The Western Balkans: Pivotal Work in a Pivotal Place

By Laura Silber

The Balkan sun is blistering. In Obilic, a town in Kosovo, the region's most unstable corner, coal dust and smoke from a massive power plant taint the air with sulfur. The town hall's drab auditorium fills with people in short-sleeve shirts, standard-issue blue overalls; their hands are calloused. The stale air inside seems to demand answers.

The dialogue-the kind of exchange the Balkans need so desperately-is stilted at first. The opening comments require translation-Serbian to Albanian or Albanian to Serbian. The replies consume more time, and still more translation. But the clunky cadence soon gives way to a sense of urgency. Unlike so many discussions in this region, the one here in Obilic's town hall does not descend into angry rants about ethnicity or national rights. There is no mutual recrimination, no talk of who is responsible for the latest war, or the war before that, or the war before that. No one poses questions that touch on patrimony, sovereignty, national pride, national demands-the kinds of questions for which the political leaders have boilerplate answers. For the moment, the Albanians and Serbs in the room do not seem to care who is Albanian or who is Serb. For the moment, they are just working people worried about the future. "When will I be able to farm my land?" "Where will my children go to school?" "Who will collect taxes?" "When will the garbage be picked up?" "Where can my son find work?" A Serbian farmer refuses to surrender the microphone, saying he has had to be silent too long and must talk. The politicians, unaccustomed to public meetings to discuss practical problems with constituents, are stiff and nervous. And they cannot hide it from the television audience.

Just eight years ago, this dialogue would have been impossible. Many of these individuals would have been peering through gun sights at each other. Kosovo's Albanian majority had had enough of Serbia's repression and spawned a militia that began attacking Serbian police and army units; the Serbian authorities in Kosovo, instruments of oppression manipulated from Belgrade, attempted to remove the entire Albanian population by force. Mosques and churches, and entire neighborhoods and villages, went up in flames. Graves filled with bodies. Now, people simply wanted answers.

This meeting in the Obilic town hall, a meeting conducted by the East West Management Institute and supported by the Rockefeller Brothers Fund (RBF), illustrates the kind of communal dialogue that must be fostered to usher in real stability in Kosovo. Under the banner of the "Negotiations Awareness Campaign," people could learn about the United Nations-sponsored talks being conducted on Kosovo's future status. Elected officials and civil society leaders need to help citizens understand the choices they face so that they can act in their own best interests. The campaign was about preventing the separation between the leaders and the public that occurs even in democracies. And far too often in this contested land politicians have been known for thuggery and corruption and for making secret deals, whether it is to start wars or end them.

Even by the standards of a region whose history over the past century has been turbulent, the year 2006 was momentous. Serbia, Montenegro, and Kosovo had endured two world wars, followed by 40 years of communism, and in the last decade, more wars, draconian sanctions, and NATO bombardment.

In 2006, Montenegro, which had stayed with Serbia throughout the wars for the spoils of Yugoslavia, declared independence. This time, there was no war. The move followed a referendum in which a narrow majority of Montenegro's tiny population of 672,000 voted for independence. It was one more step in the final unraveling of Tito's communist federation of six republics. Montenegro followed Slovenia, Croatia, Bosnia, and Macedonia, leaving Serbia alone.

That left one more question to resolve. Kosovo, the first flashpoint in Yugoslavia's violent disintegration, would be the last act to unfold. The year 2006 was marked by endless rounds of talks and the intense efforts of international mediators, led by former Finnish President Martti Ahtisaari, to win agreement from Belgrade and Pristina on the terms of Kosovo's divorce from Serbia. An agreement remained elusive, however, leaving the UN, which has administered Kosovo since 1999 when a NATO bombing campaign forced out Serbian troops, as the venue for deciding the Kosovo question. For the Kosovar Albanians, there was no other choice except independence, but Serbia was justifiably concerned about the safety and rights of Serbs living in Kosovo and the protection of their religious and cultural heritage in the province, which lies at the center of Serbian tradition.

At the time of this writing, Kosovo remains legally part of Serbia, and the UN Security Council had yet to vote on the Ahtisaari Plan that envisages a form of internationally supervised independence. The plan promises to protect Kosovo's ethnic minorities, but it is a pledge many Serbs still doubt.

A trip along Kosovo's winding roads, however, somehow gives hope. The landscape is whirring with construction and teeming with people. In Serbia's villages, life seems quieter. Many hamlets are deserted by those who have migrated to Belgrade and other big towns in search of an easier life. The unresolved political questions about Kosovo's future are just one aspect of the challenges faced by the population.

Against this background looms the specter of instability. As long as there persists a sense of defeat-of disappointed expectations-Serbia and Kosovo remain fertile ground for the exploitation of unredressed national grievances.

This danger is evermore present with populism a manifest feature of the political landscape of Europe. In the months and years to come, the leaders, whether in Obilic or elsewhere in Kosovo, Serbia or Montenegro, will have to make hard choices about political and economic reform and, just as importantly, change their culture of governing. Too often, Balkan political leaders see their positions as opportunities for personal gain. If the region is to press forward with closer integration into the European Union, these leaders will have to resist the lure of populism and find a new language that can resonate with the population. They will have to create incentives so that citizens can see that reforms, and the necessary sacrifices that go with them, are in their own best interests.

RBF's mission in the region, which was chosen as one of the Fund's four pivotal places, rests on helping citizens and their elected officials meet these challenges so as to best ensure sustainable development, democratic practices, peace and security, and human advancement.

American, European, and NATO engagement in the Western Balkans has been instrumental in moving this region from war to peace. In Kosovo, in stark contrast to the invasions of Afghanistan and then Iraq, American troops were unquestionably welcomed by the Albanians as liberators. And later, in the violent aftermath of the withdrawal of Serbian forces, U.S. and NATO forces were seen by the Serbs as their protectors. They were never targeted as the enemy. And despite the terrible legacy of the wars in the 1990s, there is now the impression that, maybe war belongs to another country and another time.

Today, there still remain a few places where the skyline is shaped by the onion-shaped domes of Orthodox churches, the minarets of mosques, and the towering spires of Catholic churches. Slowly, ties are being renewed. Trade has resumed, if cautiously. But nation-building needs to be more than economic revival. And that is what the RBF stands for in Serbia, Kosovo, and Montenegro. The Fund believes that serious progress hinges on long-term commitment and on developing a language of negotiation and compromise among citizens. These skills will pave the way for building a society rooted in the rule of law.

That reform-not war-is on the agenda and all is a testimony to the international resolve to secure peace in the Balkans. Three essential factors have enabled the eleven million people living in Serbia, Kosovo, and Montenegro to meet the challenges of post-war confidence building: effective military intervention and sustained, multilateral political and economic engagement. A prolonged commitment to nation-building on the part of the international community has made possible an end to the fighting and the emergence of a normal life. International engagement, whether by governments, multilateral organizations or foundations, was key and the expectation that engagement would last also played a role in helping to stabilize the region.

Sadly, with the interventions in Afghanistan and Iraq, the lessons of Kosovo went unheeded. And in the aftermath of war, political structures-indigenous not imposed-have failed to flourish.

By now in the Balkans, the United States and other governments are eager to turn their attention elsewhere, their resources sapped by problems more urgent. While the questions of borders among the countries of the Western Balkans are more or less settled, the mandate for engagement has not expired. The worst outcome would be for the United States and Europe to have taken the unprecedented step of crafting the state of Kosovo and then of allowing it to fail. This would be another blow to the credibility of the West at a time when it is at a low point following the intervention in Iraq. In addition, weak states with porous borders mean instability for Europe. The European Union and America have ample incentive to ensure that Serbia and Kosovo become stable and prosperous. Otherwise, they will fall into the grips of organized criminals who traffic in drugs, weapons, and people across EU frontiers.

The only way to ensure that the region does not slide backwards is to remain engaged. That is why the RBF has made this long-term commitment. Drawing on two decades of experience in Eastern and Central Europe, the Fund chooses partners who strive to build their own communities. They address the challenges of their own lives not by trying to recreate what was destroyed by war but by learning to be good neighbors and knitting together a new social fabric.

To support its goals in the region, the Fund has explored ways to help prepare Kosovo for the transition to independence. In April 2007, at the Pocantico Conference Center, RBF brought together Kosovo's top politicians, including respected representatives of the Serb community, and numerous international experts and leaders. In an atmosphere remarkable for both its candor and its collegiality, the sometimes fractious politicians agreed for the first 120 day of independence to work together to implement the Ahtisaari Plan, with the top priorities being the adoption of a new constitution and moving toward the building of new, peaceful relations with Kosovo's neighbors, including Serbia.

As importantly, on the ground, RBF has supported a range of projects that speak for the diversity and richness of civil society. In a land where respect for public space was an alien concept, RBF has sought to help strengthen communities, whether in a rural or urban setting. Even before Montenegro became independent, RBF was working to bolster the mountain republic's efforts to live up to its pledge to become an ecological state. A group called EXPEDITIO aims to raise public awareness on sustainable development, environmental protection and the preservation of Montenegro's architectural heritage. EXPEDITIO has chosen the magnificent Lake Skadar as a pilot project, whose jagged marshy coastline is home to an abundance of wildlife.

In the north of Serbia, a group in Novi Sad, the capital of the province of Vojvodina, is creating a greenway along the Danube River, a historical trade route. Now farmers stand amid buildings with terra-cotta roofs, selling locally grown organic produce. In Belgrade, it is the School for Political Excellence that helps train politicians and deepens their understanding of the democratic process.

Young men and women from Belgrade and Pristina travel to each others cities in a project run by Youth Initiative for Human Rights. Founded by a group of 20-year-olds, they organize trips to help young adults once separated by virtual apartheid and then war to visit each other's cafes, television stations, and mosques or churches. They talk about what happened in the past. They seem to understand that if Serbia and Kosovo are to make progress on integrating into Europe, they must overcome their own myopia. Like the farmers and workers in the town of Obilic, they do not question who is responsible and the atmosphere is free of any recrimination. These young people take the conversation a step further than that hot day in the Obilic town hall. Long into the evening, they talk about their projects for facing the past, holding governments together and identifying issues of common concerns. They are going to change the future.

This feature is from the 2006 Annual Review.