Words Are Not Enough

The siege of Sarajevo began to ease last week in the snows of Pale, a former ski resort overlooking the city. Bosnian Serb leader Radovan Karadzic walked down the front steps of his headquarters in his putative capital, his shaggy hair glistening with snowflakes, to announce: "We do think the war in Sarajevo is finally over." Beside him, Russian special envoy Vitali Churkin, the catalyst for Karadzic's conversion, nodded his agreement. The Serbs, Churkin said, would withdraw their heavy weapons from the heights around Sarajevo. In return, Russia would contribute several hundred soldiers to peacekeeping forces in the area. There would be no need for NATO bombs, he argued, because there would be no targets.

Karadzic's proclamation of an end to the war was premature. The obvious purpose of the conciliatory words was to forestall the air strikes promised by NATO after Feb. 20 if the Serbs did not move their guns away from Bosnia's capital or hand them over to the U.N. It will, of course, be a good thing if the maneuver succeeds in stopping shells from smashing into the city. But peace is hardly at hand: the siege is not over so long as Serbian troops ring Sarajevo; the war is not over so long as Bosnia's ethnic factions do battle across the countryside. And many observers wonder if the Bosnian Serbs have not got the better part of the deal.

Though the Serbs began pulling their artillery, tanks and mortars down the icy roads around Sarajevo last week, it was not certain how many weapons were leaving or where they were going. Rather than stockpile them under U.N. guard, the Serbs might move them to Bihac in the northwest, for example, where Muslim-Serb battles have intensified in recent weeks, or to Bosnian-held Olovo, just north of Sarajevo. U.N. officials and diplomats spoke of "very significant withdrawals" from the capital region -- while Serb vehicles were seen heading north and south, perhaps toward other battle zones.

But as they pulled out, some of the ordinary Serb soldiers seemed to think peace was coming. On the main road above Sarajevo, crew members were repairing an old Russian-made T-55 tank, its dirty green hull covered with slush. "Hello, my name is Borislav," one of the crew called out. "I'm 28 and a Leo." The war had gone on too long, he said. "It is time to go home. We will be gone before NATO comes."

No one could say for sure if the Serbs had done enough to meet the Sunday NATO deadline. All heavy weapons that are not at least 12.5 miles from the city center or under U.N. control by then will still face air strikes by Western planes. Karadzic said boldly he would beat that time by 24 hours and invited patrols by U.N. blue helmets to begin on Saturday. The NATO allies said they would decide only after the deadline expires whether the Serbs had fulfilled the conditions. "NATO stands ready to carry out its mission," Bill Clinton said Saturday.