Yugoslavia Blood in the Streets

By Jill Smolowe

As in a school-yard brawl, the opening provocation was a taunt: "Independence!" But within 36 hours, the war of words between the republic of Slovenia and forces of the Yugoslav People's Army had escalated into a real fight, with the two sides trading lethal blows that left at least 40 dead and many more injured.

While Slovenia had been voicing separatist ambitions for months, few could have predicted that the situation would career so quickly to the edge of civil war. Time and again during the past year, ethnic and political tensions in and among the six republics and two semiautonomous provinces have threatened to rip apart the Yugoslav nation. But Slovenia's quest to extricate itself from the quarrelsome federation had been relatively peaceful. The sudden eruption of armed hostilities between Slovenia and the central government in Belgrade raised fears that Yugoslavia's breakup might be at hand.

Last Monday both Slovenia and Croatia vowed to declare independence by midweek. Yugoslav federal Prime Minister Ante Markovic warned, "We would find ourselves sitting on a bomb, which could destroy us all." His words proved prophetic. On Tuesday each republic proclaimed its sovereignty. The next day tank columns moved toward border crossings, and the 20,000 federal troops in Slovenia were placed on combat alert. In the early-morning hours of Thursday, 40 tanks and 20 armored personnel carriers rolled toward the Slovenian capital of Ljubljana to secure the republic's main airport, and traded artillery and antitank fire with small pockets of Slovenian defense forces. The airport was hit by air-to-ground missiles -- one of the few aerial bombardments on the European continent since World War II.

By Friday afternoon, the army claimed to have secured all 27 border posts, but the Slovenian government insisted that it still controlled a number of crossings. The high command in Belgrade told Slovenian defense minister Janez Jansa that since its objectives had been met, all action would cease. The cease-fire was supposed to go into effect at 9 p.m., but fighting continued well after the deadline, raising disturbing questions about who was in control. And who in Belgrade had ordered the army to attack? Markovic had earlier vowed to use only "legal measures," not force, to keep Slovenia within the federation. The heavy-handed army response suggested that hard-line Serbian generals were running their own operation.

As a precarious truce settled over the country, it was difficult to predict whether the bloodshed had scared the two sides sufficiently to cool them down so they could resume negotiations -- or if the army's tactics would provoke more belligerence from Slovenia. Early Saturday each side agreed to cease-fire terms under which the army would withdraw its troops and Slovenia would suspend claims to sovereignty. But the arrangement seems tenuous at best. The Slovenian government stated that it had agreed only to hold off for three months on further steps toward independence. Said Slovenian foreign minister Dimitrij Rupel: "What we've done, we shall keep." After the army issued another harsh threat of "decisive military action," the Slovenian parliament voted to affirm its independence stand.

Plainly the Slovenes have no interest in maintaining a joint tenancy. Their independence declaration states that Slovenia "will no longer be a part" of the federation and that the Yugoslav constitution will no longer apply. The longing to carve out a separate state is lodged deep in the Slovene soul. Because the republic shares a border with Austria and for centuries was a part of the Habsburg empire, Slovenes feel a greater historic, social and psychological kinship with Europe than with the poorer southern republics, which languished under Ottoman rule. Says Vladimir Mljac, the mayor of the town of Lokev: "We have no place in a Balkan nation."

For all the cultural differences, economics is the main engine propelling the separatist drive. Slovenia, the richest republic, is tired of seeing its dinars siphoned off to support its underdeveloped southern neighbors. "The poorer parts of Yugoslavia have commanded the richer parts for too long," argues Toman Bojan, a waiter in a seaside restaurant that has lost its Italian tourist clientele since ethnic hostilities erupted this year.

For nearly a decade, Slovenes have squirmed as state funds have been spent by the Serb-dominated federal government to suppress the Albanian majority in the Serbian province of Kosovo. More recently they watched angrily as the free-market reform program pressed by Prime Minister Markovic was undermined by Serbia, whose leadership still suffers from a communist hangover. After last week's hostilities, Slovenes see only more evidence of wastage of their hard-earned dinars. "We bought them tanks and guns," says Franci Mavric, a taxicab driver in Sezana. "Now they want to kill us with them."

Of all the republics, Slovenia seems the best poised to make a success of independence. Unlike Croatia, which contends with a militant Serbian minority, Slovenia is ethnically homogeneous. Internally it borders only Croatia. And Slovenia's economy shows a potential for robustness: although output shrank 9.6% last year, per capita production is on a par with the poorest members of the European Community. Still, foreign assistance is needed, so Slovenia had proceeded cautiously in order not to alienate potential donors.

If Slovenia had hoped to use its bold declaration of independence as a negotiating card, by week's end the republic had its stalwart performance to buttress resolve. The Yugoslav army, by contrast, will have much to explain. The use of missiles on Ljubljana's airport seemed excessive, given the purported objective of restricting access to Slovenia. More inexplicable still, Yugoslav jets fired on civilian trucks and reportedly entered Austrian airspace.

There is reason to hope calmer emotions will prevail. Slovenes are ) undoubtedly dismayed that no country has recognized their independence. The Yugoslav army, in turn, has received no encouragement for its actions, and speculation is keen that senior officers will be held accountable for excesses once civilian order is restored. Perhaps the most encouraging sign is that many among the estimated 500 prisoners of war taken by Slovenia turned themselves in. If civilians and troops alike can signal their interest in cooling the hotheads, perhaps there is still hope that Yugoslavia can settle its differences peacefully.

With reporting by James L. Graff/Ljubljana