No sign of revolution amid highs and lows
of Fortress Serbia
While many Serbs dislike Milosevic, he stays
firmly in charge ahead of polling, write Lutz Kleveman in Belgrade
At four in the morning, Goran finally broke
our "don't mention the war" agreement. With a voice
softened by whisky but steady with conviction, he said: "All
right, my Nato aggressor friend, your air force is not bad, but
our parties are better than yours." He was right, entirely.
The Prestige club boat, moored on the Danube in Belgrade, was
being rocked by a crowd of young people frenetically enjoying
a night out - high on cheap alcohol or soft drugs. This was Balkan
joie de vivre, far from the gloom and drudgery that foreigners
might expect to find in Serbia after the Kosovo war. Same people
were finding life in a pariah state quite fun. Ninety miles south,
in the industrial town of Kragujevac, Ivan Simic and his wife
spent the evening in a less buoyant mood. They are among about
150,000 Serb refugees from Kosovo who fled the province in fear
of attacks by ethnic Albanians after Nato-led troops drove out
Belgrade's forces last year. "The Serbs here in Kragujevac
treat us like second-class citizens," complained Mr Simic.
Local people blame their compatriots from Kosovo tor the Nato
bombing which destroyed the town's Zastava car and munitions factory.
Life is hard and gloomy.
Back in Belgrade, Yugoslavian President Slobodan
Milosevic has reason to be content in the run-up to next month's
elections. He is more finnly in power now than at any time since
the early Nineties. The Kosovo gamble has paid off for the wily
dictator. The post-bombing reconstruction of the country is the
new rallying cry to mobilise the masses. The evening news bulletins
on state television extol the regime's achievements - rebuilding
bridges, railway lines and factories - in the face of economic
sanctions and military siege by tbe West. Opposition leaders are
branded a treacherous bunch of Western stooges and Nato agents.
Tbe fortress mentality works to some extent. Few Serbs have good
things to say about Milosevic, but even fewer like the West. Even
the most anti-regime and Western-minded believe that tbe bombing
campaign was wrong. One Belgrade taxi driver neatly reconciled
both antipathies: "Slobo, too, is a Western agent. He does
whatever suits those imperialist Americans." Typically, his
problem with "Slobo" was not that he started wars -
but that he lost them. Conspiracy theories abound in a Serbia
where gangsterism is rite and life is cheap. Several leading gangsters
and politicians have been killed recently under mysterious circumstances,
among them the infamous paramilitary leader, Arkan. "This
might be a murderous power struggle," said one political
observer. "But no one really knows what's going on in the
regime." While there has long been talk of a possible palace
coup, a revolution trom the street appears a way off. The opposition
parties which failed over the weekend to agree on a single candidate
tor the election are as weak and divided as ever. Fewer people
are tuming up tor their rallies on the Republican Square. Those
who do listen politely and then go home. The only possible serious
challengers to the regime's power make a point of not being serious
at all. "We bite the system, hut our weapons are charm and
wit," said Milan Samardzic of the student movement Otpor
(Resistance). . Untainted by corruption, the Otporista are rapidly
gaining support among a population disappointed with opposition
parties. "Unlike them, we have no interest in money or power-
we just want to see Milosevic go," said Mr Samardzic. 23,
a law student. The authorities have branded Otpor a "fascist
terrorist" organisation. Police beat supporters badly during
a protest, in May. But the students still sing an Otpor hymo:
"Save Serbia, Slobo and kill yourself." While disrespectful,
it also reveals how helpless they feel in the face of overwhelming
force.