Inside Belgrade, a Waiting Game
By Aleksandar Ciric*
April 19, 1999
BELGRADE, Yugoslavia -- The initial effect of the NATO bombing was
relief. Since the first threats of air strikes last October, the Yugoslav
population has been under extreme psychological pressure. But once the
bombing began, the situation finally became clear: The country was under
attack and the enemy was identified.
Those Serbs who follow world news, either with the help of relatives
abroad or on the Internet or via satellite dishes, are better informed
than ever. But alongside the programming of the state Radio-Television
Serbia, the news from CNN, SKY, BBC and other European networks looks like
poorly disguised propaganda. Viewers in Yugoslavia react to these Western
news reports with a shrug or even outright laughter. When NATO missiles
hit a heating plant in Belgrade, the question on the streets was, "How
will [NATO Gen.] Wesley Clark explain this 'military' target1?" Attitudes
hardened noticeably after a NATO missile struck a passenger train, killing
11 and wounding 20 civilians.
More than 100,000 people each day flock to outdoor concerts here, despite
the air raid sirens. Similar rallies have been held in other cities and
towns of Serbia, as well as Montenegro. Sometimes, the demonstrators visit
places that have already been hit, such as the bridges in Novi Sad over
the Danube. They leave messages, bouquets and candles -- as if mourning
family members. Bridges in Belgrade, and manufacturing plants elsewhere
in the country, have been "defended" by human chains or shields.
These are not gatherings in support of Yugoslav President Slobodon
Milosevic. As Vlade Divac, a Yugoslav player in the US National Basketball
Association, explained to CNN's Larry King, "It is not about our president,
it is about all of us." Neither are these the gatherings of Serbs
who are uninformed about what is happening in Kosovo. Most people here
think they know very well about the plight of refugees.
It is not that people are not afraid. Fear exists and people don't
hide it. But the dominant feelings are anger and defiance. At night, one
can hear shouts in the big residential blocks, after a bombing: "Cowards!
Come down here!" A rich repertoire of Serbian curses follows.
Before the outbreak of fighting in Kosovo in February 1998, the Yugoslav
army had been reduced by the regime to being little more than a police
force. Now, however, it is an unchallenged leader and hero, defending the
country.
It is not hard to understand the reaction of most Yugoslavs. Many people
behave defiantly because they know that NATO is trying to avoid civilian
casualties. Therefore, statistically at least, they should be safe. They
also view the entire matter as somewhat infantile: Bill Clinton's "bombing
for peace" is similar to "smoking but not inhaling," or
having an affair but not "sexual relations," or many of the other
logical absurdities of his presidency. But most of all, Yugoslavs have
gained a sense of strength because, since NATO is so vastly superior, survival
itself becomes a great victory.
Many people in Belgrade -- children mostly but also their parents --
cover their heads at night. They hope that the warmth and the darkness
under their blankets will protect them from NATO's "democratic bombs."
Under those covers, they are aware of the humanitarian catastrophe -- even
if the reasons and specific details seem unclear. To them, NATO is hiding
behind a humanitarian disaster that it produced itself.
For Yugoslavs, the issue is not human rights. The United Nations Security
Council has not approved the air strikes. NATO has abandoned its defensive
posture for an aggressive approach. And Europe, as seen from here, has
abandoned the principles of dialogue and consensus enshrined in the founding
documents of the Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe.
Thus Yugoslavia (and its personification in Milosevic) is not defending
the corpse of communism, but the principle of sovereignty. They believe
they are simply defending their country -- something they feel everyone
should be concerned about.
The suffering produced by the air strikes will no doubt continue. And
Serbs will continue to endure the bombing. Seen from here, martyrdom and
a glorious death in defeat do not seem too bad a solution. These days,
when a Belgrader asked: "How are you doing?" the answer is: "I'm
waiting."
* Aleksandar Ciric is an independent journalist in Belgrade and
a writer for the London-based Institute
for War & Peace Reporting
Click
here for more analyses of the Balkan Conflicts from the Global Beat
© 1999 Global Beat Syndicate. All Rights Reserved. The Global
Beat Syndicate, a service of New York University's Center for War, Peace,
and the News Media, provides editors with commentary and perspective articles
on critical global issues from contributors around the world. For more
information, check out http://www.nyu.edu/globalbeat/syndicate/.
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