdmans, 2000; Dmitri Trenin and Ekaterina Stepanova, eds.,Kosovo: Mezhdunarodnye aspekty krizisa, Moscow: Moskovskii tsentrKarnegi, 1999; Joseph Marko, ed., Gordischer Knoten Kosovo/a:Durchschlagen oder entwirren?, Baden-Baden: Nomos, 1999; and MaurizioCabona, ed., �Ditelo a Sparta�. Serbia ed Europa. Contro l’aggressione dellaNATO, Genova: Graphos, 1999.

7. Compare, for instance, the interview with Mirjana Kasapovic, “Protektoratje logicniji,” Dani, 25 October 2002, pp. 9–11 with the dossier “FrustriraniAshdown u BiH glumi nogometasa Davida Beckhama!” Slobodna Bosna, 24October 2002, pp. 21–7.

8. See Zlatko Isakovic, Identity and Security in Former Yugoslavia, Aldershot:Ashgate, 2000. Compare with: Joze Pirjevec, Le guerre jugoslave, Torino:Einaudi, 2001; Alija Izetbegovic, Islam izmedju istoka i zapada, Sarajevo:Svjetlost, 1996; Miroljub Jevtic, Od islamske deklaracije do verskog rata uBiH, Beograd: Filip Visnjic, 1993; P. Stanko Duje Mijic, Hrvatska do paklai natrag, Zagreb: Samostan Sv. Duha, 1993; Franjo Tudjman, Bespuca povi-jesne zbiljnosti, Zagreb: Matica Hrvatska, 1990.

9. See the interview recorded by Stefano Bianchini, Sarajevo, le radici dell’odio,3rd ed., Roma: Edizioni Associate, 2003 and Dusan Bilandzic, in Nacional,25 October 1996, pp. 40–1. Compare with Sejo Omeragic, Dogovoreni rat,Sarajevo: Proton, 2001; Milos Minic, Dogovori u Karadjordjevu o podeliBosne i Hercegovine, Sarajevo: Rabic, 1998; Ivo Banac, Cijena Bosne, Zagreb:Europa Danas, 1996.

10. Sefer Halilovic, Lukava strategija, Sarajevo: Marsal, 1997.11. Stefano Bianchini, “The Weakness of the State as a Source of Instability,” in

Slobodan Milacic, ed., La reinvention de l’Etat, Brussels: Bruylant, 2003, pp. 307–31; Stephen D. Krasner, ed., Problematic Sovereignty: Contested Rulesand Political Possibilities, New York: Columbia University Press, 2001; GeorgeSchöpflin, Nations, Identity, Power, New York: New York University Press,2000; Valerie Bunce, Subversive Institutions, Cambridge: Cambridge UniversityPress, 1999; Csaba Gombár, Elemér Hankiss, László Lengyel, and GyörgyiVárnai, The Appeal of Sovereignty, New York: Columbia University Press, 1998.



12. Tatjana Sekulic, Violenza etnica, Roma: Carocci, 2002; Norman Naimark,Fires of Hatred: Ethnic Cleansing in 20th Century Europe, Cambridge, MA:Harvard University Press, 2001; Ivan Ivekovic, Ethnic and Regional Conflictsin Yugoslavia and Transcaucasia, Ravenna: Longo Editore, 2000; RadaIvekovic, Autopsia dei Balcani, Milano: Cortina, 1999; and Rada Ivekovic,La balcanizzazione della ragione, Roma: Manifestolibri, 1995.

13. On sanctions see Mario Zucconi, Gli effetti delle sanzioni economiche: il casodella Serbia, Roma: CeMISS, 2001.

14. A comparative analysis of the documents that prepared and followed oper-ations and policies of intervention gives a clear picture of the predomi-nantly humanitarian approach to the Balkan crisis adopted by the maininternational political subjects. See on this topic the dissertation of BarbaraBernardi, Integrazione e Disintegrazione: l’Unione Europea e la Jugoslavia allospecchio, Bologna: Alma Mater Studiorum-Università di Bologna, School ofPolitical Science-Forlì campus, Academic Year 2001–02.

15. Thanos Veremis, Action without Foresight: Western Involvement in Yugoslavia,Athens:Eliamep, 2002 and Rada Ivekovic and Jacques Poulain, eds., Guérirde la guerre et juger la paix, Paris: l’Harmattan, 1998.

16. The main documents on the Stability Pact are available on the official siteof the EU at: www.europa.eu.int. In addition, see Sven-Oliver Proksch,Negotiating European Foreign Policy: The EU and the Stability Pact for SouthEastern Europe, Woodrow Wilson School, Case Study No. 3, 2001; EmilMintchev, South Eastern Europe at the Beginning of the 21st century: NewDangers, New Strategies, New Perspectives, ZEI Discussion Paper No. C 82,2001 and, by the same author, “Europe and the Stability Pact,”Transatlantic Internationale Politik, Vol. 1, No. 4, December 2000; andRafael Biermann, The Stability Pact for South Eastern Europe—Potential,Problems, and Perspectives, ZEI Discussion Paper No. C 56, 1999. On theWorld Bank see The Road to Stability and Prosperity in South Eastern Europe:A Regional Strategy Paper, Washington DC: World Bank Press, 2000.

17. Compare Domenico Mario Nuti and Milica Uvalic, eds., Post-CommunistTransition to a Market Economy: Lessons and Challenges, Ravenna: LongoEditore, 2003, especially the 3rd part, pp. 293–364; Tune Aybak,Globalization in Europe and New Regionalism in the Black Sea Area: Inter-Regional Perspectives, paper presented at the ASN Convention, New York,April 2003; Dusko Lopandic, ed., Regional Cooperation in South-EasternEurope, Belgrade: European Movement in Serbia, 2002; the document CEIFacing the Challenges and Opportunities of the New Europe: Ideas for aProgram, Policy Paper of the Forlì Conference, 2–3 February 2001, Forlì:Istituto per l’Europa Centro-Orientale e Balcanica, 2001; and L’IniziativaAdriatica-Ionica, Rome: Dialoghi Diplomatici, 2001, p. 172. See also RadePetrovic and Francesco Russo, eds., L’Altra Europa: L’Europa centrale e iBalcani verso l’Unione Europea, Naples: Edizioni Scientifiche Italiane, 1998.

18. Compare Heather Grabbe and Kirsty Huges, Enlarging the EU Eastwards,London: RIIA, 2000; Sandro Gozi, Il governo dell’Europa, Bologna: Il



Mulino, 2000; and Elizabeth Pond, The Rebirth of Europe, Washington DC.:Brookings Institution Press, 2000. On the debate of the 1990s see SophiaClément, Conflict Prevention in the Balkans: Case Studies of Kosovo and theFYR of Macedonia, Chaillot Papers No. 30, Paris: Western European UnionInstitute for Security Studies, 1997; Latrence Martin and John Roper, eds.,Towards a Common Defence Policy, Paris: Western European Union Institutefor Security Studies, 1995; and Gabriel Munuera, Preventing Armed Conflict:Lessons from Recent Experience, Chaillot Papers Nos. 15/16, Paris: WesternEuropean Union Institute for Security Studies 1994.

19. Expectations for an inclusive EU policy had been growing since the late1990s. See Visnja Samardzic, Mladen Stanicic and Gorazd Nikic, Hrvatskai Europska Unija: Kristi i troskovi integraranja, Zagreb: IMO, 2000; JelicaMinic and Dusko Lopandic, eds., Preparing Yugoslavia for EuropeanIntegration, Belgrade: European Movement in Serbia, 2000; ZekerijahSmajic, Evropska Unija i zemlje biv se Jugoslavije, Sarajevo: Oko, 1997; andBalkan 97, Beograd: Evropski pokret u Srbiji, 1997.

20. Compare the analyses of an international team of researchers who recentlypublished a set of two books on these topics for the Italian Center forStrategic Studies: Stefano Bianchini and Susan Woodward, eds., From theAdriatic to the Caucasus: Viable Dynamics of Stabilization, Ravenna: LongoEditore, 2003 and Stefano Bianchini, ed., From the Adriatic to the Caucasus:The Dynamics of (De)Stabilization, Ravenna: Longo Editore, 2001.

21. “Slovensko istrazivanje za Tomcica,” Jutarnji List, 19 April 2003, p. 5.22. See Dejan Jovic, Jugoslavija: Drzava koja je odumrla, Zagreb: Prometej,

2003; Nenad Dimitrijevic, Slucaj Jugoslavije, Beograd: Samizdat B92, 2001;and John B. Allcock, Explaining Yugoslavia, New York: Columbia UniversityPress, 2000. Compare with: Laslo Sekelj, Jugoslavija: Struktura raspadanja,Beograd: Rad, 1990; Vladimir Goati, Politicka anatomija Jugoslovesnkogdrustva, Zagreb: Naprijed, 1989; and Marijan Korosic, Jugoslavenska kriza,Zagreb: Naprijed, 1989.

23. For example, see John Hillen’s arguments in Blue Helmets: The Strategy ofU.N. Military Operations, Dulles: Brassey’s, 2000.

24. On the conflict within the American leadership, see Wesley Clark, WagingModern War, New York: Public Affairs, 2001.

25. Anthony Cordesman, Lessons and Non-Lessons of the Air and MissileCampaign in Kosovo, Westport: Praeger, 2001.

26. On the impact of Kosovo on Clinton’s Iraq policies, see Kenneth Pollack,The Threatening Storm: The Case for Invading Iraq, New York: RandomHouse, 2002, especially pp. 98–9. Michael Ignatieff in the “The Burden,”New York Times, 5 January 2003, notes that “September 11 rubbed in thelesson that global power is still measured by military capability. TheEuropeans discovered that they lacked the military instruments to be takenseriously and that their erstwhile defenders, the Americans, regarded them,in a moment of crisis, with suspicious contempt.”



Abbé Saint-Pierre 156Ache Indians of Paraguay 33Adriatic-Ionian Initiative (SECI) 234Afghanistan 148, 169, 239Africa 128Agency for International Development

(see United States)Agenda for Peace 152aggression 150, 160, 174, 175Ahmeti, Ali 61Ahmici 147Akashi, Yasushi 100Akehurst, Michael 173al Qaeda 239Alexander, King of Yugoslavia 5Albania 50, 59, 62, 64, 135

Greater 56, 61–63, 68, 85Albanian(s) 6, 8, 59, 66, 67, 174

activists 60community 50fighters 68government 63guerrilla movements 69insurgent leaders 61insurgents 68Islamic minority 59KLA 62Kosovars 62leaders 67Macedonian 50, 59–60militants 30nation 62National Army (ANA) 58, 61, 67National Committee for the

Liberation and Defense ofAlbanian Lands 67

Party for Democratic Prosperity(PDP) 59–60

political leaders 59, 60political unrest 59population 58refugees 30

Albright, Madeleine 239Algeria 114Amber Fox (see North Atlantic Treaty

Organization)Angola 171Annan, Kofi 176, 177anticipatory humanitarian intervention

166, 170–174, 176–181anticipatory self-defense 172Armenians 154armed attack 169, 173, 175armed forces 191armed intervention 149, 182arms embargo 28, 104Arnaudije mosque 148“Asiatic mentality” 33atomic bomb 214Austria 36Austrian empire 17Austro-Hungarian empire 4autonomy 5Axis aggression 122

Bacon, Ken 219Badinter Commission 49, 126–132Baker, James 124–125Balkan(s) 55, 81, 85, 86, 97,

107, 133, 219, 227, 232,234–236, 240

audience behavior and culture 76

Index

Forage-ind.qxd 11/10/03 6:34 PM Page 245

Balkan(s)—continuedconflict(s) 75–76, 78, 108, 135,

149, 153crisis 76, 125elites 76endgame 239future 229history 68Initiative 234instability in 69map 229media 75–76, 79, 84political systems 75, 238politics 75population 76stabilization 240state(s) 85, 236UN involvement in 102, 111, 114war(s) 68, 108, 111, 114, 119, 124,

147, 148–149, 153, 159, 228Banja Luka 83, 98, 148Beijing 214, 215Belgium 217Belgrade 4, 5, 7, 8, 11, 27, 28, 44,

81, 98, 124–125, 136, 219, 231Center for Human Rights 219government 140intellectuals 18

Bellogini, Robert 204Benelux countries 43Bennett, Christopher 17, 18, 19Berisha, Sali 63Bihac 13, 98, 99Blair, Tony 152Bonn 46Bosnia 8, 11, 12, 14, 18, 84, 103,

111, 114, 124, 138–139, 177,189, 191, 194–195, 199–200,206, 239

armed conflict 96ban on arms sales to 12death camps in 13end of conflict 100“exclusion zone” 98

partition 192recognition of 120Serbian population in 127–128three-member presidencyUN intervention 93, 100UN mission in 192war 31

Bosnia-Herzegovina 4, 9, 11, 28,30–31, 32, 45, 94, 106, 109,112–113, 120, 130, 133,134–135, 148–150, 189–191,195, 199, 228, 231

admission into UN 104communal factions 153EU forces in 51independent political entity 23intra-ethnic civil war 18no-fly zone 20partition plan 98–99protectorates in 160recognition 104referendum for independence 95,

96Serb focus on 27Serbian population in 127UNPROFOR mandate 97wars 156

Bosnian(s)army 14, 15, 24, 98, 198borders 133capital 28conflict 65, 83, 104, 153constitution 131, 193Croatian army 28elections 237federal state 193governance 202groups 192institutions 197, 202leadership 134National Library 148referendum 12sovereignty 137, 201wars 101

246 ● Index


Bosnian Croat(s) 99, 132, 138, 193, 202

ethno-group 31radical 14vote for independence 11

Bosnian Muslim(s) 3, 4, 5, 9, 11, 14,15, 33–34, 96, 105, 113, 120,133, 148, 158, 193, 202

arms embargo against 12, 104army 107crimes 31ethno-group 31leadership 139prisoners 13vote for independence 11

Bosnian Serb(s) 11, 12, 13, 29, 96, 101, 105, 106, 108, 131–132, 138, 148, 189–190,193, 202

army 28, 100, 103, 134controlled areas 102ethno-group 31forces 102units 107

Boutros-Ghali, Boutros 107, 152Bowett, Derek 172Brahimi

Lakhdar 114Report 113–114

Brezhnev doctrine 169Brioni Accords 95Britain 105Brownlie, Ian 172, 173Bulgaria 50Branson, Louise 18Brussels 35, 41

Declaration 125Bulgaria 36Bull, Hedley 155Burg, Steven 131Burkina Faso 128Bush, George H.W. 125, 228Bush, George W. 150–151, 154,

229, 235

Cambodia 33Canada 172Canadian peacekeepers 106cantons 193Captain Dragan’s Serbian Cybercorps

81Caroline case 172Carrington, Peter 127, 130, 132Cassese, Antonio 159Catholic Relief Services (CRS)

205–206Caucasus 148, 232cease-fire 27, 95, 102, 103, 112Çeku, Agim 63Central European Initiative (CEI) 234Central Intelligence Agency (see United

States)Chandler, David 204Charter of Paris for a New Europe

122, 123Chechnya 148, 222China 150Chirac, Jacques 107Chomsky, Noam 80, 84Christopher, Warren 140, 239Churchill, Winston 84, 215Citizens of Srebrenica Association 198civil war(s) 25Clark, Mark 215–219Clark, Wesley 155, 217Clinton, William Jefferson 169, 171,

216, 228cluster munitions 221CNN 76, 212Coalition for Return 205Cold War 19, 40, 123, 169, 217

aftermath 166bipolarity 46camps 35end of 3, 41, 93, 189

collective security 152Colombia 148colonialism 123Common European Home 35–36

Index ● 247


communications revolution 75communism

collapse of 3, 227communist (s) 215, 216

bloc 36power structure 202

Congo 34, 148, 170Contact Group 14, 16, 20, 111, 121Council on Mutual Economic

Assistance (CMEA) 35Covic, Nebojsa 58Covic Plan 58Crawford, James 127crimes against humanity 101, 149, 182crimes against the peace 157Croat(s) 3, 4, 6, 10, 13, 14, 24, 158,

228armies 99artillery 148Catholics 25Community of Herzeg-Bosna 134crimes 31Defense Council (HVO) 198delegation to the League of

Communists 44elections 8faction 151fascism 10forces 147in Bosnia 11, 14militias 48nationalism 202nationalist parties 9population 190separatism 42Serbian war 27soldiers 198state 49

Croat-Bosnian offensive 15Croatia 4, 5, 7, 8, 10, 11, 18, 26, 95,

96, 104, 120, 122, 125, 129, 131,138–139, 191, 231, 234, 237

and Muslim revisionism 18confederalist proposal 95declaration of independence 42,

124

elections 9Greater 9independence of 19independent political entity 23Independent State of (NDH) 5Operation Storm 155Peasant Party 5People’s Party 20politics of nationalism 42–43, 95recognition by Germany 49resistance of Federation

initiatives 45Serbian population in 27, 127–128war in 102, 124, 228Yugoslav republic 40

CroatianArmy 132, 133, 134Catholics 4conflict 95Constitution 130Democratic Union (HDZ) 8–9,

11, 99Democratic People’s Party 20elections 94government 100, 134nationalist doctrine 94nationalist party 99offensive 15Serbs 27, 96, 125, 132, 135sovereignty 137territorial changes/gains 120, 134Ustashe 5, 9, 27

Crucé, Emeric 156Cuban Missile Crisis 172cultural monuments 28culturecide 28, 29customary international law 151Cutileiro, José 232Cyrillic alphabet 95Czech Republic 44Czechoslovakia 36, 44

breakup 123crisis in 1968 39

Dagestan 222Dahrendorf, Ralf 37

248 ● Index


Danube 97Dayton 193, 196, 200–203, 230, 233

constitution 199goals 204–206negotiations 140Ohio 16Peace Accords (DPA) 16, 191, 193,

195, 197, 199, 201, 228De Michelis, Gianni 47–48Demilitarization Agreement 56democracy 45, 195, 204, 206, 219, 232Denitch, Bogdan 17, 18Denmark 49détente 35Dinstein, Yoram 172Djukanovic, Milo 235Doder, Dusko 18Dominican Republic 171Douhet, Giulio 155, 222–223Drina valley 147Drljaca, Simo 158Dubrovnik 16, 28Duc de Sully 156Dutch

battalion 103, 105, 106, 110, 113military observers 102peacekeepers 107

Djakova 217

East Pakistan 171Eastern

bloc 36Europe 3, 7

economic sanctions 11, 12, 13, 178email 81England 217Erasmus 156ethnic

cleansing 12, 24, 30, 31, 98, 99,102, 134, 147, 194, 216, 232

conflict 189group(s) 189, 193identification 33nationalism 195problems 192quotas 193–194

tensions 194war 34, 38warfare 18

“ethno-purified” territory 27ethno reconciliation 32Euro 36, 49EuroCorps 47Europe

Central 234Eastern 37, 41Southern 234

Europeanallies 229Command (EUCOM) 217Community (EC) 10, 11, 12, 13,

35, 36, 37, 38, 41, 42, 44, 46,95, 98, 104, 125, 127, 129,130, 132, 135

currency unit (see Euro)defense ministers 111foreign ministers 126institutions 43, 235, 238integration process 36, 43, 228nations 105peacemaking force 47rapid reaction force 98, 111

European Union 49–50, 51, 233,235, 237

forces 67Nice summit 237recognition of Bosnia 96

extradition 156

Far East Air Forces (FEAF) 214–215Ferhadija mosque 148Final Solution 33Finland 228force (use of ) 165–166, 173, 174,

177, 182France 14, 19, 37, 43, 46, 47, 105,

106, 111, 156, 228, 232, 240Rambouillet 30, 121, 136–137,

155, 220Franco-German proposal 49“freedom fighters” 169Fukuyama, Francis 37, 42

Index ● 249


gendercide 28, 29General Framework Agreement for

Peace 190Geneva 13, 16, 98

Conventions 101, 213genocidal

acts 181anti- 31ethnic cleansing 31intentions 28stratagems 31violence 31

genocide 23, 30, 31, 101, 153, 189, 190

convention (see United Nations)in Europe 33war nexus 25what constitutes 24phenomenon of 33prevention 30prosecution 101rhetoric of 27varieties of 32

Genscher, Hans-Dietrich 48, 129,130–132

GermanDemocratic Republic (GDR) 36Federal Republic (FRG) 37federal system 43influence in EU 238leaders 156morale in WWII 212proposal 233–234Reich 157unification 37, 45

Germany 14, 19, 43, 47, 49, 95, 130,132, 217, 228, 240

Nazi 32support for Slovene and Croat

secessionist movements 45unified 44

glasnost 7, 40Glenny, Misha 18Gorazde 13, 99

Gorbachev, Mikhail 7, 33, 35–36, 39, 40

Gow, James 76Gowing, Nik 78Great Britain 14Greece 50, 77Grenada 171, 177Grotius, Hugo 156Ground Safety Zone (GSZ) 57, 58, 64Group of Seven 125guerrillas 65Gulf War (1991) 37–38, 94, 213Gutman, Roy 98Gypsies (see Romani)

Habermas, Jürgen 152Hague 24, 126, 150, 159

Tribunal 157, 160Hague Convention on the Protection of

Cultural Property in the Event ofArmed Conflict (1954) 148

Haiti 94, 148Helsinki

Conference 125Final Act 122

Herreros 33Herzeg-Bosnia 14Hiroshima 215Hitler 5

extermination of European Jewry30

suppression of Polish cultural life inWWII 28

Holbrooke, Richard 239Holland 29, 156Holocaust 13, 154Hosmer, Stephen 219House of Peoples 193human rights 16, 24, 31, 45, 97,

166–170, 173–182humanitarian

abuses 154, 155action 174, 181aid 97, 100, 102, 104

250 ● Index


assistance 155catastrophe 152disaster 151intervention 104, 109, 137, 149,

150, 151–154, 155, 160, 166,173, 175–180, 233

motivation 150, 154, 160, 178necessity 152pretexts 156purposes 169, 171, 173, 180relief 97, 175violations 153war 149, 154–156, 159–160

Hungary 44crisis of 1956 39

Hurd, Douglas 48Hussein, Saddam 213, 239

Ignatieff, Michael 155, 221Illyridia 59impartiality 170Implementation Force (see North

Atlantic Treaty Organization)Incirlik Air Base 212India 34

intervention in East Pakistan 151Indonesia 34information war 75Inter-Entity Boundary Line 192–193internal conflicts 166internal disputes 174internal strife 174internally displaced persons (IDPs)

193, 194, 197, 205International Bank of Reconstruction

and Development (IBRD) 39,40, 203, 219, 234

International Committee Red Cross(ICRC) 13, 97, 158

international community 177, 181,190–196, 199–200, 204, 205

International Conference on the FormerYugoslavia (London Conference)98, 133–134, 148, 230

International Council for VoluntaryAgencies 195

International Court of Justice (ICJ)128, 172, 176–177

International Criminal Court (ICC)34, 150, 158, 159, 239

International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia (ICTY) 24, 101, 149–150, 153, 156–159,197–198, 221

International Crisis Group 197international humanitarian law 97,

98, 149–150, 160international law 121, 123, 127,

128–129, 152, 156, 165–170,172, 174, 177–183

international legal regime 150International Military Tribunal for the

Far East 156International Monetary Fund (IMF)

7, 39, 40International organization(s) 204International Police Task Force (IPTF)

192, 197international prison 150international protectorates 150international relations 165international war convention 150,

156, 159Internet 75, 77, 80Inter-Religious Council 205intervention 170, 183, 198, 230Iraq 94, 172, 177, 213–214, 217,

221, 238Iron Curtain 6, 36irredentist movements 55Islamic Conference 125Italy 47–48, 50, 156, 217, 234ius ad bellum 156, 157ius in bello 157Ivo Andric monument 148Izetbegovic, Alija 9, 11, 12, 13, 16,

20, 231, 233

Index ● 251


Jackson, Robert 119, 123, 157Japan 156Jaruzelski, Wojciech 39Jasenovac 5, 27Jessup, Philip 172Jews 4, 5, 30JNA (see Yugoslav National Army)Johnson doctrine 169journalists 76, 81, 84, 85Judah, Tim 18, 62jus ad bellum (see ius ad bellum)jus in bello (see ius in bello)just war theory 221

Kahn, Paul 221Kampuchea 171Kant, Immanuel 156Karadjordjevo 231Karadzic, Radovan 11, 12, 13, 101,

131, 158Keohane, Robert 85Keraterm prison camp 158Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes

4, 17Kingdom of Yugoslavia 5Kohl, Helmut 37Korea 212, 214–219

North 215–216Kosovan

Albanian refugees 60insurgents 67resistance 60

Kosovarpoliticians 62

Kosovo 7, 8, 20, 24, 45, 56, 59, 63,68, 69, 120–121, 135, 137, 140,150, 154, 166, 172, 174, 176,182, 212, 216–222, 229, 233,236, 239

air campaign 79, 81Albanians 8, 30, 135–136, 138,

140, 153, 175, 230autonomy 135conflict 151, 152crisis in 1981 39

Greater 62, 68Macedonia border 66NATO intervention in 3, 63, 145,

154, 159, 165, 169, 171, 174protectorates in 160province 4, 6removal of ethnic majority 25Republic of 135Serb control 125Serbia border 64, 65, 67stability 64status in Serbia 30territory 136war(s) 156, 240

Kosovo Liberation Army (KLA) 56,136, 140, 158, 218

disarmament 57members 61, 69

Kostunica, Vojislav 20Krajina 15, 27, 48, 95, 98, 134Kremlin 222Krstic, Radislav 101Kucan, Milan 9, 133, 231Kurata, Yasuo 213

Lambeth, Benjamin 219–220Lasva Valley 147laws of war 101, 150League of Communists 8, 38, 44, 231League of Nations

Covenant 122Lemkin, Raphael 23, 25Liberation Army of Presevo, Bujanovac,

and Medvedja (UCPMB) 57,58, 64–65

Lillich, Richard 173limited war 214Little, Alan 18London 37, 38, 46, 215

Accord 156Conference (see International

Conference on the FormerYugoslavia)

Luxembourg 47Lyon, James 140

252 ● Index


Maastricht Treaty 38, 43, 48–49MacArthur, Douglas 157Macedonia 4, 9, 11, 45, 50,

55, 60, 63, 68, 124, 125, 230, 235

Albanian unrest 56ethnic balance 60ethnic issue 59EU forces in 51Former Yugoslavia Republic of

(FYROM) 59, 60, 85, 97independent political entity 24insecurity in 65instability in 66insurgent movements 56minorities within 59peaceful break 58protectorates in 160referendum for independence 95

Macedonian(s)Albanians 235army 61banks 6government 60–61, 66, 67, 68military 61party 61politicians 61, 66security forces 61Serbs 65Slavic 50, 235stability 64state 62

Mali 128Manchukuo 122Manjaca 13, 98Markovic, Ante 42, 44Marshall Plan 41, 191McCoubrey, Hilaire 151McDougal, Myres 172Mearsheimer, John 133media 77, 80, 148–149, 214, 221

organizations 83, 84, 86Mesic, Stipe 131Middle East 13, 94Mihailovic, Dragoljub 5

Military Professional ResourcesIncorporated (MPRI) 68

Milosevic, Slobodan 8–16, 18–20,27, 30, 56, 94, 95, 126, 131, 216,220, 231, 233, 234

fall from power 64, 67, 82policies of 77regime 67trial 79, 83, 101, 157

“mission creep” 112Mission in Bosnia-Herzegovina (see

United Nations)Mitrovica 79Mitterrand, François 37Mladic, Ratko 12, 20, 101, 158modern war 155, 160Montenegro 4, 12, 24, 63, 85, 125,

126, 127–128, 132, 228Moore, John Norton 173Moscow 214, 215Mostar 14, 28, 148Mount Vlasic 107Muslim(s) 6, 13, 14, 25, 198, 228

army 28citizens 27Croat federation 16enclave 28faction 151fundamentalists 233groups 59incarceration in camps 98monuments 29Party of Democratic Action 9, 11population(s) 28, 134, 190state 28, 231

Muslim womenrape of 13

National Democratic Institute andInternational Republican Institute82–83

National Liberation Army (NLA)61, 67

National Security Strategy 151Nedic, Milan 5

Index ● 253


Nepal 148New York 106, 112Newsweek 217Niagara Falls 172Nicaragua 169Nigeria 34, 106no-fly zone(s) 96, 98, 108, 112nonaligned movement 175noncombatants 96, 212, 221non-governmental organizations

(NGOs) 79, 109, 194–195, 202,204, 205–206

nonintervention 165–166, 183norm(s) 119, 166, 176, 177, 183

constitutive 119humanitarian 148legal 148territorial 119–120, 122, 124, 137universal 150

North Atlantic Treaty Organization(NATO) 3, 14, 16, 47, 48,57–58, 67, 68, 77, 97, 110, 125,136, 140, 174, 177, 189, 191,216–222, 230, 239–240

air operations against Serbia 56,100, 102, 108

air power 105, 108air strikes 108, 110, 134, 176alliance 220Amber Fox 67attack on email system 81bombing in Kosovo 78–79, 235bombing of Bosnian Serb targets

15–16, 100Charter 239commanders 106, 221defense ministers 111enforcement action 175goals in Kosovo 171–172ground offensive 218headquarters 82Implementation Force (IFOR) 16,

17, 80, 100, 111, 191information campaigns 82Information Operations 81, 84

intervention 20, 121, 135, 151, 175intervention in Kosovo 3, 63, 145,

154, 159, 165, 169, 171, 174intervention in the Gulf War 47Kosovo Force (KFOR) 56, 58,

64–65, 66, 67, 85leaders 218member states 136no-fly zone 15North Atlantic Alliance 239North Atlantic Council 66, 109,

151, 239North Atlantic Treaty 152officials 66, 192Operation Allied Force 56, 65,

137, 155, 220, 230, 239Operation Delta Force 98Operation Deliberate Force 100,

239Operation Deny Flight 108pressure on Milosevic 30response to Macedonian insurgency

66secretary general 136, 151six point program 64southern region 109Stabilization Force (SFOR) 17,

101, 191–192, 196, 198Task Force Fox 67tilt toward Serbian and Macedonian

governments 68troops 66, 197use of force 175Verification Mission over Kosovo

175warplanes 107

nuclear era 214Nuremberg Tribunals 101, 156–157Nye, Joseph 85

O’Brien, William V. 172Office of the High Representative

(OHR) 194, 200–201Ohrid Treaty 50, 235Omarska prison camp 13, 158

254 ● Index


Open Broadcast Network 83OpenNet website 77Operation Allied Force (see

North Atlantic TreatyOrganization)

Operation Deny Flight (see NorthAtlantic Treaty Organization)

Operation Desert Storm 217Operation Essential Harvest 66Operation Storm (see Croatia)Organization for Security and

Cooperation in Europe (OSCE)97, 129, 158, 192, 195–196, 204

Council of Foreign Ministers 124Verification Mission in Kosovo 174

Oric, Nasim 158Orthodox

Church(es) 4, 148Serbs 4, 25Slavic majority 59

Osijek 13Osimo treaty 48Osirak nuclear reactor 172Ottoman

Armenians 33bridge 28empire 4, 17genocide of 1915 154legacy 148

Owen, David 139, 232Owen-Stoltenberg plan 230

pacifism 156Pale 96, 102Panama 177Parents School Partnership (PSP) 205Paris 17, 20, 46, 228Peace Implementation Council (PIC)

192, 201peacekeeping (see United Nations)Penn, William 156perestroika 17, 20, 40Perez de Cuéllar, Javier 107, 126,

130, 132Plavsic, Biljana 83

Pol Pot 33Poland 36, 39, 44

Solidarity movement 39political independence 169Portugal 50post-Cold War 140precision-guided munitions (PGM)

211–213preemptive intervention 150, 178preemptive self-defense 173Presevo

Albanians 64insurgents 68issue 64KLA fighters in 67Serb officials 64Valley 56–58, 62, 64

Preventive Deployment Force (seeUnited Nations)

Prevlaka 100Prijedor 158prisoners of war (POW) 215Pristina 67, 81psychology of extermination 31public opinion 41, 49, 177,

229, 236Pyongyang 214

Qosja, Rexhep 62Quadrennial Defense Review (see

United States)

Racak massacre 79racial discrimination 177Radio B92 77Radio Free Europe (RFE) 78Radio Jugoslavija 83Radio Televizija Srbije 83Rambouillet (see France)Rambouillet Agreement 33RAND 213, 219rape 13, 98, 114Reagan doctrine 169Reagan, Ronald 40reconciliation 192

Index ● 255


Red Cross (see International CommitteeRed Cross)

refugee(s) 16, 98, 100, 114, 197, 205Serbian 100

regional organizations 97, 167, 169Reinhardt, Klaus 65Reisman, W. Michael 173relief workers 191Republika Srpska 134, 193, 198, 199,

202Army of (VRS) 198

Revolution in Military Affairs (RMA)211, 222

Ridgway, Matthew 215Robertson, Lord George 65, 66“Robohacks” 78Rogel, Carole 5–6rouge states 240Roma minorities 30Roman Catholics 4Romani (Gypsies) 25Romania 50Rome 228Ronzitti, Natalino 173Rose, Sir Michael 109Rousseau, Jean-Jacques 156Royal Air Force Bomber Command

212Rubin, Alfred 150, 157Russia 16Russian(s) 106

Air Force 222Federation 150

Rwanda 34, 94, 109, 113, 148, 177Rwandan Tutsies 33

“safe areas” 97, 99, 108, 112–114, 133“safe cities” 29“safe havens” 13, 15Solana, Javier 151“sanctions coordinator” 97Sarajevo 12, 13, 14, 15, 81, 85, 100,

102, 108–109, 194, 198, 205, 233airport 97, 104Bosnian capital 114

designated “safe area” 99“exclusion zone around” 98government 131, 139headquarters for UNPROFOR 96library 29Serbian siege of 28, 29targeted by Serbs 108, 110

secessionist movements 55self-defense 109–110, 113, 151, 152,

165, 172–173, 182anticipatory 150, 169collective 167individual 167preemptive 169

self-determination, right of 4, 45, 48,122–123, 125, 126, 128, 167

Serbanizing 12, 15Silber, Laura 18Serb(s) 3, 6, 8, 14, 16, 18, 24, 96, 98,

139, 158, 199, 216aggression 77, 129, 199air defense 217, 220armies 228atrocities committed by 13Chetniks 5cities 218democrats 236faction 151, 153forces 57, 216, 218independent political entity 23irregulars 125militias 48minority in Slovenia 13nationalist ambitions 94nationalists 8nationalist parties 9Orthodox 25paramilitaries 147politicians 129population 48, 190population in Bosnia 11propaganda 219Republic 12, 15, 147shelling of Bihac 106soldiers 221

256 ● Index


Serbia 4, 5, 6, 11, 12, 46, 55, 99, 104, 126, 127–128, 132, 175, 191, 230–231, 234–235

and Montenegro 132–133elections 9greater 7, 46, 96insurgent movements 56king of 5northern 7Republic of 58Yugoslav republic 40

Serbian(s) 4Academy of Science and Arts

8Albanians 58artillery 29attacks against 57authorities 153Constitution 5Croatian confrontation 26Democratic Party 11, 203drive to change borders 120faction 159hegemonic state 27journalists 84Krajina, Republic of 134media 77military capacity 172military targets 176minorities 27, 30, 95nationalism 96population 127refugees 30security forces 64territorial gains 120use of cyberspace 81war aims 113websites 77

Serbo-Yugoslav forces 26Shoup, Paul 131Sierra Leone 148Simpson, John 82Six Days’ War 172Skiaker, Thorstein 66

Skopje 50, 65, 81government 58, 59–60

slavery 177Slavic

community 50Slavonia 27, 48Slovakia 44, 50Slovene(s) 3, 4

delegation to the League ofCommunists 44

reservists 46separatism 42state 49war 95

Slovenia 4, 7, 9, 10, 95, 124, 125,228, 230

armed confrontation 47confederalist proposal 95declaration of independence 42, 46elections 9ethnic homogeneity 26German minority 26Hungarian minority 26independence of 19independent political entity 23Italian minority 26politics of nationalism 42–3recognition by Germany 49resistance of Federation initiatives

45Yugoslav republic 40

Slovenianwar of independence 26

Smillie, Ian 195Somalia 94, 148, 177, 213Southeast European Cooperative

Initiative (SECI) 234souverenists 232–233, 235sovereignty 121, 134, 149–150, 153,

165, 168, 182–183Soviet(s) 169

bloc 7, 35, 39breakup 123camp 19collapse 19

Index ● 257


Soviet(s)—continuedCommunist Party 35domination of East 37threat of intervention 94Union 33, 39, 40, 125

Soviet Union 3, 6, 7Spain 50sporazum 5Srebrenica 13, 101, 102, 106, 107, 110

as a safe city 29, 99fall of 147massacre of Muslims 15, 113–114overrun by Serbs 100, 105Report 113

Sri Lanka 148Stability Pact 233, 235Stabilization Force (see North Atlantic

Treaty Organization)Standing Committee for Military

Matters 192Stari most 148Stoltenberg, Thorvald 232Sudan 148Susak, Gojko 233

Tadic, Miroslav 157Tajikistan 148Taliban 239Talic, Momir 158Tanusevci 61Task Force Fox (see North Atlantic

Treaty Organization)Taylor, Philip 80Territorial Defense Forces 10territorial integrity 165, 168, 173, 180terrorist states 240Tetovo University 60Thatcher, Margaret 37Third World 213, 215Tirana 63Tito, Josip Broz 3, 5, 6

death of 7nonalignment policy 39

Tokyo Shimbun 213Tokyo 215

Tribunals 101, 156–157

“total exclusion zones” 102Transnistria 232Travnik 99Treaty of Rome 36Trnopolje prison camp 13, 158Truman, Harry 213Truth and Reconciliation Commission

205Tudjman, Franjo 9, 10, 15, 16, 18,

27, 94, 99, 126, 155, 231, 233death of 20government 95

Turks 154Tuzla 13, 99twenty-first century 183, 236

Uganda 171Ukraine 106Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (see

Soviet Union)United Kingdom 37, 38, 43, 46, 49,

106, 111, 156United Nations (UN) 11, 12, 13, 15,

105, 125, 130, 166, 230, 233, 239admission of Bosnia 96article 2(4) 104ban on sale of weapons 14, 95chain of command 110Charter 98, 101, 104, 109,

122–123, 130, 151, 152, 156,157, 159, 165–176, 179–182

commanders 109Commission of Experts 101Confidence Restoration Operation

(UNCRO) 100Convention for the Prevention and

Punishment of Genocide 23,153, 175

enforcement actions 168force(s) 14, 98, 192General Assembly 112–113, 122guidelines 151headquarters 107High Commission for Refugees

(UNHCR) 84–85, 96, 97,112, 114

258 ● Index


hostages 111, 113intervention 20involvement in the Balkans 93, 95,

101Mission in Bosnia-Herzegovina

(UNMIBH) 101missions 102peacekeepers 102, 103, 105, 108,

110, 134, 216peacekeeping 93, 95, 97, 103, 105,

106, 111, 112personnel 102, 107pressure on Milosevic 30Preventive Deployment Force

(UNPREDEP) 65–66“protected areas” 95, 105Protection Force (UNPROFOR)

11, 12, 15, 19, 20, 80, 94,95–111, 113

Secretariat 104, 106secretary general 99–101, 105, 108,

110–112Security Council 93, 94, 95–99,

101, 103–110, 112, 126, 132,134, 136, 149, 151, 156,157–158, 165–179

Transnational Authority inCambodia (UNTAC) 94

troops 29use of force 102war crimes prosecutors 221

United States 14, 19, 20, 67, 77, 106,125, 130, 131, 132, 150, 151,156, 158, 169, 172, 177, 189,190–191, 213, 217, 228, 234,237, 240

Agency for InternationalDevelopment (USAID) 196

Air Force 213–216, 221Central Intelligence Agency (CIA)

67, 217Congress 83Defense Department 68, 213hegemony 77Joint Chiefs of Staff 213, 217Pentagon 219

Quadrennial Defense Review (2001)211

recognition of Bosnia 96State Department 67, 229

UNPROFOR (see United Nations)uti possidetis juris 122–123, 128, 138

Vance, Cyrus 95, 130, 132, 232Vance-Owen plan 13, 98–99Vatican 228Vattel, Emmerich 156Verification Mission in Kosovo (see

Organization for Security andCooperation in Europe)

Verification Mission over Kosovo (seeNorth Atlantic TreatyOrganization)

Versailles 156Vienna 158

Convention on the Law of Treaties136

Vietnam 216–219Vilnius 238Visegrad 148Voice of America (VOA) 78Vojvodina 4, 6, 8, 125von Clausewitz, Carl 159Vukovar 10

Waltzer, Michael 221war crime(s) 24, 99, 101, 149,

160, 233war crimes tribunal 13Warden, John 217, 219war(s)

anti- and postcolonial 25civil 38criminals 197–198ethnic 38irredentist 25of colonial imperial expansion 25of partition 28of secession 25, 230–231preemptive 151

Washington 67, 214, 215, 228Washington Agreement 99

Index ● 259


Webster, Daniel 172Weller, Mark 137West European Union (WEU) 47,

97, 125Western

engagement in Balkans 230, 237media 76press 75world 227–229, 234

Westphalian order 149, 152–153Weyland, Otto P. 215White House 217World Bank (see International Bank of

Reconstruction and Development)World War I 4, 6, 7, 9, 122, 156World War II 30, 32, 101, 123, 147,

154, 156, 166, 169, 212–214, 229

Yiddish culture 28Yugoslav

army 46breakup 24, 124collapse 25, 217, 234, 236, 238Commonwealth 42communist leadership 39community 232conflict(s) 138, 147, 148, 150Constitution of 1974 38, 129crisis 42, 43, 46, 47, 48–49, 229dismemberment 24experiment 39Federation 42, 43, 44–45, 46, 48forces 135, 140, 174, 218government 5, 175imbroglio 148kingdom 4leadership 39, 40National Army (JNA) 3, 9, 10, 12,

60, 95, 96, 102, 104, 125, 126,129, 132, 147

overseas funds frozen 97power grid 218presidency 95, 231question 51

republics 8, 11, 38, 40, 130, 134, 135

society 38succession 149, 154transition 45union 9war of dismantlement 29, 32, 230wars 93, 119, 156

Yugoslavia 8, 14, 16, 18, 19, 30, 104,112, 136–137, 174, 227

as balancer in Cold War 39bombing campaign against 211,

216–217collapse 7, 41, 44, 48, 55, 237communist party 94creation in 1918 3disintegration of 4, 11, 26, 28,

123–124, 233dissolution 59economic decline 40Federal Republic of (FRY) 97, 104,

121, 134–138, 140, 174–175,191, 235

former 49, 51, 68, 77, 85, 94, 96,97, 98, 101, 139, 147

fragmented demise 23indebtedness 7People’s Army 129political death of 34presidency 10process of dissolution 43Socialist Federal Republic of

(SFRY) 6, 38, 124, 125–128, 133

territorial waters 97war of secession 160World War II 5

Zacher, Mark 119, 123Zagreb 27, 28, 99, 125, 127, 231Zaire 109Zepa 13, 99–100Zimmerman, Warren 130–131Zolo, Danilo 156

260 ● Index
