The Serbs reject Western involvement in a volatile region that is verging on civil war

By ROD USHER

referendum is what you have when a decision is too big to be left to a government. A straightforward question is put to the people for their simple yes or no. Then there's a Milosevic referendum. As was shown last week, this is a process where the "or" part of the process is removed: there is never any doubt about the result.

Faced with mounting international anxiety about another Balkans bloodbath--this time in the Serb region of Kosovo--Belgrade strongman Slobodan Milosevic asked what, on the face of it, is a simple question: "Do you accept involvement of foreigners in resolving the Kosovo issue?" Behind it was pressure from the Contact Group on the Balkans--the United States, Britain, Russia, France, Germany and Italy--for talks to try to halt a spiral of violence in Kosovo, a region of about two million people, some 90% of whom are ethnic Albanians and mostly Muslim, the remainder Christian Orthodox Serbs. Relations have long been uneasy between the two communities, but they worsened after Milosevic's abolition nine years ago of the 1974 constitution that gave Kosovo considerable autonomy from Belgrade.

In the lead-up to last Thursday's referendum, Milosevic left no Serb voters in doubt about what they should say to the idea of outsiders helping to resolve a conflict which this year alone has claimed more than 100 lives--including dozens of women and children--in battles between Serb police and separatists calling themselves the Kosovo Liberation Army. Ivan Markovic, a spokesman for Milosevic's ruling coalition of communists and ultra-nationalists, declared: "Whoever refuses to say no to foreign meddling in our internal affairs is undermining the sovereignty and integrity of our country." A blunter voice in the government's propaganda campaign was the speaker of the Serbian Parliament, Dragan Tomic: "There's no discussion and no questions in this matter. Either you're the master of your household, or you're not. If you're not, you should expect a stranger in your wife's bed." Milosevic's attorney-general, Vukasin Jokanovic, went so far as to say two weeks before the referendum: "We will have a 65% turnout, with some 95% voting no." When results were announced on Friday, Jokanovic's prediction was uncannily accurate: 94.73% said no, although he proved to have been a little pessimistic on turnout, which was 73.5%. The Kosovo Albanians, also unsurprisingly, boycotted the referendum.

With the Contact Group due to meet in Rome this week, Milosevic can now say, "Thanks, but no thanks." Serbian opposition member Vesna Pesic, leader of the small, liberal Civic Alliance, said before the referendum: "This is not at all about foreign mediation or Kosovo. What Milosevic really wants to hear from the Serbs is whether they are ready to support him all the way or not. So whatever happens tomorrow, even if war breaks out, he can pass the blame to the people and say: 'You voted for it.'" Her view is supported by many of the despised "foreigners." One Belgrade-based Western diplomat said last week: "Milosevic is unable to keep control over Kosovo, but he rejects any outside help, almost as if he hopes some foreign force will come in and he can say, 'I didn't lose Kosovo, it was taken away.' Once again, he wants to use the international community as a scapegoat."

Others think Milosevic's aim may also have been to send an intimidatory message to Montenegro, Serbia's smaller partner in the rump Yugoslav federation. Montenegro's reformist President Milo Djukanovic--now on a diplomatic mission to the U.S.--has a strained relationship with Milosevic, and has indicated Montenegro may eventually decide to leave the federation.

While the politicking recalls the national intransigence and international impotence that characterized the bloodshed in Bosnia, events on the ground in Kosovo last week also indicated an inexorably widening conflict. Intermittent gunfire, roadblocks, and people abandoning isolated homes were three of war's harbingers. An example of the tension could be seen in a normally tranquil corner of Kosovo, the Christian Orthodox Visoki Decani Monastery, at the foot of Mount Prokletije, some 15 km from the border with Albania. For more than six centuries, the monastery has been a holy place for Serbs, and one deeply respected by many of the area's Muslims. Says Father Sava, the 38-year-old prior of the monastery, "Legend has it that our relics have healing powers. Our Albanian neighbors used to come here every day bringing gifts and seeking blessings. But not any more. It's been months since I saw the last one. It's not a good sign."

An even clearer sign is the fact that Serbs from surrounding villages have started moving out of their homes and seeking shelter near the monastery in old bungalows which were recently donated to it by the state. Mijat Stojanovic, a farmer from the village of Glodjani, was one of the first to arrive. "Ours was the only Serbian house in the village," says Stojanovic. "On March 23 a [Serbian] police patrol was ambushed near my home. The shooting lasted all night long and in the morning I packed some things and left. I don't think I will ever go back."

Stojanovic was soon joined by about 80 more Serbs. Plana Stijovic, 64, who had just arrived from her village, Gramocin, said: "I lived in peace with my Albanian neighbors until three weeks ago, when we started hearing shots during the night. There were rumors that the Kosovo Liberation Army was about to set up a base in the village. Then my Albanian neighbors stopped talking to me, and that night the shooting got worse and worse. We could not take it any more, so we left." Her son, Milovan, 36, feels bitter about the government's attitude to Serbs in Kosovo. "They haven't even tried to protect us," he complains. "Nobody cares when you're poor."

Although their village is only 10 km from the monastery, it was impossible to visit it last week. Police have blocked the roads "for security reasons." Serbian authorities have also boosted their presence along the 100-km border with Albania, and every asphalt road in Kosovo has sandbagged police checkpoints.

But asphalted roads are few in Kosovo, and many villages are controlled by the K.L.A. The militant separatists first announced their existence in 1996 with a series of terrorist attacks after years of peaceful but unsuccessful attempts by leaders of Kosovo's Muslim majority to get better treatment from Belgrade. From those isolated killings of Serb police and other officials, the K.L.A. has obtained more guns, and become more daring. K.L.A. members in camouflage fatigues recently set up a checkpoint of their own in broad daylight near the Albanian border on a dirt road just half a kilometer from a Serbian police station. Belgrade authorities say arms are still flowing to the K.L.A. from Albania, and on Friday the official news agency Tanjug said at least 16 alleged K.L.A. members had been killed by Yugoslav troops as they tried to cross into Kosovo from Albania. At the same time, the Albanian government said about 1,000 ethnic Albanians had crossed in the other direction seeking asylum.

Although vastly outnumbered, Kosovo's Serb minority can rely on Milosevic's military clout and propaganda expertise, plus the fact that most Serbs feel deeply about the region, its history imprinted on them by the Ottoman Turks in a battlefield defeat back in 1389. But Kosovo's Albanian Muslims have a birth rate far higher than the Serbs. The power-to-population imbalance can only grow, and along with it the demands for, and resistance to, Kosovo becoming an independent state.

Father Sava at Visoki Decani Monastery admits he is "very worried." He does not want to mix church and politics, and says if a full war erupts "we are ready to provide refuge to both Serbs and Albanians." But asked if there is any way to achieve peace in Kosovo, the prior said: "Kosovo is a very sick place. Sometimes I wonder if we need to amputate the arm to save the body."

As the Contact Group and other foreigners who have tried to deal with Slobodan Milosevic know, that surgical proposal is unlikely to be on his list of questions to be put to a referendum.

--Reported by Dejan Anastasijevic /Decani