Lipton returned to Dayton after his birthday. He became an important part of the core team. In the close quarters of Wright-Patterson, we included him in small meetings that normally did not involve Treasury officials, and the payoff was enormous.
Nothing was more important to peace in the former Yugoslavia than rebuilding economic ties that transcended ethnic divisions. Shortly before Dayton, the World Bank had drawn up a $5 billion economic reconstruction plan designed to bring the per capita income in the country up to two thirds of its prewar levels by the year 2000. It had, of course, suspended negotiations on the program pending the outcome of the Dayton talks. Lipton and I both called James Wolfensohn, the President of the World Bank, who promised to support our efforts; his representative, Christine Wallich, was already inside the compound at Dayton.
Meanwhile, Perle spent the day with the Bosnians producing a long list of requested changes in the military annex. It ultimately ran to over one hundred suggestions, ranging from tiny word corrections to major changes. In several places Perle simply caught errors in the draft that the rest of us had missed. Elsewhere he and the Bosnians, now following his advice closely, sought significant revisions in the mission of IFOR. Ironically, Perle’s proposed changes moved the military annex back toward State’s original goals.
Most senior officials in Washington were still unhappy that Perle was in Dayton. Donilon warned me that the Washington consensus was to tell the Bosnians they had to accept Annex 1-A as originally written, and reject all of their proposed changes. “Tell Perle to shove his goddamn changes up his ass,” one angry Pentagon official said when I warned him what to expect. “Let’s see what they propose,” I replied. “We can’t reject them all, and some of them make sense.”
Perle would depart after three days in Dayton, on November 11, leaving behind the official Bosnian response to the military annex. Although he kept in touch with us by phone, he did not return. When he finished the work on November 11, Clark, Kerrick, Pardew, and I began a careful review of each suggestion, trying to decide how to deal with both the substance and the politics of his proposals.
In Brussels that day, Defense Secretary Bill Perry and Russian Defense Minister Pavel Grachev watched as General Joulwan and General Shevstov signed an agreement that would place Russian troops under the commanding general in the American Sector of Bosnia. As previously agreed, Joulwan signed the agreement with the Russians wearing his hat as the commanding general of U.S. forces in Europe, and not as NATO Supreme Commander. It was, Perry said, “a truly historic moment.” This agreement not only made possible the Russian role in Bosnia but also went a long way to ameliorating Russian antagonism toward NATO enlargement.
Every meeting with Milosevic that day turned into an argument about sanctions. “Talbott promised action on the heating oil and gas for Belgrade,” he said angrily. “Why hasn’t it happened yet?” On this issue, everyone at Dayton was in accord, and Kerrick spent much of the day on the phone with Washington trying to get it done. Finally, late that evening, Lake agreed that the United States would accept the flow of a limited amount of natural gas and heating oil to Belgrade for home use.
Late that night, President Tudjman returned to Dayton. We hoped that his reappearance would lead to breakthroughs on the two matters whose immediate resolution was essential—the Federation and eastern Slavonia. Driving from the airstrip to Tudjman’s quarters, I told him that when Warren Christopher returned to Dayton in two days, we had to present him with completed agreements on both issues.
DAY NINE: THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 9
It was one of those days when, despite intense activity on all fronts, nothing significant happened. We used Christopher’s impending trip as pressure for concessions from all parties, but with little success. Over lunch at the Officers’ Club, Milosevic accepted the new American position on heating fuel with undisguised annoyance, pointing out that it fell short of what even the Bosnian Muslims had supported. On the “D.C. model” for Sarajevo, he remained elusive, neither accepting nor rejecting it. He still sought political equality among the ethnic groups in Sarajevo, a proposal we rejected because it would disadvantage the Muslims, who would be vulnerable to a Serb-Croat coalition or Serb obstructionism. “We will not even submit this to Izetbegovic,” I told Milosevic. “It would raise questions about your sincerity.” So the question of Sarajevo remained at ground zero.
During the lunch, Milosevic sought to appeal to Kerrick as a professional soldier. With Rabin’s funeral fresh in everyone’s mind, Milosevic switched from his normal role as the boss of the Serbs to that of a man taking risks for peace. “General Kerrick,” he said, “you are a military man, and while America’s prestige is on the line, my head and life are at stake, literally.” The exchange was fascinating, but it was more theater than substance. Although they often disagreed vehemently, Milosevic controlled the political situation in Belgrade and dominated the Pale Serbs.
Overnight, the Croatians increased the pressure by moving their military forces closer to eastern Slavonia. Tudjman hinted again that he might prefer to conquer the region outright in a military action—as he had in the other three parts of the Krajina earlier in the year—rather than make a deal with Milosevic. On the other hand, because eastern Slavonia was on the Serbian border, Tudjman could not be as confident of the outcome. Tudjman requested that some American troops and an American commanding general be part of a “transition force” that would enforce its peaceful turnover.
Putting a few American troops there as part of an international force under IFOR made sense; it would ensure the successful implementation of whatever was agreed to. And it would be easy: the route from the NATO staging area in Hungary to the bases planned for the American troops in central Bosnia actually ran through eastern Slavonia.
The Pentagon, however, had a different view. Supported by the NSC, they argued that adding a Croatian mandate to the one in Bosnia would create an insurmountable problem with Congress. The White House quickly decided not to send any American troops to eastern Slavonia, a decision I regretted; the additional forces could have been limited to only a few hundred, as in Macedonia, but they would have ensured success in a dangerous sliver of the region.
The Tennis Match. Late that afternoon, Tudjman invited Chris Hill and me to play doubles at the indoor courts at Wright-Patterson. Tudjman, in remarkable condition for a man of seventy-three, took no chances; his official delegation included an outstanding tennis player, a gynecologist from Zagreb. On the first point of the match, with the gynecologist serving, Hill fired a hard volley past Tudjman at net. I walked over to Chris, “Go easy on Tudjman; we need eastern Slavonia,” I whispered. Hill, a fine player, nodded. I served again. On my second serve Tudjman rifled a passing shot down the line past Chris. I walked over to him. “The hell with eastern Slavonia,” I said, “our national honor is at stake. Let’s beat these guys.” We lost anyway, 6–2, 6–1, 6–4.
After tennis, we went to the Officers’ Club with Tudjman for a dinner with leading Croatian Americans from all over the country. On the margins of this event, which had been planned to show us that the Croatians had significant domestic American support,* we continued to discuss eastern Slavonia. In many ways the negotiations on eastern Slavonia reminded me of those two months earlier between Athens and Skopje; most of the details were settled, but the political will to solve the problem was still lacking, and a big final push would be essential. The main sticking point seemed to be the length of time a U.N. “transitional administration” would remain in place in eastern Slavonia. Tudjman still insisted on one year, while Milosevic was equally set on three. The obvious answer—a compromise of two years—had been rejected with equal vigor by both men.
Chris Hill stayed up until after 3:00 A.M., working with Foreign Minister Milutinovic. Using the Galbraith-U.N. paper as a starting point, he made progress, although, as usual, Milutinovic said they had to “consult” the local authorities. Meanwhile, Galbraith and Stoltenberg were
pressing forward with their negotiations in the region.
We remained deeply concerned with human rights and war criminals; Dayton had to be about more than a political settlement. To this end, I asked Milosevic to extend his earlier support of Shattuck’s trips into Srpska. A few days later, this request produced a strange sight: Milosevic’s special military security forces escorting Shattuck into Banja Luka, which no American official had visited in several years, as he sought access to mass grave sites of massacres allegedly committed by Serbs. The trip was also designed to answer the charge that we were not sharing enough information with the International War Crimes Tribunal.
We had achieved very little in the first nine days at Dayton. Late that night I expressed my frustration to Kati, telling her I thought our chances of getting an agreement were poor. “There is simply too much work and too little time left,” I said. “Milosevic is playing statesman without giving up anything important.” My greatest concern that night, however, was with the Bosnians. Their internal splits, which were becoming increasingly acrimonious, were paralyzing us. “They are refusing to give us serious responses on most major issues,” I said. “The Croat, Muslim, and even Serb members of the Bosnian delegation are all screaming at one another. Without clear positions from them, it will be impossible to end this negotiation.”
* The Germans did not need, or ask for, a German translator. The French insisted on a French one, even though they all spoke excellent English.
* Carl Bildt suggested that we redesignate the rooms with more peaceful names for the duration of the conference, a proposal that was impractical.
* Rohde won a Pulitzer Prize in 1996 for his articles on Srebrenica, and later joined the staff of The New York Times. His book Endgame describes the fall of Srebrenica in impressive detail.
* Lipton’s subsequent rise through Treasury was rapid and well deserved: after two quick promotions, he became the Undersecretary for International Affairs. He continued to play an important role in Bosnia, where his proposals, originally regarded as completely unrealistic, gradually were implemented.
* There were about 540,000 Croatian Americans, according to the 1990 U.S. Census, with nearly half of them in the Midwest and concentrations in southern California and New York.
CHAPTER 17
“Peace in a Week”
[British Prime Minister] Lloyd George is trying his hand at reaching a settlement with the Italians on the Adriatic Treaty…. They all sit round the map. The appearance of a pie about to be distributed is thus enhanced. Lloyd George shows them what he suggests. They ask for Scala Nova as well. “Oh, no!” says Ll. G., “you can’t have that—it’s full of Greeks!” … “Oh, no,” I whisper to him, “there are not many Greeks there.” “But yes,” he answers, “don’t you see it’s coloured green?” I then realise that he mistakes my map for an ethnological map, and thinks the green means Greeks instead of valleys, and the brown means Turks instead of mountains. Lloyd George takes this correction with great good humor. He is as quick as a kingfisher.
—HAROLD NICOLSON, Peacemaking 1919
DAY TEN: FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 10
CHRISTOPHER AND HIS TEAM RETURNED TO Wright-Patterson at 9:30 A.M. on November 10, planning to announce the new Federation agreement that morning. But shortly before he landed, the Bosnian Croats told us they would not sign Steiner’s agreement as scheduled because it did not give them enough power. “Blood pressure up”—Kerrick’s laconic phrase—was an accurate description of our reaction. Once again, our game plan was scrapped, as we scrambled to prevent an embarrassing setback.
Christopher and I went immediately to see Tudjman, and asked him to get the Croats under control. Without apologizing for the delay, Tudjman said his problem was not with the Federation agreement itself, but with Izetbegovic’s refusal to reserve one of the top three posts in the central government—president, prime minister, or foreign minister—for a Croat. Tudjman could be brutal at times, but he had a valid point.
We told Tudjman that we would insist that one of the three top posts in the central government be assigned to a Croat if he would support our Federation agreement. Tudjman assented, and the ceremony was rescheduled for the afternoon. Walking across the parking lot immediately to see the Bosnians, we urged them to accept a Croat as Prime Minister or Foreign Minister of the central government in order to save the Federation agreement. This was the essence of statesmanship, I said, a reasonable concession for a major gain. But this one would add to the tension within the Bosnian camp, already seething with intrigue, since either Prime Minister Silajdzic or Foreign Minister Sacirbey would have to step aside in favor of a Croat. Sacirbey was clearly upset. If anyone had to leave, he knew it would be him, and not Haris, who had a political base in Bosnia.
Less than an hour before the public signing of the agreement, Federation President Kresimir Zubak sent me a letter stating that he would neither attend the ceremony nor sign the agreement. Hill and I immediately went to see Tudjman, who read the letter and laughed. “If Zubak doesn’t sign it,” he said, “we’ll get someone else to.”
“That’s not good enough,” I replied. “Zubak must be part of the event, or else he should be replaced as Federation President. He cannot have it both ways, and we cannot allow him to wreck Dayton.” We sent Hill and Menzies to see Zubak. A Croat distrusted by many of the Muslims, he worried that the new agreement would weaken him. We had not paid enough attention to the dapper and normally polite Zubak, partly because he did not speak English well, partly because he was overshadowed by extroverted people like Sacirbey and Silajdzic. He had become difficult, withdrawn, and sullen. Hill and Menzies said that if Christopher and I sat down for a few minutes with Zubak, the problem would be solved. And indeed it was. Flattered by the personal attention of the Secretary of State, who met with him for fifteen minutes, Zubak said he would attend the signing.
Still, the ceremony unveiling the new Federation agreement, while important to the future of Bosnia, was a sour affair. We met again in the B-29 Room, with the press allowed back into the base for the first time since the opening ceremonies. Izetbegovic and Tudjman barely acknowledged each other. (Since the agreement did not involve the Serbs, Milosevic, who mocked the whole process, was not present.) In his prepared remarks, Christopher gave the sort of upbeat speech that the event required. “Today’s agreement will bring the Federation to life,” he said. “It will create common political and economic institutions that will unite the two communities.” He went on:
The agreement finally gives the Federation the authority to govern effectively. The central government of Bosnia and Herzegovina will keep the powers it needs to preserve the country’s sovereignty, including foreign affairs, trade, and monetary policy. It will transfer most of its other responsibilities, including police, courts, tax collection, health, and education to the Federation…. The agreement provides for the sharing of revenues and a joint customs administration. Internal customs checkpoints, which had marred the Federation before, will be removed. Finally, the parties have agreed to the reunification of the city of Mostar under a single administration.
Of course, this impressive agreement was on paper only. After watching the terrible body language between the two delegations, I was as worried about the Federation as about the negotiations with the Serbs. Events would bear this concern out. Two years after Dayton, much of what had been announced that day to make the Federation viable was still not implemented, and Mostar was only beginning to settle down.
A Semibreakthrough on Eastern Slavonia. Milosevic and Tudjman were still divided over the time for a transitional period prior to the reversion of eastern Slavonia to Croatia—a seemingly small issue, but one on which both men were dug in. After three meetings with each President, neither had moved an inch. We returned to our quarters to examine our choices. Christopher had to leave in two hours, and while we wanted his day to end with a breakthrough, none was in sight. “Chris, what about a two-phase
approach—with certain specified events happening in each phase?” I said, adding, half-teasing, “You’re a great lawyer, can’t you think of something creative?”
Standing up, Christopher started writing rapidly on a legal-sized yellow pad. One rarely saw this side of Warren Christopher anymore, yet it was him at his best—the skilled lawyer drafting an agreement. “The transition period shall last twelve months,” he read, “and, on the determination of the Transitional Administration, may be extended for a second period not to exceed the duration of the first.”
It was simple. Christopher’s wording used only Tudjman’s number—twelve months—but in fact allowed up to two years, which Milosevic probably could accept, for eastern Slavonia’s transition back to Croatian rule. Tudjman and Milosevic could each present the agreement differently at home, and the length of the transition would be determined a year hence.
We almost ran to Milosevic’s room to present Christopher’s idea. Without hesitation, Milosevic said he would accept the proposal if Tudjman did. “Mr. President, let’s close this now,” I responded. “Let’s go to Tudjman’s room together and work this out before the Secretary has to leave for Washington.”
“No,” said Milosevic. “Let me see Tudjman alone. I’ll come back to you with a solution.” He was suddenly cocky, convinced he could deliver a deal, and get credit for it.
To End a War Page 37
