"A present for your chancellor," he says. "Please, take it, it's free." The tousle-headed merchant in Belgrade's Pioneer Park unwraps a yellow porcelain cup and places it on a cardboard box. The inscription reads: "You can take the lives of our heroes, but not our country." What would German Chancellor Angela Merkel do with this patriotic coffee cup? "It'll make her understand that you can't just push around a great people," he explains.
He certainly means what he says, but the man's premise is false. The Serbian people, after storming themselves into irrelevance in a blind rage, are now sitting on the edge of Europe. Because of this, they now feel resentful. It's an understatement to say that 2006 so far hasn't been a good year for Serbia. Indeed, it's rare to see a country -- in peacetime -- forced to endure so many setbacks and disgraces in such a short time span.
The European Union slammed its door in Serbia's face in early March, indefinitely suspending talks over future Serbian EU membership. It was punishment for Prime Minister Vojislav Kostunica's government's failure to hand over former General Ratko Mladic, the man accused of the mass murder of almost 8,000 Muslims in the Bosnian town of Srebrenica.
On March 20, unflattering television coverage of the funeral service for deceased dictator Slobodan Milosevic was broadcast around the globe. Montenegro then declared its independence from Serbia in May.
And, of course, there was Serbia's catastrophic showing at the World Cup in Germany, where its national football team lost 0:1 against the Netherlands, 0:6 against Argentina and 1:2 against Ivory Coast. After the match against Argentina, Belgrade newspaper Politika summed up its dejection over the fiasco in an acerbic cartoon depicting an empty football goal and six headstones lined up in front of it. Tabloid Blic wrote that what Serbian fans were witnessing "a descent into hell," clearly the lowest possible point for team and country.
Kosovo pushes for independence
But 2006 isn't over yet -- nor is Serbia's steady disintegration. The next item on the region's agenda is a decision over the future of breakaway province Kosovo. It'll likely end with Albanian-dominated enclave declaring independence from the Republic of Serbia. And then there isVojvodina, an autonomous province threatened by separatism. Balkanization has undoubtedly returned to the Balkans.
Not all the blame lies with Belgrade, of course. The European Union, which sees its role in providing order and stability in the Balkans, has also dropped the ball. EU foreign policy chief Javier Solana now faces precisely the kind of secessionist domino effect he had wanted to avoid. And now that Montenegro is independent, yet another tiny state will be pushing for EU membership.
Controversial Austrian poet Peter Handke has written that Serbia is "Europe's most forlorn country." Handke's political assessments are always a step away from the truth, but when he's right, he's right. Indeed, detractors call him "Serbian Peter."
Is there no light at the end of the tunnel for Serbia? The last politician thought capable of leading Serbia out of the darkness was the pro-European former Prime Minister Zoran Djindjic. He battled corruption and nepotism and turned over Milosevic to the United Nations War Crimes Tribunal in The Hague. He was assassinated in 2003 by gunshots ordered up from the swamp he had tried to drain.
The retired university professor with a Communist Party pin on his label is drowning his sorrows in red wine in the Writers Club at Franzuska 7. He believes that it will take something on the order of the 1389 Battle of Kosovo Polje for Serbia to regain some of its national pride. What exactly he means by this comparison isn't quite clear.
The Battle of Kosovo Polje figures prominently in the Serbs' nationalist mythology. On June 28, 1389, the Serbian Prince Lazar led an army of 30,000 knights and soldiers against 70,000 Turks. Lazar and his forces lost the battle.
Nationalist zealots have embellished Serbia's woes to a point beyond recognition. In their view, no one has suffered more than the Serbs. They even believe that their ancestors' heroic battle against the Turks somehow set the stage for the idea of a united Europe. It must come as a slap in the face to Serbs that Romania and Bulgaria will be joining the EU first.
Dwelling on their dreams and the good days over glasses of homegrown red Vranac is a favorite pastime among the members of Belgrade's retired intellectual elite. The Writers Club is the kind of place where one can acquire an educated perspective on Serbia's miseries and their presumed causes. Or on Serbia's sacrifices as a result of a European conspiracy leading up to World War II, a conspiracy that led to oppression of the Serbs at the hands of the Europeans -- at least according to the prevailing view here.
The Writers Club was the epicenter of political heresy in the days of former Yugoslav dictator Josip Tito. But it has lost much of its aura of rebellious charm, now that practically everything is allowed -- at least politically -- in Serbia.
Three young men are standing in the street in front of a bridal gown rental shop, vocally discussing Serbia's woes. The tenor of their conversation is the same as it is in the Writers Club, but the delivery is a little more direct. Our problems are the fault of the Jews, says the leader. But the gypsies, Croats and Muslims are also at fault, he adds -- they're the ones who stirred up so much hatred for Serbia in the EU. One of the men has the flag of football club Red Star Belgrade wrapped around his midsection. Red Star is about the only bright light shining for them in the current Serbian darkness.
A war invalid leans against a shop window next door. A cardboard sign informs passersby that the man lost both arms in the Bosnian war and needs money for bread.
Deep-seated misery
Belgrade's misery is so deep-seated that all hopes for improvement are shattered as quickly as they appear. Fifty percent of the city's youth are unemployed. The average monthly income is €200, with incomes four times as high in neighboring Croatia. Unlike Serbia, Croatia enjoys excellent economic ties to the rest of Europe. According to Germany's ambassador in Belgrade, even Bulgaria seems more attractive than Serbia, with more and more German companies moving their Belgrade offices to the neighboring country.
Ironclad nationalism shows its ugly face all over the city. Street vendors sell T-shirts depicting war criminal Mladic. A giant portrait of Milosevic, soiled by tossed eggs, hangs from the top of a four-story office building opposite a bank building.
His death in a prison cell made Milosevic a martyr to many Serbs. Austrian poet Handke says that the UN War Crimes Tribunal in The Hague has essentially accepted his death. Most Serbs, Prime Minister Kostunica included, would likely agree. Nevertheless, they are also pleased to be rid of him.
Young people are forming right-wing parties and action groups with names like "Marching Column," "Blood and Honor" and "Serbia Now." Their heroes are Bishop Nikolaj Velimirovic -- who was canonized by the Serbian Orthodox Church and who considered Adolf Hitler "Europe's savior" -- and people wanted for war criminals like Ratko Mladic.
Prime Minister Kostunica obviously knows where Mladic's old boy network is hiding the leader of the Bosnian Serb army. But he faces pressure from the right-wing radicals who tolerate his government, as well as from their leader, Vojislav Seselj, who is also awaiting trial in The Hague. For the far right, Mladic's extradition to UN tribunal would be treason.
Radicals in the wings
If Kostunica's administration collapsed and elections were held tomorrow, the radical left and right could expect to capture the majority of seats in the Serbian parliament. But this is less a reflection of the country's political preferences than of its desperate emotional state. After a decade and a half of misfortune, the Serbs want nothing more than a way out of their crisis. But propping up Kostunica's government must be in the EU's interest, because it has been reluctant to force the prime minister to finally hunt down General Mladic and agree to a formal separation from Kosovo.
Before its wars of secession, Yugoslavia was almost the size of the former West Germany. Now Serbia, stripped of Montenegro, is only a rump just larger than Bavaria. Foreign Minister Vuk Draskovic told SPIEGEL that he hopes that the referendum over Montenegrin independence has finally put a stop to the country's steady disintegration. Prime Minister Kostunica, who recently paid a symbolic visit to the Serb Gracanica Monastery in Kosovo, apparently agrees.
Draskovic doesn't expect any further amputations. All appearances to the contrary, he continues to count Kosovo as part of Serbian territory. The majority Albanian breakaway province has been under a UN protectorate since the NATO bombardment of Serbia in the summer of 1999. "We will not recognize" the declaration of an independent state, says Draskovic, adding that the Serbs could retaliate by establishing a Serb state within Bosnia. He also rejects demands for autonomy by Vojvodina's Hungarian majority.
The US government has summoned Prime Minister Kostunica to Washington this week to secure his commitment to a joint program of reforms with President Boris Tadic, as well as to pledge economic aid to Serbia. But convincing the two Serb leaders, who are bitter enemies, to join forces and pull their country out of its quagmire will be an uphill battle.
Translated from German by Christopher Sultan
