Rival Power, page 8
There was no love lost between Russia and the Serbian politicians who came after Milošević. Having neglected the opposition in the 1990s, Moscow was tainted by its association with the former regime. It was, moreover, the place of exile of the deposed leader’s closest family, including his elder brother Borislav, Milošević’s son Marko and, after February 2003, his wife Mira Marković, who escaped criminal investigation. Prime Minister Zoran Đinđić, leader of the Democratic Party (Demokratska stranka, DS), held markedly pro-Western views. Educated in West Germany, he had studied under the philosopher Jürgen Habermas and then returned to Yugoslavia in 1989 to become one of the most popular faces of the anti-Milošević opposition. All the way until his assassination in March 2003, Đinđić’s main goal was to restore ties with the West and end Serbia’s predicament of a pariah state in Europe. Much later, in March 2008, right after Kosovo proclaimed independence, the Russian TV channel Rossiia caused a stir after the journalist Konstantin Semin remarked that the “Western marionette” Đinđić “deserved the bullet”, referring to his assassination. Officially, Russia had made an ally of President Boris Tadić, Đinđić’s heir at the helm of the DS. But a Kremlin mouthpiece had no regrets to offer concerning the slain prime minister and his political legacy.
It was not just the personal factor at play, however. Relations with Moscow were also held hostage to the constant bickering between Serbia and Montenegro in the common state that barely held together all the way to 2006. It was not until January 2004 that one Milan Roćen, a Montenegrin, was designated ambassador to Moscow, a post long occupied by Borislav Milošević.13
The one friend Russia had in Belgrade, other than ultranationalists such as Vojislav Šešelj who were tainted by their association with Milošević’s misrule, was Vojislav Koštunica, the incoming president of the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia.14 He made his maiden journey to Moscow on 27–28 October 2000, the first time Vladimir Putin welcomed a Balkan leader (Milošević was never granted an official visit). Putin returned the compliment in June 2001, fresh from his landmark summit in Bled, Slovenia, with President George W. Bush (who said of Putin, “I looked the man in the eye. I found him very straightforward and trustworthy”). The last time a Moscow leader had set foot in Belgrade was Mikhail Gorbachev in 1988.15 What drew Koštunica close to the Russians was his unabashed nationalism. Unlike his rival Đinđić, who saw the way forward in working with the West on the breakaway province’s final status and extracting the best deal for Serbia, Koštunica was intent on fighting till the bitter end. As prime minister (2004–8), he was also hopeful that the Kremlin connection might give him an edge against domestic political competitors. To his chagrin, Putin was anything but forthcoming and avoided commitments. During a meeting in Sochi in June 2004 he declined to extend support for Dragan Maršićanin, Koštunica’s preferred candidate in the imminent presidential election in Serbia.
Putin’s Russia was certainly in no mood to do Serbia any political favors. Unpaid debt to the tune of $400 million resulted in a cut-off of the gas supply in June 2000. As Kommersant opined, “such a tough framing of the issue corresponds fully with Russia’s new foreign policy concept, which prescribes thinking first and foremost about its national interests.”16 Gazprom would not agree to settle the bill against old Soviet debts owed to former Yugoslavia. A deal was struck only in November 2003 when Belgrade agreed to repay $306 million, in part by commissioning Russian firms to modernize the Đerdap hydropower plant on the Danube and in part by direct export of goods.17 During an earlier visit to Moscow in February 2001, Đinđić had already won another key concession—eliminating the intermediary company Progresgas Trading linked to the former prime minister, Mirko Marjanović, a prominent member of Milošević’s entourage.18 For its part, Serbia opened its doors to Russia’s Lukoil, which purchased a controlling stake in Beopetrol. Ten years thereafter, the transaction sparked off a huge scandal when the Anti-Corruption Council (Savet za borbu protiv korupcije), a state watchdog, accused Lukoil and the Privatization Agency of defrauding taxpayers of €105 million by issuing themselves a loan out of Beopetrol funds.19 Russia’s penetration of the Serbian economy was anything but problem-free.
The New Battle of Kosovo
The Kosovo “status process” breathed new life into the Russo-Serbian affair. Starting in 2004, the pursuit of a final settlement restarted the Contact Group and inserted Russia into Balkan politics once again. Moscow had both a stake and the leverage. But its comeback reflected the fact that Belgrade made a conscious choice to seek Russian support and resist the West. It was a team effort of sorts whereby the entire Serbian leadership—Koštunica, President Boris Tadić (who succeeded Đinđić at the top of the DS), foreign ministers Vuk Drašković (2004–7) and Vuk Jeremić (2007–12)—all played a role at least as significant as that of the Russian Ministry of Foreign Affairs (MFA) or the Kremlin.
In hindsight, it is striking how few people thought, at the outset, that Russia would mount a tough challenge to the United States and powerful EU member states over Kosovo. Putin no doubt harbored bitter feelings about 1998–99. Yet he, so the argument went, also epitomized the rational leader who put good ties with the West first. The general expectation was that Russia would, begrudgingly, stomach Western decisions, having scaled back its presence in the Balkans. Independence or “disguised independence” seemed attainable; the only thing missing was the quid pro quo that would facilitate the consent of all parties. There were rumors that the Kremlin was prepared to trade in its approval for concessions in other areas.20
To be sure, all members of the Contact Group had converged on several points, even before negotiations started in Vienna in early 2006.21 First, there could be no return to the pre-1999 status quo. Second, Kosovo’s borders were to remain unchanged, irrespective of whether the outcome would be a state or an autonomous entity within Serbia. Third, Kosovo was to be denied the right to merge with neighboring countries, a thinly veiled reference to Albania. Everyone agreed that human rights and the principle of multi-ethnicity had to be respected and that Prishtina was to be granted a “European perspective.”22 Moscow was happy with the mediator appointed by the UN Secretary General Kofi Annan as well. Martti Ahtisaari, the former president of neutral Finland, was known for his dovish views of Russia. Together with Viktor Chernomyrdin he had negotiated the terms of surrender during NATO’s campaign in 1999, providing for Yeltsin a way out of the Kosovo quagmire (see Chapter 1). Moreover, Russia invested more trust in Ahtisaari than did Serbia. Throughout 2006, the Russians ignored the Serbs’ complaints that the Finnish mediator was biased in favor of granting independence to Kosovo.
No sooner had the talks started than profound differences started surfacing. The West and Kosovar Albanians saw independence as the only viable option and thought the negotiations had to smoothen the way. This was Ahtisaari’s view too. Russia, by contrast, joined Serbia in insisting that the “status process” be open-ended. Sure enough, the talks could resolve certain technical or economic matters. But any outcome beyond broad autonomy was out of question. That left no scope for compromise. Belgrade would not accept Ahtisaari’s plan for independence in exchange for self-rule for the Kosovan Serbs. For their part, Kosovars and Western leaders rejected any idea of partitioning Kosovo, which would leave Serb-majority municipalities north of the Ibar River under Belgrade’s sovereignty. On paper, Serbia was against such a trade-off as well.
Putin hedged his bets right from the start. In the event that Kosovo remained part of Serbia, Russia would score a diplomatic victory. But should the West refuse to back down, Moscow was ready to harness the precedent and make the most of it. The Russian president asserted early on that the final decision on Kosovo would have universal implications and would not be a one-off event as the West maintained.23 Abkhazia, South Ossetia, Transnistria or other separatist entities across the former Soviet Union aligned with Russia could well profit from the precedent. Putin made explicit the linkage between Kosovo and the Commonwealth of Independent States (CIS)—having ignored the Balkans during his first presidential term. At stake also was Russia’s role on the world stage. It had the best of both worlds: donning the mantle of champion of international law without tying its own hands or foregoing opportunities to enhance its position. This is exactly what happened in the aftermath of the 2008 war with Georgia, when Russia recognized Abkhazia and South Ossetia’s independence, and in 2014 with the annexation of Crimea.
To play the game, Russia focused on process, rather than substance. Rather than get their hands dirty with minutiae to do with territorial governance and constitutional rights of ethnic communities, Putin, Foreign Minister Sergei Lavrov, and UN Ambassador Vitalii Churkin (an old Balkan hand) insisted that no solution could be imposed from outside. Belgrade and Prishtina had to work it out themselves.24 The West had no right whatsoever to twist Serbia’s arm on issues of sovereignty. No one phrased Russia’s position better than Putin himself. At the 2007 Munich Security Conference, where he famously blamed the United States for undermining global security, he responded to a journalist’s question on Kosovo in the following way:
What will happen with Kosovo and with Serbia? Only Kosovars and Serbs can know. And let’s not tell them how they should live their lives. There is no need to play God and resolve all of these peoples’ problems. Together we can only create certain necessary conditions and help people resolve their own problems. Create the necessary conditions and act as the guarantors of certain agreements. But we should not impose these agreements. Otherwise, we shall simply put the situation into a dead end. And if one of the participants in this difficult process feels offended or humiliated, then the problem will last for centuries. We will only create a dead end.25
At the tactical level, Russia opposed the notion that the Vienna talks were pegged to a strict deadline, the end of 2006. It fought hard on this point, creating breathing space for Serbia. The fact that the status process continued into 2007 constituted a minor diplomatic victory for the Russians.
Of course, the extended timetable made little difference in the end. Serbia rebuffed the Athisaari proposal for independence under international supervision and powers devolved to Serb municipalities. Russia took its side and made it abundantly clear it would veto the plan at the UN Security Council. Its stringent opposition ushered in a new round of talks in August 2007, this time led by the senior German diplomat Wolfgang Ischinger (EU), Aleksandr Botsan-Kharchenko (Russia), and Frank Wisner (United States). That marked another diplomatic coup for Moscow and Belgrade as it effectively shelved the Ahtisaari Plan. But as negotiations predictably ended in a cul-de-sac, America and the EU great powers were left with no other option but to go for a unilateral solution bypassing the UN.26 Against the objections of Belgrade, Moscow, and five EU member states,27 the Kosovar parliament declared independence on 17 February 2008.
The enduring legacy of the “status process” has been the realignment of views on Russia in Serbia. In the 1990s, it was the ultranationalist Serbian Radical Party that lobbied for an alliance with Moscow. Milošević’s approach was instrumental, turning to the Russians when convenient and then tilting to the West. In the mid-2000s, it was the turn of the pro-Western spectrum in Serbian politics, personified by Boris Tadić and his cohort, to embrace Moscow. “It was the West which pushed us to Russia then,” pointed out a Serbian diplomat and high-ranking member of DS as he reflected on the impact of Kosovo’s declaration of independence in 2008.28 To him, Western powers treated Milošević better than the democratic opposition of the 1990s, in that UNSC Resolution 1244 left Kosovo as part of the then Federal Republic of Yugoslavia. Russia, by contrast, could be relied upon to wield its veto and aid Serbia.
The consensus in favor of working with Russia was reflected in the declaration on neutrality voted by the Serbian parliament on 26 December 2007—a year after joining NATO’s Partnership for Peace. The post-Đinđić DS, Koštunica’s Democratic Party of Serbia (Demokratska stranka Srbije, DSS),29 the Radicals, and the post-Milošević Socialist Party of Serbia (Socijalistička partija Srbije, SPS), all backed the motion. The only outliers were the Liberal Democratic Party (LDP) and the League of Social Democrats of Vojvodina. Public opinion was highly supportive. “Russia’s prestige is very high and President Putin’s rating is over nearly any politician in Serbia,” mused Finance Minister Božidar Đelić of DS on a visit to Moscow in the autumn of 2007.30 Serbia’s neutrality cemented the alliance with Russia and paved the way for numerous joint initiatives in the areas of security and defense (see Chapter 6).
Serbia firmly believed that Russia’s assistance would seriously change the odds in the campaign to fight back against Kosovo’s declaration of independence. President Tadić, narrowly re-elected in January 2008, and Foreign Minister Vuk Jeremić, were leading the charge. They approached the UN General Assembly, which voted on 8 October 2008 to refer the Prishtina parliament’s declaration to the International Court of Justice (ICJ). At the UN, Russia rallied its friends and CIS allies.31 Moreover, it lent Serbia full support during the ICJ proceedings, submitting a long statement to argue that Kosovo’s declaration breached international law.32 Tadić and Jeremić were hopeful that a favorable ruling would bring the Kosovars back to the negotiating table. In contrast to 2006–7, now they hinted at partition as a last resort.33 That is why Serbia needed Russia and why its pro-Western politicians, telling Brussels and Washington their hold on power was under constant threat from nationalists on their right, had no qualms in reaching out to Moscow and pursuing EU membership at the same time.
But by that point Russia was weighing in on the side of secessionism. In an op-ed published by The Financial Times right after the Georgian war, President Dmitry Medvedev reasoned as follows:
[I]gnoring Russia’s warnings, Western countries rushed to recognise Kosovo’s illegal declaration of independence from Serbia. We argued consistently that it would be impossible, after that, to tell the Abkhazians and Ossetians (and dozens of other groups around the world) that what was good for the Kosovo Albanians was not good for them. In international relations, you cannot have one rule for some and another rule for others.34
Putin was to go one step further: in an interview for a German TV channel, he evoked the memory of the Srebrenica genocide in Bosnia (July 1995) and the Western doctrine of humanitarian intervention in justifying Russia’s use of force against Georgia.35 In a remarkable turnaround, Russia shifted from defending the Serbs to implicitly sympathizing with the plight of Kosovar Albanians and Bosniaks.
The alliance with Russia failed Serbia’s expectations. The Jeremić–Tadić game plan backfired massively when the International Court of Justice found, by ten votes to four, that Kosovo’s declaration did not breach general international law, UNSC Resolution 1244, or the Constitutional Framework adopted under the United Nations Mission in Kosovo (UNMIK).36 The Advisory Opinion transferred the dispute from the UN to the EU, limiting Russia’s role. Starting in March 2011, direct talks under the auspices of Catherine Ashton, High Representative for Foreign and Security Policy, linked Kosovo to the EU’s enlargement into the Western Balkans. As shown by the Brussels Agreement (19 April 2013), the prospect of membership has been an incentive for both Prishtina and Belgrade to normalize relations, establish a modus vivendi, and perhaps work out a formula for settling the dispute.
As Serbia agreed to entrust the EU with the Kosovo issue, Russia moved to the sidelines. The country’s tilt to the East was followed by a tilt to the West. Ironically, it was self-avowed pro-Western politicians such as Tadić who oversaw the resumption of relations with Moscow. And it was Aleksandar Vučić, a one-time prominent member of Šešelj’s Radicals, who, first as deputy prime minister between 2012–14 and then as premier, would advocate rapprochement with the Kosovars as an entry ticket to the EU.
The Money Factor
Serbia had been banking on hopes that the Russian connection would yield profit in the economy, first and foremost in the field of energy. Up until the mid-2000s, energy had been a sore point in the relationship. Public-sector entities such as NIS and Srbijagas (established in August 2005 as a separate company) owed the Russians hundreds of millions in unpaid bills. The first Ukraine gas crisis in 2006 had taken its toll on Serbia, which was overwhelmingly dependent on Gazprom deliveries through Hungary. But now it looked as if Belgrade could capitalize on Moscow’s interest in bypassing Ukraine, and turn from a consumer to a transit channel for Russian gas.
Vojislav Koštunica was particularly keen to develop energy ties, accommodating Moscow’s demands. In late 2005 he and his energy minister, Radomir Naumov, oversaw the insertion of YugoRosGaz as an intermediary—as Progresgas Trading was in Milošević’s day. Gazprom was furthermore allowed to increase its stake from 50 to 75 percent via an offshore branch—at a discount price. Critics saw that decision as entrenching Russia’s dominance and inflating the rates charged to consumers.37
