CURRENT EVENTS UPDATE

By JOHANNA McGEARY

Every revolution has its moment of combustion. Yugoslavia’s came on an autumn Wednesday in the persons of three elderly men on a tractor. Hundreds of Slobodan Milosevic’s dreaded special police had swept down on the diggers at the Kolubara coal mine in Serbia’s heartland who had initiated popular resistance by refusing to work. Attempting to force out the 7,000 striking miners intent on crippling the country’s electric grid, security troops surrounded the complex and blockaded a key bridge with police buses. But the workers stood fast, called for help on radios and cell phones, and 20,000 citizens converged on the mine. As they approached the barricaded bridge, those three old men plowed their tractor straight into the police blockade, opening the way for thousands to break through as the security men melted away. Armed with the awesome revelation of its own strength, a grassroots revolt had begun, and from then on nothing could stop it.

The next day that delirious display of people power was repeated over and over in the capital of Belgrade as hundreds of thousands of Serbs stormed the bastions of Milosevic’s oppression and these too gave way. First the parliament building, seat of Milosevic’s political machine, went up in flames as protesters tossed Milosevic’s doctored ballots out the windows. Then state television, main prop of the regime, went black as protesters broke in the front door while police fled out the back. Then the official news agency switched its allegiance to Vojislav Kostunica, the unassuming constitutional lawyer whose election Milosevic was trying to steal. Riot police took off their helmets to join the insurrectionist carnival. Army troops sat quietly in their barracks. By nightfall, Milosevic had nothing left to sustain his rule.

Years of pent-up frustration under Milosevic’s misrule had finally erupted in a showdown, as each new success taught Serbs to see they had the power to change their future. The revolution ran at cyberspeed from the disputed election two weeks ago, ending victoriously in the dizzying events of one day. Just like that, the Serbs took back their country and belatedly joined the democratic tide that swept away the rest of Eastern Europe’s communist tyrants a decade ago. The West gloried in the exit of the man who fueled savage European conflicts for a decade and cost his enemies so much money and blood.

It dawned even on the out-of-touch Milosevic that his people were ready to retire him. In an astonishing moment, the strongman who had ruled so long through his control of television stood before a camera he no longer owned, his jaw trembling slightly as he said he would step aside. He conceded electoral defeat and congratulated the man he "just learned" had outpolled him. But ever defiant, he warned he had no intention of bowing out altogether. After a "rest" spent visiting with his grandson, he would be back to rebuild his Socialist Party of Serbia and resume an important role in the country’s political life.

For bone-weary Serbs, though, it was enough that he was gone now. The euphoria of freedom swept across the country. The Serbs had surprised themselves with their own empowerment, earning an exhilaration so strong that no fears about the future could dampen it. They filled up the capital again to see their democratically chosen leader sworn in. In Washington and the capitals of Europe, NATO’s leaders rejoiced that their campaign to remove Milosevic had been won, promising the new President aid and an end to economic sanctions. And they put off until tomorrow any worries that Yugoslavia’s new leader might prove a distinctly prickly partner.

What happened last week looked inevitable as it unfolded live on TV. But it didn’t even look possible two weeks ago. Milosevic unknowingly set his fate in motion last summer when he tampered with the constitution and called an election nine months early to buff up his democratic veneer. Voters didn’t like that, but when Serbs went to the polls Sept. 24, even they suspected the country would cement his presidency in place for another four years. And when the opposition declared a runaway victory on Sept. 25, claiming Kostunica had won 52.4%, compared with Milosevic’s 38%, the Serb autocrat still looked strong, though shaken. He set about rectifying the decision in his usual way, urging the cronies who packed the Federal Election Commission to rig the count. But the tally was so lopsided that even he could not claim victory outright. He had to admit he had come in second, but he settled for a second round of voting to buy time to cook better results for the runoff.

Imagine the Serbian leader’s surprise when the opposition didn’t just fold. He had counted on its usual spineless disunity. He didn’t realize the uncharismatic Kostunica was the critical ingredient that let Serbs imagine an alternative future. He didn’t know how bitterly Serbs blamed him for their blighted lives: the accumulated woes of $45-a-month salaries or no employment at all, four lost wars and untold thousands of Yugoslav casualties, the nato bombing that sent an impoverished economy into visible ruins, the bitter years of sanctions and international disapproval. Domestic repression and self-serving propaganda had reached critical mass, draining away the last traces of his once genuine popularity. "The underlying discontent, up till now only flickering, burst out," says Milan Milosevic, a political analyst at the independent Belgrade weekly Vreme. "Everything needed to make the change possible was suddenly there."

Still, Serbs had been there before. In 1991 they staged massive protests against Milosevic in Belgrade. In 1996 they had voted against his party in municipal elections and went out in the streets to make their choice stick. Milosevic finally conceded but hung on himself until their demonstrations fizzled and their leaders surrendered to his political and financial incentives. He had always divided and ruled. Why, he wondered, should it be different this time around?

The opposition gambled too. The cautious Kostunica thought Milosevic’s lust to retain his aura of legitimacy might force the President to give up if the legal bodies ruled the "official" vote count a fraud. So he refused to participate in the Milosevic-ordained runoff. Kostunica resolutely insisted he was already President-elect, and he was backed up by an international chorus of support; the only exception was Moscow, which held off in backing Kostunica despite strong urging from Western leaders. As he stuck to his sense of peaceful mission, Kostunica grew visibly in stature. We can have, he declared, "a nonviolent, wise, civilized, democratic revolution."

—TIME, October 18, 2000

Questions
1. The writer comments that Milosevic "set his fate in motion." What does this statement mean?

2. How is life in Yugoslavia expected to change under President Kostunica?

TIME CLASSROOM