Milosevic (13 page)

In these early years at least, Slobodan and Mira exhibited little appetite for luxury or conspicuous consumption. They spent their weekends quietly in Pozarevac. ‘They behaved like completely average people,' said Dusan Mitevic.

They would go on Friday evening, come back on Sunday afternoon, and have lunch with their friends. They had a completely normal relationship with their neighbours. Their neighbours used to give them a bowl of stuffed peppers. When I first knew them they did not even have guards at the house. They liked to sit in the garden. Later on, when Milosevic became more important, the police built a high wall around it, but he did not like that.
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Milosevic's tastes remained modest: a glass or two of whisky or his favourite drink, Viljamovka, the Serbian pear brandy, and a cigarillo. He showed no interest then in fashionable western clothes, luxurious cars or expensive jewellery, and he never has since.

Like Mitevic, Hasanovic recalled an unassuming couple, who although ambitious, still remembered their roots in provincial Serbia. Milosevic later harnessed Serbian nationalism and xenophobia in his drive for power, but there was never a hint of prejudice in his attitude towards Hasanovic. In fact the two men became quite close. ‘Slobodan and Mira lived modestly at this time. I was lucky to be with them when they remembered how poor they had been, and how they first fell in love. They never cared that I am from a Turkish background. This was in the first phase of his career, before he became a god.' Hasanovic also heard a surprising side of Milosevic, especially after he had downed a glass or two of Viljamovka ‘Slobo sang beautifully, Russian ballads, French chansons and old Serbian songs. There was a warm atmosphere at their home.'

In 1987, Hasanovic was sent to do his military service. His relationship with Marija cooled down. Her letters became infrequent, and eventually her visits stopped altogether and the two ended their relationship. Hasanovic was nervous when he met Milosevic for the first time after the break-up, but his fears that Slobodan might damage his political career were groundless. ‘I asked him if he was angry with me, but he was a complete gentleman. He never mentioned it, and he continued to help me with my career at the youth organisation.' The next year, with Milosevic's support, Hasanovic was appointed the foreign secretary of the federal Yugoslav youth organisation, charged with overseeing
official relations between young people from Yugoslavia and foreign countries.

Outside the inner circle though, relations between Mira and her relatives were breaking down. Her father Moma Markovic and her brothers and sisters only saw Mira and Slobodan about once every six months or so, usually at Moma's house. Ljubica did not look forward to the bi-annual meetings. Mira often appeared on the verge of hysteria, and she seemed to have developed a hygiene mania. ‘She told my father that she hates to shake hands with people because she has to clean her hands with alcohol afterwards.'

The atmosphere was in any case strained, because Mira was devoted to her husband and his career, and could not stand to hear any kind of criticism. ‘It was a ritual, and very cold. I didn't like going there, because I didn't feel comfortable. My father and Mira were often quarrelling. Milosevic was making his political career and my father criticised him. Mira could not bear it, she was always on the edge of crying, and hysterical.'

As Milosevic planned his advance through the party apparat, he understood that with Yugoslavia in a state of flux he could simultaneously appeal to two opposing interest groups within the party: the old guard around Petar Stambolic, and the reformers who wanted to topple the elderly Tito-era leaders. This he achieved by the simple device of speaking in different voices to different audiences. Zivorad Kovacevic, former mayor of Belgrade, recalled: ‘Some elderly leaders believed that Milosevic had something of Tito's stature. I remember that one said to me that “Sloba is a real pearl of our party”. I said what are you talking about? He said, “He has something, he is a real Tito”.'
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Milosevic's admirer might have revised his opinion had he seen the memento of his Wall Street days on the table by his bed: a photograph of himself with the powerful American banker David Rockefeller. However, Mira, the great leftist, did not seem to mind her husband's capitalist connections.

The people who led the country at the time were mostly politicians who knew nothing about the economy. He was young and educated, he was seen as the ideal person to be involved in politics to bring modern economic development, to reinforce political life and have
a certain influence in decision making. The political leaders of Serbia started to pressurise my husband to get involved in politics.
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Whatever the degree of pressure was, Milosevic – and Mira – did not object.

Milosevic's wooing of two constituencies was skilful, but he was also aided by the fact that the time had not yet come to demand a clear choice between an authoritarian state and a multi-party system. It was then possible to ride two horses at once. Although Yugoslavia – and the Communist system across the region – was increasingly in political and economic crisis, few then predicted that it would collapse so rapidly and completely. To many it seemed feasible to modify the political system enough to kick-start the economy, but still retain the supremacy of the party. And those who were beginning to understand that, ultimately, a multi-party system was inevitable, also looked to Milosevic.

Young politicians such as Tahir Hasanovic believed that Milosevic would steer Yugoslavia in a modern direction.

I was on the wing of the party which was aware of him as a reformer, and a man who will build capitalism. I strongly believed then that he knew what a market economy was, and he was ready to build it. When Milosevic was in New York, he really became a banker. He knew the value of money, how the market economy worked and what tools to use to improve Yugoslavia, and make it into a modern society.

Diplomats too, shared this view. Thanks to his years at UBB, and his time in America, Milosevic was able to power-schmooze diplomats into thinking he was a reformer. He understood the language of capitalism, and presented himself as a moderniser when speaking to westerners. The Stalinist language Milosevic spoke at central committee meetings was not heard at US embassy receptions, where he was a popular guest at the 4 July Independence Day party in 1986, with a glass of whisky in hand. Quite the opposite. ‘Milosevic was seen as a reform Communist, perhaps even a potential Balkan Gorbachev,' said Janet Garvey, who started work at the US embassy in Belgrade in 1983.
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During the mid-1980s there was still considerable international goodwill towards the maverick Communist state. Yugoslavia already had one foot in the West, many diplomats believed. With enough help, and
encouragement it could evolve into a Balkan success story. Milosevic, many thought, could be the man to turn Yugoslavia into a modern democracy. ‘At this time Belgrade was one of the liveliest cities in Europe. As long as you didn't criticise Tito you could do anything. Yugoslavia was seen as being so far ahead of everywhere else in eastern Europe, and they were seen as the good guys in the Communist world. The optimistic scenario was that Yugoslavia could be in the EU by the early 1990s,' said Garvey.

Meanwhile, Mira Markovic was building her network at Belgrade University. In 1984, the same year that Milosevic took over the Belgrade party, Markovic joined the leadership of the university Communist Party. Markovic was not highly regarded among the more forward-looking professors, who were in touch with developments in western intellectual thought. She was viewed as dogmatic and narrow-minded, capable only of parroting received Communist wisdom. Mihailo Crnobrnja, who was also a professor at Belgrade University, recalled: ‘She is a figure who has a very high opinion of herself and she is not deserving of that opinion at all. She does not have one likeable characteristic. She is not charming, she is not intellectual and she is not pretty. Her literary achievements are next to nothing. She is a miserable intellectual of poor quality.'
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Tahir Hasanovic was equally disappointed with her. ‘I often tried to start discussions with her, but she was not in touch with modern issues. I asked her about Karl Popper and I tried to learn about political science, but she was never ready to discuss these things.'

Although she was highly strung and prone to crying fits, Mira was not unpopular with students, as she was known as an easy grader. And she had plenty of allies in the corridors of academia. For lazy academics there were few places where it was easier to coast along for years without much work than at a university in a Communist country. The ideological demands of the curriculum, the necessity to conform to Marxist theory, acted as a positive disincentive to think in challenging or radical new ways. Plenty of Mira's colleagues felt threatened by reformist ideas and were ready for the ‘return to Marxism' that Milosevic proclaimed at Belgrade party meetings. The steady advance of her husband also strengthened Mira's influence.

In July 1985, Milosevic and Markovic chose the first testing-ground for their power and perspective. The issue was the apparently minor question of classes in compulsory Marxist education at Belgrade University.
Marxist education quickly became a totem for both sides. Liberals – backed by some allies of Ivan Stambolic – wanted the classes ended. Hardliners, led by Milosevic and Markovic, demanded their retention. Milosevic and his wife won. The classes stayed.

The wooing by Milosevic and Mira of Belgrade's political elite did not go unnoticed, especially by those who knew Milosevic from old, such as Seska Stanojlovic. ‘By that time, in the mid-1980s, it was clear to me that Slobo and Mira were building their parallel organisation. They really went to work on that. I was getting information about this, and I believed it.'
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Stanojlovic decided not to go to Ivan Stambolic, because she doubted he would listen. Instead she visited Dragisa Pavlovic, a member of Serbia's political leadership who was also a close associate of Ivan Stambolic. ‘I was going back to work for my newspaper, so I went to see Pavlovic as it was the end of our time of working together.' Stanojlovic warned Pavlovic that Milosevic was planning something. Pavlovic did not take heed. ‘He told me that if he was in the forest with the partisans, Slobo would protect his back. That meant Pavlovic thought he could absolutely trust Slobo, that he was the most reliable person.'

At this point Milosevic was careful not to unleash nationalist passions. He knew that to maintain the support of party conservatives, and the army generals, he must still pay homage to Titoism. So when a publisher in Belgrade planned to publish the works of Slobodan Jovanovic, a writer whom Titoist orthodoxy branded a nationalist renegade, Milosevic denounced him as a ‘war criminal'. There would be no new edition of Jovanovic's books, he proclaimed, and anyone who wanted a copy would have to hunt through the second-hand shops. Like a Titoist Torquemada, Milosevic also invited those who had authorised a new edition of Jovanovic's work to justify themselves. Such language and repressive tactics only boosted Milosevic's support among the conservatives.

When Draza Markovic's open opposition to Milosevic failed to prevent his election as Belgrade party chief, Draza's brother Moma went to visit Petar Stambolic to try and warn him about Milosevic. Ljubica Markovic recalled: ‘I heard that my father told Petar Stambolic when Milosevic was rising upwards that he should be careful because Milosevic was dangerous. That was when Milosevic was important but not yet number one.' But the family rivalry between Draza Markovic and Petar Stambolic meant that Moma's warning was disregarded, and his efforts rebounded into the family, with unhappy consequences. ‘Petar Stambolic immediately went
to Ivan Stambolic and told him what Moma had said,' Ljubica reported. ‘Ivan Stambolic then immediately told Milosevic.' Relations further soured between Slobodan and Mira and her father.

The endless political battles within the Serbian Communist party, and the growing rancour between the republics, were making life complicated for young managers trying to read the runes, such as Braca Grubacic. Now the publisher of the
VIP
newsletter, a respected insider's guide to Yugoslav politics, Grubacic was then an editor at
Mladost
, the publishing house of the Yugoslav young people's organisation (the word
Mladost
means ‘Youth').
Mladost
was a Yugoslav – federal – organisation, not part of one of the six republics. But the republic's nationalist squabbles were increasingly disrupting Grubacic's work.

I gave Milosevic a call, as he was party chief. I thought he was not bad, he was younger than the others, and had more energy. You could see that something was going on. We were having a lot of problems, between the Serbs, Croats and Bosnians. It was clear that relations between the republics were not going well. I was having difficulties at the federal level.

Grubacic recalled Milosevic's silky recruitment technique.

He listened to me for about forty minutes. At this time, when Milosevic was recruiting his own people, he behaved like someone who was seducing a girl. He had fantastic patience. Milosevic told me not to worry, that I was being supported.

Grubacic was heartened by this. Here was a party chief who had time to listen to his work difficulties with the federal authorities, someone who could advise him which way to turn in these troubling times. ‘I was thinking that, well, it seems that I am important to this guy, I was flattered in a way.'

All this charm and attention came at a price. Grubacic was thinking of publishing a memoir by one of Tito's former military advisors, General Jaksic. ‘At the end of our meeting, Milosevic said to me that he had heard I had General Jaksic's manuscript. I told him that I did, and that it was a very interesting book, and very controversial.' But controversy then was not on Milosevic's agenda. This was still a time of consolidation with the old guard, not confrontation.