A gray falcon spread its wings and flew away from Jerusalem to the
field of Kosovo. It carried a book from the Mother of God to Tsar
Lazar, who was preparing his army to defend Serbia against attack by
the Turks. The falcon dropped the book on the Tsar's knees, and it
began to speak by itself:

'Honorable Tsar Lazar, what Kingdom will you embrace now? Is it to be
the Kingdom of Heaven or the Kingdom of this world? If you choose the
earthly one, saddle your horses, tighten their reins, gird on your
swords. Let all your knights rush together among the Turks. All the
Turkish invaders will perish by your hands. But if you choose the
Kingdom of Heaven, then build a church on the field of Kosovo, not
with marble but with pure silk and brocades, and let your knights
take holy communion in it. For they shall all die, and you, Prince,
will die with them.'

When the Tsar read these words, he beseeched God for advice: 'O
Almighty Lord, what kingdom shall I choose? Shall I choose a heavenly
kingdom, or shall I choose an earthly kingdom? If I choose an earthly
kingdom, it will last only for a short time, but a heavenly kingdom
will last through all eternity.' So the Tsar chose a heavenly
kingdom. He built the church in Kosovo of silk and brocades, and
summoned the Serbian Patriarch and his twelve bishops to come. Then
he gave his soldiers the Eucharist and their battle orders. In the
same hour the Turks attacked Kosovo.

Tsar Lazar rushed among the Turks with his seventy-seven thousand
men, and chased them across the vast field of Kosovo. They were so
fiery and brave that it seemed as if they would carry the day. And so
they would have, but for Vuk Brankovic, the Tsar's son-in-law, who
betrayed him and joined the Turkish side. So the Tsar perished, and
with him all his soldiers, the seventy-seven thousand Serbs. All was
holy, all was honorable, and the goodness of God was fulfilled.

Thus the Serbian national epic of Kosovo, handed down by oral
tradition for six centuries and known to every Serb from childhood.
It embodies almost all the elements that Serbs see in their history
and in their present circumstances--heroism, mission, holiness,
faith, glory, devotion, opulence, disunity, betrayal, demonization,
martyrdom, victimization, predestination. Kosovo is the founding myth
for all Serbs, the historic heart of Serbia's glorious medieval
kingdom, the religious seat of the Serbian Orthodox Church, and the
geographic site of Serbia's oldest and most beautiful monasteries and
churches. When Serbs think and talk of Kosovo, in their mind's eye
they are seeing their past--their transgressions as well as their
triumphs--through the purifying light of their own origins as a
nation.

The real battle of Kosovo took place on June 28, 1389. Most
historians agree that it was not the epic struggle of the myth. Nor
was it even the decisive battle against the Turks, which had been
fought and lost eighteen years before in Bulgaria. The opposing
forces were small and feudal. Tsar Lazar evidently had problems
raising a national army; his curse against malingerers--"Let [their]
fields go barren of the good golden wheat / Let [their] vineyards
remain without vines or grapes"--has been carved into the marble
monument that stands today on the field of Kosovo. Muslim Albanians,
Christian Bosnians, and Catholic Croats probably fought on the
Serbian side, and (as the epic implies) some Serbs fought with the
Turks. The post-Kosovo Serbian contention that the Serb knights were
defending Europe against the infidel is thus questionable. In any
case they failed, since after Kosovo the Turks swept through the
Balkan peninsula and eventually through Hungary to threaten the
ramparts of Vienna.

Kosovo remained under Turkish suzerainty until Serbia got it back,
with the diplomatic support of France and Russia, following the First
Balkan War in 1912. After World War I, it became a part of newly
created Yugoslavia, remaining effectively under Serbian rule. During
World War II Kosovo was occupied by Mussolini's Italy. While some
Albanians fought the Axis as membersof Josip Broz Tito's partisans,
many others collaborated with the Italians with the aim of forming a
greater Albania.

After the victory of Tito's communist army in 1945, Kosovo became an
autonomous region under Serbian control. Tito's last constitution in
1974 and his death in 1980 brought considerable political and
cultural autonomy to Kosovo and its Albanian majority. For example,
the province was awarded one of the eight seats on the collective
Yugoslav presidency, the same allocation as for Serbia and the other
republics of Yugoslavia. These concessions spurred Kosovo's Albanians
to lobby for even greater autonomy. During riots in 1981 in the
capital, Pristina, Albanian student demonstrators demanded republic
status for Kosovo, a condition that would make it completely
independent of Serbia and imply its right to secede from Yugoslavia.

During most of Kosovo's history, its Serbian and Albanian populations
lived in hostile coexistence. They fought each other in both world
wars, the Serbs on the Allied side, most of the Albanians on the
German. Neither ethnic group showed much tolerance whenever it got
the upper hand. The increase in Albanian power in the 1980s, the
subliminal and sometimes explicit demand for republic status, and the
widening demographic difference (Albanians make up about 90 percent
of the two million population today) stoked growing revanchism among
nationalist Serbs.

Serbian grievances were not all trivial, though they were cynically
exploited and distorted by Serb nationalists. Kosovo, they argued, is
the Serbian Jerusalem--a Holy Land in which Serbia's nation,
religion, state, and culture were born. They even made an explicit
link between Serbia and Israel and between the Albanians and the
Palestinians. Kosovo, Serb nationalists claimed in the 1980s, was
ruled by Muslim "separatists" who had fought against the West twice
in this century, who remained loyal to a foreign power--Albania--and
who wanted to take Kosovo and its Serbian identity right out of
Yugoslavia.

Nationalists alleged further that Albanians were stripping Serbs of
their rights, raping their women, and torturing their men. (These
ridiculous charges distort the fact, conceded to me by Kosovo
Albanian leaders, that some Albanians did abuse their powers before
1989.) But by nationalist scripture, Tito was the primary betrayer of
Serbia, even though it was his military successes that ensured that
Kosovo would go to Serbia, rather than Albania, in 1945. Among his
sins, the nationalists charged, was his denial of the constitutional
voice of Yugoslavia's largest nation by making it possible for Kosovo
and Vojvodina, the other autonomous province, to outvote Serbia
two-to-one in the collective presidency of Yugoslavia.

The Albanians have their own grievances, some of which pre-date the
horrendous deprivation of basic rights that they now suffer. Kosovo
is not their Jerusalem, but they can argue a prior claim to it. A
people who go back to classical times (they fought against Philip of
Macedon and his son Alexander the Great), Albanians occupied the
Balkan peninsula long before the Slavs arrived in the seventh
century. Like the Serbs, they were a subject people under the Turks.
Led by their national hero, Skanderbeg, they fought bravely against
the Ottoman invaders before succumbing in 1479. They won their
independence from Turkey in 1912 under the banner of another Albanian
patriot, Ismail Kemal. Throughout the twentieth century the Albanians
have been a majority in Kosovo, first a small one, now a large one.
Their initial claim to autonomy and their current insistence on
independence are based on the democratic, majoritarian principle, as
well as on their residence in Kosovo for more than a millennium.

The competing claims of Serbs and Albanians in Kosovo have been
hopelessly tangled in the webs of history and myth. In its essence,
however, the main issue is as simple as it is intractable. The
Serbian claim to hegemony is based primarily on the
historical/cultural principle--the Jerusalem argument. The Albanian
claim to independence is based largely on the demographic
principle--the majority argument. Since these claims are mutually
incompatible, there is little reason to think that Kosovo will be
easy to solve, especially after the events of the past nine years.

Milosevic as Avenger

Serbian complaints, magnified by nationalists and laden with the
emotional appeals such as only Kosovo could evoke, virtually
guaranteed that a Serbian demagogue would arise to exploit them.
Slobodan Milosevic, who had spent his entire career as a Serbian
communist espousing the Titoist position on Kosovo, seized his
chance, reversed himself overnight, ousted and replaced the Serbian
party leader (his mentor and best friend), and trained the
blunderbuss of Serbian politics and press on the Albanians, their
powers, and their rights.

In March 1989 Milosevic got the Serbian parliament to abolish
Kosovo's political autonomy. He then removed its mainly Albanian
leadership and replaced it with Serbs or "honest" (read quisling)
Albanians. Schools became breeding grounds of Serbian propaganda. The
library of Pristina University, with the finest Albanian language
collection in Europe, was closed. From a vibrant, if impoverished,
population of Yugoslavia, the Kosovo Albanians became a colonial
appendage of nationalist Serbia. Since Milosevic's move against
them in 1989, their situation has progressively worsened. Kosovo
today represents the worst human rights problem in Europe.

Milosevic's crackdown on the Albanians produced a surprising
reaction from the victims. Ibrahim Rugova, the deceptively dreamy
poet who has been the Kosovo Albanians' political leader throughout
the 1990s, decided on a tactic of peaceful resistance. The decision
was consistent with Rugova's character--he is a follower of
Gandhi--but it was also politically astute. After Milosevic's
assault, the Albanians received nothing beyond rhetorical support
from the republics of the dissolving Yugoslav state. The Slovenes,
their principal advocates, used the Kosovo issue to blacken
Milosevic, but they had neither the means nor the will to provide
material assistance. Moreover, the Yugoslav army and the Serbian
police enjoyed a virtual monopoly of power in Kosovo; armed
resistance would have been ruthlessly suppressed. The United
States--Rugova's strongest supporter in the West--took the position
that, though Milosevic's actions were beyond the pale of
civilization, Kosovo should nevertheless remain a part of Yugoslavia.

Flexible on tactics, Rugova clung with tenacity to principle.
Following Milosevic's arrogant refusal even to discuss Kosovo's
autonomy, Rugova declared its independence. He has created a shadow
state (the Republic of "Kosova" in the Albanian-language spelling) of
which he was re-elected president in March in an uncontested vote.
While no foreign state, not even Albania, has recognized "Kosova",
its spectral existence gives Albanians something to hope and strive
for.

During the past nine years the word that best describes Kosovo is
division. The Albanians have been purged from all governmental
institutions, and have made no effort to re-join them. They adamantly
refuse to take part in Serbian elections or to recognize any other
form of Serbian authority over Kosovo. As a result, the province is
represented in the Serbian assembly in Belgrade by deputies elected
by mere handfuls of people whose primary interest is in subduing the
Albanian majority. Even Arkan, the notorious racist murderer of
Croats and Bosnian Muslims, won a seat. Albanians have been expelled,
or have withdrawn, from all other organizations that might bring them
into contact with Serbs--administrative offices, schools, the
university, hospitals, and medical clinics--and have set up their own
parallel structures, even including a mechanism for collecting taxes.
Albanian willingness to compromise on selected non-political
issues--like returning their children to schools--has foundered on
Serbian intransigence.

Milosevic's refusal to cede even an inch has now produced its
inevitable consequence--Rugova's non-violent approach is being
challenged within his own community. An insurgent group calling
itself the Kosovo Liberation Army (KLA) began earlier this year to
bomb police stations, and to kill Serbian policemen, senior
officials, and Albanian collaborators. Though the attacks were
targeted rather than indiscriminate (making the KLA less classically
terrorist than Hamas or even the IRA), and though they have not so
far been launched in Serbia proper, they represent a clear deepening
of the Kosovo crisis. Rugova and other moderates have hesitated,
either out of fear or calculation, to condemn the KLA. Their ominous
silence adds legitimacy and strength to the insurgents.

Milosevic has reacted by sending special police units to destroy
the villages considered rebel strongholds; among the dead,
apparently, have been a KLA leader and many noncombatants, mostly
women and children. These extreme Serbian tactics have significantly
swelled the numbers of guerrilla fighters. The KLA is being
reinforced by Albanians returning from jobs in Western Europe and
locally by young Albanian men who have known nothing but Serbian
oppression and feel that they have nothing to lose. Weapons are
pouring across the mountainous border between Kosovo and Albania. The
escalation of the crisis conveys two warnings--that the moderate
Albanian leadership may be giving way to violent groups emboldened by
the creation of martyrs, and that Milosevic is prepared to use
lethal force to keep the Albanians down.

Worse Than Bosnia?

It is misleading to equate the Kosovo and the Bosnian conflicts.
There are, of course, similarities in their inherently violent
character, in Milosevic's culpability for initiating conflict in
both places, and in the involvement of the United States and the
international community. Bosnia and Kosovo also share an important
temporal connection. As long as the Bosnian war was raging, both
Milosevic and Rugova saw an interest in keeping things relatively
quiet in Kosovo. Milosevic wanted to avoid war on a second front.
Rugova knew that the Serbs had most of the firepower, and feared that
a confrontation in Kosovo might fail to engage Western concern
against the broader canvas of Bosnia. The Bosnian war, while it
lasted, was thus a vaccination against conflict in Kosovo. With its
end, the vaccination has worn off.

These similarities, however, pale before the significant and
troubling differences between Bosnia and Kosovo. Enmities in Kosovo
run even deeper than in Bosnia. Bosnia suffered a civil war with
major outside aggression by Serbia; Kosovo is an example of almost
classic colonial oppression. While the Serbs in Bosnia constituted
about a third of the republic's population before the war, in Kosovo
Milosevic has launched his aggression against 90 percent, and on
behalf of only 10 percent, of the local population. In Bosnia,
particularly in the later stages of the war, the Serbs faced tough
Muslim and Croatian adversaries. In Kosovo Milosevic has
strengthened his already massive force advantage with the creation of
military-configured special police units. All Bosnians are Slavs,
with a common language. Serbs and Albanians are separate ethnic
groups and speak unrelated languages (Serbian is closer to Polish
than it is to Albanian). And unlike Bosnia, there is no recent
tradition of multi-ethnic tolerance in Kosovo; Serbs and Albanians
have been at each other's throats for this entire century.

Inconceivable though it may seem, Kosovo is also a more complex
problem than Bosnia. The Serbs do have a serious claim to
sovereignty, though they have tarnished it shamefully by their
actions; they had no such claim in Bosnia. For the reasons described
earlier, Kosovo has a strong hold on the mentality of most Serbs, not
just that of extreme nationalists. The historical, religious, and
cultural resonance of Kosovo has no parallel in Bosnia for the
Serbian psyche. Serbs have left Kosovo in droves since World War II
for economic reasons; most Serbs who don't live there have never
visited. No matter--the pull of the past remains strong.

In Bosnia the Serbian war effort ended in disunity; Milosevic
enraged the Bosnian Serb leaders by compromising at Dayton. No such
rift is yet apparent over Kosovo; in fact, in April Milosevic won a
97 percent referendum vote in Serbia against foreign mediation over
Kosovo. Most Serbs manifest no opposition to, or guilt for,
Milosevic's crimes in Kosovo. Indeed, they seem to think in
ludicrous racial stereotypes. A poll conducted in January 1998 for
the Open Society Institute, financier George Soros' outstanding human
rights organization, to measure what Serbs think of themselves and
others produced discouraging results. Serbs, the poll found, see
themselves as industrious, intelligent, caring, sincere, honest,
clean, unselfish, peace-loving, friendly to other peoples, proud, and
hospitable. They see Albanians, on the other hand, as evil, lazy,
stupid, insincere, uncultured, dirty, selfish, warlike, and
Serb-hating. The Albanians were given more negatives than any other
group, including the Serbs' recent enemies, the Croats and Bosnian
Muslims.

The Bosnian war, bloody as it was, was contained within Bosnia's
frontiers. There is little hope of that in Kosovo, if it sinks into
major conflict. Kosovo borders on the independent countries of
Albania and Macedonia. The outbreak of war could hardly leave the
Albanian government indifferent, although its military weakness might
limit its involvement to stepping up arms transfers to the Kosovo
Albanians. Democratic but fragile Macedonia has a large Albanian
minority, perhaps as much as 30 percent of the population. War in
Kosovo, together with the flight of refugees into Macedonia, could
radicalize that minority and shake the stability of the government in
Skopje. Greece, which has a paranoid fear of a Macedonian "threat" to
its northern territory, and Bulgaria, which considers Macedonians
really to be Bulgarians, could be energized; and so could Turkey, the
largest Muslim country in the Balkans and home to a significant
Albanian minority. This is admittedly a worst-case domino scenario,
but the occurrence of even parts of it would be destabilizing for the
entire region. Kosovo's spill-over potential should make it at least
as legitimate an object of American concern as Bosnia has been.

It might be possible to mitigate this spill-over effect by placing
NATO or UN troops in Macedonia and Albania, along Kosovo's
international borders. The small UN force in Macedonia, which
currently monitors Macedonia's borders with Serbia and Albania, could
be augmented and partially re-deployed; Albania has declared its
readiness to accept an international force on its side of the Kosovo
line. Such troops, particularly if they were from NATO, might have
some deterrent effect on the outbreak of major fighting in Kosovo.
But they couldn't impair Serbia's ability to reinforce its military
and police presence across its non-international border with Kosovo.

Nor, for both legal and moral reasons, could an international force
stop refugees from fleeing into Macedonia or Albania from Kosovo if
hostilities broke out. In fact, an international force on Kosovo's
borders might inhibit the Kosovo Albanians more than the Serbs, and
could thus be exploited by Milosevic to his own advantage. It is
thus hard to escape the conclusion that a successful containment
strategy will not be possible without dealing with the military
problem in Kosovo itself.

This will not be easy. Kosovo is slightly smaller than Connecticut
and only a fifth the size of Bosnia. But it is a land of mountains,
valleys, and gorges, where the medieval Serbs built many of their
churches to shelter them from the Turks. With the Serbs now the
occupiers, the rugged terrain favors the Albanian guerillas. The
character of Serbia's occupation would make Bosnia-style air strikes
against Serbian targets difficult for NATO. The Bosnian war was
partly a war of fronts. In Kosovo power operates on a smaller scale.
The Serbs have a police, and a growing army, presence throughout most
of the province. Surgical air strikes without casualties, such as
NATO accomplished in Bosnia in 1995, would be virtually impossible.
Air attacks would almost certainly victimize both Serbian and
Albanian civilians. Moreover, stealing a leaf from Saddam Hussein,
the Serbs have begun to establish military outposts in populated
areas.

NATO air power could reduce Milosevic's ability to launch a major
military campaign against the Albanians by inhibiting the Serbian
ability to move ground forces and helicopters. But air strikes would
probably have to be repeated several times to have a significant
effect. The Bosnian air war was over in two weeks; such a quick
success would seem unlikely in Kosovo.

There are legal and psychological problems as well. The West
intervened militarily in Bosnia at the invitation, indeed the
pleading, of the Bosnian government. Serbia, the recognized authority
in Kosovo, has adamantly rejected any Western involvement.
Milosevic rejected an American attempt to have a Western presence
at his first meeting with Rugova on May 15. Moreover, the emotional
hold of Kosovo on Serbs might just cause them to react to Western
military intervention by closing ranks behind Milosevic. Economic
sanctions are also unpromising; they were used so heavily against the
Serbs over Bosnia that they probably have little punch left. In
response to a major assault by Milosevic, air strikes and economic
sanctions would need to be seriously considered for credibility's
sake. But their effect might turn out to be more symbolic than
instrumental.

The American Factor

Is there any chance that the flammable tinder of Kosovo can be damped
down locally, by negotiation between Milosevic and the Rugova
leadership without foreign assistance? Probably not. Milosevic,
after a decade of pretending that Rugova did not exist, has finally
met him. But the chasm between them remains wide. Plenty of arguments
can be cited to Milosevic in favor of a change of direction. For
example, he will do better dealing with the Albanian moderates than
with the extremists who will follow them. If he doesn't act now
before the armed Albanian resistance becomes powerful, he may lose
Kosovo altogether. His nationalist failures may soon lose him support
in Serbia; even some of his extremist supporters are turning
critical. He has demonstrated his opportunism before by undermining
extreme nationalists in Croatia and Bosnia, so why not now in Kosovo?

The answer to these logical points resides in Milosevic's
character. He has made concessions in the past only when forced into
them. By nature he is a leader of supreme intransigence, prepared to
lie, falsely promise, and renege in the interest of avoiding even the
most trivial compromise. He came to his nationalism by opportunism,
not conviction; thus, he could back down in Croatia and Bosnia. But
Kosovo is different. Milosevic has defined his political identity
by his nationalism on Kosovo. He came to power on the issue, and--now
that he has inflamed the emotions of the Serbian people over it--he
seems to believe that his political survival depends on his
inflexibility. His recent inclusion in the Serbian government of
Vojislav Seselj, a pathological racist who has in the past called
for elimination of the Kosovo Albanians, is a disturbing indication
of Milosevic's obstinacy. If a solution to the Kosovo problem is to
be found, it will almost certainly have to be through Western--mainly
American--political and military pressure.

American involvement with Kosovo goes back to the beginning of
Milosevic's rule. When I arrived in Yugoslavia as U.S. ambassador
in 1989, three weeks before the Serbian assembly eliminated Kosovo's
autonomy, my instructions included a strong expression of concern
about the violation of Albanian rights. The U.S. Congress, prodded by
then-Senator Bob Dole, had already strongly criticized Milosevic.
Kosovo remained a major point of contention between Milosevic and
the United States throughout the Bush administration. On December 25,
1992, Bush, then a lame duck, warned the Serbian leader that the
United States would respond with force if Milosevic cracked down in
Kosovo; the new Clinton administration repeated the warning.

The United States has never challenged the legitimacy of Serbian
authority in Kosovo, but neither has it consistently accepted Serbian
sovereignty. The current American position is that Kosovo is a part
of Milosevic's new Federal Republic of Yugoslavia (created
following the secession of Slovenia, Croatia, Bosnia, and Macedonia),
but not a part of the Serbian republic within "Yugoslavia." American
acceptance of Serbian authority in Kosovo derives from the view that
Kosovo has been historically Serbian, that all of Tito's
constitutions recognized Serbian primacy there, and that denial of
that primacy could start the Balkan dominoes falling. The need to
maintain a multi-ethnic Bosnia adds additional weight to the argument
for opposing the ethnic separation of Kosovo. The U.S. refusal to
recognize Serbian sovereignty in Kosovo, on the other hand, is meant
to acknowledge that the Albanian majority there has valid rights that
are being denied.

The balance in American policy between Serbian control and Albanian
rights will look less viable if Milosevic continues his repressive
tactics. For the time being, though, it has the advantages of opening
paths to a compromise on Kosovo's status and of qualifying the United
States as an objective potential mediator.

The choices facing the Clinton administration are narrow and
difficult. It would be unthinkable, given America's political and
moral investment in Kosovo, to stand by and let Milosevic put the
Albanians down. Moreover, it would make no geopolitical sense, since
a Serbian bloodbath would probably call forth a genuine Kosovo
national liberation army, supplied along the sixty-mile border with
Albania and helped by Albanians in Macedonia and Montenegro, and by
Muslims in Bosnia and Serbia. Without American firmness, however, a
permissive passivity is probably what the pusillanimous Europeans
(not only Serbia's overt backers Russia and Greece, but France and
Italy as well) would be inclined to display.

On the other hand, American support for Albanian independence would
carry major risks. The Serbs would surely fight to avoid the loss of
Kosovo. To prevent Bosnia-magnitude casualties, NATO would therefore
have to contemplate massive military intervention, with its attendant
dangers. Even if independence were achieved without great bloodshed,
its potential to destabilize the Balkans would be enormous. A
decision by the Kosovo Albanians to join Albania could stimulate
fears of a greater Albania threatening its neighbors. More
immediately, the Albanians of Macedonia, feeling isolated, could well
press to join their brethren, thus raising the specter of Macedonia's
collapse. U.S. officials are particularly worried that Western
acceptance of an independent "Kosova" would destroy the Dayton
agreement on Bosnia, which is based on integration, not separation.

Still, U.S. acceptance of Serbian authority over Kosovo need not be
absolute or irrevocable. If Milosevic provokes a conflict with the
Albanians, or even if he continues to disdain opportunities to
negotiate seriously with them, the U.S. government should ask itself
whether he has lost his legal authority over them and should consider
reversing its position on sovereignty. The time may come when we will
have to take sides. Even threatening such a reversal would help
Milosevic see how strongly the United States opposes him over
Kosovo.

Doubtful Compromises

Less absolute outcomes would be safer and more equitable than extreme
ones. The idea of partitioning Kosovo has been floating in Serbian
nationalist circles for over a decade. The Serbian version would of
course arrogate to the Serbs all the cultural and mineral
wealth--Kosovo has 50 percent of the former Yugoslavia's lead, zinc,
and nickel reserves. But the map could be drawn to balance
advantages. The Albanians would get most of the territory. The Serbs
would get land containing some of the medieval monasteries, while the
others would be putunder international protection.

The working assumption of partition is that the Serbian part of
Kosovo would probably become an integral part of Serbia, while the
Albanian part would become independent or would elect to join
Albania. If partition were achieved by agreement, a war in Kosovo
could probably be avoided, though the Serbs might attempt a
pre-partition campaign of ethnic cleansing--a tactic they used with
criminal effect in Bosnia. But there would be no guarantee of
stability elsewhere, since the area-wide dangers would be the same as
in the independence scenario.

Another compromise outcome, currently under active study, would make
Kosovo a republic within Yugoslavia (the other republics would be
Serbia and Montenegro). To have any chance of working, this approach
would have to guarantee the Albanians full powers to run their own
republic (with protection for Serbian residents, property, and
monuments). Kosovo would become a kind of Chechnya, nominally under
the parent state but effectively independent. Since Yugoslavia would
be the parent state, and Milosevic is currently president of
Yugoslavia, the prospect of his meddling--whatever commitments he
might make--would be real. This outcome would easily be the best for
keeping the dominoes in place and thus for maintaining peace in the
Balkans. Its major drawback is the residual authority it might
concede to Serbia.

Neither of these compromise outcomes is currently acceptable to the two parties. Therefore outside pressure would have to be applied even to get them into a serious negotiation. Since the Europeans lack the trust of the Albanians, only the United States has the credentials to mediate a result. There is too much local hostility and mistrust to rely on incremental agreements; a comprehensive settlement should be the objective. Any agreement would have to be secured, at least for a time, by a NATO force configured on the Bosnian model but unencumbered by corrosive "exit strategies" or deadlines. In almost any outcome, the special problem of Macedonia would have to be addressed. The preventive UN force currently in Macedonia, now consisting of 750 American and Swedish troops, should be increased as a matter of urgency and its mandate strengthened to enable it to deal with ethnic conflict.

What if the United States makes a good faith offer to broker a final settlement only to have Milosevic reject it and continue his oppressive tactics in Kosovo? It should then be clear that Milosevic remained the principal obstacle to a solution and that no agreement would be possible as long as he remained in power. At that point the United States should adopt a policy of avoiding any actions that would assist his staying in power, while doing what it could to hasten his departure. This policy would not be likely to bring immediate or decisive results, but it would be a useful signal to disenchanted Serbs that, for America, Milosevic is a pariah. Because of our misplaced gratitude to him for his compromises at Dayton over Bosnia, that is not the signal we are now conveying.

More and more Serbs are beginning to understand that Milosevic has brought his people nothing but disaster. He has decimated the Serbian population of Croatia, humiliated and impoverished the Serbs in Bosnia, provoked the inexorable exodus of Serbs from Kosovo, and wrecked the economy of Serbia itself. His rule is not eternal. One day the gray falcon will come for him. And it will not promise him a heavenly kingdom.

Warren Zimmermann, professor of diplomacy at Columbia University, was U.S. ambassador to Yugoslavia from 1989-92.