TIME TO KEEP THE PROMISE

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Virtually every member of Congress at the hearings urged the White House to seek congressional authorization before going ahead with the mission. Late in the week, Clinton indicated that he intends to do this; if he declines, however, few seem prepared to challenge him. The reason is that Congress's preferred tactic when confronted with knotty foreign policy problems is to make lots of noise but leave the hard calls to the President. "If he succeeds, they'll praise him; if he fails, they'll criticize him," said Representative Lee Hamilton, an Indiana Democrat. A Republican congressional staff member was even more blunt. "If the Commander in Chief wants to hang himself," he said, "who are we to take away his rope?"

Such sentiments should no doubt give the Administration pause, but it seems to feel that its only choice is to follow through. When asked to offer justification for American participation in I-FOR, officials argued that a renewed Balkan war could swiftly spread to Albania and Macedonia, thereby threatening to involve Greece and Turkey. Christopher also invoked the responsibility that comes with being "the centerpiece" of NATO. "It's just not conceivable for them to undertake this job without the U.S.," he declared. These points were well taken (and have been made for years by advocates of a stronger U.S. role in Bosnia). Even those who oppose the policy concede that it would be disastrous to back out now. For Washington to send troops "is a terrible idea," said Brent Scowcroft, former National Security Adviser--but reneging on that pledge "could immediately destroy NATO." (As if to underscore NATO's need for leadership, the alliance was left rudderless last week when corruption charges forced Secretary-General Willy Claes to resign.)

Amid such complex strategic considerations, the human need for peace is sometimes lost. Last week, when a U.N. convoy made the first unimpeded run into the Muslim enclave of Gorazde since 1992, those on board encountered a city that in little more than 36 months has been transformed from a 20th century industrial center to a medieval encampment. Dr. Alija Begovic, who runs the hospital, described how doctors have performed amputations with kitchen knives, anesthetized patients with plum brandy and transfused blood from their own veins.

When the U.N. trucks arrived, Begovic thought for a moment that his repeatedly shattered hopes for the future might revive. But then he was reminded that in Bosnia, happy endings no longer seem to take place. "For three years there has been nothing here but war and death," he said, calling to mind an especially painful memory--the recollection of a little girl who was hit by a sniper, then woke up in the middle of her operation and asked Begovic to "tell Mummy I love her." And with that, she died.

--Reported by Edward Barnes/Gorazde, J.F.O. McAllister and Mark Thompson/Washington and Bruce van Voorst with Holbrooke