Issue 228

Cetinje, Montenegro, May. 28, 2006 – As if E.U. expansion wasn't complicated enough, Europe woke up last week to find a brand-new baby on its doorstep: the tiny republic of Montenegro, tucked between Albania and Croatia on the eastern Adriatic coast. By a slight majority, Montenegrins voted to break away from Serbia, driving the last nail in the coffin of what was once called Yugoslavia. It was a great victory for the leading advocate of independence, Prime Minister Milo Djukanovic, whose supporters were out on the streets of Podgorica, Cetinje and Budva celebrating, dressed in the bright red of their newly minted nation and waving flags, before the votes were even counted. But the Serbian capital Belgrade was quiet that night, and like most of my fellow Serbs, I stayed at home and watched the live broadcast of jubilation with mixed emotions.

I still hold a valid passport with the word Yugoslavia on the cover, although the country that issued it now exists only in history books. The name means "Land of the South Slavs," as it was created on the ruins of two great powers — the Austro-Hungarian and Ottoman empires — which once ruled the Balkans. After World War I, the idea of bringing together all these closely related ethnic groups — Serbs, Croats, Slovenes and others — in one superstate seemed not only noble but perfectly reasonable. But from the outset, the new nation was riddled with tensions: although culturally close, the ethnic groups were divided by religion, and Serbs, as the largest and most dispersed group of all, tried to assume the dominant role, provoking resentment in others. Still, the first Yugoslavia held on until the Nazis and their allies carved it up among themselves during World War II.

Yugoslavia was resurrected again after the war by Josip Broz Tito — a Croat — who used communism and his charismatic personality to glue it back together. It was the most liberal of all communist countries, with a vibrant private sector, and it was relatively prosperous. At the time I was born, in the '60s, the living standard in Yugoslavia was about the same as in Greece and Spain, and considerably higher than in Portugal. Unlike our East European neighbors, we could sample the Western lifestyle and were free to travel. With a Yugoslav passport, one could pass through the Berlin Wall as if it wasn't there, and we were equally welcome in Israel and Egypt. When communism collapsed, Yugoslavia was expected to be the first East European country to join the European Community.

But instead of E.U. membership we got Slobodan Milosevic, who ensnared many of my Serbian compatriots with his virulent nationalism, while other Balkan countries became equally nationalistic. Slovenia was the first to pull out of Yugoslavia, followed by Croatia, Bosnia, Macedonia and Kosovo. And now Montenegro, a staunch Serbian ally for the past two centuries, has made its exit. All that is left of Yugoslavia (which changed its name to Serbia and Montenegro three years ago) is a World Cup–bound soccer team and dog-eared passports like mine. But these days I can't even travel to Romania without a lengthy wait for a visa.

These were some of the thoughts going through my head as I watched happy Montenegrins celebrating through the night, but my mood was not entirely bleak. After all, this move to independence was not followed by the grotesque terrors of artillery fire and burning villages that sent convoys of refugees toiling through Croatia, Bosnia and Kosovo (Macedonia slipped out easily, but that was only because Milosevic was busy elsewhere at the time). Although harsh words were used by both sides during the referendum campaign in Montenegro, the decision was reached through a democratic process, and Serbian President Boris Tadic was among the first to congratulate Montenegrins on their newly acquired autonomy. Moreover, now that we're all alone, we Serbs can finally focus on putting our own house in order and getting rid of Milosevic's legacy, which still lurks in some dark corners. It's high time to shake off nationalism and bring the remaining war-crimes suspects, such as General Ratko Mladic, to justice.

We're alone, but we shouldn't feel lonely. One aspiration still binds the scattered remains of the former Yugoslavia, despite all the blood spilled in the last century: we all want to join the European Union. It is not going to be easy, and E.U. Enlargement Commissioner Olli Rehn predicts that it might take the best part of the decade to get there. "Accession is no Eurostar train. It is more like a local train, chugging along," Rehn told Time. It may be a rusty collection of carriages pulled slowly along by a coal-fired engine, but it is on the right track. And, as the outcome in Montenegro proves, there is no going back. With reporting by With reporting by Leo Cendrowicz/Brussels

Source: Time Magazine

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