Blast From The Past

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Feeling the heat, in January Lukovic penned a warning letter to the government. "You are muddying the true patriots," he charged. "You are spending the last credits of people's patience..." A government decision to set up a special prosecutor to investigate organized crime deepened Lukovic's unease. Last month, a truck driven by a member of his gang veered into a convoy of cars in which Djindjic was traveling. Djindjic emerged unscathed, but the driver was released shortly afterward.

Organized crime and corruption in the security forces is just one of the legacies of the Milosevic era that Djindjic was trying to root out. His government had successfully introduced sweeping fiscal reforms, closed down four major money-losing banks and privatized state-owned firms. He was almost single-handedly responsible for sending Milosevic to the Hague, though he explained the decision to Serbs as a pragmatic measure aimed at freeing up $1.3 billion in Western aid, not an admission of Milosevic's guilt. That cooperation, plus the pain inflicted by his economic reforms, won him enemies, especially among suspected war criminals. Carla Del Ponte, the war crimes tribunal's chief prosecutor, sent letters of condolence to Djindjic's family and mourned the loss of a friend.

Born in Bosnia-Herzegovina in 1952, the son of an army officer, Djindjic showed his rebellious streak early on, losing a place at Belgrade University for trying to organize an independent student union. He went on to obtain a doctorate in philosophy at Konstanz University in Germany, where he launched his own textile firm. Back in Yugoslavia in 1989, he helped found the Democratic Party, and in the mid-1990s briefly served as Belgrade's first opposition mayor.

But Djindjic was never Serbia's most popular opposition politician; some suspected him of being too ambitious, others of harboring ties to Milosevic. In the presidential elections that led to the fall of Milosevic, Djindjic chose to take a backseat to his rival Vojislav Kostunica, a moderate nationalist with a big following among ordinary voters. The gambit worked. Kostunica was elected President of Yugoslavia, an office he held — despite constant bickering with Djindjic — until earlier this month, when the federation ceased to exist, becoming Serbia and Montenegro.

As Prime Minister, Djindjic worked hard to reshape Serbia's reputation abroad. German Chancellor Gerhard Schröder last week lamented the loss of a "guarantor of peace and stability" in the region; George W. Bush praised his "strong leadership." His death, some diplomats say, is proof that Serbia has to work harder to free itself of organized crime and the legacy of its violent past. But with Western aid levels to the region falling sharply, the murder could also be seen as a warning to the U.S. and the European Union that Serbia is not yet ready to stand on its own. After last month's attempt to ram his car, Djindjic dismissed the threat by saying that it was "a huge delusion to think that reforms can be stopped by eliminating me." Serbia will soon find out if he was right.