Maneuvering Peace In Belgrade
The first real indication of how the Serb parliament would vote
came when the deputies loyal to the ultra-nationalist Vojislav Seselj made their way into the chamber.
The Press corps assembled under the strict control of the Army press office were jammed into a corridor. Without a word, a column of grim-faced men pushed their way through. Few realized who they were, until the bulky form of Seselj himself, wearing his usual short-sleeved shirt, with tie, appeared.
Seselj, who can, but refuses to speak English to foreigners, ignored shouted questions.
The votes in Parliament are almost as controlled as the Press. If Seselj was stone-faced, the fix was in, and he'd lost.
Just why Slobodan Milosevic decided to back down is a matter of deep speculation here, both learned and idle. If Belgrade TV had anything like the plethora of self-important shouting shops for pundits and rent-a-sound bites that Washington has, the place would be a din for weeks.
Alas -- or not, depending on your tolerance level for egos -- the Press here does it Slobo's way. And his way was to release as few details as possible, and claim victory. Americans tuned into the CBS Morning News knew about the deal before Belgrade residents did, and in more detail. It wasn't because this reporter did a better job than local reporters did, but quite simply because if they did file, it wasn't aired here. Even the main evening news broadcast consisted of only a couple of lines, and mention of NATO was minimal even later.
Nor did Slobodan Milosevic appear on TV in other than controlled scenes from his meetings with Finnish President Martti Ahtisaari and Russian envoy Victor Chernomyrdin, all designed to make him appear as statesman, not loser.
The opposition forces who agreed with the decision did their best to cry versions of "common sense at last" and "why did we have a war to make a worse deal that we could have had in Rambouillet in March?", but got little coverage locally.
Seselj, on the other hand, threatened to leave the government. His seventy-odd seats are important to Milosevic, but not crucial, at least for the moment.
In the convoluted political set-up here, Milosevic is president of Yugoslavia, not just Serbia. By putting the issue of a peace deal to the vote in the Serb parliament, when it is a matter for the entire country, i.e. Serbia and Montenegro, Milosevic has removed the issue one step away from himself, despite the fact that whatever his title, everyone knows he is the man who is in charge.
The jockeying for position began as soon as the vote was over, with cries of "this government must go."
It won't, at least for the time being. But few doubt that Milosevic is in political trouble. But then, when hasn't he been?