The Dallas Morning News

Oct. 4, 1999 A FRAGILE PEACE Hope for a multiethnic Kosovo are far from being realized Byline: Ed Timms Page: 1A Word Count: 1664 Dateline: UROSEVAC, Yugoslavia UROSEVAC, Yugoslavia - When it's her time, Jelica Stankovic would like to die peacefully in her own house, of natural causes, without any help from the gunmen who shot bullets through her windows. Some years ago, that was not an unrealistic expectation. Mrs. Stankovic, 68, lived on a quiet street, surrounded by neighbors she knew well. Now, many of those homes are gutted or ransacked. She's been threatened and robbed. Most of her neighbors have fled. Out of roughly 10,000 ethnic Serbs who once lived in Urosevac, a city of 60,000 in southeastern Kosovo, only a few dozen remain. Mrs. Stankovic and an adult daughter are among them. U.S. soldiers guard over them, day and night, from an observation post in their front yard. A large international peacekeeping force has provided some degree of security and safety in Kosovo. But just over three months since a U.S. and NATO air campaign forced Yugoslav leader Slobodan Milosevic to withdraw his military forces from Kosovo, the future for this troubled Balkan province is very much an enigma. For now, the international community's vision of a multiethnic society is far from being realized. And contrary to the dictates of the U.N. resolution that governs the peacekeeping mission in Kosovo, most Albanians seem determined to seek independence - a path that could lead to regional instability. Peacekeepers fear that Mr. Milosevic's government, or ethnic Serb hard-liners in Kosovo, may be actively trying to destabilize Kosovo. Organized crime is a serious problem. Ethnic violence still occurs. A long stay? When control of Kosovo was wrested from Mr. Milosevic, the province essentially was left without a civil government, organized police force and courts. The health-care system is marginal; U.S. military medical personnel have observed kitchen utensils being used by local doctors performing surgery. The economy was shattered. Peacekeepers and U.N. officials are struggling to fill the void. What all of this may mean is a very long stay for U.S. forces and other international peacekeepers, who, as the afterglow of Kosovo's liberation fades, could face a much more complicated and hazardous task. Lt. Col. Michael D. Ellerbe, a battalion commander with the 82nd Airborne Division, commands U.S. paratroopers in Urosevac. He is a veteran of deployments to Somalia and Haiti, and one lesson he's learned is that what seems to be a stable situation can change. He wants his troops to be aware of that. "Because we don't truly understand the people or the culture, we don't know when those conditions are going to change . . ." Col. Ellerbe said. "It could turn upside down in a heartbeat. All you have to do is look at the kind of violence that has occurred here in the Balkans to understand how savage these people can be. . . . They may be your friend today, but tomorrow you could have a blade at your throat."

Promising signs Yet there are many encouraging developments in Kosovo. Most ethnic Albanian refugees have returned. Retail shops brimming with merchandise line downtown streets that were practically deserted only a few months ago. Some factories have resumed operation. The crops in Kosovo look promising. Kids are in school. Infrastructure is being repaired. And there is strong evidence that the level of violence in Kosovo, an epidemic a few months ago, has diminished. Ethnic cleansing by Mr. Milosevic's military forces, which threatened to empty Kosovo of its ethnic Albanian majority, was halted by the 78-day air campaign. In the aftermath, however, acts of physical violence and arson against ethnic Serbs and Gypsies prompted an exodus on a smaller scale. By one estimate, Kosovo's Serb population has dropped to less than half of its prewar level. Maj. Jimmie Keenan, chief nurse for the hospital at Camp Bondsteel, the main U.S. base in Kosovo, has seen a dramatic drop in the number of trauma cases, such as gunshot wounds or mine injuries, in recent weeks. "Hopefully that means what we're doing out there is starting to work," said Maj. Keenan, 35, a longtime Texas resident with family in the Dallas area. It also may be a sign that there are fewer targets for retribution. U.S. forces go to great lengths to preserve what is left of Kosovo's multiethnicity. That includes stationing troops outside the Serb homes, schools, Serb Orthodox churches and factories that employ both Albanians and Serbs. U.S. soldiers are under no illusions that the hard feelings have gone away. "There are some neighborhoods where the Serbs and the Albanians grew up with each other, and they're still friends," said Spc. Shawn Michaud, 22, of Fairfield, Maine, who sometimes guards Mrs. Stankovic and her daughter. But when Albanians from outside "see these Albanian and Serb friends, they rough up their own." Bislimi Bequir, 29, is ethnic Albanian. He has known Zhivka Maksimovic, 47, and her mother, Mitra Maksimovic, 80, since he was a child. During the air campaign, when Yugoslav forces lashed out against ethnic Albanians, they helped him survive. Now that the Maksimovics are among the few Serbs left in Urosevac, he tries to help them. For his trouble, Mr. Bequir said, he's been beaten and robbed by other Albanians. The Maksimovics also have a U.S. Army observation post in their front yard. The daughter says she cannot leave because her mother is old and sick. Most of the Serbs remaining in Urosevac are middle-aged or elderly. They either can't move out or don't have anywhere to go. The presence of U.S. soldiers is their safety net. East of Urosevac, in the mostly Serb village of Klokot, an M-1 Abrams tank sits menacingly outside a Serb Orthodox church. It's a not-so-subtle warning to anyone who is inclined to defile the church. U.S. troops also guard the largest source of employment in the area, a factory that bottles mineral water and an adjoining health spa for the elderly. Since the air war, the ethnic composition of the workforce there has flip-flopped. Once predominantly Serb, now all but four of the more than 180 employees are ethnic Albanians. As part of an effort to sustain a multiethnic society in Kosovo, U.S. forces hope to ultimately have a workforce that is 70 percent Albanian and 30 percent Serbian. A fifth Serb recently agreed to

return. "We're making slow progress," said Capt. Torry Brennan, 30, of Indialantic, Fla., who commands a tank company headquartered at the bottle factory. Musli Sherifi, 39, an Albanian and technical director at the bottling plant, recalls that Serbs and Albanians have worked together in the past. But when Mr. Milosevic took autonomy away from Kosovo in 1989, many Albanians lost their jobs, including Mr. Sherifi, who also worked at the bottling plant then. He returned to the plant just a few months ago. Prisoners of fear About a month ago, Klokot was the site of a mortar attack that killed or injured several Serbs. In some communities, Serbs are afraid to leave their homes. Mistrust is deeply rooted. U.S. Army 1st Lt. James Dickinson, 31, of Texarkana, a physician's assistant, said Serbs are reluctant to seek help at a civilian hospital in the Kosovo city of Gnjilane that is now open. "Serbs are terrified to go there," he said. "They think they won't get good medical care or they'll go in there and they won't come back out." Similarly, many Albanians are vehemently opposed to the idea that the Milosevic regime should ever have influence over them again and are unlikely to soon forget the atrocities committed during the ethnic cleansing. Such fears and hostility shape Kosovo's political climate and feed a hunger for independence among Kosovar Albanians. Experts say that sentiment may create difficulties for peacekeepers who must support a stated U.N. objective that the province should enjoy substantial autonomy but remain a part of the Yugoslav Republic. Leaders of the Kosovo Liberation Army have pushed for an independent Kosovo. The KLA, a militant group formed by ethnic Albanians dissatisfied with a nonviolent independence movement, provided the catalyst for Mr. Milosevic's increasingly oppressive measures in Kosovo by attacking Serb police stations and civilians. The KLA, in fact if not in name, remains a force to be reckoned with. Leaders of the KLA reluctantly accepted the concept of a civilian "Kosovo Protection Corps" that is purportedly responsible for nonmilitary duties such as disaster relief. It recently was formed after the KLA formally disbanded as a military force. The KLA leadership argued unsuccessfully against limitations on how many of the corps members can be armed, and for camouflaged uniforms instead of monotone olive drab. Instead of a demilitarized organization, some experts believe that KLA leaders wanted the nucleus for a new Kosovo army. Peacekeepers have been placed in the awkward position of promoting democratic expression, so long as it does not lead to independence. And they are, perhaps, swimming against the tide of public opinion in their efforts to make Kosovo a multiethnic state. The perils of peace From the geopolitical perspective, however, many experts warn of the perils that would accompany independence for Kosovo, or a lack of resolve in promoting multiethnicity. "You could have, perhaps, the Croats and Serbs in Bosnia interested in asserting some sort of independence . . . and then you have a very nervous Muslim population," said Gary Dempsey, a foreign policy analyst at the Cato Institute.

Deputy Secretary of State Strobe Talbott, in a recent speech, warned that "secession would give heart to separatists and irredentists of every stripe elsewhere in the region." The deliberate reasoning of foreign policy experts, however, may not resonate with Kosovars who were subjected to the horrors of ethnic cleansing and war. Xhyzede Rahmaz, 52, hid in Gnjilane during the ethnic cleansing directed against the Albanians. She still fears Mr. Milosevic's forces and distrusts Kosovo's ethnic Serbs. She recounted a litany of wrongs committed by Serbs: killings, house burnings, rapes, beatings and robberies. "How can we live with them, when they've done all this?"