Serbia’s prime minister assassinated

Date: 15/03/03

The murder of Zoran Djindjic has jangled nerves but should not shatter the country's or the region's edgy peace

POLITICAL murders in the Balkans have had a habit of breaking up countries and starting wars - witness, most infamously, the assassination of the Austrian archduke, Franz Ferdinand, in Sarajevo in 1914, which triggered the first world war. So Serbia's fragile democracy, re-established only three years ago after the fall of a tyrant, Slobodan Milosevic, has been shaken to the core by the assassination of the country's abrasively reform-minded prime minister, Zoran Djindjic, gunned down outside the main government building in Belgrade, the capital, on March 12th. But - fingers crossed - Serbia's institutions, still being rebuilt after the Milosevic tyranny, should be solid enough to withstand the shock, though it is far from clear who will fill the power vacuum.

In any event, a bout of infighting is likely to ensue. A state of emergency, allowing some civil rights to be curbed and the army to take over some police functions, has been declared. A deputy prime minister, Nebojsa Covic, may act as a caretaker. But pressure may grow fast for an early general election, which could, judging by opinion polls, bring to power Vojislav Kostunica, Mr Djindjic's rival and former president of Yugoslavia in the wake of Mr Milosevic's fall.

If that were to happen, the pace of economic reform would be likely to slow. Compared with Mr Djindjic, Mr Kostunica is less dynamic and radical, more conservative in economic and social affairs, and more nationalistic in the context of the Balkans' steamy ethnic and regional politics. But he is cautious by nature.

Mr Djindjic, a youthful 50, had chalked up several big achievements. After playing a key part in Mr Milosevic's demise, he then, having become prime minister of Serbia in 2001, had the nerve to send the former strongman to the UN's war-crimes tribunal at The Hague, where he is now on trial for genocide. That, crucially, opened the way for foreign aid to come back in.

His second and more recent big feat was to cut a constitutional deal to end the awkward dual structure of what was left of federal Yugoslavia: last month its two remaining parts became almost independent, to be only loosely linked under the cumbersome name of “Serbia and Montenegro”. An overarching Yugoslav presidency, in the person of Mr Kostunica, with lines of power that often tangled with those of the two component bits, was abolished. And, though patently unpopular among Serbs at large, thanks mainly to their continuing dismal standard of living, Mr Djindjic had been craftily consolidating power, seeking to bring, for instance, the army under his control.

While putting himself squarely in the pro-western camp on most foreign issues, on Kosovo Mr Djindjic was ambiguous. Recently he had sounded a more nationalist note, publicly stressing that the breakaway province was still a constitutional part of Serbia. In private, however, he was more pragmatic, accepting that Kosovo was unlikely in the foreseeable future to be controlled by Serbs again. Mr Djindjic was indeed a pastmaster at sounding nastily nationalist or cosily cosmopolitan - whichever met the political need of the moment. Mr Kostunica, if he came to power, could make things stickier.

As a conciliator of Serbs, however, Mr Djindjic had recently been failing. He had expended much energy on keeping Mr Kostunica, Serbia's most popular politician, out of power. Since last November Mr Kostunica had sought to win Serbia's presidency but, though winning most votes at the ballot box, had failed to win the job because the turnout had been too low. Mr Djindjic had been determined to keep him on the sidelines.

Mr Djindjic certainly made enough enemies in his time. He had repeatedly clashed - with Mr Kostunica, among others - over reforms of the police and security services. Most pointedly, Serb nationalists were enraged by his decision to send Mr Milosevic to The Hague. And more recently he may have been close to having the Bosnian Serb general, Ratko Mladic, nabbed with the intention of dispatching him to the UN's war-crimes tribunal too.

Mr Djindjic had also been inveighing against organised crime, a major brake on the Serbian economy, but his detractors invariably accused him of being too close to criminals himself. Government spokesmen have already blamed a criminal outfit, known as the Zemun gang (after a Belgrade district), for Mr Djindjic's murder.

He lived dangerously in every sense. His methods were rough. But he made a fair start in rescuing Serbia after Mr Milosevic. If the country can react peacefully to his murder, that may be his best legacy.

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