Milosevic's war in Bosnia to expand Greater Serbia ended in another defeat. To save himself, he had to knuckle under to international diplomacy. Ever ready to discard what has become harmful, he dropped his backing for Serb kin in the breakaway state, eventually making peace at their expense at Dayton in 1995. He turned this humiliation into another kind of triumph when he paraded on the world stage as a peacemaker equal to the superpower leaders negotiating with him. Yet he was no more a man of peace than he was a communist or nationalist. He simply did what he had to do to stay in power.
Power, say those who know him, is the one thing he truly loves. He exercises it daily, in matters large and small. From his subordinates, he brooks no challenges. When Serb officials began several months ago to obstruct the work of international monitors in Kosovo, it was clearly at his orders, a way of saying, notes a diplomat involved, "This is my turf, and I'm boss." He does not flaunt decorative symbols of office or stage showy ceremonies and cares nothing for state protocol. But if he shirks the glamour of power, he still loves delicious moments of control. When foreign diplomats appear at his door, he glows as he picks the chairs on which they will sit.
Above all, Milosevic is a crafty autocrat. He relies exclusively on his own judgment, and little is done without his consent. While other institutions of state exist--a government, an elected Chamber of Citizens, ministries--he has limited their capacity to function. Only the police force works--an organization full of "his guys" that is exhausting in its myriad forms of harassment. The state is Slobodan Milosevic.
Much of his strength lies in the weakness of his enemies. In 1996 the Serb President did suffer a scare when three months of protests over fraudulent elections filled the streets with disillusioned citizens demanding democratic change. But he held out long enough to allow the opposition to self-destruct in personal rivalries. Since then his strongest potential challengers have opted to join his government instead of fight it. In 1997, when the constitution barred him from a third term as President of Serbia, he stuck to legal niceties and "won" election as President of the Yugoslav Federation, transforming that ceremonial post into his new seat of power.
Yet despite having proved himself a cunning politician, he is said to be insecure, even paranoid. U.S. diplomats, eager to point up what they see as limits to his popularity, say he is so fearful for his personal security that he refuses to go out in public. While he may partly be cultivating the dictator's aura of mystery, some Serbs say he is fundamentally a deeply suspicious, withdrawn and secretive person.
Still, observers say he commands a solid 20% core of support. Some of that may be the result of the undiluted populist propaganda that is fed relentlessly through the state media. And some of it may simply be old-fashioned pride and nationalism, emotions no less powerful and gripping in Yugoslavia than in any other country. But that loyal core is enough, in the words of one Serb, to allow Milosevic "to steal any election." It also gives him the causes and crises that make him irreplaceable. "We are for Slobo because he is for us," explained Velimir Djurica at his plumbing stall in Belgrade's black market last week. "The foreign boot must not be on us."
At once immoderate and capricious, Milosevic has made himself one of the West's most difficult enemies. Lessons learned from one encounter do not necessarily apply to the next. Washington concluded after Dayton, when NATO bombers seemed to bring him to the negotiating table, that he respected what he feared and would give in to force and threats. Milosevic learned something different: how to exploit the West's hesitation. Diplomats who thought that Dayton showed they "could work with him" discovered he rarely works well with anyone. He enjoyed his combat with Richard Holbrooke, whose status as special American envoy to the Balkans he considered worthy of attention. But he is said to detest Secretary of State Madeleine Albright as the archetype of all those trying to do in the Serbs. Pride drives the man, says a Western diplomat, "and rational analysis may not matter if he is humiliated in the process."
Certainly his Kosovo strategy has been confounding. In part, says a U.S. official, Milosevic seems closed off to reality. When negotiating, he relies on a mix of charm and tirades about the victimization of the Serbs. Says the official: "Every second sentence is wrong or a lie. He pours out his soul, but you don't know if he believes all that rubbish." He never says yes or no, never puts his own name to a formal agreement. While his vicious behavior in Kosovo has evoked comparison to Hitler, those who know him say Milosevic doesn't dream so large. "He wants to be the tinhorn dictator of Serbia forever," says a U.S. official. "Beyond that, nothing."
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