Ethnic Conflict in Asymmetric Federations: Comparative Experience of the Former Soviet and Yugoslav Regions 9781138682429, 9781315545165

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Ethnic Conflict in Asymmetric Federations

In the last years of their existence, the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (USSR) and the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia (SFRY) found themselves facing a similar and very grim state of affairs. After their disintegration, the former Yugoslav republics spiralled into a set of ethnic conflicts that did not leave a single one of them unscathed, and in the ex-­Soviet space, conflicts were far more limited. This book offers an in-­depth analysis of the difference in state collapses and ensuing conflicts in the Soviet Union and Yugoslavia by focusing on their asymmetric ethnofederal structure and the different dynamics of ethnic mobilization that the federal units experienced. Moreover, it explores the links between identity politics and international relations, as the latter has been a latecomer in research on ethnonationalism and ethnic conflict. Finally, it contributes to the literature on the democratization-­conflict nexus by proposing that the sequencing of ethnic mobilization and political liberalization has significant effects on the likelihood of conflict. This text will be of key interest to scholars and students of Post-­Soviet politics, Balkan politics, ethnic conflict, peace and conflict studies, federalism, and more broadly to comparative politics and international relations. Gorana Grgić is Lecturer in US Politics and Foreign Policy in the United States Studies Centre at the University of Sydney, Australia.

Routledge Studies in Federalism and Decentralization Series Editors: Paolo Dardanelli Centre for Federal Studies, University of Kent, UK

and John Kincaid

Lafayette College, USA

The series publishes outstanding scholarship on federalism and decentralization, defined broadly, and is open to theoretical, empirical, philosophical and historical works. The series includes two types of work: first, it features research monographs that are substantially based on primary research and make a significant original contribution to their field. Second, it contains works that address key issues of policy-­relevant interest or summarize the research literature and provide a broad comparative coverage. 1 Presidents, Governors, and the Politics of Distribution in Federal Democracies Primus Contra Pares in Argentina and Brazil Lucas I. González

3 Ethnic Conflict in Asymmetric Federations Comparative Experience of the Former Soviet and Yugoslav Regions Gorana Grgić

2 Consolidation Policies in Federal States Conflicts and Solutions Dietmar Braun, Christian Ruiz-­Palmero and Johanna Schnabel Formerly Routledge Series in Federal Studies, edited by Michael Burgess and Paolo Dardanelli, Centre for Federal Studies, University of Kent, UK. This series brought together some of the foremost academics and theorists to examine the timely subject of regional and federal studies, which since the mid-­ 1980s became key questions in political analysis and practice. Minority Nations in Multinational Federations A comparative study of Quebec and Wallonia Edited by Min Reuchamps

Comparative Federalism and Intergovernmental Agreements Analyzing Australia, Canada, Germany, South Africa, Switzerland and the United States Jeffrey Parker

Federalism and Ethnic Conflict in Ethiopia A Comparative Regional Study Asnake Kefale Federal Democracies Edited by Michael Burgess and Alain-­G. Gagnon The Case for Multinational Federalism Beyond the All-­encompassing Nation Alain-­G. Gagnon Explaining Federalism State, Society and Congruence in Austria, Belgium, Canada, Germany and Switzerland Jan Erk Multinational Federations Edited by Michael Burgess and John Pinder Mastering Globalization New sub-­states’ governance and strategies Edited by Guy Lachapelle and Stéphane Paquin Multinational Federalism and Value Pluralism The Spanish case Ferran Requejo Regional Interests in Europe Edited by Jörg Mathias New Borders for a Changing Europe Cross-­border cooperation and governance Edited by James Anderson, Liam O’Dowd and Thomas M. Wilson

Region, State and Identity in Central and Eastern Europe Edited by Kataryna Wolczuk and Judy Batt Local Power, Territory and Institutions in European Metropolitan Regions In search of Urban Gargantuas Edited by Bernard Jouve and Christian Lefevre The Federalization of Spain Luis Moreno Paradiplomacy in Action The foreign relations of subnational governments Edited by Francisco Aldecoa and Michael Keating Remaking the Union Devolution and British politics in the 1990s Edited by Howard Elcock and Michael Keating The Regional Dimension of the European Union Towards a ‘Third Level’ in Europe? Edited by Charlie Jeffery The Political Economy of Regionalism Edited by Michael Keating and John Loughlin The Territorial Management of Ethnic Conflict, 2nd edition Edited by John Coakley

Protecting the Periphery Environmental policy in peripheral regions of the European Union Edited by Susan Baker, Kay Milton and Steven Yearly

The End of the French Unitary State? Edited by John Loughlin and Sonia Mazey

Ethnic Conflict in Asymmetric Federations Comparative Experience of the Former Soviet and Yugoslav Regions Gorana Grgić

First published 2017 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 711 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2017 Gorana Grgić The right of Gorana Grgić to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data A catalog record for this book has been requested ISBN: 978-1-138-68242-9 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-315-54516-5 (ebk) Typeset in Times New Roman by Wearset Ltd, Boldon, Tyne and Wear

For my mum and best friend – this would have been impossible without her unconditional love and immeasurable support

Contents



List of figures List of tables Acknowledgements List of abbreviations

x xi xiii xvi

Part I



Introduction

3

Part II

1 Dynamics of ethnonationalist mobilization and occurrence of conflicts in asymmetric federations

13

2 USSR and SFRY – sources of war and peace in asymmetric ethnofederations

42

Part III

3 Russia and Serbia – the core as the key

91

4 The Periphery I – early to rise, early to fight?

130

5 The Periphery II – mobilizational laggards and interethnic conflicts

181

6 The Periphery III – the conflict near misses

224

Part IV



Conclusion

255



Index

264

Figures

1.1 1.2 1.3 2.1 2.2 2.3 2.4 2.5 4.1 4.2 5.1 5.2 6.1

Probability of conflict occurrence Ethnofederal divisions in the Soviet Union Ethnofederal divisions in Yugoslavia Life expectancy at birth in Soviet republics, 1980–1990 Infant mortality rate (per 1,000 live births) by year in Soviet republics, 1980–1990 Life expectancy at birth in Yugoslav republics, 1980–1992 Infant mortality rate (per 1,000 live births) by year in Yugoslav republics, 1980–1992 Polity IV scores for SFRY and USSR, 1970–1991 Dynamics of ethnonationalist mobilization and conflict occurrence Selected cases of early peripheral mobilization in USSR and SFRY Dynamics of ethnonationalist mobilization and conflict occurrence Selected cases of late peripheral mobilization in USSR and SFRY Conflict near misses – selected cases of early periphery and late core mobilization

27 31 31 48 49 50 51 57 131 131 182 183 225

Tables

1.1

Causal link between dynamics of ethnonationalist mobilization and occurrence of regional conflicts 1.2 Case studies with key spatio-­temporal determinants and outcomes 1.3 Analytical framework for ethnonationalist mobilization, regime opening and interethnic conflict nexus 2.1 Gross domestic product in the Soviet Union, 1990 2.2 Population and employment in the Soviet republics, 1990–1992 2.3 Standard of living indicators in the Soviet Union, 1990 2.4 Gross social product in Yugoslavia, 1989 2.5 Population and employment (share of the republics in SFRY), 1950–1990 2.6 Selected development indicators for Soviet Union and Yugoslavia, 1980–1991  2.7 Average annual inflation rates in the USSR and SFRY, 1980–1991 2.8 USSR annual growth of national income, 1981–1991 2.9 SFRY annual growth of gross social product, 1980–1989 2.10 Distribution of Russian population in the Soviet republics, 1989 2.11 Distribution of Serbian population in the SFRY republics and provinces, 1991  2.12 Freedom House scores for USSR and SFRY, 1980–1992 3.1 Dynamics of ethnonationalist mobilization in Russia and Serbia, 1980–1991  4.1 Summary of sequencing for the selected cases of early peripheral mobilization with conflict 4.2 Summary of conflicts for early mobilizers 4.3 Summary of the main findings for the selected cases of early mobilization 5.1 Summary of sequencing for the selected cases of late peripheral mobilization with conflict

29 30 34 44 45 46 46 47 48 50 51 51 54 54 59 120 133 164 166 183

xii   Tables 5.2 5.3 6.1 6.2 C.1 C.2 C.3

Summary of conflicts for late mobilizers Summary of the main findings for the selected cases of late mobilization Summary of sequencing for the selected cases of early mobilization without violent conflict Summary of the main findings for the selected cases of ‘near misses’ Summary of hypotheses Summary of results Selected cases for future research of mobilization, liberalization and conflict nexus

208 210 226 243 256 260 261

Acknowledgements

This book has emerged from my doctoral research, which has been a product of guidance, support and love from a number of people. I have been fortunate to have a fantastic dissertation supervisor and mentor in Assoc. Prof. Ben Goldsmith, who tirelessly read drafts of my work and provided meticulous feedback. Ben is one of the most intelligent people I know and an outstanding academic – his example and guidance were pushing me forward throughout my candidature. I also want to thank him for having his door open whenever I needed advice and providing possibilities for participation at conferences and seminars. I am also immensely grateful to many organizations that funded my doctoral project. The Australian Research Council under ARC Discovery Project DP1093625: Political Institutions, War, and Peace: Global and Regional Dynamics funded my tuition at the University of Sydney, as well as overseas research and conference travel costs. The Open Society Global Supplementary Grant Program (GSGP) provided generous support for funding my research travel, conference attendances and Russian language classes from 2011 to 2013. My research also benefitted from University of Sydney Postgraduate Research Support Scheme (PRSS) grants between 2011 and 2014. I have also been fortunate to receive the University of Sydney – Faculty of Arts and Social Sciences Teaching Fellowship in 2013. I am truly humbled by their investments in my work and professional development. I am equally thankful to my thesis examiners – Prof. Patrick James (University of Southern California), Prof. Veljko Vujacic (Oberlin) and Dr. Erika Forsberg (Uppsala University) for their exhaustive feedback and suggestions for improving my work. This book is largely a reflection of their suggestions regarding simplification of the theoretical framework and focus on the interaction between institutional design and mobilization. Equally, the editorial team at Routledge, Prof. Paolo Dardanelli and Prof. John Kincaid, have provided comments that helped me further emphasize the centrality of asymmetric ethnofederal setup. Between 2011 and 2015, I presented several papers at conferences in Australia, the United States and Europe. I would especially like to thank all the discussants and panel participants who provided feedback on my work at the 2012 and 2014 ASN Conventions in New York, 2012 LSE-­UCL-University of

xiv   Acknowledgements London PhD Symposium at Goldsmiths, London, 2012 OCIS V Conference in Sydney, 2012 APSA Conference in Hobart and 2013 ISA Convention in San Francisco. The scholars whom I met on these occasions have all provided valuable suggestions, which helped me refine my work. They include Prof. Ivan Grdešić (University of Zagreb), Dr. Goran Čular (University of Zagreb), Prof. David Kanin (Johns Hopkins), Assoc. Prof. Aleksandar Pavković (Macquarie University), Matthew Killingsworth (University of Tasmania), Prof. Nebojša Vladisavljević (University of Belgrade), Dr. Dejan Đokić (Goldsmiths), Dr. Jasna Dragović Soso (Goldsmiths), Dr. Branislav Radeljić (University of East London), R. William Ayres (University of Indianapolis) for providing advice and comments on my work. I also presented sections of my work at the University of Sydney – Department of Government and International Relations which was my home department between 2009 and 2014. A special thanks goes to Prof. Graeme Gill. His comments on my work from the early stages of prospectus defence to the very end only bettered this project. Another thank you goes to Dr. Betsi Beem, Prof. Colin Wight and Dr. Adam Kamradt-­Scott who acted as postgraduate research coordinators during my doctoral candidature. There is a great sense of community among the postgraduate research students at the Department of Government and International Relations and I thank them all for the support that they have given me throughout my years as a PhD candidate – Alice Judell, Dr. Christopher Neff, Dr. Benjamin Moffitt, Dr. Judith Betts, Amro Ali, Dr. Jennifer Hunt, amongst others. Next, I have to express my absolute gratitude to the United States Studies Centre at the University of Sydney, which has been my academic home and work place since 2011. I am most thankful to Dr. David Smith, who remains my role model in teaching, and Assoc. Prof. Brendon O’Connor for making me a part of the team when they embarked on the first year of teaching ‘Americanism and Anti-­Americanism’. They inducted me into the academic family and they were most supportive in seeing my initial role at the Centre as an academic tutor evolve into lecturing position. Equally important, I am extremely grateful to the Centre’s management past and present, Prof. Geoffrey Garrett, Prof. Bates Gil and Prof. Simon Jackman, for providing a supportive work environment. More importantly, I feel privileged to have worked with wonderful and inspiring colleagues (past and present): Dr. Adam Lockyer (who was also my associate thesis supervisor and Bajadera chocolate aficionado), Dr. Sarah Graham, Dr. Rodney ‘DF ’ Taveira, Dr. Rebecca Sheehan, Dr. Aaron Nyerges, Dr. Thomas Adams. I would also like to acknowledge other USSC staff past and present: Dr. Malcolm Jorgensen, Craig Purcell, Amelia Trial, Cindy Tang, Susan Beale, Max Halden, Kathryn McNulty, Melissa Grah-­McIntosh, Luika Bankson and others. I have been blessed with wonderful friends. Elizabeth Ingleson has been my Sydney sister and I am immensely grateful to her for having read and proofread my original thesis. Nikolina Cubric, Ana Biloglav, Petra Drozdan, Dario Klasic, Barbara Seckovic, Jasmina Masovic, Aneta Delic, Maja Basic and Dinka Dumicic repeatedly confirmed that even though we have been growing

Acknowledgements   xv separately on different continents, we have not grown apart. Some of them have even made it to Sydney in the past years for which I am especially grateful. I am also unbelievably fortunate to have a partner in Ed Hughes. He has been incredibly patient, understanding, and the person most responsible for keeping me in check with reality and making sure that I stop to smell the roses (or go for a swim in the ocean). I cannot even imagine how hard it would have been writing this without the emotional support he has given me over the years. Finally, the greatest thank you is reserved for my mum Slavica Lovrin who this book is dedicated to. She is the strongest and the most loving person I know. She is also my best friend. I will never be able to repay her for the support she has given me in all my life pursuits. My mum has been the one who has taught me about the importance of education from an early age. She has always maintained knowledge is the only thing that cannot be taken away from us. Her words made me persevere through the years as I sought to learn something new every day.

Abbreviations

ASSR CC-­LCY CIS CNC CPSU DEMOS

Autonomous Soviet Socialist Republic The Central Committee of the League of Communists of Yugoslavia Commonwealth of Independent States Chechen National Congress Communist Party of the Soviet Union Demokratična opozicija Slovenije (Democratic Opposition of Slovenia) ERSP Eesti Rahvusliku Söltumatuse Partei (Estonian National Independence Party) GDP Gross Domestic Product GNP Gross National Product GSP Gross Social Product HDI Human Development Index HDZ Hrvatska Demokratska Zajednica (Croatian Democratic Union) IRDG Inter-­Regional Deputies’ Group JNA Jugoslavenska Narodna Armija (Yugoslav People’s Army) KGB Komitet Gosudarstvennoy Bezopasnosti (Committee for State Security) KLA Kosovo Liberation Army KNS Koalicija narodnog sporazuma (Coalition of People’s Accord) LCBH League of Communists of Bosnia-­Herzegovina LCC League of Communists of Croatia LCS League of Communists of Slovenia LCY League of Communists of Yugoslavia LDK Lidhja Demokratike e Kosovës (Democratic League of Kosovo) MAR Minorities At Risk MASSR Moldavian Autonomous Soviet Socialist Republic MID Militarized Interstate Dispute NATO North Atlantic Treaty Organization NBY National Bank of Yugoslavia PMR Pridnestrovian Moldavian Republic PMSSR Pridnestrovian Moldavian Soviet Socialist Republic PPP Purchasing Power Parity

Abbreviations   xvii RSFSR SDA SDS SFRY SPS SRS SSR TMR UNDP USSR VDP ZSMS

Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic Stranka Demokratske Akcije (The Party of Democratic Action) Srpska Demokratska Stranka (Serb Democratic Party in Bosnia) Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia Socijalistička Partija Srbije (Socialist Party of Serbia) Socialist Republic of Serbia Soviet Socialist Republic Transnistrian Moldovan Republic United Nations Development Program The Union of Soviet Socialist Republics Vainakh Democratic Party Zveza socialistične mladine Slovenije (The Socialist Youth League of Slovenia)

Part I

Introduction

In their last years of existence, the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (USSR) and the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia (SFRY) found themselves facing a similar and very grim state of affairs. The pushes for political and economic liberalization were growing stronger, secessionist movements were threatening the total collapse of these ethnofederations, and the threats to ethnic minorities within breakaway republics were becoming increasingly conspicuous. However, what followed after their disintegration was markedly different. While the former Yugoslav republics spiralled into a set of ethnic conflicts that did not leave a single one of them unscathed, in the ex-­Soviet space conflicts were far more limited. To understand the main sources of divergence, it is worth to briefly travel in time. First stop, Gazimestan monument in Kosovo Polje on June 28, 1989. The President of the Presidency of the Socialist Republic of Serbia Slobodan Milošević is on an eighteen meters high stage surrounded with hundreds of thousands of Serbs who have come to celebrate the 600th anniversary of the Battle of Kosovo. In a speech laden with references to the battle against the Ottomans, Serbian heroism and pride, Milošević utters prophetic sentences – “Six centuries later, now, we are engaged in battles and quarrels. They are not armed battles, although such things cannot be excluded yet” (BBC 1989). This unequivocal signal would soon become the reality as less than two years later Slovenia and Croatia would experience violent conflicts within their borders. Stepping back into the time machine, the next stop is Kazan State University in Tatarstan on August 5, 1990. Boris Yeltsin, the Chairman of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic, is giving a speech as part of his tour of Russia’s regions. His message to the autonomous republics and smaller nations is to “take as much sovereignty as you can swallow” (Chernobrovkina 1990). These words have to be placed within a context of struggle against the central Soviet government, yet they will also prove highly consequential. Over a quarter of century later, there is still a lack of consensus over the causes of collapse of the two states and violent conflicts that ensued in the successor states around the time of the disintegration. The theories of state collapse and conflict have included competing explanations ranging from the deficient

4   Part I institutional system and inevitability of failure of the socialist project; economic shocks and crises; the precariousness of regime liberalization; spillover; to the ‘ancient hatreds’ and the existence of ‘bad men of history’ and their greed. Granted, each of these perspectives offers an important piece of the puzzle to understand the dynamics that contributed to the demise of the two ethnofederations. As with most explanations in the domain of social sciences, parsimony does not necessarily lead to accuracy and it is certainly not the aim of this book to offer one definitive perspective on the etiology of conflict in the Soviet and Yugoslav successor states and territories. Rather, it is to explore how operating on the intersection of comparative politics, international relations and nationalism studies can offer an explanation that takes into account the nature of institutional setup and the way it interacted with political and social developments. Namely, both the USSR and SFRY were asymmetric ethnofederations, with their respective core republics, Russia and Serbia, pitted against the rest of the republics – collectively, the periphery. This was mainly due to their size, population and asymmetric representation in state institutions. However, the two core republics vastly differed in the way in which they reacted to the institutional changes that were aimed to loosen the authoritarian rule. The advent of perestroika and glasnost in the former Soviet Union triggered the rise of liberal-­ democratic movement as the dominant stream of popular mobilization in the Soviet core, Russia. On the other hand, in the years of increased political pluralism the Yugoslav core, Serbia, experienced overwhelmingly illiberal nationalist mobilization. In cases where such early and strong nationalist mobilization in the core was paired with peripheral nationalist mobilization, the conflicts were almost inevitable (such as in Croatia and Kosovo). These conflicts also had the strongest potential to spread to other republics, because of the regional security dilemma they created (Bosnia-­Herzegovina). Yet, in the case of the former Soviet Union, the ethnic conflicts tended to have their epicentre in the periphery (Nagorno-­ Karabakh, Abkhazia, South Ossetia, Transnistria), making them more limited in spread than they would have been had Russia adopted an exclusively nationalist agenda initially. This book offers an in-­depth analysis of the difference in state collapses and ensuing conflicts in the Soviet Union and Yugoslavia by focusing on their asymmetric ethnofederal structure and the different dynamics of ethnic mobilization that the federal units experienced. It aims to approach the issue from a comparative perspective by analysing conflict occurrence in these two regions. In doing so it will combine insights from several sub-­disciplines of political science. The main motivation of this work is to test whether the spatio-­temporal dynamics of ethnonationalist mobilization can be a useful explanation for occurrence of conflicts in former Soviet and Yugoslav republics and provinces. At the centre of analysis is the distinction between the mobilizational dynamics in the core federal republics as opposed to the non-­core, or peripheral units, as well as the effects of political liberalization in relation to the emergence of ethnonationalist mobilization.

Introduction   5 Keeping in mind the importance of popular protests and the voicing of discontent with the existing institutional setup in bringing about changes that eventually led to the collapse of the USSR and SFRY, there seems to be disproportionately little scholarly work assessing the extent to which dynamics of popular mobilization played a role in these changes. Moreover, the mobilization in question was ethnonationalist in character, meaning that the calls were made not only for regime change, but also for gaining more autonomy or seceding from the federal states completely. There is little doubt that the emergence of exclusionary ethnonationalism was among the primary causes of conflicts in the territories of former Soviet and Yugoslav republics. Yet, in the Western Balkans,1 the ethnic conflict virus seemed to have infected the entire region, whereas in the post-­Soviet space the conflict contagion was far more limited. This is exactly the puzzle that this book will address – how is it that the successor states of the Soviet Union managed to escape widespread conflicts and why most of the violence was limited to the Caucasus,2 and how to best explain the fact that almost all of the former Yugoslav republics got dragged into brutal wars. The argument that will be provided in this book looks at the dynamics of ethnonationalist mobilization as the explanatory variable for the occurrence of violent conflicts. More specifically, it makes a case for a nuanced analysis of the spatial and temporal settings of mobilization. First, it is important to emphasize the impact of spatial dimension of mobilizational dynamics, since the states in question were asymmetric ethnofederations with core and peripheral units. The expectation here is that ethnonationalist movements within the core republic bear more serious implications for the mobilization of the periphery than vice versa. Second, the impact of temporal sequencing of ethnonationalist mobilization and the opening of the polity (or liberalization) is crucial for the success of future democratic transition. Namely, mobilization that precedes liberalization has greater chances of resulting in ethnic outbidding and subsequently in conflict than does the opposite sequence of events. Following the temporal and spatial distinctions, the book will argue that mobilization preceding liberalization (‘early’ mobilization) and core mobilization are more likely to lead to violent conflict than mobilization following liberalization (‘late’ mobilization) and peripheral mobilization. By combining the two dimensions, it will be argued that early core mobilization will be more likely to lead to conflicts than late core mobilization. More specifically, the book will examine the timing of ethnonationalist mobilization in core states (Russia and Serbia) versus the peripheral mobilization (in selected cases of the remaining republics and provinces in the USSR and SFRY). It finds that in the former USSR, the core republic mobilized on an ethnic basis after liberalization of the polity commenced in 1985–1986. The conflicts that occurred throughout the late 1980s and during the 1990s on the territory of the former Soviet Union were mostly the result of, in some cases, very strong and early peripheral mobilization. However, they remained relatively concentrated in their scope, without spreading outside of the areas where they first

6   Part I escalated. On the other hand, the core republic in the former SFRY mobilized early, which was coupled with early peripheral mobilization. These dyads were particularly prone to escalation of conflict. In that respect, it will be argued that the mobilization-­liberalization sequence within the core has strong implications for the occurrence of regional conflicts. This book operates on a mezzo level by borrowing assumptions from nationalism studies, comparative politics and international relations to analyse the behaviour of ethnic groups within the first- and second-­order administrative units of collapsing federal states and/or the successor states that are collectively viewed as regions. First, it is important to consider the role asymmetric ethnofederal setup played in bringing about the violent collapse of Yugoslavia and the less violent collapse of the Soviet Union. Second, it is equally crucial to account for the sequencing of liberalization and ethnic mobilization within domestic polity and its effect on the likelihood of conflict occurrence. Third, the so-­called “ethnic security dilemma” dynamics is useful in studying the tides of ethnonationalist mobilization (Posen 1993). Lastly, the conflicts that are studied could be best described as ‘internationalized ethnic conflicts’ set within the said regions in which neighbours generally have ethnic or political ties to states in conflict and thus an incentive to intervene. Even though no two regions in the world make for perfect cases to compare, the former Soviet Union and Yugoslavia still provide a very good testing potential. With their socialist legacy, federal arrangements and ample cases of regional separatism, there is a possibility of holding certain variables constant and investigating differences in regional conflict dynamics. Of course, one has to acknowledge that even with these important similarities come caveats, since Yugoslavia had a softer version of communism to start with and it was also more confederal in its institutional arrangements. On the other hand, the core republic in the Soviet Union did not possess institutions on a republican level like the ones in the peripheral republics due to its size and power. Moreover, Russia used to be a powerful empire immediately prior to the creation of the communist state, which was very different to the experience of the core republic in the former Yugoslavia. Yet, in the period between the early 1980s and the late 1990s, both of these regions underwent similar developments with political and economic liberalization, democratization, ethnonationalist movements gaining clout, the state collapse and escalation of conflicts (although not always in that order). What makes them uniquely suited for studying the impact of ethnonationalist mobilization is that they experienced conflicts of varying intensities. Moreover, the core units had different patterns of ethnonationalist mobilization. However, in both regions some peripheral units mobilized early and others late, while at the same time most of them experienced violent conflict. These variations thus enable effective comparison of the selected cases and provide for the assessment of causal links.

Introduction   7

Outline Chapter 1 commences by first examining the concepts of ethnicity, ethnonationalism and ethnic mobilization. It then lays out the theoretical model that drives the case study analysis and argues that variation in the occurrence of ethnic conflicts is due to the integration of key factors: sequencing of liberalization and mobilization, and setting of mobilization (core republic versus peripheral republics within asymmetric federations). The model uses spatio-­temporal dynamics of ethnonationalist mobilization to determine the likelihood of conflict occurrence. The key expectations are that mobilization that takes place before liberalization, or early mobilization, is more likely to lead to conflict than late mobilization since the polity has greater chances of becoming fragmented along ethnic rather than ideological lines. Moreover, mobilization of the core unit is more likely to evoke strong response from the periphery than vice versa, since such behaviour on part of the core implies potentially greater threat to the peripheral units due to power disparities. Paired together, one would expect that the cases of regions in which the core mobilizes early are more likely to escalate to conflict than the cases in which we see late core mobilization or solely early peripheral mobilization. Chapter 2 provides a comparison of the key political, institutional and cultural aspects across the two asymmetric ethnofederations. It also explores the control and confounding variables that are important to emphasize before moving on to the empirical analysis section of the book. Furthermore, this chapter also refers to the competing accounts of ethnic conflicts in the former Soviet Union and Yugoslavia. It explores the arguments within the relevant literature that deal with explanations for ethnic mobilization, as well as the causal paths between mobilization and violence. Chapter 2 also examines the links between regime change and conflict, focusing primarily on political openings and democratic transitions. Lastly, it inspects the scholarship that tackles the question of regions and units within them, as well as the implications of intra-­regional differences on the occurrence of conflicts. Chapter 3 is the first of the four empirical chapters. It focuses on the key developments with respect to ethnonationalist mobilization in the two core federal republics, Russia and Serbia. The chapter provides brief historical backgrounds for understanding the bases for mobilization in these two republics, while closely following the dynamics of ethnonationalist movements throughout the 1980s. Crucial for the main argument of the book, this chapter emphasizes the central role of mobilization and political liberalization sequencing, as it demonstrates that the two core republics experienced a significantly different order of events, as well as ethnonationalist movements that were unalike in strength and scope. This chapter also illuminates the importance of essentially opposite elites’ agenda and response to the collapse of the state once it became apparent. Chapter 4 examines the paths of early ‘mobilizers’ in both regions. It offers in-­depth analysis of Armenia, Georgia, Kosovo, Slovenia and Croatia. The

8   Part I analysis traces the bases for ethnonationalist mobilization, from ethnic identity and incentives to mobilize to capacity to do so, and investigates the different paths to violent conflicts. Overall, early peripheral mobilization in all cases led to violent conflicts, however there are substantial differences in the primary aims of ethnonationalism in these republics and provinces. In the former Yugoslav republics, the conflicts that broke out were the product of secessionist goals of federal units of the first order, while in the former Soviet republics, the conflicts initially occurred due to competing claims regarding the definition of republican borders within federal republics. This in turn serves as a potential explanation for the comparatively higher spread of conflicts in the former Yugoslav region. In Chapter 5, the peripheral units that mobilized late and experienced conflict are considered. The three cases inspected are those of Bosnia-­Herzegovina, Chechnya and Moldova, which had markedly different post-­mobilizational paths, spanning from low-­intensity and short duration conflicts to high-­intensity and recurring wars. This chapter demonstrates how late peripheral mobilization can also lead to conflict, however, such outcomes are in close relationship with the developments in the core. Namely, in the case of former Yugoslavia, the ethnonationalism of Bosniaks in Bosnia-­Herzegovina was the product of ethnic security dilemma, and a response to the early core and periphery mobilization in Serbia and Croatia. On the other hand, the ethnonationalist mobilization in Chechnya and Moldova arose as a result of the political opening in the Soviet Union, which only subsequently triggered counter-­mobilization from the core. Thus, the war in Bosnia-­Herzegovina is best understood as the product of conflict spillover, whereas Chechen and Transnistrian wars tended to be more localized. Chapter 6 is the last in the empirical section and it presents the cases of early ethnonationalist mobilization that avoided large-­scale violent confrontations. The ‘near misses’ in the three Baltic republics of Estonia, Lithuania and Latvia had all mobilized prior to political liberalization. This chapter accounts for the reasons behind averted escalation to violence. The final chapter provides a summary of the main findings and offers conclusions regarding the impact of mobilization dynamics on ethnic conflict occurrence. Throughout the study, there is a significant support for sequencing of ethnonationalist mobilization and political opening as one of the key determinants for the occurrence of violence, particularly within the core unit. The last chapter also provides an outline of implications of the main findings. First, how the theoretical framework presented in this project can help in understanding the interaction between regime change and nationalist movements more broadly in other federal settings, as well as in unitary states. Second, more nuanced implications for the success of democratic transition and avoidance of ethnic conflict is proposed. Lastly, this book aims to make a contribution to the scholarship that explores the link between regime change and conflict by focusing on liberalization, rather than democratization effects. For a while, it seemed that the state of world affairs was quite unkind to the students of post-­communist regions, as the global security agenda shifted elsewhere

Introduction   9 taking with it academic interest. However, the recent resurgence of Russian power in its Near Abroad opened many of the questions regarding the activation of latent nationalism and its role in escalation to a full-­fledged war. This work seeks to demonstrate that the study of former Soviet and Yugoslav republics in the last decades of their existence still bears relevance as it offers contributions to understanding under which conditions institutional design and the politicization of ethnic identity lead to violent conflicts. Moreover, it helps us understand why certain republics avoided spiralling into violent nationalism in the years around the collapse of ethnofederations they emerged from.

Notes 1 There are different understandings as to which states fall under the definition of Western Balkans. The European Union institutions and member states define it as Albania and the former Yugoslavia, minus Slovenia. The European Bank for Reconstruction and Development uses Western Balkans to refer to the above states, minus Croatia. For the purposes of this book and in the context of comparison with the post-­ Soviet territories, Western Balkans will be used to refer to former Yugoslav republics; i.e. Slovenia, Croatia, Serbia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Kosovo, Montenegro and Macedonia. 2 Conflicts in the Caucasus that this book examines include Nagorno-­Karabakh, South Ossetia, Abkhazia and Chechnya. The book will also explore the war in Transnistria, which is however not situated in the Caucasus.

References BBC (1989). Milosevic’s 1989 speech in Gazimestan. Yugoslavia, Belgrade home service 1109 gm. Chernobrovkina, E. (1990). Reshat’ vam samim [Decide for yourselves]. Vechernaia kazan. Posen, B. R. (1993). “The Security Dilemma and Ethnic Conflict.” Survival 35(1): 27–47.

Part II

1 Dynamics of ethnonationalist mobilization and occurrence of conflicts in asymmetric federations

“[G]roups become mobilized into politics without becoming socialized by politics.” (Samuel Huntington 1968, p. 83)

Based on the taxonomy of polities with respect to the system of government, all states can be placed on a continuum ranging from unitary to confederal arrangements, with federal states the middle. Unitary states are structured in such a way that all decision-­making rests in the hands of the central government and the decision-­making flows from the centre to the local provinces or entities. A totalitarian state would represent the most extreme version of a unitary state since all political power is said to be concentrated in the centre and at the top of a hierarchical power structure, resulting in ‘total control’ by ruling elites or a single leader. Federal systems sit in between unitary and confederal arrangements and they are characterized by power-­sharing arrangements between a strong central government and strong governments of first-­order administrative units. In theory, federalism provides uniformity, which is the strength of the unitary system when necessary, while at the same time allowing for diversity and local rule when needed. At the opposite end of the spectrum are confederal arrangements where the first-­order administrative units hold political power and the central government has authority only over a narrow range of policy issues (Kaiser 1994). There has been an extensive debate over whether federal arrangements are conflict-­mitigating solutions (Nordlinger 1972; Lijphart 1977; Kymlicka 1995; Brubaker 1996; Cohen 1997; Stepan 1999; Gurr 2000; Bermeo 2002) or whether they highlight the inherent instability of a given political system (Riker 1964; Lemco 1991; Crawford 1998; Skalnik Leff 1999; Stepan 1999; Roeder 2009). The effectiveness of ethnofederal solutions are part of this debate – on the one hand, there is an assumption that they allow different ethnic groups to form a stable and effective administrative units (Stepan 1999). However, the literature arguing that such arrangements induce conflict has been more preponderant, with the arguments stemming from Lipset (1963) and Nordlinger (1972), to more recently Snyder (2000).

14   Part II In the past decade the literature has zeroed in on the conditions under which federal arrangements tend to be more conflict prone. Here, insightful contributions have been made by Sambanis and Milanovic (2004) whose theory on the demand for sovereignty suggests a close relationship between the makeup of subnational units and demands for secession. Bakke and Wibbels (2006) look at fiscal decentralization, inequality and the ethnic makeup of federal units, and find that ethnic heterogeneity when combined with high income inequality leads to more conflict, and that the effect of fiscal decentralization depends on the economic development of the ethnic regions. Christin and Hug (2006, 2012) propose that the geographic distribution of groups across a country affects the ways in which federalism contributes to conflict resolution, and explore whether particular types of distributions of groups across a territory make the adoption of federal institutions more likely. Moreover, Hale (2004a) suggests that the existence of a core ethnic region may lead to the collapse of states and/or civil war. While Bunce (2003) proposes that the explanation for violent collapse versus peaceful breakup is in the bargaining style in ethnofederal states. She comes to this conclusion by looking at a number of different factors, amongst which is sequencing of ethnonationalist mobilization. The central argument of this chapter will build on and extend the latter two arguments by Hale (2004a) and Bunce (2003), by focusing on sequencing and setting of ethnonationalist mobilization in ethnofederal structures. The dynamics of ethnonationalist mobilization, in particular its timing and setting, have been neglected as the potential explanation for why some regions undergo violent and contagious conflicts, while others experience less violent and/or more limited clashes. This chapter puts forward a theoretical model that employs the dynamics of ethnonationalist mobilization as an explanatory variable for the occurrence of conflicts in ethnofederal realms. It will be argued that the spatio-­temporal dynamics of ethnonationalist mobilization, i.e. the setting and timing on the dimensions of core versus periphery and before versus after liberalization, can help in explaining why conflicts occur where they do. The chapter first briefly reviews the literature on ethnonationalism, determinants of ethnonationalist mobilization and opportunity structures. The subsequent section outlines the theoretical model with related hypotheses for the likelihood of conflict occurrence. The last sections briefly introduce the research design and case selection which will be used to test the proposed model.

Theoretical building blocks Ethnonationalism Anthropologists, psychologists, sociologists and political scientists have all given their own definitions of ethnic identity, focusing on the aspects that are deemed important by the discipline they are representing. However, what connects them all is the basic proposition that identity is a form of ‘social radar’ made out of points of personal reference on which people rely to navigate the

Conflicts in asymmetric federations   15 social world they inhabit (Hale 2008). These points can include religious and linguistic status, even though there is no consensus on whether adherence to a certain religion or use of a certain language make for a static component of ethnic identity (Eriksen 1993). In that respect, Weber (1968, p.  392) famously wrote “any cultural trait, no matter how superficial, can serve as a starting point for the familiar tendency to monopolistic closure”. Yet, for a certain ethnic identity to exist, the points of personal reference have to be different to those of another group (or what is in the literature referred to as the ‘ethnic other’) and they have to be based on shared culture rather than other group identification characteristics (such as class, gender, etc.). I follow Burgess (1978, p. 270) who sees ethnicity as “an identity with and/or a consciousness of group belonging that is differentiated from others by symbolic ‘markers’ including cultural, biological or territorial, and is rooted in bonds to a shared past and perceived ethnic interests”. Such definition clearly stresses the common traits within the group, as well as differentiation from other ethnic groups. In a volume on ethnic politics, Hale (2008) asserts that ethnicity is about uncertainty, whereas ethnic politics is about interests. More specifically, if identity represents the set of personal points of reference on which people rely to navigate the social world, then ethnicity is a set of these points that possesses special properties for uncertainty reduction. The way in which ethnicity becomes politicized is through the process of ethnic mobilization. The idea of ethnic mobilization stems from a more general concept of political mobilization whereby political actors, or mobilizing agents, encourage adherents to participate in some form of political action for a particular collective cause. These actions could range from voting, petitioning, protesting, rallying, or joining a political party, trade union or a politically active civic organization (Johnston 2007; Vermeersch 2010). In the same manner, ethnic mobilization entails ethnic groups’ development of the political agenda in order to further the status of the group or its members (George 2009). The manifestation of such political activity is nationalism and the goal of the mobilized ethnic group (or nation) is usually to create a political unit (Breuilly 1982; Smith 1986).1 The new political unit is created either through irredentism, whereby an ethnic group pursues annexation of territory of a neighbouring country populated by its kin (Saideman and Ayres 2000), or secessionism, through which an ethnic group tries to secede from an ethnically heterogeneous state to create its own independent state (Saideman 1997, 1998). The pursuit of ethnonationalist mobilization can thus be best understood as the process in which an ethnic group attempts to gain monopoly of governance over a particular territory in order to create a nation-­state based on the group’s ethnic identity (Connor 1994; McAdam et al. 2001; Beissinger 2002). However, how can we explain the causes of ethnonationalist mobilization, and furthermore is it possible to assess the likelihood of such mobilization turning into a violent conflict? The ethnicity and nationalism scholarship that examines the causes of ethnonationalist mobilization and violent conflict does not lack competing explanations for the occurrence of these phenomena. The common way of differentiating

16   Part II such arguments is by placing them within three theoretical streams explaining the linkage between ethnic identity and conflict. First, there are primordialists who take ethnicity as a fixed characteristic of individuals and communities (Isaacs 1975; Kaplan 1993). According to this school the aggression of in-­groups toward out-­groups is rooted in a primordial urge, which links the group identity with certain ascriptive characteristics such as ethnicity and/or race (Sumner 1906). In other words, ethnic divisions and tensions are the ‘natural’ state of affairs. Unlike primordialists, instrumentalists, following Merton (1957), posit that interethnic conflict does not emerge from any natural division of groups; rather, such incidents are the result of elite manipulation of ethnonationalist appeals in pursuit of their own interests (Gagnon 1995). In this view, ethnicity has little independent standing outside the political process in which collective ends are sought. Finally, the constructivist view presents a bridging perspective and emerging scholarly consensus emphasizing the social origins and nature of ethnicity (Anderson 1983; Young 1993). Arguing that ethnicity is neither immutable nor completely open, this approach posits that ethnicity is constructed from the dense webs of social interactions. In the constructivist view, ethnicity is not an individual attribute, but a social phenomenon. Ethnonationalist mobilization This book posits that ethnic mobilization is a necessary precondition for inter­ ethnic conflicts. Following Gurr’s (2000) contributions regarding the etiology of ethnopolitical conflict, it will be argued that the internal factors that form the basis for mobilization include salience of ethnocultural identity for members and leaders of the group, the extent to which the group has collective incentives for political action, and the extent of the group’s capacities for collective action. It has been extensively argued that the groups that have the strongest, most cohesive identities will be more likely to mobilize than the ones with weak identities.2 Moreover, mobilization is going to be more likely among the groups with the greatest extent of grievances and losses or potential gains supplying the incentive to organize. Finally, the groups with elaborate networks and leadership capabilities will have greater capacity to successfully mobilize than groups that face organizational weaknesses. However, unlike Gurr’s, the framework proposed here will refer to specific external opportunity structures, which include the system of governance as the spatial dimension and regime change as the temporal factor. I take this approach since Gurr’s model appears to assume a certain chronology or set sequence; that is, the changes in political opportunity structures precede ethnonationalist mobilization and act as the basis for it. Moreover, Gurr’s model is said to have taken account of capturing regional-­level ethnopolitical conflicts, yet there is little analysis of regional dynamics beyond outlining the mechanisms that international spread of ethnopolitical conflict can take. On balance, Gurr’s model is an extensive and elaborate attempt to present the  etiology of ethnopolitical conflict. It provides a logical reasoning behind

Conflicts in asymmetric federations   17 different results of ethnonationalist mobilization, i.e. what the political factors behind non-­violent protest, as opposed to violent conflicts are. However, if one tries to explain regional dynamics of internationalized conflicts, models that are only capable of capturing the space of a single unit do not suffice. What is more, frameworks that have a certain linearity about them, the ones that assume that different units undergo the same order of events, fail to treat the temporal dimension itself as a variable. For these reasons, this project examines inter­ ethnic conflicts within ethnofederal realm through the prism of dynamics of ethnonationalist mobilization, thus capturing spatial and temporal dimensions of this phenomenon. Yet, it is important to first recognize what motivates individuals to become mobilized in the form of ethnic groups. A Weberian definition would be that mobilization describes the development of a social relationship between two types of actors, the mobilizers and the mobilized. Sociological classics offer the most concise insight into the theory of mobilization; for instance Nedelmann (1987, p. 181) sees it as “the actors’ attempt to influence the existing distribution of power”, while Olzak (1983, p.  355) focuses on ethnic mobilization and defines it as “the process by which groups organize around some feature of ethnic identity (for example, skin color, language, customs) in pursuit of collective ends”. Tilly’s (1978) theory of resource mobilization, which views social movements as rational social institutions, serves as the basis for much of the work on ethnic mobilization. Gurr’s (1993, 1996, 2000) theoretical contributions on ethnopolitical conflict are considered as the most comprehensive in the realm of ethnic studies. Within this field, mobilization is viewed as a process through which members of ethnic groups are recruited and motivated, and a variable which represents the extent to which group members commit their energies and resources to collective action in pursuit of mutual goals (Andersen et al. 1997; Conversi 1997; Gurr 2000). The motivations behind ethnic mobilization are multifold – they include grievances, sentiments, solidarity, ambition and calculation. According to Gurr, the end result of ethnopolitical action is either non-­violent protest or violent rebellion. Another pertinent facet in defining mobilization for the purposes of this monograph is ethnonationalism. Nationalism is usually defined as the pursuit of goals, which range from some form of political autonomy to political sovereignty, over a given territory based on a group’s identity (Smith 1986, 1993, 2001, 2003).3 Narrowing the definition to encompass the ethnic component, the term ethnonationalism is understood as the strand of nationalism that is characterized by the desire of a particular ethnic group to change the present distribution of power and take absolute control over its political, economic and social matters (Connor 1994). Ethnonationalist movements have been the most active ones in the last decades of the twentieth century (Gurr 2000). Throughout this project, mobilization will refer to ethnonationalist movements even when it is only referred to as ethnic or nationalist mobilization for the purpose of brevity. Furthermore, there are three basic assumptions regarding the definition of mobilization in this book.4 First, it is an inherently vertical, top-­down process.

18   Part II The mobilizers are ethnic leaders and political entrepreneurs, whereas the mobilized are members of ethnic groups. Second, drawing from Gurr (2000) the basic conditions for ethnopolitical mobilization are group identity, collective incentives and capacity for joint action. Third, ethnopolitical mobilization serves as the precondition for collective action either in form of non-­violent protest or violent conflict. The importance of these factors is further elaborated below. Identity According to Gurr (2000), identity is multidimensional and it is built on multiple bases such as race, language, religion, common homeland, etc. The salience of ethnocultural identity depends on how much difference it makes in people’s lives. In other words, the greater a people’s perceived dissimilarity from groups with which they interact regularly, the more salient their identity is likely to be.5 It is, however, important to stress that the salience of identity is not necessarily conflictual in itself. Another important aspect of identity includes the psychology of comparative (dis)advantage as groups in heterogeneous societies make comparisons of relative worth. Advantaged groups often feel superior because they share a belief that they are the original people of a place, or that they have exceptional skills, and/or that they have overcome adversity and hostile challengers. On the other hand, there are “chosen traumas” and the grievances of disadvantaged peoples (Volkan 2001). These include inequalities in status, economic well-­being and limited access to political power. Lastly, the conundrum on what comes first – polarization or violence – makes for another aspect of salience of group identity (Chenoweth and Lawrence 2010). Open conflict with the state and rival groups sharpens the identification along ethnonationalist lines. Moreover, many of the appeals used by political leaders aim at increasing the salience of group identity by invoking historical memories and symbols of victimization. Incentives The greater the shared incentives among members of an ethnocultural identity group, the more likely they are to support and participate in ethnopolitical action. The incentives that prompt political action by identity groups can be categorized into three major types: resentment about losses suffered in the past, fear of future losses, and hopes for relative gains (Gurr 2000, pp. 69–74). These are all relative to the other groups and the state. There are four general conditions that strongly affect a group’s incentives to mobilize (Gurr 2000). The first one is a sense of collective disadvantage, which is socially derived from perceived inequalities in material well-­being, political access or cultural status in comparison to other social groups. The second condition is the loss of political autonomy. This one is problematic since there are very few ethnic groups that had never experienced independence from external

Conflicts in asymmetric federations   19 control in the past, or that had not been part of a political entity other than the states that govern them. The third condition is repression, or the use of force against people who think it is unjust. Repression may inspire fear and caution in the short run, but at the same time it is likely to provoke resentment and enduring incentives to resist and retaliate. The final condition includes frames for ethnopolitical action. Tarrow (1998, p. 111) states that “a central activity of social movements” is “inscribing grievances in overall frames that identify an injustice, attribute the responsibility for it to others and propose solutions to it”. The most effective frames are those that fit a group’s cultural predispositions and immediate circumstances, such as national self-­determination, indigenous or minority rights. Capacity The literature is unequivocal regarding the effect group cohesion has on the success of ethnopolitical action. The greater the cohesion and mobilization of an ethnic group, the more frequent and sustained its participation in political action. There are four factors that have been recognized to shape a group’s capacity to mobilize. First, there is geographic concentration, as certain kinds of settlement patterns contributed to ethno-­rebellion. For instance, Posen (1993) argues that the first strike against ethnic opponents is the most advantageous when they live in concentrated pockets or enclaves. Van Evera (1994) suggests that the risks of ethnic warfare are the greatest in situations of local intermingling. Moreover, there are quantitative analyses demonstrating that when the minority ethnic group in the conflict dyad makes up over two thirds of the population of its home region, conflict is more likely (Melander 1999). Also, the most groups involved in ethnic-­based civil wars are regionally concentrated (Toft 2003), whereas groups that are least likely to rebel are those in urban areas (Gurr 2000). The second factor shaping the capacity to mobilize is the prior organization of the group. Established political institutions and high and sustained levels of interaction among its members make it easier to mobilize. People who have significant cohesion due to frequent and routine interaction as members of an existing institution are more likely to become part of an ethnopolitical movement as cohesion reduces the cost of collective action. The last two conditions are related to leadership and coalition-­building. First, the leaders have to be ‘authentic’. In other words, their mandate has to be perceived to be in the common interest for the group. This is analogous to the concept of legitimacy in the conventional politics arena. Along with being authentic, the leaders must be able to build inclusive coalitions, as the failure to do so might result in factional fighting, co-­optation and communal opponents deflection. It has even been argued that effective boundaries of an ethnopolitical group may depend more on coalition formation than on the scope of group identity (Gurr 2000, p. 79).

20   Part II Opportunity structures The spatio-­temporal aspect of my argument builds on contributions made by Hale (2004a) and Bunce (2003), who focus on the setting and sequencing of ethnonationalist mobilization in ethnofederal structures respectively. Namely, Hale uses the existence of a core unit as an explanatory variable for the collapse of  ethnofederal states. Hale’s (2004a, p.  178) argument is that ethnofederal states with a core ethnic unit, or “an ethnically designated region that has clear numerical superiority in terms of population”, will be more likely to collapse than ethnofederal states without a core unit.6 Moreover, he supports this reasoning with a study of all ethnofederal states since the end of the Second World War. The findings are indeed striking – out of thirteen ethnofederal states that lack a core ethnic unit, there was not a single case of state collapse.7 However, it has to be pointed out that some of these states still experienced limited ethnic violence and isolated secession, while some have even ended their ethnofederal arrangements. On the other hand, all cases of ethnofederal collapses have taken place in states that featured a core ethnic region.8 Out of a total of fourteen core  ethnic region cases, eight have collapsed, and three involved large-­scale civil war.9 Most works on ethnofederalism and state collapse have focused on the impact of this arrangement on ethnic minority separatism (Cornell 2002; Grigoryan 2012). This book will take a different approach, since it is the core ethnic group that is even more important in terms of the impact ethnofederal setup has on the intensity of minority secessionism, as well as on the capacity of central governments to deal with such demands. However, the argument presented here will go beyond the simple recommendation that ethnofederal states should be designed to have no core ethnic unit, since in that way the likelihood of collapse will be decreased.10 The problem with this line of reasoning is that it fails to answer the question of why some ethnofederations with a core ethnic unit survive, why some collapse with a peaceful breakup, and lastly, why some get mired in internal and internationalized conflicts upon collapse. The argument involving the sequencing of ethnonationalist mobilization and liberalization put forward by Bunce (2003) has some utility in attempting to provide answers to the posed questions. Based on her work on postcommunist transitions and the breakup of ethnofederal states in Central and Eastern Europe, Bunce (2003) suggests that timing is what matters when it comes to nationalist mobilization and the success of transition. Specifically, it is the timing of nationalist mobilization relative to the destabilization of the old regime that Bunce argues to be among the decisive factors for the success of democratic transitions in the former communist states. Comparing the democratization experiences in former Czechoslovakia, Soviet Union and Yugoslavia, Bunce concluded that ethnonationalist mobilization failed to lead to conflict in all cases. Her argument is that should mobilization occur, it is better that it occurs after liberalization of the system commences, rather than earlier. The rationale behind it is as follows – where nationalist

Conflicts in asymmetric federations   21 movements were present before the transition set in, there was no room for a liberal agenda to emerge when the regimes started breaking apart. Instead, what happened in these cases was a combination of ethnic nationalism and an illiberal political agenda, and it was often driven by former communists who co-­opted the nationalist movements in order to secure their power (Bunce 2003, pp. 176–179). Bunce’s sequencing argument is certainly compelling and useful for this book. However, its major limitation is in the generalization of the spatial dynamics of mobilization. The underlying assumption of the argument is that it does not matter where mobilization takes place. Consider the problem if the argument supposes that mobilization occurs in the peripheral unit. In such case, minorities (within the units that have started mobilizing) would try to defend themselves from titular domination by building counter-­movements, or by allying with the core. In the latter case, the core would suppress the ethnonationalists and empower minorities to counterweight the titular nation. One would expect that the outcome would then be fissure of the titular ethnonationalists in the peripheral unit (Bunce 2003). Yet, the problem with this line of argument lies in ignoring the opposite dynamics. In other words, what would happen if the core was to mobilize first? One would expect that such an occurrence would substantially change the subsequent developments regarding the proactive versus reactive nationalism spiral. This consideration was explored, albeit to a limited extent. Parrott (1997) looked at the issue from the perspective of liberalization of an empire’s political structures. Namely, he pointed to the fact that internal liberalization is a necessary, but not sufficient condition for a peaceful dissolution of an empire. He explained that much depends on the geographic distribution of liberalizing impulses relative to one another. More specifically, Parrott argued that non-­ violent imperial disintegration requires the coincidence of liberalizing trends in the metropolitan and the peripheral societies and that liberalization in the imperial centre or the periphery alone is inadequate. This is how he accounted for the difference between the relatively peaceful disintegration of the Soviet Union that was guided by a liberal political stream in Russia, as opposed to the authoritarian variant of nationalism on the part of Serbia. While this line of argument rectifies the issue of the missing spatial aspect within the process of liberalization, it fails to include nationalist mobilization as an important aspect in the sequencing puzzle. In sum, what one can gather from this brief consideration of the relevant literature on nationalist mobilization in ethnofederal states and conflict escalation is that there has been almost no integrated theorizing that would account for both spatial and temporal dimensions.11 Separate bodies of literature have dealt with the institutional make-­up of ethnofederations and have thus pointed to the problem of having core ethnic regions. Other theories have established the ‘right’ order of events, or sequencing, of nationalist mobilization and liberalization so as to explain successes and failures of regime transitions.12 Yet no attempts have been made to try and connect these accounts in order to explain why some

22   Part II ethnofederal states’ collapses, coupled with regime transformation, result in warfare that sweeps the entire region, while others remain relatively peaceful or experience limited conflicts. Temporal dimension – mobilizing early or late? The argument for distinguishing between ethnonationalist mobilization that occurs before liberalization of the polity (early mobilization), as opposed to mobilization that takes place after political liberalization began (late mobilization), stems from the political opportunity structure (POS) approach. Scholars such as Kitschelt (1986), McAdam (1996), Tarrow (1996) and others have called attention to the critical importance of the external environment, or broadly speaking the state and the political system, for social movements. The state’s perception of an ethnic group’s capacity to mobilize, the potential threat it poses to the state’s stability, and the resources it marshals to support or oppose state policies are always important to ethnic movements. Nonetheless, as Tarrow (1996) cautions, political opportunity is not a single variable but rather a cluster of several factors, including the presence or absence of influential allies and realignments in the party system. Political opportunities are sometimes extended by the state to specific communities, while at other times the entire population may benefit from them. “[P]olitical opportunities”, writes Tarrow (1994, p.  99), “provide the major incentives for transforming mobilization potentials into action.” Kitschelt (1986) has noted that social movements, and by extension ethnic movements, are much more influential in open and strong political systems than in closed and weak ones. The provision of new mobilizational opportunities might signal a weakening state that is forced to make compromises, or it might be indicative of systemic crisis and transition. The argument presented here, however, refines some of these assertions and applies them in the context of establishing the relationship between ethnonationalist mobilization and conflict occurrence. While it might hold that the ethnic movements are more influential within democratic settings, their existence prior to liberalization might make them more likely to escalate to violence as a result of not having been socialized by democratic institutions (Huntington 1968; Snyder 2000). The degree to which they might translate their claims into violent actions, I argue depends on the timing of their manifestation with respect to political liberalization. The reason why I chose to focus on political liberalization and not democratization is due to the fact that ethnonationalist mobilization in former Soviet Union and Yugoslavia commenced while these two states were still technically authoritarian regimes. However, there was a significant relaxation of the regime’s political control in both cases around the same time that nationalist revivals began. Moreover, a simple definition of political liberalization is useful in demonstrating that such change within the polity can have a measurable impact. Namely the standard view of political liberalization within literature sees

Conflicts in asymmetric federations   23 it as an increase in citizen rights and liberties, such as freedom from arbitrary arrest and torture, as well as press, association, movement and expression freedoms, while minimizing government supervision of society (Schmitter and Schneider 2004, p.  2). Democratization on the other hand implies a change of regime through either expansion of political contestation (competition), or through an expansion of participation, or both of these (Linz and Stepan 1996; Bratton and van de Walle 1997). Furthermore, even though democratization may be viewed as a subset of liberalization, it is important to emphasize that liberalization does not always lead to a democratic transition (Smith 2000). As O’Donnell and Schmitter (1986) argue, liberalization is a process that could well be reversed as it does not necessarily include the displacement of the ruling elite. One also cannot dismiss the possibility that liberalization also might simply be halted, so that it never passes the threshold of becoming a democratic transition (Carothers 2002; Levitsky and Way 2002). Democratization, on the other hand, entails opening the system to political competition and by extension, the possibility of replacing the incumbents. Also, successful transitions to democracy are usually characterized by constant fluctuations: threats by the hardliners to lead a coup, efforts by the softliners to use the threats of the hardliners to bolster their own situation, and real if temporary reverses in the process of liberalization, to name just few (Mainwaring 1989). The third wave democracy scholars have had similar views of what accounts for the beginning of political liberalization, as they focused on elite processes within the authoritarian regime. Kaufman (1986), O’Donnell and Schmitter (1986) and Przeworski (1986) argued that liberalization begins with splits within the authoritarian coalition. Stepan (1988) specifically stressed the role divisions within the military might play. These are often symptoms of regime failure and have liberalization as a consequence. However, there are cases in which political liberalization emerges as a result of confidence and optimism authoritarian elites possess, thinking that by opening up the system they are going to reap more benefits than costs in terms of increased legitimacy, or ease existing tensions within the polity. Finally, the logic behind using liberalization as a point of reference is based on the insights from comparative politics literature focusing on post-­communist regions. Where nationalist movements were present before the transition set in, there was little room for a liberal agenda to emerge when the regimes started breaking apart (Bunce 2003). Instead, what happened in these cases was a combination of ethnic nationalism and an illiberal political agenda, and it was often driven by former communists who co-­opted the nationalist movements in order to secure their power (Bunce 2003). Another supporting claim in this direction is the assumption of relative homogeneity and unity of an ethnic group under an oppressive regime. In other words, one would expect lower levels of ideological fractionalization or less competing claims to leadership prior to system opening, as there would be greater sense of fighting the common enemy (the regime). On the other hand, once the liberalization commences, there is a greater likelihood

24   Part II for the development of contending views and divisions within an ethnic group (Bunce 1997, 2003; Skalnik Leff 1999). Spatial dimension – core or periphery mobilization? An ethnofederal state13 is said to have a ‘core’ unit when such unit contains either an outright majority of the population or makes up at least 20 percent more of the whole country’s population than does the second largest unit. The 20 percent advantage may seem somewhat arbitrary, but other scholars, such as Hale (2004a), have used it. It is a good indicator of a point beyond which one group is likely to be considered ‘clearly’ dominant in terms relevant to the logic of the argument, and thus suffices for the purposes of operationalizing the theory.14 Using the same rationale, the remaining units would be considered ‘peripheral’ or ‘the periphery’ for this purpose. The distinction between the core and peripheral units is a crucial part of the approach this book takes in analysing the effects of ethnonationalist mobilization on the regional occurrence of conflicts. The underpinning logic is that mobilization of the core unit presents a distinct kind of threat when compared to the mobilization in the periphery. This is due to the fact that the core unit represents a relatively greater and more credible threat than the mobilization of the periphery. First and foremost, core ethnic units have the resources and population of sufficient scope that would make such actions meaningful. The existence of institutions that cover a large share of resources is a great asset in strengthening the bargaining position of a core group (Lemco 1991; Hale 2004a). Second, the core unit may represent an alternative institutional base for core ethnic group members and in that way create a possibility for the core group defection from loyalty to the central government. In this manner the core unit’s government can trump the central government by forcing it to renege, either by refusing to implement concessions to peripheral regions that come at the core unit’s expense, by forcing it to peripheral units or minorities (Brinton 1965; Tilly 1975). These possibilities unarguably bear implications for the peripheral units’ response, and they may contribute to counter-­mobilization in the periphery. Third, the ethnic leaders and political entrepreneurs could easily employ the argument that they represent the largest portion of the population of an ethnofederation and are therefore the dominant, if not also the majority voice. Hale (2004a, 2004b) uses this point to support his theory that ethnofederations possessing a core are more prone to collapse than the ones without it. He argues that the leaders from core units would use the ‘embryonic’ core nation, complete with borders and state institutions, as the ground for separatism. Hale, however, neglects that this is only one of two options that the core units have, as they could just as plausibly use their status to pursue more imperialistic goals. One should not dismiss the possibility that the core unit might try to claim either more power and/or more territory, especially in the regions where its kin groups populate peripheral units.

Conflicts in asymmetric federations   25

The model Before presenting the hypotheses and the model that links ethnonationalist mobilization and the occurrence of conflicts, it is useful to lay out the main assumptions. First, derived from Gurr (2000), ethnonationalist mobilization is based on a combination of politicization of ethnic identity, strong incentives and the capacity of an ethnic group to act in such an organized and focused manner. Posen’s (1993) theory of ethnic security dilemma constitutes the second assumption. There is a spiral of proactive-­reactive nationalism – as one ethnic group starts mobilizing, other groups follow suit under the conditions of state weakening. Nationalist mobilization of titular majority group increases the chances of counter-­mobilization of a rival minority group that significantly populates at least one subnational unit within the titular majority’s federal unit and/or proximate rival groups.15 In the same vein, nationalist mobilization of a minority group that significantly populates at least one subnational unit increases the chances of counter-­mobilization of titular majority group and/or proximate rival groups (Melander 1999). Third, in the context of regime change, liberalization of the system stands for the opening up for freer organization, discussion and participation, and it does not have to lead to democratization. For the purpose of the argument that follows, what matters is when liberalization occurs in relation to ethnonationalist mobilization. The fourth assumption is that within ethnofederal states, the core unit’s actions, including mobilization, present a comparatively greater threat than similar actions on the part of peripheral units. Fifth, interethnic conflict is more likely to occur within federal units where at least one subnational unit is significantly populated by an ethnic group other than the titular nationality, i.e. an ethnic minority. A ‘subnational unit’ for this purpose is an administrative division within a state, which can refer to units ranging from province, region to an autonomous republic within the federal republic (i.e. unit) of an ethnofederal state (e.g. Abkhaz ASSR, South Ossetian Autonomous Oblast, etc.). Finally, propositions could be made regarding the cases in which no mobilization or no liberalization takes place. In cases where there is liberalization, but no ethnonationalist mobilization, it would be less likely that an ethnic conflict emerges. On the other hand, in cases where ethnonationalist mobilization takes place, but no liberalization, it is less likely that ethnonationalist movement would be successful at influencing power distribution given the lack of political opening. Dynamics of ethnic mobilization and conflict occurrence Proposition 1. Early mobilization is more likely to lead to conflict than late mobilization Given liberalization, a core unit can mobilize early or late. In the case of early mobilization, the pursuit of ethnopolitical action on part of the core will be very

26   Part II likely to evoke counter-­mobilization from the periphery and result in conflict. Such an assertion is based on the assumption that in the absence of significant liberalization there will be no or very little liberal opposition, and the nationalist agenda will be able to hijack the polity. In this case, the crucial position of the core unit has to be pointed out, as pursuing nationalist goals might not be limited to the boundaries of that unit, but rather, it might include pursuing expansionist goals. This is why the terminology often associated with the literature on empires is useful in understanding the tensions and tendencies of the core versus the periphery (Doyle 1986). H1 Early ethnonationalist mobilization in the core unit is more likely to lead to conflict within the core federal unit and peripheral unit(s) than late mobilization in the core unit. Following a similar line of reasoning, a peripheral unit that mobilizes before liberalizing is more likely to enter a violent conflict. The implications of nationalist mobilization of the periphery tend to be limited to the unit that experienced mobilization, and to other units in which ethnic kin groups represent a significant population. Of course, such mobilization impacts the rival groups by virtue of ethnic security dilemma. However, it is considered as a lesser threat than early core mobilization. H2 Early ethnonationalist mobilization in the peripheral unit is more likely to lead to conflict within the peripheral unit(s) than late peripheral mobilization.

Proposition 2. Late mobilization is more likely to lead to conflict than no mobilization On the other hand, should mobilization of the core unit occur after moves were made towards liberalization, one could expect less likelihood of conflict than if mobilization occurred before liberalization. The rationale here is that since the regime is opening, there is a higher likelihood that liberal opposition would emerge to successfully oppose the nationalist agenda. This is not to say that late ethnonationalist mobilization is directly opposite to early ethnonationalist mobilization, and that it cannot lead to conflict. Rather, the assumption here is that comparatively, late mobilization is less likely to lead to conflict than early mobilization, while it is still more likely to result in violence than if no mobilization was to occur at all. H3 Late ethnonationalist mobilization in the core federal unit is less likely to lead to conflict within the core federal unit and peripheral unit(s) than early mobilization.

Conflicts in asymmetric federations   27 Late peripheral mobilization will have outcomes similar to the previously described late core mobilization. Therefore, it is expected that nationalist goals will be pursued with more obstruction coming from the opposition, and that the opposition is less likely to be mobilized along ethnic lines. H4 Late ethnonationalist mobilization in the peripheral unit is less likely to lead to conflict within the peripheral unit(s) than early peripheral mobilization. Figure 1.1 presents the four dyads with different likelihoods of conflict occurrence based on the listed hypotheses. These range from very high to low depending on where and when mobilization occurs. Also, they show the three possibilities where the conflict might occur – within the core, within the periphery and/or between the core and peripheral unit. The upper left quadrant represents the most conflict-­prone dyad – the one in which core and peripheral units both are early ‘mobilizers’. Under such conditions, it is expected that a conflict will be most likely, as there will be few political alternatives to reconcile the competing nationalist claims once the liberalization begins. Also, it makes little difference which unit started Periphery

EM

EM

LM

P (conflict) = very high

P (conflict) = high

• Within the core • Between core and periphery • Within periphery

• Within the core • Between core and periphery • Within periphery

Core P (conflict) = moderate LM

• Between core and periphery • Within periphery

EM = early mobilization

P (conflict) = low • Between core and periphery • Within periphery

LM = late mobilization

P (conflict) = probability of conflict

Figure 1.1  Probability of conflict occurrence. Notes EM = early mobilization; LM = late mobilization; P (conflict) = probability of conflict.

28   Part II mobilizing first, since the proactive-­reactive nationalism spiral will be hard to avoid by the time political opening commences. The upper right quadrant demonstrates how early mobilization of the core is still very threatening to peace, even if the peripheral republics have not mobilized early. Should mobilization of the periphery occur after liberalization, or during democratic transition (which might happen due to international spillover of ethnopolitical conflict, which is the second part of the two-­stage model), the likelihood of conflict occurrence will still remain high. More specifically, this dyad will be less conflict prone than the one in which both units are early mobilizers, but still more likely to experience conflict than the dyads where the core undergoes late mobilization. The lower two quadrants see late mobilization in the core unit. In the case where such an occurrence is paired with early peripheral mobilization, there is moderate likelihood of conflict occurrence. I argue that this will depend more on the nature of further developments within the peripheral republic, rather than the core. In other words, should the peripheral unit pursue nationalist politics throughout its transition, and especially if this would be to the detriment of the core unit, one would see a possibility of conflict arising. However, it would still be lower than the likelihood of conflict occurrence when the core experiences nationalist mobilization prior to liberalization, due to the assumed pacifying effects of liberalization. The last quadrant, which comprises late mobilizers in both the core and periphery, will arguably have the lowest likelihood of conflict occurrence out of the four cases. This is due to the assumption that in the sequence where liberalization comes before nationalist mobilization there is higher likelihood that the transition will produce more sustainable democratic order. Consequently, it will be harder to make a case for violent conflict on both sides.

Research design The central research question in this book is how does the dynamics of ethnonationalist mobilization impact occurrence of conflicts. The explanatory or independent variable here is ethnonationalist mobilization, while the response or dependent variable is measured as the occurrence of conflicts within a given region. The intervening variables are the spatial and temporal setting of ethnonationalist mobilization. I argue that depending on where (core versus periphery) and when (pre- or post-­political liberalization) ethnonationalist mobilization takes place strongly contributes to the likelihood of occurrence of regional conflicts. The causal link that will be tested in this book is illustrated in Table 1.1. To examine how temporal and spatial dynamics of ethnonationalist mobilization affect conflict occurrence, this study employs the comparative case study method. More specifically, it relies on the method of focused and structured comparison; i.e. the comparison of ‘most similar’ cases which, ideally, are cases that are comparable in all respects except for the independent variable, whose variance may account for the cases having different outcomes on the dependent

Conflicts in asymmetric federations   29 Table 1.1 Causal link between dynamics of ethnonationalist mobilization and occurrence of regional conflicts Independent variable

Intervening variables

Dependent variable

Ethnonationalist mobilization + Spatial and temporal setting → Conflict occurrence

variable (George and Bennett 2005, p. 81). The comparative case study method seems to be the most appropriate for exploring the processes that preceded violent conflicts, as well as identifying idiosyncrasies of the cases. Here, I again follow George and Bennett (2005, p. 17) and their definition of a case study as “the detailed examination of an aspect of a historical episode to develop or test historical explanations that may be generalizable to other events”. The rationale behind the methodology chosen in this work was to start from writing general questions that reflected the research objective. These questions were asked of each case under study, thereby making systematic comparison and accumulation of the findings of the cases possible. That is what is meant by structured comparison. In addition, the method is focused in that it deals only with certain aspects of the historical cases examined (George and Bennett 2005). I have identified the universe of which my cases are instances, i.e. ethnonationalist mobilization around the period of regime opening. My research objective is to explain how the distinct mobilization dynamics contributed to the occurrence of conflicts in the two regions. This book examines a relatively large number of cases – two regions with a total of thirteen cases; or two core states which included both early and late mobilization; five cases of early peripheral mobilization resulting in conflict, three cases of early peripheral mobilization without the occurrence of conflict; and three cases of late peripheral mobilization after which conflicts occurred. These cases were chosen from a population of twenty-­two cases in total, i.e. the total number of federal republics or equivalent administrative units of first order. The main criterion in the selection process was whether the federal unit experienced both mobilization and liberalization. The book will not explore the cases when either mobilization or liberalization were missing, even though in cases of no liberalization some violent conflicts occurred (as was the case in some of the Central Asian Soviet republics, such as Tajikistan and Uzbekistan). The chosen cases will provide the strongest test of the theoretical model, and deliver findings that will be instrumental in drawing conclusions about the link between dynamics of ethnonationalist mobilization and regional conflicts. I believe these cases are critical and provide the most robust test of the theory that was proposed earlier in this chapter, because there is significant variation along both independent and dependent variables. This follows the core principle of positivist approach in political science – empirical tests of hypotheses cannot be undertaken if there is no variation in either or both the dependent and independent variable(s). In other words, explanatory power of proposed theories hinges on variation (Apter 1996; Laitin 2002; Caramani 2008).

30   Part II With respect to the selected cases, we can first see the variation when comparing the core republics of Serbia and Russia, since they experienced different temporal sequences of mobilization. The former mobilized early, while the latter mobilized late. Moreover, the peripheral mobilization cases include both early and late mobilizers, and mobilizations that did and did not result in violent conflicts. These conflicts have been of different intensities, duration and scope, which in turn had distinct implications for regional conflict dynamics (see Table 1.2). I chose to focus on the cases from the Soviet Union and Yugoslavia since their similarities provide useful controls, and make them broadly comparable. First, the two multinational communist states had comparable histories of indigenous revolutions and similar nationality policies. Second, in both cases, the basic political-­administrative units, the republics, were organized along ethnic lines (see Figures 1.2 and 1.3) and were seen as the quasi-­national homelands of the titular nations (Vujačić and Zaslavsky 1991; Posen 1993; Lukic and Lynch 1996; Vujačić 1996; Abrams 2002). Third, they were asymmetric ethnofederations in which the core units played critical roles for the political developments within each state (Hale 2004a). Fourth, there was an intra-­regional ‘triadic nexus’ between the ethnic minority, republican government and external homeland (or patron) that can be found in cases of conflict in these regions (Brubaker 1996).16 Even though both states shared the institutional legacy of communism, it should be pointed out that there are some significant differences in the institutional design, macroeconomic indicators and social setting which can be considered as confounding variables, and which will thus be accounted for in Chapter 2. Table 1.2  Case studies with key spatio-temporal determinants and outcomes

USSR Core Periphery

SFRY Core Periphery

Federal unit

Timing of mobilization

Conflict

Russia

Late

Intrastate

Georgia Armenia Chechnya Moldova Estonia Lithuania Latvia

Early Early Late Late Early Early Early

Intrastate, Internationalized Internationalized Intrastate Intrastate, Internationalized None None None

Serbia

Early

Intrastate

Slovenia Croatia Kosovo Bosnia-Herzegovina

Early Early Early Late

Intrastate, Internationalized Intrastate, Internationalized Intrastate, Internationalized Intrastate, Internationalized

Figure 1.2  Ethnofederal divisions in the Soviet Union. Source: CIA in Perry-Castañeda Library Map Collection – University of Texas Library Online.

Figure 1.3  Ethnofederal divisions in Yugoslavia. Source: CIA in Perry-Castañeda Library Map Collection – University of Texas Library Online.

32   Part II

Data collection and measurement This book examines dynamics of ethnonationalist mobilization based on a set of non-­institutional and institutional responses to the politicization of ethnic identity. The non-­institutional aspect or ‘mass mobilization’ involves, for instance, the percentage of the population involved in ethno-­motivated petition-­signings, protests, marches, demonstrations, the number of such events, active membership of the organizations created, the amount of resources accumulated and the number of programs established (Barany 1998; Beissinger 2002; Gorenburg 2003). The institutional response or ‘state mobilization’, on the other hand, relates to evidence of state oppression and discrimination in political, economic and cultural spheres, implementation of discriminatory laws, and/or limiting certain rights and liberties of the target population (Minorities At Risk Project 2009). To measure institutional responses, I examined government transcripts, legal documents, press reports, published memoires and secondary sources. To gauge public responses, I relied on newspaper accounts, behavioural and attitudinal surveys, studies of mass public, as well as secondary sources. The mobilizational factor is measured as a response from the mass public in terms of mass protests, separatist demands and negative attitudes towards other ethnic groups within the state. Also, it is measured relative to the timing of liberalization and spatial setting. Political liberalization, which has previously been defined as a relaxation of regime constraints on organization and discussion, is measured through official government documents and relevant legislation. Schmitter and Schneider (2004) offer a useful set of indicators to measure political liberalization of autocratic regimes, which will be taken into account in the analysis of cases. These indicators include  significant public concessions at the level of human rights; no or almost no political prisoners; increased tolerance for dissidence/public opposition; more than one legally recognized independent political party; at least one recognized opposition party in parliament or constituent assembly; trade unions or professional associations not controlled by state agencies or government parties; and independent press and access to alternative means of information tolerated by government.  (Schmitter and Schneider 2004, p. 10)  Positive movements towards reaching even one of these indicators has been taken as a sign that there is an opening within the regime. Polity IV data, Freedom House rankings and Vanhanen’s index of democracy has also been taken into consideration to gauge the changes within the regime and the system transformation, even though in the cases of former USSR and SFRY the quantitative data do not fully correspond the qualitative measures (as will be discussed later in the chapter). The distinction between early and late mobilization is based on the timing of mobilization relative to political liberalization. Early mobilization describes an ethnonationalist movement which was already present at the time of political

Conflicts in asymmetric federations   33 opening, or which commenced at the time of liberalization.17 Conversely, mobilization which began after liberalization commenced, or where it is established that political opening enabled the emergence of ethnic movements will be considered as late mobilization. In determining the temporal sequence, I have also taken into account evidence of pre-­existing mobilizational efforts and/or underground ethnonationalist movements. In such cases, indications of significant organization along ethnic lines in order to pursue political goals will be considered relevant to deem the mobilizational efforts as early in relation to political liberalization. Following the definitions of conflict from Uppsala Conflict Data Program (UCDP), this project is interested in armed conflict, which is defined as a “contested incompatibility that concerns government and/or territory where the use of armed force between two parties, of which at least one is the government of a state, results in at least 25 battle-­related deaths in one calendar year” (2015). Moreover, the cases under examination are instances of either intrastate or internationalized (intrastate with foreign involvement) conflicts. According to the same dataset, intrastate conflict is “a conflict between a government and a non-­ governmental party with no interference from other countries” (Uppsala Conflict Data Program 2015). Correspondingly, internationalized conflict represents an armed dispute between “a government and a non-­governmental party where the government side, the opposing side, or both sides receive troop support from other governments that actively participate in the conflict” (Uppsala Conflict Data Program 2015). More specifically, the cases of conflict in this book are instances of ethnic conflict, which is reflected in the goals of at least one conflict party, and in which the primary fault line of confrontation is based on ethnic differences. In other words, at least one warring party’s motives are tied to its ethnic identity and pursuing political goals on the basis of existing or perceived ethnic division (Wolff 2006; Fearon 2008).

Conclusion This chapter posits a theoretical framework of ethnonationalist mobilization and regional conflict nexus. I first introduced the factors that serve as preconditions for successful ethnonationalist mobilization. In line with the existing ethnic studies literature, I have built my theoretical framework on the findings that ethnonationalist mobilization is based on the combination of politicization of ethnic identity, strong incentives for doing so and the capacity of an ethnic group to act in such an organized and focused manner. However, unlike the prevailing literature on occurrence of ethnic conflicts, I decided to focus on specific external factors that help explain the ethnicity-­conflict nexus. Following the logic of opportunity structures, I have proposed that spatio-­temporal dynamics of ethnonationalist mobilization matters in determining the likelihood of conflict. Spatial dimension refers to the setting within a region, while temporal element distinguishes between mobilization that occurred prior or after political liberalization. Hence, the scheme presented in Table 1.3 will be applied in analysing the case studies.

34   Part II Table 1.3 Analytical framework for ethnonationalist mobilization, regime opening and interethnic conflicts nexus Etiology of ethnopolitical action

Identity

Shared language, culture Common history – important episodes   (both victory and loss) Distinctiveness in relation to other ethnic groups

Incentives Grievances about past and present losses Hopes for future gains Increased autonomy, secession Capacity

Group cohesion Record of prior organization Intra-ethnic coalitions Leadership

Ethnonationalist mobilization

Timing – ‘early’ or ‘late’ mobilization relative to political liberalization

Political liberalization

Significant opening of the polity to include increase in political competition and participation

Asymmetric federalism

Mobilization of the core or peripheral unit

The key focus of this book is the difference in regional conflict dynamics on the territories of former Soviet Union and Yugoslavia. I argue that one way of explaining this is by placing the ethnonationalist movements within a spatio-­ temporal frame, in order to examine how political opening and core-­periphery tensions contributed to conflict occurrence. Moreover, my theoretical framework takes on the issue of proximate causes of mobilization and conflict, rather than mainly underlying causes. It seeks to contribute to the literature by not just focusing on general factors that affect the likelihood of conflict occurrence, but provide specific expectations about ‘when’ and ‘where’ conflicts may occur. The empirical analysis based on the outlined theoretical framework will be conducted in Chapters 3–6. However, before moving on to in-­depth case study analysis, the following chapter will first introduce broader political, institutional and cultural comparison between the USSR and SFRY, as well as account for competing explanations of conflict occurrence in these regions.

Notes   1 According to Breuilly (1982, p. 3), nationalism refers to “political movements seeking or exercising state power and justifying such actions with nationalist arguments”. Breuilly specifies what constitutes “a nationalist argument” based on three assertions:  1) there exists a nation with an explicit and peculiar character; 2) the interests and values of this nation take priority over all other interests and values; 3) the nation must be as independent as possible, which usually requires at least the attainment of political sovereignty.  Smith (1986, p. 168) focuses on the creation of political unit and defines the pursuit of  nationalism as “the need for a ‘homeland’, a national space of one’s own . . .

Conflicts in asymmetric federations   35 nationalism is always, whatever other aims it may have, about the possession and retention of land”.   2 Even though the opposite might be argued – the leaders of groups that have weak identity might feel even more threatened and thus might have greater benefits from mobilization.   3 Anthony Smith (1986, 1993, 2001, 2003), as arguably the most prolific scholar in this field, lists physical homeland, a high degree of autonomy, perception of threat, shared historical legacy, special customs and common language(s) as some of the crucial criteria for the existence of nationalism.   4 The latter half of this chapter specifies how ethnonationalist mobilization is measured in this book.   5 The studies of social capital and interethnic trust and tolerance would make a claim that this has to be taken with a caveat since the realization of one’s ethnic identity does not necessarily translate into potential for interethnic conflict in places where different ethnic groups coexist. It depends on the bonds between different groups and the integration into broader society (Sekulić 1997; Sekulić et al. 2006).   6 Hale (2004a, p. 166) argues that along with enjoying dramatic superiority in population, core ethnic unit tends (1) to promote the rise of “dual power” situations that are frequently at the heart of state breakdown and revolution; (2) to reduce the capacity of central governments to credibly commit to the security of ethnic minority regions; and (3) to facilitate the collective imagining of a core-­group nation-­state separate from the union state.   7 Based on Hale’s (2004a) research, these have included Canada (1867–), Switzerland (1848–), Nigerian 2nd and 3rd Republics, Ethiopia (1995–), India (1956–), Nigerian 4th Republic (1999–), Russian Federation (1991–) and Spain (1979–), as well as partial ethnofederations (i.e. unitary countries that have devolved some local power to particular ethnic regions as part of an ethnic autonomy arrangement) such as Ghana (1992–), South Africa (1994–), Papua New Guinea (1977–1990), Malaysia (1957–), and Mexico (1917–).   8 The ethnofederations with core regions that have not collapsed or the ones where just ethnofederal arrangements ended include Belgium (1993–), Tanzania (1992, 1995–), Indonesia (1949–1950), Pakistan (1985–1999), together with borderline ethnofederations Bosnia and Herzegovina (1995–) and Cameroon (1961–1972).   9 Relatively peaceful breakup occurred in Czechoslovakia (1990–92), Mali Federation (1960), USSR (1990–1991), Serbia and Montenegro (2006), Senegambia (1982–1989), while large-­scale wars occurred after the collapse of Nigerian 1st Republic (1960–1966), Pakistan (1970–1971) and Yugoslavia (1990–1991). 10 The underpinning logic is that within such a design the ethnofederal state is going to be more likely to avoid the core group-­oriented collective action and the central government will be less likely challenged by the core group (Hale 2004a). 11 Though an attempt to link ethnic conflicts and their regional spread with democratization was made by Vorrath and Krebs (2009) in a working paper “Democratisation and Conflict in Ethnically Divided Societies”, Living Reviews in Democracy. 12 Other academic arguments on sequencing during democratic transitions can be traced back to Lipset (1963) and Huntington (1968) who believed that successful democratization is more likely to follow if a certain level of economic development has been reached. Linz and Stepan (1992), who looked at the Soviet Union, Spain and Yugoslavia, proposed that holding the elections at the state level prior to the elections at local or regional level might be an important factor in preventing ethnic mobilization. Moreover, Zakaria (2003) and Diamond (2005) argued that building up state capacity should precede any democratic efforts. The most recent academic debate on sequencing has been between Carothers (2007), who argued for introduction of electoral reforms in tandem with other reforms, and Mansfield and Snyder (2007), who dismissed Carothers’ view and argued for sequencing, where establishing basic state functions should come first.

36   Part II 13 In the simplest fashion, an ethnofederal state is “a federal state in which at least one constituent territorial governance unit is intentionally associated with a specific ethnic category” (Hale 2004a, p. 167). I understand that in order for a federal order to exist, a minimum level of democracy is needed in order that the concept of regional autonomy has some meaning. This usually includes some kind of direct popular election to state organs of the highest level of territorial governance unit underneath nationwide state organs. However, while neither the former USSR nor SFRY could be considered democratic, the way in which territorial governance was executed corresponds to asymmetric ethnofederal arrangements and has been recognized as such in the literature. 14 The category of core unit thus fits the case of the Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic (RSFSR), which contained a majority of the Soviet population and whose dominant nationality (Russian) was also the majority group in the country. Likewise, the Socialist Republic of Serbia was home to 42 percent of the country’s population as opposed to the 20 percent of the population made up by Croatia, the second largest republic (Snyder 2000; Hale 2004a). 15 “At least one subnational unit” denotes the territory such as a province or a region within a federal republic where the minority of that republic makes for at least half of the population. Also, titular majority group is the majority group within a federal republic, and it is equally applicable to the core and peripheral republics. 16 “External homeland”, as Brubaker (1996, p.  44) defines it, represents the “states to which the minorities belong by ethnonational affiliation but not legal citizenship”. 17 The latter case of mobilization that occurred at the time of liberalization would be classified as ‘concurrent’ mobilization, if quantitative research was conducted. However, in this book, concurrent mobilization will be treated as an offshoot of early mobilization, as it is expected that mobilization that took off parallel to regime opening had to have roots in prior experiences of mobilization.

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Conflicts in asymmetric federations   39 Mansfield, E. D. and J. Snyder (2007). “The Sequencing ‘fallacy’.” Journal of Democracy 18(3): 5–16. McAdam, D. (1996). Conceptual Origins, Current Problems, Future Directions. Comparative Perspectives on Social Movements: Political Opportunities, Mobilizing Structures, and Cultural Framings. D. McAdam, J. McCarthy and M. Zald. Cambridge, Cambridge University Press. McAdam, D., S. Tarrow and C. Tilly (2001). Dynamics of Contention. Cambridge, Cambridge University Press. Melander, E. (1999). Anarchy Within: The Security Dilemma Between Ethnic Groups in Emerging Anarchy, Report No. 52. Uppsala University, Sweden, Department of Peace and Conflict Research. Merton, R. K. (1957). Social Theory and Social Structure. New York, Free Press of Glencoe. Minorities At Risk Project (2009). Minorities At Risk Dataset. Center for International Development and Conflict Management. College Park, MD. Nedelmann, B. (1987). “Individuals and Parties – Changes in Processes of Political Mobilization.” European Sociological Review 3(3): 181–202. Nordlinger, E. A. (1972). Conflict Regulation in Divided Societies. Cambridge, MA, Center for International Affairs, Harvard University. O’Donnell, G. and P. Schmitter (1986). Tentative Conclusions about Uncertain Democracies. Transitions from Authoritarian Rule: Prospects for Democracy. G. O’Donnell, P. Schmitter and L. Whitehead. Baltimore, Johns Hopkins University Press. Olzak, S. (1983). “Contemporary Ethnic Mobilization.” Annual Review of Sociology 9: 355–374. Parrott, B. (1997). Analyzing the Transformation of the Soviet Union in Comparative Perspective. The End of Empire? The Transformation of the USSR in Comparative Perspective. B. Parrot and K. Dawisha. Armonk, NY, Sharpe. Posen, B. R. (1993). “The Security Dilemma and Ethnic Conflict.” Survival 35(1): 27–47. Przeworski, A. (1986). Some Problems in the Study of the Transition to Democracy. Transitions from Authoritarian Rule: Prospects for Democracy. G. O’Donnell, P. Schmitter and L. Whitehead. Baltimore, Johns Hopkins University Press. Riker, W. H. (1964). Federalism: Origin, Operation, Significance. Boston, Little, Brown and Co. Roeder, P. G. (2009). “Ethnofederalism and the Mismanagement of Conflicting Nationalisms.” Regional and Federal Studies 19: 203–219. Saideman, S. M. (1997). “Explaining the International Relations of Secessionist Conflicts: Vulnerability Versus Ethnic Ties.” International Organisation 51(4): 721–753. Saideman, S. M. (1998). Is Pandora’s Box Half Empty or Half Full? The Limited Virulence of Secessionism and the Domestic Sources of Disintegration. The International Spread of Ethnic Conflict: Fear, Diffusion, and Escalation. D. Lake and D. S. Rothchild. Princeton, NJ, Princeton University Press. Saideman, S. M. and R. W. Ayres (2000). “Determining Causes of Irredentism: Logit Analyses of Minorities and Risk Data from the 1980s and 1990s.” Journal of Politics 62: 1126–1144. Sambanis, N. and B. Milanovic (2004). Explaining the Demand for Sovereignty. New Haven, CT, Yale University, Department of Political Science. Schmitter, P. and C. Q. Schneider (2004). “Conceptualizing and Measuring the Liberalization of Autocracy and the Consolidation of Democracy Across Regions of the World and from Different Points of Departure.” Democratization 35.

40   Part II Sekulić, D. (1997). “The Creation and Dissolution of the Multinational State: The Case of Yugoslavia.” Nations and Nationalism 3: 165–179. Sekulić, D., G. Massey and R. Hodson (2006). “Ethnic Intolerance and Ethnic Conflict in the Dissolution of Yugoslavia.” Ethnic and Racial Studies 29: 797–827. Skalnik Leff, C. (1999). “Democratization and Disintegration in Multinational States: The Breakup of the Communist Federations.” World Politics 51(2): 205–235. Smith, A. (1986). The Ethnic Origins of Nations. Oxford, Blackwell. Smith, A. (1993). “The Ethnic Sources of Nationalism.” Survival 35(1). Smith, A. (2001). Nationalism: Theory, Ideology, History. Malden, MA, Polity Press. Smith, A. (2003). Nationalism and Modernism, New York, Taylor & Francis. Smith, Z. K. (2000). “The Impact of Political Liberalisation and Democratisation on Ethnic Conflict in Africa: An Empirical Test of Common Assumptions.” The Journal of Modern African Studies 38: 21–39. Snyder, J. (2000). From Voting to Violence: Democratization and Nationalist Violence. New York, Norton. Stepan, A. (1988). Rethinking Military Politics: Brazil and the Southern Cone. Princeton, NJ, Princeton University Press. Stepan, A. (1999). “Federalism and Democracy: Beyond the U.S. Model.” Journal of Democracy 10: 19–34. Sumner, W. G. (1906). Folkways: A Study of the Sociological Importance of Usages, Manners, Customs, Mores, and Morals. Boston, MA, Ginn. Tarrow, S. (1994). Power in Movement: Social Movements, Collective Action, and Politics. Cambridge, Cambridge University Press. Tarrow, S. (1996). “Social Movements in Contentious Politics: A Review Article.” American Political Science Review 90(4). Tarrow, S. (1998). Power in Movement: Social Movements and Contentious Politics, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press. Tilly, C. (1975). Revolutions and Collective Violence. Handbook of Political Science. F. I. Greenstein and N. W. Polsby. Reading, MA, Addison-­Wesley. vol. 3. Tilly, C. (1978). From Mobilization to Revolution. Reading, Addison-­Wesley. Toft, M. D. (2003). The Geography of Ethnic Violence: Identity, Interests, and the Indivisibility of Territory, Princeton, NJ, Princeton University Press. Uppsala Conflict Data Program (2015). UCDP Conflict Encyclopedia. Uppsala University. van Evera, S. (1994). “Hypotheses on Nationalism and War.” International Security 18(4): 5–39. Vermeersch, P. (2010). Political Mobilization. The International Encyclopedia of Political Science. G. T. Kurian, J. E. Alt, S. Chambers, G. Garrett, M. Levi and P. D. McClain. Washington, DC, QC Press: 1047–1052. Volkan, V. D. (2001). “Transgenerational Transmissions and Chosen Traumas: An Aspect of Large-­Group Identity.” Group Analysis 34(1): 79–97. Vorrath, J. and L. F. Krebs (2009). Democratisation and Conflict in Ethnically Divided Societies. Living Reviews in Democracy. Vol. 1. Available at: https://www.lrd.ethz.ch/ index.php/lrd/article/view/lrd-­2009-1/. Last accessed: August 15, 2016. Vujačić, V. (1996). “Historical Legacies, Nationalist Mobilization, and Political Outcomes in Russia and Serbia: A Weberian View.” Theory and Society 25: 763–801. Vujačić, V. and V. Zaslavsky (1991). “The Causes of Disintegration in the Soviet Union and Yugoslavia.” Telos 88(Summer): 120–140. Weber, M. (1968). Economy and Society. New York, Bedminster Press.

Conflicts in asymmetric federations   41 Wolff, S. (2006). Ethnic Conflict – A Global Perspective, Oxford, Oxford University Press. Young, C. (1993). The Rising Tide of Cultural Pluralism. Madison, WI, The University of Wisconsin Press. Zakaria, F. (2003). The Future of Freedom: Illiberal Democracy at Home and Abroad. New York, W. W. Norton & Company Inc.

2 USSR and SFRY – sources of war and peace in asymmetric ethnofederations

This book is certainly not the first to compare the dissolution of the Soviet Union and Yugoslavia and offer a causal argument for the different experiences of the state collapse (Duncan and Holman 1994; Lukic and Lynch 1996; Horowitz 2005; Vujačić 2015), though it proposes a unique perspective on regional conflict dynamics on the territories of these two former states. However, before testing the central argument of this work, which establishes a nexus between ethno­nationalist mobilization, regime change and conflict occurrence, this chapter will inspect what would usually be referred to as the control and confounding variables in the research design. The main aim is to account for the main points of similarity and difference within the economic, political and social spheres in the two ethnofederations before they collapsed, as well as the major theories that link these state-­level factors with the occurrence of ethnic conflict. The first half of the chapter will provide economic, political and cultural comparison of the USSR and SFRY. The main motivation is to ascertain the comparative levels of development, political and institutional setup, as well as the broader identity politics in these two ethnofederations. The latter half of the chapter will assess different approaches to ethnic identity and mobilization, while linking them with the theories of conflict occurrence, especially with respect to polity transformation. These theories are organized according to their emphasis – primordial approaches focus on the inherent differences in identity, while instrumentalist approaches include elite predation, pure uncertainty and group grievances. I will argue that the instrumentalist view based on elite manipulation, uncertainty and grievances better captures causes of mobilization in the former Soviet Union and Yugoslavia. Following that, I will examine the institutional approach to ethnic conflict, based on federalism, regime change and state weaknesses. The chapter will conclude with the theoretical contributions that are most relevant for this book.

Social, economic and political snapshots of the USSR and SFRY before the collapse The following overview does not attempt to offer a comprehensive account of  socio-­economic conditions and institutional factors the Soviet Union and

USSR and SFRY   43 Yugoslavia were facing on the eve of their collapse. Rather, the goal is to show that there were certain structural similarities, as well as differences, that might help in explaining why and how these two states dissolved. Amongst others, these similarities included asymmetric ethnofederal setup, political ideology, command economy and the stage of development, and somewhat comparable policies towards ethnic groups and nations. Socio-­economic trends and conditions To understand better the similarities in socio-­economic conditions, it is worth taking a look at the relevant indicators in the last decade of both the USSR and SFRY’s existence. Additionally, these data will be repeatedly referred to in the empirical chapters when analysing the incentives for ethnopolitical action. Before commencing the analysis, it has to be made clear that all the quantitative data that will be presented must be interpreted with great care. I have first chosen to look at reports from domestic bureaus of statistics where they were available, but for the purpose of more reliable comparison, I have used publications from intergovernmental organizations such as the United Nations and the World Bank, as well as the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) reports. These organizations recognized that discrepancies and contradictions in the data were a heritage of unreliable reporting or lack of reporting during the communist era. Moreover, the data presented are disaggregated along the main geographical units in order to highlight the tensions between the core units and the periphery. As it can be seen from Table 2.1, just a year before the breakup of the USSR, the state of development and economic growth across Soviet republics differed vastly. Estonia was the richest republic in terms of per capita gross domestic product (GDP) with $4,170, which was almost four times the amount recorded in the poorest republic, Tajikistan. The data also neatly demonstrate sub-­regional development clusters, where the most developed republics were the Baltics and the least developed were four Central Asian republics (the ‘stans’ excluding Kazakhstan). The Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic (RSFSR) had the third highest GDP per capita of $3,430, just below Latvia. Unfortunately, a substantial portion of economic growth data from the beginning of perestroika is missing. However, where such data is available it can be seen that, on average, there was a trend of positive single-­digit growth in the period from 1985 to 1990. Of course, this has to be placed within the context of overall negative economic trends that accumulated in the late 1970s and early 1980s.1 RSFSR was the most populous republic with about half of the Soviet Union’s total population of around 286 million living in it (Table 2.2). Ukraine and Uzbekistan were the second and third most populous with around 18 and 7 percent of the Soviet population living in these two republics respectively. According to the 1989 Soviet census, almost two thirds of the population was urban.2 Obtaining reliable unemployment statistics before 1989 is quite hard because from the 1920s onwards, Soviet authorities had always tacitly admitted the existence of frictional unemployment. In 1990 the official estimates

44   Part II Table 2.1  Gross domestic product in the Soviet Union, 1990 Geographical unit

Per capita GDP 1990, $

Average annual growth GDP, 1985–1990

Average annual growth GDP, 1990–1991

Average annual growth GDP, 1991–1992

Russia

3,430

–

   –

   –

Eastern Europe Ukraine Belarus Moldova

2,500 3,110 2,390

– – 3.5

   –    – –18.0

–13.7    – –21.0

Baltics Lithuania Latvia Estonia

3,110 3,590 4,170

4.8 3.3 2.3

–14.9   –8.3    –

   – –43.9    –

Transcaucasia Georgia Azerbaijan Armenia

2,120 1,640 2,380

– – 0.3

   –   –0.7   –8.8

   – –35.2 –52.3

Central Asia Kazakhstan Uzbekistan Kyrgyzstan Tajikistan Turkmenistan

2,600 1,340 1,570 1,130 1,690

– – 4.7 – –

–11.8   –0.5   –3.6    –    5.4

–13.0   –9.6    –    –    –

Sources: World Bank statistics from Kaufman and Hardt (1993) and World Bank (1993).

considered only two million people as unemployed according to the methodology of International Labor Organization (Heleniak 1991). Soviet specialists claim these statistical estimates have underestimated the large numbers of unemployed people in Central Asia and Transcaucasia (Kaufman and Hardt 1993). When it comes to measuring the standard of living, it is useful to go beyond monetary measures. To do so, I rely on the United Nations Development Program’s (UNDP) Human Development Index (HDI), which is a composite of purchasing power parity (PPP), life expectancy and education within a country. However, the authors of the report in which these indices are listed warn that the HDI rankings by republics might be somewhat flawed as they are based on official Soviet statistics. As shown in Table 2.3, this is most obvious in the case of Georgia, which had been placed in the first position because of its reported life expectancy. However, there is a significant consistency between monetary rankings and standard of living rankings in the cases of Ukraine, Belarus, Lithuania, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan and Turkmenistan. As in the USSR, in the former Yugoslavia there were significant differences among the republics in terms of economic structure, stage of development and industrialization, and overall standards of living. As Tables 2.4 and 2.5 demonstrate, Serbia was the biggest republic covering more than a third of the Yugoslav territory (34.5 percent) and with the population that made 41.5 percent of

USSR and SFRY   45 Table 2.2  Population and employment in the Soviet republics, 1990–1992 Geographical unit Population (1991, thousands) Russia

Population growth (1990–1991)

Unemployment (Dec. 1992, thousands)

148,326

0.1

577,7

52,944 10,213 4,361

0.2 0.0 0.0

  71,0   24,0   15,0

Baltics Lithuania Latvia Estonia

3,737 2,657 1,566

0.8 –0.4 –0.3

  20,7   31,3    –

Transcaucasia Georgia Azerbaijan Armenia

5,420 7,120 3,649

0.0 0.1 2.1

  18,9    6,4   56,3

Central Asia Kazakhstan Uzbekistan Kyrgyzstan Tajikistan Turkmenistan

16,721 20,613   4,390   5,342   3,751

0.6 1.9 1.3 2.1 2.6

   3,7    8,8    1,8    6,8    –

Eastern Europe Ukraine Belarus Moldova

Source: World Bank (1993).

the total population in SFRY. Despite the fact that Serbia contributed the highest share of gross social product (38 percent), in per capita terms it was well behind Slovenia, which had the gross social product (GSP) per capita that was double the Yugoslav average, and Croatia, which was almost one quarter above the national average.3 Of course, one has to be aware of the specific feature of Serbia, as the only Yugoslav republic with two autonomous provinces within its territory, Kosovo in the south and Vojvodina in the north.4 Kosovo was the least developed unit, with a GSP per capita well below the national average, while Vojvodina by itself ranked as the third richest geographical unit just after Croatia. Thus, Serbia proper (without the two provinces) had a GSP per capita that was at the same level as the Yugoslav average, yet with Vojvodina and Kosovo it was 88 percent of the Yugoslav average. When it comes to the labour market, there were also wide differences in the unemployment rates across the republics and provinces. In 1990, the unemployment rate in SFRY was just over 16 percent and the inter-­republican discrepancies were quite striking. In Slovenia the registered unemployment rate was 5.2 percent, while in Serbia (including Kosovo and Vojvodina) it was 19.5 percent. Kosovo alone recorded an unemployment rate of 40.8 percent (Bartlett and Uvalic 1992).

46   Part II Table 2.3  Standard of living indicators in the Soviet Union, 1990 Geographical unit

Ranking per capita GNP (rubles)

Human Development Index (HDI)

HDI Ranking

Russia

1

0.55

8

Eastern Europe Ukraine Belarus Moldova

6 4 9

0.60 0.73 0.22

7 3 15

Baltics Lithuania Latvia Estonia

5 3 2

0.63 0.63 0.66

5 5 4

Transcaucasia Georgia Azerbaijan Armenia

8 11 7

0.87 0.44 0.74

1 9 2

Central Asia Kazakhstan Uzbekistan Kyrgyzstan Tajikistan Turkmenistan

10 14 13 15 12

0.41 0.37 0.33 0.33 0.26

10 11 12 12 14

Sources: Kaufman and Hardt (1993) and Center for International Research (1992).

Table 2.4  Gross social product in Yugoslavia, 1989 Geographical unit

GSP (%, SFRY = 100)

Index GSP per capita (SFRY average = 100)

Bosnia and Herzegovina Croatia Macedonia Montenegro Slovenia Serbia (total) Serbia* (central) Kosovo Vojvodina

12.9 25 5.8 2 16.5 38 25.6 2.1 10.3

65 124 65 71 200 88 100 24 118

Source: Savezni zavod za statistiku (1991). Note * Without Kosovo and Vojvodina.

USSR and SFRY   47 Table 2.5  Population and employment (share of the republics in SFRY), 1950–1990 Geographical unit

Population (1950)

Population (1990)

Employment Job-seekers (1990) (1990)

Bosnia and Herzegovina Croatia Macedonia Montenegro Slovenia Serbia (total) Serbia (central) Kosovo Vojvodina

16.7 23.2 7.7 2.5 8.8 41.1 26.3 4.8 10.0

19.0 19.7 8.9 2.7 8.2 41.5 24.6 8.3 8.6

15.8 23.5 7.8 2.5 12.3 38.1 25.5 3.2 9.4

21.7 12.3 11.9 3.7 3.4 46.9 25.9 11.3 9.8

Source: Savezni zavod za statistiku (1991).

Levels of development Development indicators such as life expectancy and infant mortality demonstrate the wide differences among the fifteen Soviet republics. In terms of broader trends, the intra-­regional disparities are reaffirmed regarding the poorest republics since Central Asia consistently ranked as the Soviet sub-­region with the lowest life expectancy and highest infant mortality. The Transcaucasian republics of Georgia and Armenia tended to display somewhat higher than average life expectancies, while Lithuania recorded the highest overall life expectancy.5 The infant mortality data tend to show modest convergence, which might again be ascribed to underdevelopment of Central Asia vis-­à-vis the rest of the republics (Figures 2.1 and 2.2). Comparable statistics for Yugoslavia in the same period of time show that there was a rapid convergence of individual republics’ figures through the 1970s, with equality and stagnation in the 1980s, and then substantial divergence in the 1990s with Slovenia recording a somewhat higher life expectancy (Figures 2.3 and 2.4). There was also a substantial drop in infant mortality over most of the period from the early 1950s into the 1980s across the entire Yugoslav population (Kunitz 2004). Overall, in the decade before the collapse, the Soviet Union and Yugoslavia were at comparable development stages. Over the course of the 1980s the Soviet Union fell from the second to third largest economy in the world, however when translated in per capita purchasing power, the country was considered to be a middle-­income economy at best with real GDP per capita of around $6,000 in 1987. Yugoslavia was slightly less prosperous with a real GDP per capita around $5,000. Yet, in the context of development both the USSR and SFRY were included in the group of high human development with HDI values of 0.920 and 0.913 respectively in 1990 (Table 2.6).6 However, in terms of macroeconomic performance, it appears that Yugoslavia experienced significantly worse conditions than the Soviet Union from the

73

71

69

67

65

63

61

59

1980

1982

1984

1986

1988

1990

Russia

Lithuania

Armenia

Uzbekistan

Ukraine

Latvia

Azerbaijan

Turkmenistan

Belarus

Estonia

Kazakhstan

Tajikistan

Moldova

Georgia

Kyrgyzstan

Figure 2.1  Life expectancy at birth in Soviet republics, 1980–1990. Source: Goskomstat SSSR (1991).

Table 2.6  Selected development indicators for Soviet Union and Yugoslavia, 1980–1991

Real GDP per capita (PPP $, 1987) Real GDP per capita (PPP $, 1985–88) Human development index (1990) Human development index (1991) Life expectancy (1987, years) Adult literacy (1985, %) Mean years of schooling (1980) Sources: United Nations Development Programme (1990, 1991).

USSR

SFRY

6,000 6,270 0.920 0.908 70 99 7.6

5,000 4,860 0.913 0.893 72 92 6.0

USSR and SFRY   49 70

60

50

40

30

20

10

0

1980

1981 1982

1983 1984

1985

1986

1987 1988

1989

1990

Estonia

Moldova

Kyrgyzstan

Armenia

Latvia

Russia

Tajikistan

Azerbaijan

Lithuania

Ukraine

Turkmenistan

Georgia

Belarus

Kazakhstan

Uzbekistan

Figure 2.2 Infant mortality rate (per 1,000 live births) by year in Soviet republics, 1980–1990. Source: adapted from Velkoff and Miller (1995).

beginning of the 1980s. The comparison of inflation rates and economic growth from 1980 to 1991 in the two countries is indicative of such condition (Tables 2.7, 2.8 and 2.9). After the adoption of the 1974 Constitution that secured greater monetary independence to its republics, Yugoslavia experienced rising inflationary pressures after instruments of National Bank of Yugoslavia (NBY) proved inadequate. Nominal interest rates were kept low (negative in real terms even), contributing to excessive credit expansion at all levels (Uvalic 2010). Particularly problematic was the new phenomenon of inter-­enterprise credit, especially through issuing of promissory notes, and in that way bypassing the banking system together with credit control. Thus, the central government’s attempts to tighten the monetary policy were in vain. Average annual inflation progressively increased from 31 percent in 1980 to well over 100 percent in 1987–1988, while

50   Part II 78 76 74 72 70 68 66 64 62

92

91

19

90

19

19

89

88

19

87

19

86

19

85

19

84

19

83

19

82

19

81

19

19

19

80

60

Croatia

Bosnia and Herzegovina

Serbia

Montenegro

Slovenia

Kosovo

Macedonia, FYR

Figure 2.3  Life expectancy at birth in Yugoslav republics, 1980–1992. Source: Savezni zavod za statistiku (1991) and World Bank (2012).

Table 2.7  Average annual inflation rates in the USSR and SFRY, 1980–1991 1980 1981 1982 1983 1984 1985 1986 1987 1988 1989 1990 1991 USSR1 SFRY2

1 31

1 39

4 31

0 40

–1 54

3.5 4.4 4.5 6 72 90 120 194

8   20 1,240 588

100    –

Sources: Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (1990); PlanEcon Report (1991); Rocha (1992); Fischer (1994). Notes 1 Soviet inflation is calculated as the retail price index, measuring the percentage change in the cost of a basket of retail goods and services. 2 Yugoslav inflation is measured by the cost of living index (average change with respect to previous year).

being classified as hyperinflation in 1989 when the average annual inflation rate reached 1,240 percent. Contrary to popular descriptions, the economy of the Soviet Union in the early 1980s was not in a state of stagnation (Table 2.8). The ability to produce goods and services was still there, however, it was a failing economy in the

60

50

40

30

20

10

92

91

19

90

19

89

Serbia Croatia Bosnia and Herzegovina

19

88

19

87

19

86

19

85

19

84

19

83

19

82

19

81

19

19

19

80

0

Slovenia Macedonia, FYR Montenegro

Figure 2.4 Infant mortality rate (per 1,000 live births) by year in Yugoslav republics, 1980–1992. Source: Savezni zavod za statistiku (1991).

Table 2.8  USSR annual growth of national income, 1981–1991

USSR

Average annual percent change

Annual percent change

1981–1985

1986–1990

1986

1987

1988

1989

1990

1991

3.2

1.3

2.3

1.6

4.4

2.5

–4.0

–15.0

Source: Soyuznyye respubliki: osnovnyye ekonomicheskiye i sotsial’nyye pokazateli (Goskomstat Information-Publishing Center 1991).

Table 2.9  SFRY annual growth of gross social product, 1980–1989

SFRY

1980

1981

1982

1983

1984

1985

1986

1987

1988

1989

2.2

1.5

0.5

–1.0

2.0

0.5

3.6

–1.1

–1.7

0.8

Source: Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (1990), Uvalic (1992).

52   Part II sense that it faced increasing difficulties in producing the assortment of goods and services desired by the population (Ellman and Kontorovich 1998). Moreover, a rising proportion of increments to total production were accounted for by additions to the labour force and the capital stock rather than by gains in the productivity of labour and capital (Kaufman and Hardt 1993). The economic reforms under perestroika triggered inflation, however, at first it was a controllable problem. The conditions began deteriorating in 1990 when the inflation rate jumped to 20 percent, while reaching hyperinflation levels in 1991 as it passed 100 percent (Filatochev and Bradshaw 1992). Ethnofederal structures Since the adoption of the 1974 Constitution, Yugoslavia arguably became a loose federation or even quasi-­confederation where political power and economic resources were held as strong bargaining chips on the republican level and bargaining occurred horizontally between the republics (Bunce 1999). The Soviet Union was clearly not a true federal state, if by federalism one implies devolution of power to territorial units below the state level. Even though the republics were nominally given their own constitutions, which together with the all-­union Constitution formed the basis for division of power within USSR, it was the Communist Party of the Soviet Union (CPSU) and the central government that had all significant authority and power (Zickel 1991). Both the USSR and SFRY were multinational states, however due to the sheer size of the former and more than one hundred nationalities it possessed, territorial organization was much more complex in the former Soviet Union. The nationalities with the status of union republics had more political and economic power than nationalities with lower federal level unit status such as autonomous republics, autonomous oblasts and autonomous okrugs.7 The position of each nationality within the union was to a large extent the function of its size, the percentage of the people using the national language as their first language, the degree of its integration into the Soviet society, and its territorial-­administrative status. It also depended on each nationality’s share of membership in the CPSU, the number of students in higher institutions, the number of scientific workers and the level of urbanization (Gawdiak 1991). Within such arrangements, Russians still dominated due to the sheer size of their population, positions that they occupied within the society, as well as the historic legacy of being the core of the empire-­state. In former Yugoslavia, the 1974 Constitution made a distinction between two categories of ethnic groups: six ‘nations’ whose traditional territorial homelands laid within the state’s boundaries; and ‘nationalities’ whose traditional homelands were found outside those boundaries (Sudetic 1992).8 Yet, after the Second World War, the state was set up in a way to limit the Serbian domination. In that respect, Serbia did not enjoy the principal status Russia had within the Soviet Union.

USSR and SFRY   53 Federalism and defence Decentralized organization of government in Yugoslavia impacted the way the military was organized. The military chain of command was notoriously confused giving the power to deploy force to different federal and republican actors – from the state and the party collective presidencies, the prime minister, minister of defence, to representatives of the military at the top levels of the party and the state (Bunce 1999). In addition, there was a dual military structure, where republican militias, Teritorijalna Obrana (TO, Territorial Defence Forces) existed parallel to Jugoslovenska Narodna Armija (JNA, Yugoslav People’s Army). These units were formed as a means of mobilizing civilians to participate in national defence. There are reports estimating that between one and three million Yugoslavs between the ages of fifteen and sixty-­five would fight under TO command as irregular forces. Under normal circumstances, there were around 860,000 troops involved in training and other activities across the republics. Interestingly, tensions between TO and JNA occurred in the 1970s due to fear that one of the republics might centralize its TO units and develop its own republican army which might go against JNA. This was resolved in 1980 when  TO commanders were put under direct command of the JNA (Wheeler Soper 1992). The Soviet Union was a highly militarized state and until its collapse it was the world’s largest military establishment with the Armed Forces of nearly six million troops in 1989. Moreover, figures for the same year show that one fourth of the total Soviet population was engaged in military activities – from active duty, military production to civilian military training. Yet, the Armed Forces of the Soviet Union had no competing structures in the form of republic-­based militias, as was the case in SFRY. CPSU tightly controlled the military in order to pursue its political objectives and it did so through a combination of political indoctrination, co-­optation and party supervision at every level (Wheeler Soper 1991). Ethnic issues and identity politics Another point of similarity, which is of particular importance for this book, concerns the titular groups of the two core republics, Serbia and Russia. First of all, Serbs and Russians were by far the largest ethnic groups. There were around eight and a half million people who declared themselves as Serbs in 1991, which was nearly double the population of the second largest ethnic group, that of Croats and more than one third of the entire population of former Yugoslavia. The proportion of people declaring themselves as Russians in USSR was even more striking. According to the 1989 census, ethnic Russians composed 50.8 percent of the population, or about 145 million. The second and third largest ethnic groups, that of Ukrainians and Uzbeks with populations of around thirty-­ seven and fourteen million respectively, did not even come close to that figure (see Tables 2.10 and 2.11).

54   Part II Table 2.10  Distribution of Russian population in the Soviet republics, 1989 Republic

RSFRS Estonia Latvia Lithuania Belarus Moldova Ukraine Armenia Georgia Azerbaijan Kazakhstan Kyrgyzstan Tajikistan Turkmenistan Uzbekistan USSR

Total population (thousands)

Percentage distribution

147,386 1,573 2,681 3,673 10,200 4,341 51,704 3,283 5,449 7,029 16,538 4,291 5,112 3,534 19,906 285,689

Titular

Russian

Other

81.3 61.2 51.8 79.6 77.4 64.3 72.3 93.9 69.5 82.5 39.5 51.9 62.0 71.4 71.0

81.3 30.2 33.8 9.4 13.1 12.9 21.9 1.6 6.2 5.6 37.6 21.4 7.6 9.5 8.3 50.8

18.7 8.6 14.5 11.0 9.4 22.8 5.8 4.6 24.2 11.9 22.9 26.7 30.5 19.1 20.7

Source: 1989 Soviet census data cited in Anderson and Silver (1990).

Table 2.11  Distribution of Serbian population in SFRY republics and provinces, 1991

Serbia (with K & V) Kosovo Vojvodina Bosnia and Herzegovina Croatia Montenegro Macedonia Slovenia SFRY

Total population

Serb population (approx.)

Percentage of Serb population

9,506,174 1,956,196 2,012,517 4,377,053 4,784,265 615,035 2,033,964 1,913,355 23,229,846

6,485,000 194,190 1,151,000 1,366,000 580,000 57,000 42,000 47,000 8,500,000

65.9 9.9 57.2 31.2 12.2 9.3 2.1 2.5 36.6

Source: Savezni zaod za statistiku (1991); Crnobrnja (1994).

Furthermore, in both SFRY and USSR there were significant portions of the core republic’s titular nations living outside the core republics. In the case of the former Yugoslavia, some 2.1 million Serbs lived outside Serbia. The largest population lived in Bosnia and Herzegovina (almost one and a half million), more than half a million in Croatia and the remaining number was split in almost equal portions between Montenegro, Macedonia and Slovenia. In the Soviet Union, there were about twenty-­six million Russians living outside RSFSR. Over eleven million Russians lived in Ukraine, over six million in Kazakhstan, while Uzbekistan and Belarus had Russian communities of well over one million. In relative terms, such ranking is somewhat different, as in Kazakhstan

USSR and SFRY   55 Russians accounted for more than 37 percent of the population, then came Latvia and Estonia with almost one third of the population being ethnically Russian, while Ukraine and Kyrgyzstan both had 21 percent of Russian population. Not only were Russians and Serbs the most populous nationalities in USSR and SFRY, they were also the most dispersed across the two federations. However, the dispersion raised a much more forceful question of uniting the ethnic kin in Serbia than in Russia, due to the contrasting historical experiences.9 Scholars such as Vujačić (1996) have argued that given Russians strongly identified with the empire they once were, they developed a weaker sense of ethnic nationalism. On the other hand, the oppression under Ottoman occupation led to migration of Serbs, which resulted in the creation of sizable Serbian enclaves outside of Serbian borders. This repeatedly raised the question of uniting the Serb population living in the neighbouring states. However, there is a case to be made with respect to the difference between nationality policies in the two states, since in the USSR some of the elements of traditional Russian nationalism were incorporated in the dominant ideology of the Soviet state. In the mid- to late-­1930s, initial Soviet nationalities policy of korenizatsiya (indigenization) was reversed and intense Russianization began in all spheres of society, from government, schooling to the media. From the end of the Second World War onwards, Stalin and his successors promoted the leading role, or the role of the first among equals, of the Russian people in the Soviet family of nations and nationalities (Suny 2010, 2012). This is precisely why there were no RSFSR-­specific political and cultural organizations from a separate communist party, academy of science, media, ministries to secret police organizations and the like. Thus, Bunce (1999) claims that Russia had been faced with a mixed blessing – it was denied the same institutional status that other federal republics were endowed with, and yet it had access to central institutions of the party and the state in a way no other republic had.10 In SFRY, Serbs had a disproportionately higher representation in the officer corps of the military, as well as in the secret police.11 However, within the institutions that were responsible for operative decision-­making on the federal level Serbs were in fact underrepresented, which played into grievances for Serb mobilization (Bunce 1999). Though, it has to be noted that Serbs were also overrepresented in the lower levels of the federal bureaucracies and within the League of Communists of Yugoslavia (LCY) (Szayna 2000). Moreover, in stark contrast to the Soviet Union, there was no talk of Serbian nationalism being the sole basis of Yugoslavism. Within the Second Yugoslavia, Serbia was given the same institutions as all the other republics. Such arrangements signalled that Serbia was entitled to ethnic particularism; however, it was prevented from playing the role of ‘true’ core that Russia played within the Soviet Union (Vujačić 2003). In essence, what this brief overview of key social, economic and institutional similarities and differences aimed to achieve is to flag the control variables for the comparative case study that will be conducted in the following chapters, as well as to identify arguments that could be useful in accounting for the different

56   Part II outcomes of the collapses of the former Soviet Union and Yugoslavia. On the side of what can be held equal are, to a large extent, socio-­economic conditions in the two states in the 1980s. Yugoslavia was arguably in a more troubled economic position, having not only experienced meagre and negative growth, but also battling soaring inflation. In the Soviet Union, there were signs of economic decline from the beginning of the decade, however not to the extent to be the main cause of the collapse, despite what some of the pundits had been pointing to ex post. The vast disparities in the development across the republics are another similarity between the two states. The position of the core states within this context is particularly worth noting since Serbia by itself (excluding Kosovo and Vojvodina) ranked as the third most prosperous republic out of the eight republics and provinces. RSFSR ranked among the top three richest republics, thus in relative terms, as a core republic, it was better off economically in comparison to Serbia. With respect to institutional comparisons, since the adoption of the 1974 Constitution, SFRY was without a doubt less centralized than the former Soviet Union and a de facto confederal state (Vejvoda 1996). As the federal units started to increasingly identify with their titular ethnic groups, representatives from the six Yugoslav republics and two autonomous provinces that met at the central cabinet level began more assertively advancing the interests of their local constituents. As a result of such dynamics, the central government was losing political clout (Rothchild 1986; Lake and Rothchild 2005). In the former Soviet Union, pushes towards territorial decentralization commenced only towards the end of the 1980s with Gorbachev’s series of reforms that were designed to devolve greater powers from the centre to the fifteen union republics (Lapidus and Walker 1990; Lake and Rothchild 2005). The contrasting experience with respect to decentralization was also visible in the way military forces were set up. Unlike the Soviet Union, Yugoslavia had an almost dual military structure, as the republic-­based units of territorial defence existed parallel to the national army (Bunce 1999). Thus, as it has been argued from an institutionalist perspective, some of the crucial structural elements within Yugoslavia created an environment in which ethnonationalist mobilization was easier to achieve. Furthermore, regarding the two core republics, Serbia and Russia, which both had significant proportions of titular population living in the peripheral units, the most important institutional difference stems from the fact that only Serbia was allotted its own institutions. Russia, on the other hand, did not have the same institutional endowments that the other Soviet republics had. At the same time, both of the titular nations from the core republics made the majority of military staff, however, Serbian elites did not dominate the central-­level political and economic institutions as Russians did. Nonetheless, these insights might then be used to explain the ease with which the core republics managed to utilize the military force.

USSR and SFRY   57 Comparative experiences of liberalization

0

1970 1971 1972 1973 1974 1975 1976 1977 1978 1979 1980 1981 1982 1983 1984 1985 1986 1987 1988 1989 1990 1991

Finally, of great importance for the comparison in this monograph is the openness of the polity in the two states. Yugoslav socialism has usually been argued as economically less centralized, and politically more open than Soviet communism (Curtis 1992). With respect to the economy, socialist self-­management was a unique system of economic administration Yugoslavia developed after the Soviet-­led international communist alliance ousted Yugoslavia in 1948. Unlike the Soviet economic system, which was fully statist, the Yugoslav system allowed for limited private ownership. As for the polity, it can be seen from Figure 2.5 SFRY entered the 1980s decade as a politically more open system with a Polity score of –5.12 Interestingly, this score came just in 1980, as in 1979 the country was considered just as autocratic as the USSR with a score of –7. What changed to improve its standing were executive constraints, which were tightened from limited restraints on the executive to an arrangement in which the executive still had more effective authority than any accountability group, but was subject to some moderate constraints by them. It was the year when Marshal

–1

–2

–3

–4

–5

–6

–7 USSR

SFRY

–8

Figure 2.5  Polity IV scores for SFRY and USSR, 1970–1991. Source: Polity IV (2012).

58   Part II Tito died, which made his office of president of the republic for life redundant, thus its functions devolved to the nine-­member rotating State Presidency.13 The USSR was classified as an autocracy with a score of –7 for the most of the decade, with a first slight improvement in 1988 when it increased by one point, after which it jumped to –4 in 1989. In 1990, it finally reached the score of zero, which is how it stayed until its dissolution in 1991. These developments were directly related to Gorbachev’s economic and political reforms, which commenced in 1985. More specifically, when the country scored one point higher in 1988 (from –7 to –6) it was due to the improvement in the competitiveness of participation, i.e. the extent to which alternative preferences for policy can be pursued in the political arena (Polity IV). In 1987 there was no significant oppositional activity permitted outside the ranks of the regime and the CPSU. However, at the Nineteenth Conference of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union in June 1988 Gorbachev unveiled the plans for major political reforms and brought into being the ‘popular fronts’ in support of perestroika across the country. This was considered as allowing some organized political competition to occur outside the government, however still within directives and control from the regime (or what Polity IV classifies as suppressed competitiveness of participation). The improvement from being classified as an autocratic regime in 1988 to being seen as closed anocracy in 1989 occurred due to the same reason as in SFRY in 1979–1980. Namely, the executive constraints were seen to have tightened from ‘slight to moderate limitation on executive authority’ to an ‘intermediate category’, which was positive movement toward substantial limitations on the executive. The final and most significant jump occurred from 1989 to 1990 when the Soviet Union moved up on the Polity scale by four points from –4 to zero. 1990 was the year when the first set of relatively free legislative elections occurred across the Soviet republics, and hence an increase in the competitiveness of the executive recruitment variable score from ‘selection’ to ‘dual/transitional’. The results on the whole were mixed – in the Baltic republics candidates from the  opposition enjoyed overwhelming success, in RSFSR and Ukraine opposition had support on the local level yet not enough really to influence the ruling party’s standing, whereas in the Central Asian republics, opposition had very little success which arguably stimulated local elites in power to strengthen their grip on local politics (Montgomery and Remington 1994). In the same year the executive recruitment variable had a four point increase (from 3 to 7), which meant that there were significant improvements in terms of opportunities that citizens had in replacing their political representatives to move towards more regularly scheduled, competitive and open elections (Marshall et al. 2010).14 The Freedom House scores seem to better capture the nuances regarding the openness of the two polities, and they also better fit the common wisdom, which saw the former Yugoslavia as the more liberal of the two communist states. Thus, already in the first half of the 1980s SFRY was ranked as a ‘Partly Free’ state and so it remained until the end of the decade. On the other hand, the USSR achieved the ‘Partly Free’ status only in 1990. However, the improvements in

USSR and SFRY   59 the political rights and civil liberties categories for the Soviet Union are more than apparent after 1987, which reflects the implementation of glasnost and increased respect for basic civil rights under Gorbachev. On the eve of collapse, Yugoslavia reversed into a ‘Not Free’ status, as the illiberal mobilization gained clout throughout most of the country (Table 2.12). Overall, the Freedom House scores tend to show that the Soviet Union began liberalizing already in 1987, while Yugoslavia followed a year later.

Competing theories of ethnic conflict in the former Soviet Union and Yugoslavia At the centre of analysis in this book is the dynamics of ethnonationalist mobilization expressed by titular groups in ethnically designated federal units,15 as well the consequences of such behaviour in terms of whether it resulted in conflict or not. The 1980s were a tumultuous decade for both the Soviet Union and Table 2.12  Freedom House scores for USSR and SFRY, 1980–1992 1980

USSR SFRY

1981

PR

CL

Status

PR

CL

Status

PR

CL

Status

6 6

6 5

NF NF

6 6

7 5

NF NF

6 6

7 5

NF NF

1983–1984

USSR SFRY

1984–1985

CL

Status

PR

CL

Status

PR

CL

Status

6 6

7 5

NF PF

7 6

7 5

NF PF

7 6

7 5

NF PF

1987–1988

1988–1989

PR

CL

Status

PR

CL

Status

PR

CL

Status

7 6

7 5

NF PF

7 6

6 5

NF PF

6 5

5 5

NF PF

1989–1990

USSR SFRY

1985–1986

PR

1986–1987

USSR SFRY

1982

1990–1991

1991–1992

PR

CL

Status

PR

CL

Status

PR

CL

Status

6 5

5 4

NF PF

5 5

4 4

PF PF

– 6

– 5

– NF

Source: Freedom House (2013). Notes PR = Political Rights; CL = Civil Liberties; NF = Not Free; PF = Partly Free.1 Scale = 1 (most free) – 7 (least free). 1 An average of each pair of political rights and civil liberties ratings determines whether a country is awarded an overall status of ‘Free’ (1.0–2.5), ‘Partly Free’ (2.51–5.5) or ‘Not Free’ (5.51–7.0).

60   Part II Yugoslavia. In their last years of existence the USSR and SFRY experienced a similar state of affairs – impulses for political and economic liberalization were growing stronger, secessionist pushes started undermining territorial integrity and began signalling the collapse of these federations, while the widespread problem of ‘minorities at risk’ within separatist republics was becoming all too conspicuous. The puzzle that drives this project is that in the years after the breakup, the occurrence and spillover of ethnopolitical conflicts had been comparatively higher on the territory of the former Yugoslavia, as none of the republics managed to escape some form of organized violence. A brief summary of ethnonationalist movements across the regions offers some context for the manner in which ethnic conflicts emerged. In the Soviet Union, Mikhail Gorbachev’s policies of perestroika (restructuring) and glasnost (openness) with the aims of economic transformation and political liberalization, created the window of opportunity for nationalist mobilization. Just over a year after glasnost’s introduction, in the beginning of 1988, large-­scale uprisings began around the country. In the period of nineteen months, from February 1988 to August 1989, ethnonationalist movements gained clout in Estonia, Lithuania, Latvia, Armenia, Azerbaijan, Georgia, Ukraine and Moldova (Tarrow 1994; Beissinger 2002). These developments demonstrated that the Soviet centre was not prepared for controlling the course of events in the Baltic republics and the Transcaucasus. The violent suppression of mass demonstrations by the Soviet army in Tbilisi, Georgia in early 1989 only made things worse as it created political backlash within that republic, but also more widely, and even made parts of the federal government challenge the use of violence as the means of quashing nationalist protests (Tarrow 1994). Not long after, several violent ethnic conflicts started breaking out in Transcaucasian and Central Asian republics – between Abkhaz and Georgians, Armenians and Azerbaijanis, Kyrgyz and Tajiks, Uzbeks and Meskhetian Turks, and Kazakhs and Lezgins. The tsunami of ethnonationalist mobilization seemed unstoppable and it even reached the core republic of Russia. The great irony was that many Russians joined in attacks against the imperial Soviet centre and voicing their demands for independence – a phenomenon that has been referred to as the “de-­Sovietization of Russia” (Szporluk 2000, p. 243). After the collapse of the Union, some of these conflicts further escalated (such as the Abkhazian conflict from 1992 to 1993 and the war over Nagorno-­Karabakh from 1988 to 1994) and new ones emerged (for instance the conflicts in Transnistria in 1992, South Ossetia from 1991 to 1992, and Chechnya from 1994 to 1996, and from 1999 to 2000). Yet, interestingly, strong ethnonationalist movements and secession such as the one in the Baltics ended with very limited incidents of violence. Moreover, the conflicts remained relatively concentrated around the geographical areas in which they first appeared. Finally, most of these conflicts ended in a stalemate, and thus remain frozen to date (Beehner 2006; Peet 2008).16 Ethnonationalist movements in some of the former Yugoslav republics began gaining strength already in the early 1980s. A year after the death of Marshal

USSR and SFRY   61 Josip Broz Tito in 1980, the first outbreak of violent anti-­Yugoslav demonstration occurred in the capital of Kosovo, Priština, and quickly spread throughout the province. In 1983 the first mass demonstrations that voiced the discontent with the situation in Kosovo and Metohija arose in Serbia, while four years later, Slobodan Milošević in the capacity of president of the League of Communists of Serbia, visited Kosovo Polje in response to Serbian complaints against aggressive Albanian nationalism. From then on, in the period of three years until the parliamentary elections took place across all the Yugoslav republics in 1990, ethnonationalist movements only strengthened throughout the federation. The first armed clashes began in early 1991 between Croatian paramilitary forces and the Yugoslav People’s Army (Jugoslavenska Narodna Armija, JNA), a conflict that soon after escalated to war. Around the same time, Slovenia experienced short and limited warfare against the JNA forces after its proclamation of independence. As ethnic tensions intensified in Bosnia-­Herzegovina, violent clashes erupted in early 1992 (Pavković 2000). The wars in Croatia and Bosnia-­Herzegovina ended in 1995, but another major outbreak of violence began to emerge on the territory of the former Yugoslavia. Since the passive resistance movement of Kosovo Albanians failed to achieve independence for the province, the ethnic Albanian rebel movement, the Kosovo Liberation Army17 (KLA) began with attacks against Serbian targets in the mid-­1990s. By the summer of 1998, Albanians were mounting mass protests against Serbian rule, while the Serbian police and army reinforcements engaged in a campaign against the KLA. Finally, the NATO forces intervened with airstrikes against targets in Serbia and Kosovo in March 1999 in order to stop the persecution of Kosovo Albanians. In 2001, even Macedonia, which was upheld by many as a relatively solid model of peaceful coexistence throughout the 1990s experienced short yet violent interethnic conflict between Macedonian security forces and ethnic Albanian rebels allied with the KLA (Ramet 2006). The wars that ravaged the region in the last decade of the twentieth century have not re-­emerged in the new millennium, even though interethnic tensions in some of the successor republics have been known to escalate occasionally. Primordial theories The reasoning behind many journalistic accounts of ethnic conflicts can be summed up as follows: the presence of different ethnic minorities, many with a history of mutual animosity, contributes to the rise of hypernationalism which then causes the conflicts. Hypernationalism, as used here, can be best defined as a belief that other nations are inferior and should be dominated (van Evera 1990/1991, pp.  47–48). It stems from Morgenthau’s (1993) idea that when people identify themselves with their nation’s accomplishments in a kind of aggressive nationalism, violent conflict is particularly likely. The aforementioned concept of differentiation comes into play for primordial explanations since scholars such as Geertz (1967) and Barth (1969) emphasize the importance of cultural differences as the sources of ethnic mobilization and

62   Part II conflict. It all emanates from the basic notion that a group’s ethnic identity becomes apparent only when it is in contrast with another group’s identity, or the ‘us’ versus ‘them’ mentality. A potential problem with this line of argument is that it suggests that all states with people of different ethnic, tribal, religious or national backgrounds are inherently unstable and prone to disintegration, especially if these differences have, at one time or another, been the cause of violent conflict (Mearsheimer and Pape 1993). Clearly, the presence of diverse ethnic groups within a state and a history of conflict cannot be the sole reason to explain the rise of nationalism and the violent breakup of a state. The most frequent criticism of the primordialist approach is its assumption of fixed identities and its failure to account for variations in the level of conflict over time and place (Lake and Rothchild 1998). Its inherent limitation is the inability to explain the emergence of new and transformed identities, or account for long periods in which either ethnicity is not a salient political characteristic and in which relations between different ethnic groups are comparatively peaceful. This is especially pertinent for the two regions that will serve as cases in this book. Namely, primordialists would have us believe that the Cold War had kept a lid on primordial ethnic hostilities, and that with its passing, old animosities started to re-­emerge (Holsti 1996). The problem is much more complex than that, since ethnic identities are malleable and variable. Hatreds could not just go underground for fifty years and suddenly re-­emerge with the dissolution of the Soviet and Yugoslav federations. One has to only look at the incidence of interethnic marriages in former Yugoslavia to see how such arguments have trouble finding support in official records. In some republics, almost every fourth marriage was between members of different ethnic group (Savezni zavod za statistiku 1992). This figure seems to be inconsistent with the ancient hatreds argument. Cultural attributes One stream of primordial explanations points to the argument that cultural similarities or differences can affect the escalation or de-­escalation of conflictive behaviour. This line of reasoning stems from the studies of intercultural communication, which have demonstrated that the way in which signals are decoded across cultures can result in misinterpretation and misperceptions of the sender’s intentions (Hall 1977; Hofstede 1980; Hofstede 1991; Triandis 1995; Cohen 1997; Regan and Leng 2003). In brief, if culture is used as the codebook for interpreting signals and cues, then the greater the cultural difference between two groups, the greater the likelihood that signals will be misinterpreted and the groups will misperceive each other’s intentions. One of the most famous arguments among cultural differentiation theories is Samuel Huntington’s (1993) ‘clash of civilizations’ thesis, which hypothesizes that cultural differences are a significant source of interstate conflict in their own right. Huntington posited that religious identity is a civilization’s defining

USSR and SFRY   63 cultural characteristic and that cultural differences based primarily on religion lead to ‘civilizational clashes’. This thesis has been challenged on descriptive grounds for underestimating intra-­cultural diversity, particularly in Islamic states (Hunter 1998), on methodological grounds for reifying culture and ignoring variations in the effects of cultural influences on individuals (Avruch 1998), as well as in the findings of empirical studies of intrastate (Gurr 1993) and interstate conflicts (Russett et al. 2000; Henderson and Tucker 2001). In the case of the Western Balkans and Transcaucasia, it would be hard to argue that the internationalized ethnic conflicts were the product of mainly civilizational clash even though rival groups often adhered to different religions. Rather, this book tests the argument within which ethnic identity played a role in initial ethnonationalist mobilization, but it was the interplay of such mobilization and opportunity structures that led to the escalation of conflicts. Another way of distinguishing between cultures is through individualist/­ collectivist categorizations based on a comparative survey by Hofstede (1991). However, such classifications cannot be made with confidence in the case of the Soviet Union and the former Eastern and Central European Soviet bloc states, as they are not included in Hofstede’s study. Though, scholars such as Leng and Regan have argued that they would fall into the ‘collectivist’ category. In a quantitative study that explores cultural effects on the outcome of mediation in militarized interstate disputes (MIDs) using Huntington and Hofstede’s classifications, Leng and Regan (2003) found that the effects of shared regional identity are mixed. There is a positive relationship between culture and the use of negotiation in those states sharing the same regional and political cultures. On the one hand, spatial proximity creates more opportunities for militarized disputes to occur, on the other hand, shared cultural norms within the region may make it easier for states to move to negotiations. Interestingly, the authors found that former Soviet bloc republics were more likely to become involved in MIDs. However, this goes against the results that show that cultural similarities or differences between the disputants affect the use of negotiation and its success in MIDs. Even though the cultural explanation gained some traction, especially throughout the 1990s and early 2000s, it seems that it fails to account for variations in conflicts in former Yugoslavia and Soviet Union. At the time being, it seems that political culture arguments based on the democratic peace theory fare better at explaining the occurrence of conflicts (Doyle 1986; Dixon 1993; Russett 1993; Dixon 1994; Russett et al. 2000) than social culture explanations. In that respect, one could rather argue that the conflicts occurred because the states in question were not democracies at the time, and the leaders had little or no inclination to settle disputes through negotiation and compromise. Rather, they played the ‘culture’ card to mobilize support for their goals. Territorial concentration Explanations based on ancient hatreds and immutable identities offer alternative mechanisms linking ethnicity and nationalism to violence. Some scholars have

64   Part II found that ethnic heterogeneity produces violence, but this finding has come under critique from those who question the measurement used (Cederman and Girardin 2007). Ethnic and national differences alone may not produce violence. However, where there are exclusionary policies based on these differences, violence may ensue. Cederman and Girardin (2007) find that violence is more likely when the ruling ethnic group is a demographic minority. Toft (2003) argues that violence occurs when an ethnic group is geographically concentrated and seeks sovereignty. Related to this is the phenomenon of enclaves, which has long been a subject of study within social sciences. It has been hypothesized that both majorities and minorities will be more intolerant when living within rather than outside enclaves (Massey et al. 1999). According to several studies of former Yugoslavia from 1985 to 2003 minority enclaves emerged as sites of the most intense intolerance observed in the former Yugoslavia just prior to its dissolution (Hodson et al. 1994; Massey et al. 1999; Sekulić et al. 2006). The intensification of intolerance applied to both majority and minority groups living in minority enclaves (Massey et al. 1999). Enclaves have also been recognized as the strongholds of political and military authority in a war that selectively targeted civilians on the basis of ethnic identity (Denitch 1994; Silber and Little 1996). Moreover, Olson (1965) writes about the logic of collective action, stating that groups whose members are not dispersed across the country but condensed into a smaller area might be better able to politicize their identity differences. However, the experience from the former Soviet republics shows that geographical concentration argument does not fully hold.18 Even though geographic concentration affected the mobilizational capacities of ethnic groups, the case studies will demonstrate that this was not the single driving factor behind the ethnonationalist mobilization. The sense that ethnic and national differences are linked to violence is fairly intuitive in an age in which ethnic and national cleavages are manifested in many conflicts. However, the causal logic linking ethnicity and nationalism to violence faces three potential challenges. First, existing explanations cannot explain why inter-­communal relations are so often peaceful and cooperative. Explanations that see ethnic and national differences as prone to prompting fear, resentment and exclusion tend to over-­predict the occurrence of violence. Even where an ethnic group faces discrimination and domination, these conditions do not always produce violence and can be enduring features of the political landscape. Cederman and Girardin (2007), for instance, qualify their finding that violence is more likely where the dominant group is a demographic minority by noting that this increased probability does not mean that all or even most such contexts experience violence. A second, related challenge is the inability of many of these arguments to account for temporal variation. Like regime type and geographical features, ethnic heterogeneity, settlement patterns and historical conditions of inequality and discrimination are often fairly stable over time, and therefore tell us little about when we are likely to see violence begin. The only arguments able to

USSR and SFRY   65 provide predictions about timing are those that see violence following state collapse, but those arguments do not account for ethnic and nationalist violence that occurs when the state is intact. The final challenge to these arguments can be developed from the literature that sees ethnic and national identities as constructed and malleable. Accounts that link ethnic and national identities to violence may fail to consider that such identities are not always foremost in people’s minds; people may identify themselves in other ways, and ethnicity and nationalism are not always salient. Ethnicity and nationalism may only become important as a result of conflict, not prior to it. Therefore, one needs to consider how ethnic and national differences come to be emphasized in the first place. Instrumentalist theories Arguments found under the umbrella of instrumentalist approaches to ethnic conflict stress the political manipulation of ethnic identity in achieving individual or group goals. The rationalist models of ethnic conflict borrow the instrumentalist framework, and use the concept of ethnicity as a response to economic rights or security deprivation (Gilley 2004). There is no consensus over the most salient factors that might cause groups to attach political significance to their cultural identities. I divide the instrumentalist approach into three key categories: pure uncertainty, elite predation and group grievances. I conclude that the combination of these factors makes for a base to better understand the ethnonationalist mobilization in the former Yugoslavia and Soviet Union. Pure uncertainty It was Kaufman (2006, p. 49) who used the term ‘pure uncertainty’ to describe a set of arguments under the rationalist-­instrumentalist umbrella. Scholars such as Fearon (1995) and Lake and Rothchild (1998) have been singled out as leading authors in arguing that information failures create insecurities which lead to conflict even if the competing sides do not want it. The reasoning behind it was that due to uncertainty groups might overestimate their adversary’s hostility and thus escalate to conflict. Moreover, under such circumstances the parties will have issues with credibly committing to peace deals. In Rethinking Violence, Chenoweth and Lawrence point that violence is a function of uncertainty and threat, either from outside the state or within it. This can be two-­fold: on the one hand, there is a link between a state’s decision to employ violence and the regional instability and interstate war. On the other hand, for non-­state actors, there is competition and uncertainty among elites at the domestic level as triggers of violence. Taken together, they call it a balance of power approach to political violence (Chenoweth and Lawrence 2010). Scholars of the international system argue that long-­studied shifts in the international balance of power and their consequences as the reason for interstate war. Analogously, shifts in the balance of power can create conditions of

66   Part II uncertainty and affect the use of violence by civilians and against civilians. This approach resembles Posen’s (1993) ethnic security dilemma, because he too considers the balance of power among ethnic groups. However, there is an important difference for Posen, since the threat of violence always exists. Unlike the balance of power approach to political violence, which suggests that the demand for ethnic conflict emerges endogenously from the conflict, the ethnic security dilemma is pre-­existing, even in times of peace. Yet in times of peace, the groups are constrained from using violence by the state. Of particular importance for regional dynamics of conflict is the insight that changes in the international climate can affect states’ perceptions of the loyalty of their own citizens (Chenoweth and Lawrence 2010). Changes in leadership and transfer of power among elite actors can produce uncertainty within groups that challenge the state and lead to the adoption of violence. Thus, intrastate political violence is often a function of interstate politics. Interstate and domestic turmoil can disrupt the domestic balance of power and prompt intrastate violence (Chenoweth and Lawrence 2010). The focus on power shifts is relevant for both the former Soviet Union and Yugoslavia. In the USSR uncertainty arose after the announcement of a set of reforms such as perestroika (restructuring), glasnost (openness), demokratizatsiya (democratization) and uskoreniye (acceleration) in the period between 1985 and 1988. In some Soviet republics the emergence of titular separatist movements spurred counter-­mobilization on part of the ethnic ‘others’ they mobilized against. This scenario was particularly prominent in Georgia, Armenia, Azerbaijan, Estonia, Lithuania and Latvia. In Yugoslavia, the emergence of the opposition movements within and outside the ruling communist party’s system began or were accelerated within a couple of years after Marshal Tito’s death in 1980 (Seroka and Pavlovic 1992). As mentioned earlier, the first protests of Kosovo Albanians commenced in 1981, which was soon followed by Serbian protests, while in Slovenia civil society groups increasingly began organizing. Moreover, calls for political transformation that ensued later in the decade were largely due to a deepening economic crisis and growing tensions between the federal republics and various ethnic groups. The uncertainty these times brought ask for a more refined dynamic theory that accounts for the eruption of violence at a particular point in time. Studying moments at which existing power-­holders change and domestic politics are disrupted can also help account for the occurrence of conflicts. It would be expected that peaceful strategies make more sense in stable contexts than they do in highly uncertain ones. Additionally, uncertainty may prevent actors from coordinating their actions and lead to proliferation of both violent and non-­violent acts (Chenoweth and Lawrence 2010). Elite manipulation Another set of important explanations for violence focuses on the role that elites play in instigating violence. A number of studies have suggested that elites may

USSR and SFRY   67 stir up mass sentiment, serve as the first movers and incite others to act violently (Brass 1991; Gagnon 1994; De Figueiredo and Weingast 1999). Brown (1996), for instance, sees the ‘bad’ leaders as responsible for internal violence. These kinds of explanations raise questions about just why masses are willing to follow elites and engage in violence. Fearon and Laitin (2003) consider a number of reasons why masses might be influenced by elite manipulation: masses might have limited access to other sources of information; they might discount elite roles and blame ethnic and national others; or they might be convinced by elites that there is a security threat. Others maintain that elite manipulation cannot be the entire story. Varshney (2003) argues that while elites may be motivated by the desire for power, the masses must have reasons to follow them, particularly when violent action entails risk. He once again comes back to the power of identity to mobilize, suggesting that elite manipulation can only work in combination with other commitments. The argument that violence occurs when elites incite it appears capable of providing only a partial explanation for episodes of violence. Scholars have to consider why elites’ messages resonate and why they seek to inflame their followers in particular times and places (Chenoweth and Lawrence 2010). Elites may continually wish for more power, but they may not always see violence as an effective means to gain it. Elite explanations thus work best in combination with other kinds of explanations. The elite manipulation argument is particularly relevant for the case of the former Yugoslavia, where it appears that the ‘bad men of history’ phenomenon was at play (Lake 2003). Some leaders could be described as willing to run a higher risk of war than others and may even positively desire war. According to Stoessinger (2001), these are the ‘war lovers’ who pull countries into violence. In Yugoslavia new leaders accentuated differences in society along ethnic, religious and nationalist lines, with Serbs under the leadership of Milošević featuring most prominently. More broadly, this line of argument relates to the greed versus grievance dichotomy of causes of ethnic conflict. The elite-­manipulation explanation could be associated with self-­interested behaviour and material gains on part of the leaders (Berdal and Malone 2000; Collier 2000; Collier and Hoeffler 2004). Scholars such as Snyder (2000) and Gagnon (2004) see the developments in Yugoslavia in the early 1990s as the result of incumbent elites seeking to defend their power in the face of mass mobilization and the threat of regime reformation. They place the blame squarely with elites, who are argued to have used the danger of an interethnic conflict as a tool to secure their grip on power, and negligently or wilfully accepted the onset of violent conflict as a consequence of their own doing. In the case of the former Soviet Union, the elite-­manipulation argument is not as prominent as an explanation (Toft 2003). However, in some conflicts, such as the wars in Chechnya, Dzhokhar Dudaev’s charisma and manipulation of nationalist discourse were instrumental in the lead-­up to the conflict. As will become clear in the case studies introduced in later chapters, in some of the cases, elite

68   Part II manipulation was one of the crucial elements for ethnonationalist mobilization. However, it was neither the single nor decisive factor behind the conflicts. Furthermore, such explanations need to address why ‘bad men’ refrain from inciting ethnic conflict in other contexts, as well as the counterfactual ‘dog that did not bark’. Group grievances The grievances or oppression arguments for ethnonationalist mobilization can be divided into three distinct types: historical, economic and political (or institutional). This categorization is somewhat similar to the Minorities At Risk (MAR) dataset coding (2009), though for the purposes of this project cultural discrimination is included within institutional oppression, while historical grievances are added as a separate category. E pisodes of past oppression

Resentment about past losses is one of the crucial incentives for ethnopolitical action that Gurr (2000, p. 69) describes in his volume. People who have experienced historical oppression have undergone decremental deprivation and are motivated to seek redress for what was lost. If this oppression came from the regime, it would be logical to expect that they will be more likely to attempt either overthrowing it or leaving it altogether. However, historical events such as repression, colonization and violence against ethnic group are not immediately determinative. The reasoning behind this comes from the insight that all the members of an ethnic group do not understand traumatic historical episodes in identical terms. Historical traumas need to be framed and defined in the ways that will persuade members of the ethnic group to mobilize. Brown (1996) states that if antagonistic historical events occurred, negative group perceptions and emotions are simply there. Lake and Rothchild (1998) add that these must be magnified by structural conditions and self-­interested political entrepreneurs for mobilization to occur. Bunce (1998) offers food for thought by pointing out the conflicting role of history for mass mobilization; in the case of Spain it was a basis for cooperation, whereas in Yugoslavia it served as a catalyst for conflict. The trauma that Chechens suffered in 1944 when Josef Stalin deported the entire Chechen people to Central Asia can be seen as one of the triggers for strong nationalism among the group. At the same time, it is important to keep in mind that some of the very Chechens that suffered or lost relatives in the deportation later joined the Communist Party. Moreover, Balkars in Kabardino-­ Balkaria and Karachai in Karachaevo-­Cherkessia underwent the same traumatic experience, yet they did not exhibit any significant level of nationalist mobilization (Giuliano 2011). Another interesting set of cases comes from the Baltic republics, which were annexed to the Soviet Union and effectively colonized in  1939 under the Molotov-­Ribbentrop Pact. Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania

USSR and SFRY   69 experienced strong nationalist revivals in the late 1980s; however, these did not result in violent conflicts. In the former Yugoslavia, Serbian ethnic identity suffered from national question as the Serbian state did not coincide with the boundaries of the Serbian nation until the early twentieth century, and even afterwards there was a significant proportion of Serbs living outside Serbia proper (Lederer 1994). More so, the narrative of Serbian identity was closer to that of an ethnic victim and a martyr at the hands of foreign empires (Vujačić 1996). Serbian nationalists, for instance, made effective use of the memories about atrocities committed by the Croatian Ustasha government during the Second World War to mobilize Serbian support for the war against Croatia by labelling Croats as Ustashe. Counter-­ labelling occurred on the part of Croats who referred to Serbs as Chetniks (Gurr 2000). It is important to stress that Croatian ethnic identity equally hinged on grievances from being ruled by different empires throughout history. More importantly, starting in as early as the 1970s, the peripheral republics in Yugoslavia all began expressing dissatisfaction with the perceived domination by the Serbs (Ramet 2006). Economic oppression

Economic inequality is another type of disadvantage that contributes to incentives for mobilization. The underlying argument is that inequalities in material well-­being provide incentives for remedial action. Studies such as Dudley and Miller’s (1998) demonstrate that indicators of relative deprivation, amongst which is economic performance, tend to be more important predictors of the occurrence and magnitude of violent conflicts, than indicators of diffusion or state capabilities. Essentially, when people are poor or they feel they are unjustifiably poorer than their neighbours, they are much more apt to find cause to escalate to violence. Furthermore, conflict results when one or more groups perceive they are being unjustly deprived of deserved goods (Collier and Hoeffler 1998, 2004; Fearon and Laitin 2003). As an extension of this argument, the literature argues that the inequalities emerge during modernization and industrialization processes. For instance, Anderson (1983) suggests that ethnic differentiation materializes when groups who do not speak the majority language are economically marginalized because they cannot move into the workforce as easily as those groups who do speak the language. Moreover, Horowitz (1985) warns that the risk of ethnic mobilization increases if ethnic divisions and class divisions within the society overlap. Whereas Gellner (1983) sees ethnic mobilization as means by which economically disadvantaged minorities achieve economic prosperity. In Yugoslavia, the economic crisis of the late 1970s and early 1980s led to increasing tensions between the republics and even triggered constitutional conflict (Woodward 1995). Moreover, it raised the questions about the Yugoslav socialist ideology, especially regarding the failure to deliver equality and close the gap between the least (Kosovo) and the most developed regions (Slovenia

70   Part II and Croatia). Interestingly, it was exactly in Kosovo, Slovenia and Croatia that strong economic nationalist movements took off (Jović 2009). In Kosovo, the nationalist movement had a strong notion of economic equality echoing Enver Hoxha’s radical egalitarianism, whereas in Slovenia and Croatia there was an increasing atmosphere of informal protectionism since workers from less developed Yugoslav republics increasingly felt unwanted (Jović 2009). After the 1974 Yugoslav Constitution came into effect, the republics were becoming increasingly centralized internally, while the federation was growing more decentralized. What is also interesting is that at the time of the economic crisis in the early 1980s, both the rich and poor republics opposed the recentralization of the Yugoslav system. However, there are claims that these tensions between the central government and republics/provinces did not have as pronounced an ethnic note. Rather, some episodes of obstruction of federal policy and threats of using veto powers emerged as a way to ensure each republic’s economic interests were protected (Bilandzic 1986; Jović 2009). On the other hand, industrialization in the Soviet Union was driven by the Bolsheviks’ efforts to promote the interests of ethnic minorities. Ethnic territories were organized in a way to promote the interests of national minorities and to bring them to the level of the most industrialized ethnic groups, most notably Russians. Urbanization and improved education were amongst the modernizing policies mandated top-­down. In that respect, Soviet industrialization was biased towards disadvantaged and backward populations (George 2009). However, substantial inequalities persisted when Brezhnev declared in 1972 that the major economic disparities among national groups had been resolved, and the central government’s efforts to reduce these inequalities were lacking in the 1970s and 1980s (Schroeder 1993). Russia, Belarus and the three Baltic republics – Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania – had the highest levels of gross national product (GNP), whereas Azerbaijan and the four Central Asian republics – Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan – ranked the lowest. Republics in the middle of the group were Ukraine, Moldova, Kazakhstan, Armenia and Georgia (Hardt and Kaufman 1993). Yet, previous studies have indicated that there is an unclear relationship between urbanization disparity within (and between the republics) and the violence they experienced. Namely, George (2009) finds that South Ossetia was significantly more urbanized than the Georgians living on the same territory, and similar urban advantage was experienced by Abkhazians over Georgians. Moreover, Chechnya and Ingushetia pose another type of conundrum since both regions experienced a considerable urban disparity in comparison to Russians, and yet, the characters of their ethnonationalist movements differed significantly. Thus, despite the fact that the economic grievances argument is logically compelling, it fails to account for much variation in the Soviet Union, as well as the violent mobilization of both rich and poor republics and provinces in the former Yugoslavia.

USSR and SFRY   71 Political oppression

The final grievances hypothesis stems from the argument that ethnonationalist mobilization is more likely in states that carry out repressive and coercive anti-­ minority policies. These are for instance bans on religion, language and economic livelihood. Gurr (2000) argues that autocratic regimes are more likely to experience divisive ethnic mobilization and conflict since they lack outlets for political participation. Other scholars, such as Brown (1996) and Kaufman (1996), assume that by default ethnic groups in their entirety support minority language and religious revival. Soviet experience is puzzling in the sense that at first, as part of the implementation of Communism to ethnic territories Bolsheviks supported both native and Russian literacy, through opening presses that published native language newspapers and books, building native language schools and creating written alphabets for languages that had until then only been spoken (Martin 2001). However, as the Soviet government gained strength, it vastly changed its policies to include systematic deportations and the cleansing of ethnic groups who were considered traitorous. Nonetheless, George (2009) notes that some of the separatist regions that experienced oppression were the same ones to decry the dissolution of the Soviet Union, calling for its reinstatement (for instance, Dzhokhar Dudaev allegedly remarked he considered suing the Russian government for the demise of the Soviet Union). Another pertinent point is that the Soviet state’s obliteration of organized religion did not necessarily produce a grievance among all the members of different religions. According to Giuliano (2011), by the time national revival gained clout in the late 1980s after decades of Soviet rule, a considerable proportion of people saw a return to traditional practices characteristic to their ethnic identity as quite irrelevant to their concerns and beliefs. Furthermore, many of them had already discarded religious practices and beliefs, while preserving their ethnic identities. Significant discrimination of ethnic minorities and breaches of their rights, particularly in terms of restrictions of language in the way that titular nation’s language would be imposed on the minorities, occurred in the years after the Soviet Union began with political liberalization and as some of the republics began the process of democratic transition. Telling examples include the so-­ called ‘war of laws’, where a November 1988 law strengthening the position of the Georgian language in South Ossetia led to disturbances the following year when the government in Tbilisi took measures to make Georgian the sole official language for use in public life. Around the same time, the Baltic states introduced similar language laws which resulted in counter-­mobilization dynamics of Russian-­speakers in Latvia and Estonia, and Poles and Russian-­speakers in Lithuania (Lieven 1993; Beissinger 2002, 2009). The Yugoslav socialist regime had a less restrictive stance on religion as evidenced in Article 174 of the 1974 Yugoslav Constitution. Religious communities were free to perform religious rites and affairs, though they could only

72   Part II establish religious schools for the training of clergy. Moreover, misuse of religion for political activities was strictly forbidden. The research stemming from that period observed similar secularization trends as in the Soviet Union. In particular, religious belief appeared less intense among the traditionally Orthodox segments of the population (Serbs, Montenegrins and Macedonians) than in Roman Catholic areas such as Slovenia and Croatia, or among the Islamic population of Bosnia. Nonetheless, the trend indicated a significant decrease in the identification and practice of all religious activities (Cohen 1998). The rise of religious nationalism commenced as the Communist regime began to encounter serious economic, political and interethnic problems during the twilight of Tito’s rule and the first half-­decade after his death. The trend of desecularization, paired with constitutional decentralization allowed Yugoslav religious elites to create more ethnically congruent identities and fill a vast social vacuum. With respect to language policies, during Tito’s rule Serbo-­Croatian was the official language, while Slovenian and Macedonian languages were constitutionally recognized. However, linguistics had been subject to politicization decades before the dissolution of SFRY, since languages were put in nationalist context. For instance, already in the 1960s Croats began openly calling their language ‘Croatian’; in 1968 Kosovo Albanians abandoned their native Gheg dialect in favour of the Tosk standard used in Albania (which Serbs regarded as a move toward a unified Albanian state); Bosnia-­Herzegovina used a variant different from standard Serbo-­Croatian and Latin scripts, etc. (Ramet 2006). However, the real ‘birth’ of languages resulted from exclusive nationalist policies in the second half of the 1980s and early 1990s. It was then when various language purification campaigns began. Croatia is an interesting case in point since Croatians initiated a campaign to purge Serbian words and replace them with Croatian ones, while Serbs living in Croatia attempted to use Cyrillic as a marker of ethnic identity (Janda 2005). On the surface, it cannot be disputed that in both the former Soviet Union and Yugoslavia political oppression was present. However, it would be wrong to assume that these grievances were solely to blame for the national revivals. Moreover, it seems that at certain periods such restrictions on language and religion were not interpreted as explicit oppression among different ethnic groups as they were substituted with policies such as ‘brotherhood and unity’ (bratstvo i jedinstvo) in Yugoslavia and ‘friendship of the peoples’ (druzhba narodov) in the Soviet Union. As it will be demonstrated, these grievances became ‘activated’ when political and ethnic elites began utilizing them to further ethno­ political goals. Institutional theories While the two previously discussed approaches cover variables that are internal to a group’s identity, the institutional approach zeroes in on the contextual factors. Namely, these include regime type (democracy, autocracy or anocracy), changes in polity (liberalization or regime tightening), system of internal

USSR and SFRY   73 governance (unitary, federal or confederal arrangement) and state’s resources and capabilities. Crawford (1998) argues that state institutions determine the nature of interethnic relationships, as well as the level of conflict, through setting of norms, rules and procedures for allocation, participation, representation and accountability. Moreover, scholars such as Enloe (1981) and Nagel (1986) argue that if institutions are set up in a way that they distribute resources based on ethnicity, ethnic mobilization is very likely to follow. The institutional approach is closely related to the political opportunity structures (POS) argument introduced by Tilly (1978), and advanced in his collaboration with Doug McAdam and Sidney Tarrow (McAdam et al. 2001; Tilly and Tarrow 2006). McAdam (1996) stresses the four dimensions of POS to include: (1) the relative openness or closure of the institutionalized political system; (2) the stability or instability of that broad set of elite alignments that typically undergird a polity; (3) the presence or absence of elite allies; and (4) the state’s capacity and propensity for repression. Namely, these are the structures that can constrain or expand the field of collective action for ethnic groups. Gurr (2000) distinguishes between the durable structures, which include the political character of the state, its resources and alliances between ethnic groups; and transient opportunity factors such as changes in political institutions, changes of leadership, shifts in government policy and creation of new political allies. Three theoretical analyses follow here. The first addresses the durable structure of federalism, while the other two explore how regime change and weakening of the state create opportunities that make ethnic strife more likely. Federalism There has been an extensive debate over whether federal arrangements are potentially conflict-­mitigating solutions or whether they highlight the inherent instability of a given political system (Sambanis and Milanovic 2004; Lake and Rothchild 2005; Sambanis 2005; Bakke and Wibbels 2006; Christin and Hug 2006). The advocacy of ethnofederalism is tied to this debate, with its assumption that it allows different ethnic groups to form a stable and effective administrative unit (Stepan 1999). However, the literature arguing that ethnofederal arrangements induce conflict appears to have more supporting evidence, with the arguments stemming from Lipset (1963) and Nordlinger (1972), to more recently Snyder (2000). More specifically, studies of federalism in Yugoslavia (Bunce 1997) and the Soviet Union (Roeder 1991) have noted that in non-­democratic societies, federal structures only add to divisions between different groups and become a tool for manipulation by elites. Ethnofederal setup is in that sense an excellent template for ethnonationalist mobilization. The ethnofederal structure in the Soviet Union was hierarchical – the more important a group was deemed to be, the higher the autonomous status. There were four levels of ethnic regions and in the order of descending importance they included Union Republics (fifteen constituent republics), Autonomous Republics (such as Abkhazia and Crimea), Autonomous Oblasts (such as South

74   Part II Ossetia and Nagorno-­Karabakh) and Autonomous Okrugs (such as Chukotka and Evenk). In Yugoslavia, ethnofederalism was apparent on two levels – the six constituent socialist republics and the two autonomous provinces (Kosovo and Vojvodina). Within both the Soviet Union and Yugoslavia, the first units to secede were the union or constituent socialist republics respectively, thereby confirming the theoretical arguments that the higher levels of autonomy enable more power to determine local politics, and therefore more power to mobilize (Roeder 1991; Bunce 1998; Cornell 2002). This study builds on insights from several studies that found that the existence of an administrative designation positively correlates with the existence of ethnic separatism (Roeder 1991; Cornell 2002). In essence, autonomous status helps in mobilizational efforts since ethnofederal units have a political administration based on their own identity and interests. George (2009) finds that among the post-­Soviet successors associated with autonomous territories, only four out of twenty-­nine groups managed to avoid some kind of separatism. In the former Yugoslavia, virtually every group with some form of administrative status expressed separatist tendencies at one point or another after the breakup. However, the reason why ethnofederalism is important for this study is due to its particular asymmetric design in both SFRY and USSR; in other words, the existence of the core republic (Serbia and Russia) versus the periphery (the other five or fourteen constituent republics respectively). In Chapter 1, I have proposed an argument regarding the regional dynamics of conflict which incorporates such tension. I also recognize that for many comparativists federalism is linked to some form of democracy, as it is inextricably tied to decentralization and devolution of power to administrative units of lower order. In the former Yugoslavia ratification of the 1974 Constitution truly gave individual republics and provinces within Serbia more rights, and made the state into a de facto confederation (Iglar 1992). On the other hand, despite the fact the Soviet Union referred to its system as federal, the power was highly centralized and the federal units had very little real sway over the centre. One can really speak of greater or lesser degrees of influence on the centre, based on the leadership changes in Moscow. Nevertheless, more important than the amount of power these administrative units held is the fact that they existed, and that the boundaries between them to a large extent corresponded to the territories where a particular ethnic group was concentrated in significant proportion. Moreover, such ethnofederal units contained rival populations that were not titular in the unit, which then created particularly precarious settings once the states began unravelling. This study will thus factor in the extent to which the ethnofederal context promoted particular strands of ethnonationalist mobilization, and argue that the asymmetric nature of ethnofederations mattered in occurrence of conflicts. Regime change Academic debate on the links between democratization and conflict is an ongoing one, as the answers to the question whether democratization is an

USSR and SFRY   75 important driving force behind conflict remain divided. On the one side of the debate, Mansfield and Snyder have possibly been the most active in putting forward the argument that the liberal peace theory does not apply to states undergoing democratic transitions. In fact, under specific conditions, democratization can actually be conducive to conflict (Mansfield and Snyder 1995, 1996, 2002, 2005, 2007, 2009). Conversely, there is no scarcity of scholars who argue that factors such as volatility, the degree to which domestic authority is concentrated in a state’s central government, and democratic reversals increase conflict likelihood. However, these studies show that such impact is not found for democratizing states (Thompson and Tucker 1997; Ward and Gleditsch 1998; Gleditsch and Ward 2000; Braumoeller 2004; Daxecker 2007). The literature provides three sets of explanations for interstate conflict in democratizing countries. The first type focuses on institutional weaknesses in countries undergoing democratic transition. It has been extensively argued that states in the process of democratization are more prone to wage war because they lack the stability that political institutions provide in managing and ensuring democratic accountability (Huntington 1991; Zakaria 2003; Mansfield and Snyder 2005). The second, normative, explanation maintains that the states that are beginning a transition to democracy behave differently in international affairs than mature democracies because their citizens have not internalized liberal norms. Some transitional states may behave according to the liberal identity that they aspire to, but this is hardly the usual pattern (Owen 1997). Lastly, the informational explanation can be divided in two streams of thought. The first stream is connected to the lower transparency of democratizing polities, making it more likely that leaders in such systems will bluff or renege on agreements (Fearon 1994; Schultz 1999; Ikenberry 2001; Lipson 2003). Another sub-­category within informational explanation stresses the superior public-­policy analysis in mature democracies compared to other kinds of regimes. Since the free press and other evaluative institutions effectively scrutinize democratic governments’ explanations of their actions, democracies may happen to choose their wars more wisely and tend to win them at lower cost (van Evera 1994; Reiter and Stam 2002). With respect to interethnic conflicts and post-­communist transitions, the literature sometimes blames communist systems for creating and maintaining ethnic divisions, and yet suppressing any expression of such conflicts. In that vein, ethnic violence that followed system collapse was a mere manifestation of long-­ existing conflicts that were just muted as a result of strong authoritarian rule (Brunner 1996; Gurr 2000). Moreover, the transition from communism to democracy in multiethnic states primarily meant disintegration of the coercive system of governance, which enabled the ethnic groups to begin organizing and mobilizing in order to voice their demands vis-­à-vis the state and each other (Prazaukas 1991). In addition, applying the principle of majority democracy rule in multinational states brought additional fear for the ethnic minorities (Lijphart 1999). Both USSR and SFRY experienced democratization impulses in the late 1980s and early 1990s. However, the major difference between the two states

76   Part II was that the dominant stream of the core republic’s leadership in the Soviet Union agreed with the secession and independence of the constituent republics, while the Serbian leadership saw proclamations of independence as an attack on its own sovereignty. Yet, in both cases new transitional regimes lacked the resources and institutional capacities to make security guarantees for all its citizens, which made them particularly prone to ethnic conflict. The most tragic were the cases of incomplete democratizations or autocratic reversals, where there was no accommodation for minority demands and which led to violent ethnic conflicts. The next chapter will argue that regime transformation has a considerable effect on the occurrence of ethnic conflicts. However, this book will stress the importance of distinguishing between political liberalization and democratization, and moreover, show how the sequencing of liberalization and ethnic mobilization could be used to predict not only the success of transition, as Bunce (2003) argues, but also the likelihood of ethnic conflict. State weaknesses Another institutional explanation for the occurrence of interethnic conflicts zeroes in on diminishing state capacity or the weakening of central power. Ethnic groups take advantage of the perceived state weakness in order to further their political goals. According to Gurr (2000), this is another transient political opportunity structure for ethnic separatists looking to gain greater political power. Fearon and Laitin (2003) argue that weakened state capacity facilitates insurgency in a number of different ways, even though it is quite difficult to specify just what aspects of state capacity prompt a turn to violence. Several scholars have suggested mechanisms to link state weakness to the onset of violence. Lake and Rothchild (1998) contend that when state weakness leads states to lose their ability to arbitrate between groups or provide guarantees of protection, collective fears of the future prompt ethnic violence. Fearon (1998) posits a similar logic, but using a rationalist calculus. He argues that when groups find themselves without a third party (i.e. the state) that can credibly guarantee agreements, their commitment is less credible and violence ensues. Posen (1993) argues that when the state is weakened and conditions akin to anarchy exist, ethnic groups face a security dilemma – the actions they take to ensure their own security threaten others, and ethnic violence results. In his analysis of Yugoslavia’s collapse, Glenny (1996) stresses that a crucial factor in the rise of ethnonationalist movements was the diminished state capacity. This was the result of the 1974 Yugoslav Constitution that gave more autonomy to constituent republics, as well as the lack of willingness to assert more control over the federal territory. For Treisman (1999), the reason why the USSR and SFRY broke up lies in the political decisions taken at the height of federal crises. In the Soviet Union, the Gorbachev leadership had a decreasing ability to enforce fiscal agreements and used fiscal resources as a stick rather than a carrot by meting out punishment to the most restive areas. Even if the Soviet centre

USSR and SFRY   77 had been willing to buy off regional leaders through disbursements, there were no truly representative institutions at the centre. Moreover, both Treisman (1999) and Stoner-­Weiss (1997) have found that the weakness of the subsequent Yeltsin’s regime invited regional separatism as regional leaders realized they could manipulate the centre in order to obtain economic and political gains (George 2009). In Yugoslavia, Treisman (1999) argues, an institutionally weak and resource-­poor federal government sought to impose fiscal austerity throughout the federation. Rather than further empowering regional elites through budget payoffs, the Belgrade government sought to recentralize the federal system and ignored the demands of the most likely secessionists, and early on, demonstrated its willingness to use force against the periphery. However, there is a mismatch between these arguments and the empirical record. The state, rather than being absent and unable to serve as a security guarantor is often an active participant in violence. The state may not serve as a referee between ethnic groups when it is capable of doing so, but may take sides or even initiate ethnic violence (Chenoweth and Lawrence 2010). Moreover, state weakness provides an incomplete account for two additional reasons: first, it is insufficient explanation for violence because many weak states do not slip into state failure and violence. Second, contrary to Gurr (2000), state weakness is often an enduring condition, while violence may erupt sporadically or only at a certain point in time. It is thus difficult to rely on state weakness to explain why conflict erupts at particular times. As Lake (2003) points out, the ‘velvet divorce’ between the Czech Republic and Slovakia, and the several states of the former Soviet Union show that state weaknesses and even failures cannot fully account for the eruption of violence.

Conclusion This chapter has first discussed a number of structural and cultural similarities the USSR and SFRY shared. Still, it has been equally demonstrated that some of the differences in political, economic and social realms have to be taken into consideration as sources of alternative explanations for the difference in conflict dynamics on the territories of these two former ethnofederations. Furthermore, this chapter has provided a review of the main explanations for ethnic mobilization and conflict. Primordial arguments outline cultural differences and demographic characteristics as the main sources of interethnic conflict, and in that manner provide too simple an explanation for a rather complex relationship. Such explanations tend to be rigid and without an account for variations in the level of conflict over time. An instrumentalist approach on the other hand understands ethnicity as a tool used by individuals, groups or elites to pursue political or economic goals. The main problem with such an approach is that it ascribes too much power to ethnic leaders and political entrepreneurs, making the ethnic groups mere subjects of the manipulation and not taking into account the contextual factors. Finally, an institutional explanation rectifies the failure to account for factors external to ethnic identity, as it focuses on regime type, changes in

78   Part II polity, system of governance and institutional weaknesses. There is however no scholarly consensus on the relationship between democratization, federalism or state weaknesses on the one hand, and conflict on the other. In application to the regions of the former Soviet Union and Yugoslavia, the most relevant theories are those that provide an instrumentalist argument for internal factors behind ethnonationalist mobilization and institutional arguments for external sources contributing to ethnopolitical action. This does not mean that other ethnic theories do not offer plausible explanations for the occurrence of conflicts in these two regions. However, the link between ethnonationalist mobilization and conflict can be explained by an intersection of elite predation, uncertainty and grievances on the one hand, and structural conditions which include regime change and system of governance on the other. Namely, it will be argued in the following chapters that the instrumental manipulation of ethnic identity is a precondition for ethnonationalist mobilization, which may result in ethnic conflicts depending on the timing of such mobilization relative to political liberalization, as well as the setting with respect to the core-­periphery divide.

Notes   1 By the early 1980s systemic decline was more than apparent. Growth in the Soviet Union plunged in 1976 and in 1980 the economy entered an outright recession.   2 This was a positive trend as in 1959 less than half of the population was urban, while in 1970 and 1979 these figures increased significantly as the result of industrialization and were 56.3 percent and 62.3 percent respectively.   3 Gross social product (GSP) is used here since Yugoslav national output was measured in this way and it is the macroeconomic indicator that appears in the primary sources. International analysts and scholars have asserted that GSP is approximately 15 percent lower than gross national product (GNP). See Business International Forecasting Service: Yugoslavia, Economist Intelligence Unit, March 1, 1991, and Szayna and Zanini (2000). GSP is calculated as the sum of net material product and capital consumption, including the services such as education, health, defence, professional services and public administration.   4 Kosovo and Vojvodina are discussed here since the 1974 Yugoslav Constitution endowed the two provinces with de facto sovereign status, almost equalizing them with the six constituent republics. Both provinces had their own representatives in the rotating Federal Presidency, as well as the Federal Parliament, with the same legislative rights as the Yugoslav federal republics. In that way, they substantially differed from the Soviet autonomous republics, since the latter were granted substantially less autonomy. See for instance, Williams (2003).    5 The sharp drop in Armenia’s life expectancy in 1988 is due to the earthquake that took place in December of that year.   6 These indicators are used for comparison purposes only, since I am aware the methodology for obtaining HDI has been prone to criticism for focusing exclusively on national performance and ranking, not paying much attention to development from a global perspective, not including any ecological considerations, and measurement errors of the underlying statistics and formula changes by the UNDP which can lead to severe misclassifications of countries in the categories of being a ‘low’, ‘medium’, ‘high’ or ‘very high’ human development country. See more in Wolff et al. (2011).    7 The remaining nationalities without any territorial units of their own were in most cases minorities in the RSFSR.

USSR and SFRY   79   8 The Yugoslav ‘nations’ were the six titular groups from the federal republics; i.e. Croats, Macedonians, Montenegrins, Muslim Slavs, Serbs and Slovenes. The ‘nationalities’ were the Albanians, Bulgarians, Czechoslovak, Hungarians, Italians, Romanians, Ruthenians, Slovaks, Turks and Ukrainians. Other ethnic groups that made up less than 0.1 percent of the total Yugoslav population included the Austrians, Germans, Greeks, Gypsies, Jews, Poles, Russians and Vlachs. While they did not enjoy special constitutional status as communities, they were entitled to the same rights and freedoms as any other nation or nationality as provided by the Yugoslav Constitution (Sudetic 1992).   9 This will be discussed in more detail in Chapter 3 under the sections that analyse the sources of ethnic identity. 10 The way Russians dominated almost every aspect of Soviet polity and society became all the more apparent throughout the course of the 1970s and 1980s. In 1972, almost two thirds of the members of the Politburo, the highest organ of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union (CPSU), were Russians. This proportion was only increasing almost until the eve of the Soviet collapse as in 1989 Russians made 89 percent of Politburo members. By and large, Russians were the party second secretaries and the chiefs of the Komitet gosudarstvennoi bezopasnosti (KGB, or the Committee for State Security) in non-­Russian republics. They also made up well over half of the CPSU membership in the decade before the dissolution. Russians also held a high percentage of the most important positions in government, industry, agriculture, education, science and the arts, especially in the non-­Russian republics. The number of Russians attending higher education institutions also was disproportionate to their share of the population (Zickel 1991). 11 In 1983, Serbs accounted for almost 60 percent of the JNA officer corps, and an even higher percentage of Serbs made up the high command positions in the army. Almost every former federal secretary for national defence or the chief of the JNA General Staff was an ethnic Serb. However, it has to be noted that the Montenegrins were the most overrepresented nations, since they made up over 10 percent of the officer corps, and only 3 percent of the total Yugoslav population (Szayna 2000). 12 Polity scores range from –10 to +10, with –10 to –6 corresponding to autocracies, –5 to 5 corresponding to anocracies and 6 to 10 to democracies. 13 Throughout my empirical chapters, I will argue against the Polity scores for SFRY, as there had been significant reforms with respect to legalizing opposition parties and introducing multiparty elections in Yugoslav republics, particularly Slovenia and Croatia. 14 Vanhanen’s index of democratization (ID), which is calculated as the product of competition and participation, where the two components have equal weight, supports the Polity IV data for the Soviet Union. There was a significant jump in political competition from 1988 to 1989 (from 0 to 13), which is reflected in the ID over the same period (from 0 to 7.7). The ID for Yugoslavia, however, was consistently ranked at 0 throughout the entire period of the 1980s. For more, see Vanhanen (2008). 15 For instance, ethnic Croats were the titular group in the Socialist Republic of Croatia, while ethnic Ukrainians were the titular group in the Ukrainian Soviet Socialist Republic. 16 Additionally, all of these cases (with the exception of Nagorno-­Karabakh) share a commonality in that the role of the Russian-­speaking minority in these self-­proclaimed states was substantial. This then raises questions about the role of Russia as the former core republic, and its strategy towards the ‘near abroad’. Russian involvement has been blamed for increasing asymmetry of these conflicts and diminishing chances for a mediated settlement. See more in Kapitonenko (2009).  17 In Albanian it is known as the Ushtria Çlirimtare e Kosovës (UÇK), though the book will use the more common abbreviation KLA.

80   Part II 18 For instance, 97 percent of total Abkhazian population in the former USSR lived in Abkhaz ASSR. Yet that still made the Abkhaz a minority in their titular republic, since the population of Abkhaz ASSR comprised over 45 percent of Georgians and only 17 percent ethnic Abkhaz in 1989. On the other hand, less than 40 percent of Soviet South Ossetian population lived in South Ossetia. However, South Ossetians made up more than two thirds of the population in South Ossetian Autonomous Oblast. Census data available from: Itogi Vserossiiskoi Perepisi Naselemoa 1989 Goda. Minneapolis, MN, East View Publications.

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Part III

3 Russia and Serbia – the core as the key

The two multinational communist states of the Soviet Union and Yugoslavia shared an important structural facet in that they both organized their basic political-­administrative units along ethnic lines. More importantly, the republics, as well as the units of lower federal order, were configured in a way that they represented homelands for the titular nations. Such ethnofederal setup was even more specific in the way that it was asymmetric, with a clear distinction between the core and peripheral units. In the context of the case studies at hand, the Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic (RSFSR) and the Socialist Republic of Serbia (SRS) were the core units not only due to being the most populous and largest republics. They also served as the political, economic and military headquarters in their erstwhile states. Some scholars have argued that this left an institutional and ideological legacy that was conducive to using force against the peripheral units in the years after the disintegration of the two states (Motyl 1998; Rubin and Snyder 1998; Bunce 1999). The argument that was put forward in these analyses is that nationalist politicians, in their bid to consolidate political hold over the old imperial core, faced the option of using force in areas that proclaimed independence. However, as Snyder (2000, pp. 208–209) notes, while the availability of military and other resources created a possibility of nationalist conflict, it did not make them inevitable. In this chapter I will argue that the differences in the behaviour of Serbia, which used the remnants of the Yugoslav army against several of the former Yugoslav nations, and Russia, which has done so primarily against Chechnya, can be attributed to the distinctive sequencing pattern of ethnonationalist mobilization and political liberalization in these two republics. This chapter focuses on the key developments with respect to ethnonationalist mobilization in the two core republics, Russia and Serbia. I will first provide brief historical backgrounds for understanding the bases of mobilization in these two republics, after which I will zero in on the dynamics of ethnonationalist movements throughout the 1980s. I will emphasize the central role of sequencing of mobilization and political liberalization within the core republics, which is crucial for testing the main argument of my work. In essence, I will demonstrate that the Soviet and Yugoslav cores experienced a significantly different sequence of events, as well as the fact that ethnonationalist movements were

92   Part III unalike in strength and scope. While Russia seemed to have started liberalizing before ethnonationalist mobilization took place, in Serbia ethnic mobilization was well under way when liberalization of the system commenced. I will also argue that there was a qualitative difference in the etiology of ethnonationalist mobilizations in these two republics, which stemmed from diverse factors influencing the formation of ethnic identity, incentives and capacity to mobilize. First, while Russian identity was defined within the context of being an imperial centre, Serbia identified itself through a struggle of existing on the doorsteps of different empires. Second, the incentives for Russia to secede from the Soviet Union could be interpreted as hopes for economic and related gains as it was among the richest republics, as well as breaking free from the years of repression under totalitarian regime. For Serbia, the incentives to mobilize were based on grievances about losses past and present, fear of future losses and collective disadvantages in economic and political realms. Third, in Russia the polity was much more ideologically fractured than in Serbia, rendering the emergence of a nationalist agenda as the dominant discourse all the more difficult. In that respect, the political leadership in Russia and Serbia had essentially opposite agendas, which made them respond differently to the state collapse once it became apparent. Thus, as I aim to show, the core republic’s mobilization is at the centre of understanding regional dynamics of ethnic conflicts.

Dynamics of ethnonationalist mobilization and political liberalization in RSFSR Etiology of ethnopolitical action Identity After an attempt by Russia’s State Duma to define Russian national identity had run into trouble with the country’s Muslims and national minorities in January 2006, a report from Radio Free Europe noted that “the idea of defining a concept of Russian national identity is almost as old as Russia itself – and just as elusive” (Parsons 2006). As Geoffrey Hosking’s book aptly puts it, in the Soviet Union, Russians were unlike any other ethnic group – both “rulers and victims” (2006). On the one hand, during the Soviet era, Russian nationalism was seen as the cornerstone of the state power on which the Union was built and sustained. On the other hand, after Gorbachev introduced economic and political reforms in the second half of the 1980s, the conflation of Russian identity with the Soviet state became a source of contestation, and what is more, many Russians began to identify themselves as the victims of Soviet ‘imperial’ domination (Brandenberger 2002). The perspective that this book chooses to take is the one in which Russian identity was unarguably defined within a context of an empire almost until the very breakup of the Soviet Union. In both Tsarist Russia and the Soviet Union there was a ‘metropole’, or a core of Russian population and institutions

Russia and Serbia – the core as the key   93 moulded in Russian culture and language with limited participation of representatives from other ethnic groups who helped maintain the Russian-­centric institutions (Szporluk 2000; Beissinger 2009). The core maintained this type of imperial relationship with the non-­Russian periphery territories and populations. Such relationship was primarily designed in order to advance the political and economic status of the metropole. This asymmetry is also evident in the way the peripheral populations never enjoyed genuine sovereignty or political independence. However, a point has to be made that neither tsarist Russia nor the Soviet Union was an ethnically Russian Empire with the core completely identified with a ruling Russian nationality. Rather, the ruling institution, nobility in case of the Empire and the Communist Party in case of the USSR, was multinational, albeit overwhelmingly Russian and ruled imperially over Russian and non-­ Russian subjects alike (Zia-­Ebrahimi 2007). Furthermore, Russia was first formed as an empire in which the Russian nation was contained within the imperial borders, and which with further expansions subjugated native populations of the conquered territories to Russian rule. Since ethnic Russians were incorporated into the imperial state and enjoyed a comparatively better social status both in the core and the periphery, Russian nationalism lacked an explicit ‘Russian question’ in terms of the quest to unify the Russians who lived outside the core. This also points to what was referred to as essentially imperial or cultural sense of ‘Russianness’, rather than a strong sense of identity in purely ethnic terms (Suny 2001). Yet, viewing Russians as conquerors and Russian nationalism as the sole guiding principle of the Soviet state does not fully correspond to the way in which Russians were portrayed even at the height of glorification of all things Russian during the late 1930s and throughout the 1940s. As Beissinger (2002, p.  51) notes, Russians were portrayed as “elder brothers” rather than subjugators, and thus, Russian nationalism is best viewed as the instrument at hand of those in power. The perception of Russian national identity experienced a dramatic turn with the onset of political liberalization, namely through glasnost, when the sense of oppression by the regime from Stalin’s years came out in the open. There are three important aspects to that turn. First, the nature of Gorbachev’s reforms of ‘openness’ and ‘democratization’ in January 1987 allowed for limited freedom of the press and open public debate on the Stalinist legacy, and at the same time delegitimized the use of force in containing them. In the instances of quashing the protests in Georgia in 1989 and Lithuania in 1991, the use of force only contributed to evoking the memories of the totalitarian regime repressing its citizens, and in that way turned both the Russians and other groups against such methods (Beissinger 2002; Kotkin 2008). Second, significant segments of the Russian pro-­democratic intelligentsia increasingly felt ashamed about the wrongdoings that were conducted by their co-­nationals, or in Russia’s name in the past (Vujačić 1996). Third, these streams of Russian democrats led the way of protesting against the “oppressive Soviet center” and “imperial chauvinism” to the point that the Russian public increasingly tended to support secession of other Soviet republics (Vujačić 1996, p. 787).

94   Part III Incentives The incentives for Russian ethnic mobilization were arguably two-­fold. On the one hand, the memories of repression from when the Russian people were political victims of a totalitarian state inspired fear and a sense of injustice. On the other hand, this also provoked a sense of resistance and retaliation after political liberalization provided for open discussion in the public sphere. It may seem rather peculiar for the core republic to express grievances regarding repression, as it would be expected that peripheries are more likely to feel repressed than the core units. However, the theme of Stalinist legacy and Russia’s victimization at the hands of the Soviet centre were among the most common themes in the public domain immediately after glasnost (Aron 2012). The second stream of incentives stemmed from the hopes that ethnopolitical action would yield gains in terms of more open polity and better living conditions. These pertain to what Beissinger (2002, pp. 390–394) called the “liberal­intellectual” and “labor-­based economic” streams of Russian mobilization.1 The objectives of ‘liberal-­intellectual’ mobilization were against the party-­state and for accelerated democratization. This stream of mobilization emerged in spring 1989 parallel to elections to the USSR Congress of People’s Deputies. Throughout February and March 1989 there were electoral rallies organized by the advocates of democratization in over a dozen major Russian cities. The biggest turnout was recorded at the one in Moscow, which was in support of Boris Yeltsin, just a day before the election. After the Congress opened in May of the same year, the rallies only strengthened and soon there were demonstrations involving tens, and sometimes even hundreds of thousands of people on daily basis in Moscow (Cox 2013). An interesting facet of this stream of mobilization was that it was allying itself and borrowing largely from peripheral republics’ nationalisms, particularly the Baltic ones. As Beissinger (2002, p.  393) reports, the existence of a transnational alliance is evident from the example of demonstrations that took place on May 28, 1989 in Moscow, organized by the Moscow Popular Front and Memorial Society. One hundred and fifty thousand people attended this rally, and it was not only addressed by Russian liberal leaders such as Yuri Afanas’ev and Andrei Sakharov, but also by prominent representatives from the Estonian Popular Front and Ukrainian Uniate Church. Just a week after, in another instance of a rally that took place in Moscow and gathered fifty thousand participants, there were messages of condemnation over the massacres in Tbilisi and Tiananmen Square. Labour-­based, or economic, mobilization commenced in July 1989 as the expression of labour unrest due to deteriorating working conditions and status that began emerging throughout the USSR in the previous year. Russian workers’ protests were just a continuation of the general trend of dissatisfaction and revolt, as by that time in the Transcaucasus, workers’ strikes paralysed some of the republics (Ashwin 1999). However, what made the Russian wave of organized labour movement different from similar movements in other Soviet

Russia and Serbia – the core as the key   95 republics was the fact that the strike that began in a single mine made a much bigger impact than these types of strikes would normally produce. Namely, a strike that began in a mine in the city of Mezhdurechensk in Kemerovo province first caused the blockade of the city, and after that swiftly shut down the whole province. It lasted for nine days and in that time spread to other regions of Russia, parts of Ukraine and Kazakhstan, and it amounted to over half a million workers joining in (Beissinger 2002). Yet, it has to be pointed out that even though this movement contained a political element from its very onset, ethnonationalism was far from being the dominant theme. Instead, the incentives for mobilization were based on demands for better wages, improving benefits and working conditions, and the problem of consumer goods shortage (Rutland 1990; Beissinger 2002). Capacity The capacity for ethnopolitical action is based on the sense of collective identity and some awareness of common interests, since the latter two serve as the necessary preconditions for cohesion and mobilization (Gurr 2000). This is a critical factor which explains why attempts of a widespread ethnonationalist mobilization in the late 1980s in Russia failed. Unlike some of the movements in peripheral republics, which will be explored in the subsequent chapters, Russia faced three major obstacles in creating cohesive ethnopolitical action. Namely, the polity was divided into three different mobilizational streams, the conservative-­ nationalist stream was internally divided and weak, and the majority of Russians from the core seemed to have different political preferences to the Russians who lived in other Soviet republics. First, as it has already been pointed out, liberal, labour-­based and nationalist streams were almost mutually exclusive in some of their objectives and frames they utilized. Moreover, they were situated in separate locations and had largely different groups of followers within the population. Liberal mobilization was very urban in character, and dominated by the intelligentsia concentrated in Moscow and Leningrad.2 Its objectives were more aligned with nationalist movements in peripheral republics than with any of the other two Russian-­dominated mobilizational movements, since Russian liberals defined their goals in terms of opposition to the Soviet regime (Beissinger 2002). Moreover, as Crowley (1997) pointed out, being that it was hard to draw a clear line between the calls for the end of the state and the overthrow of the regime, Russian liberals and anti-­Soviet secessionist movements in non-­Russian republics inevitably found themselves on the same side. At the beginning of 1990, the Russian liberals and anti-­Soviet secessionists from the periphery converged even more in their objectives. This informal ‘coalition’ or simply the overlap between objectives of the crucial mobilizational streams became known as the “critical wave” that was instrumental for the collapse of the Soviet Union (Beissinger 2002, p. 401). The public sentiment followed these tendencies. In the first six months of 1990 the general attitude of

96   Part III Russian citizens towards the Soviet regime changed drastically. In May 1990, Mikhail Gorbachev’s approval rating fell below Boris Yeltsin’s among the citizens of Moscow, while throughout the USSR, his favourability ranking almost halved from 52 percent in December 1989 to 28 percent in July 1990 (Gorchakov and Zhuravliov 1992). On the other hand, the nationalist-­conservative stream that was in favour of preserving the Soviet Union with Russians as the dominant group was largely marginalized within the RSFSR until 1992. Russian nationalists suffered from significant internal weaknesses, and they also encountered major obstacles that made it particularly hard to form a cohesive and strong movement. Ethnopolitical action is hard to organize when its goals fail to resonate with a significant proportion of the ethnic group in question. The nationalist-­conservative movement paled in comparison to the size and significance of the liberal movement, which was able to sustain and increase the followership throughout the critical period of 1988–1989. This was visible from the poor results in the election to the Russian Republic’s Congress of People’s Deputies that was held in March 1990. Of the seventy representatives of the Patriotic Bloc, which was the coalition of  all the ultra-­nationalist groups, and who ran for sixty-­five seats in the RSFSR  Congress of People’s Deputies, only two won a seat (Gorchakov and Zhuravliov 1992). Moreover, Russian nationalists from both within the RSFSR and in other Soviet republics failed to create trans-­republican coalitions and coordinate their activities. Instead of recognizing shared goals and turning to each other for help and guidance, each of these movements turned to the Soviet centre (Korey 1995). Even though the mobilizational base of Russian-­speaking communities in the Baltic republics came out strong at first, it deteriorated over time. This indicates that the appeal of nationalist messages was fading in the eyes of even those who stood to lose the most. Some of the prime examples come from Estonia and Latvia, where by early 1991 almost a third of non-­Estonians supported Estonian independence, while slightly more than a third of non-­Latvians were in favour of Latvian statehood (Beissinger 2002). It was only after the collapse of the Soviet Union that Russian communities resorted to rebellion, and such was the case (almost exclusively) in Moldova. Finally, the labour-­based economic stream managed to gain traction in both RSFSR and other Soviet republics with large Russian communities; however, it was mainly confined to the coal-­mining regions of Komi, Western Siberia, Northern Kazakhstan and Eastern Ukraine (Beissinger 2002). The miners’ activism was substantially stronger in large cities than in isolated communities. Crowley (1997) attributed this to the fact that in urban settings workers in the coal industry were more likely to be exposed to the voices of liberal intelligentsia that was open in criticizing the existing system and calling for the adoption of alternative political and economic arrangements. However, despite the strong sense of demands from this class-­based challenge to the Soviet state, labour movements also failed to build a strong national base. First, there was little or no  attempt to include other parts of the Soviet industry since class-­based

Russia and Serbia – the core as the key   97 movements saw themselves as operating on a local, rather than national level (Beissinger 2002). Second, participants in these protests did not reach out to liberal activists in Moscow and Leningrad, which arguably would have been the most  obvious partners in forming a national organization (Taagepera 1993; Karklins 1994).3 If these three streams are compared in terms of mobilizational capacity, it seems that the liberal stream was the most successful in organizing protest action and forming coalitions with movements with comparable goals. The creation of the Inter-­Regional Deputies’ Group (IRDG) at the first session of USSR Congress of People’s Deputies in May 1989 is an example of an effort made by all deputies that were in favour of democratic reform and that was spearheaded by notable Russian liberals such as Boris Yeltsin, Gavriil Popov and Andrei Sakharov. IRDG was seen as an organizational base for those who opposed the CPSU apparatus and who wanted to establish liberal state-­society relations, basic human rights and civil liberties, and a market economy (Kagarlitsky 1990). Even though its relative share within the Congress was rather small (as by 1990 it had about 400 members among the 2,250 deputies), the impact it had on the political reform was substantial as it called for “collective democratic search for the path of a serious deepening of perestroika” and parliamentary reforms (Weigle 2000, p.  150). IRDG was the most visible democratically oriented opposition in the Soviet Union which steered the more liberal Party members away from Gorbachev’s plans of reform and towards rebellion (Weigle 2000). Furthermore, it served as the precursor for the establishment of Democratic Russia (Dem­ Rossiya) in the early 1990s. This is significant because the links between IRDG and the multiple networks organized through the Democratic Russia coalition made it possible for the Yeltsin-­led elites to take control of some of the important local government councils (“soviets”) in RSFSR in 1990. As for the other two mobilizational streams, the labour-­based economic movement eventually sided with the liberal stream, while the nationalist-­ conservatives failed to generate following comparable to the aforementioned two movements. The workers had an enormous political potential, and indeed, as the central Soviet state failed in the delivery of labour demands, they radicalized to the point that they began advocating for the dissolution of the Soviet state. This was evident from miners’ protests that took place in Kuzbass and Vorkuta regions in RSFSR, and Donbass region in Ukraine from fall 1990 to spring 1991 (Siegelbaum and Walkowitz 1995). Lastly, the competing explanation for why the nationalist-­conservative stream had a very small chance of organizing successful political action, apart from the obvious strength of the two other streams and the internal weaknesses it possessed, can be found in the cultural realm. Namely, throughout the history of modern Russia, the cleavage that had been the salient narrative of rebellion was class rather than nation. As Beissinger (2002, p. 398) explains, “where cultural difference with authority had been effaced or did not exist, culture could not offer a basis for effective resistance to authority; class, by contrast, did”.

98   Part III Sequencing of liberalization versus mobilization The first instance of significant political mobilization within Russia occurred in February and March of 1989, when the groups advocating liberalization and democratization began organizing rallies in major cities across RSFSR. This was not, however, the first instance of ethnic Russians protesting in the Soviet Union after Gorbachev introduced economic and political reforms. Russian-­speaking communities in the Baltics began organizing in the second half of 1988 as a counter-­movement to the majority-­led popular fronts in those republics. The labour-­based economic wave of protests emerged last, in July 1989, as the expression of the mounting dissatisfaction and unrest of Soviet workers in 1988 and early 1989 (Beissinger 2002, p. 395). Liberalization enters first It is important to remember that by the mid-­1980s the Soviet Union was hardly on the brink of collapse. The lingering issue was stagnation, but as one of the analysts asserted, such “chronic ailments are not necessarily fatal” (Aron 2012, p. 13). Financial crisis became acute only in 1988 as both the cause and effect of the political reforms. The political situation was purportedly even less of a worry than the state of the economy around 1985 since after two decades of persistent repression, nearly all opponents of the regime were imprisoned, exiled or deceased. More perilous was the sense of national awakening in certain parts of the Union, most prominently in the Baltics and the South Caucasus (Garcelon 2005). Even in the foreign policy realm, the Soviet Union was still in the strategic nuclear parity with the United States. Moreover, political elites and analysts from abroad were almost in unison in their estimates that the USSR would remain strong for decades (Aron 2012).4 As one of the world’s best known experts on the Soviet Union, Adam Ulam pointed out there has been a tendency “to forget that in 1985, no government of a major state appeared to be as firmly in power, its policies as clearly set in their course, as that of the USSR” (cited in Aron 2012, p. 16). Yet, the fact that the state of the economy and society was unsustainable and that change was needed was strongly recognized by one man. Mikhail Gorbachev described the situation on the eve of his election as General Secretary as the following: Problems in the development of the country grew faster than they were resolved. Inertia and paralysis of the forms and methods of management, a loss of dynamism in work, and the growth of bureaucratism – all this brought great harm to our cause . . . the situation demanded change, but in the central organs, as well as in the localities, a certain psychology took hold that attempted to improve things without changing anything. (Pravda, April 26, 1986) There are competing views on what exactly spurred such change in thinking from the most powerful man in the Soviet Union. There is no doubt that for the

Russia and Serbia – the core as the key   99 most part, the ideas of reform were the result of personal convictions; mainly Gorbachev’s view that there was a need “to remove everything that was holding back development” (Gorbachev 1995, p. 280). These sorts of ideas stem from his speeches and writings in the 1970s and 1980s, when he was calling for “psychological restructuring” of those engaged in economic activity (Brown 1997, p. 123). Moreover, as he told the Central Committee at the January 1987 meeting, it was the “moral position” to “change life radically” and “break away from the past malpractices” (Brown 1997, p. 159). Yeltsin speculated that it was a combination of Gorbachev’s relative youth at the time he became the General Secretary, the distaste for lies and hypocrisy, and the sense that “there was still a chance to make one last effort to break free of the past and become a civilized society” (Aron 2012, p.  23). Kotkin (2008, p.  181) refers to Gorbachev as the “true believer” inspired by the revolutionary ideals from 1917, who set out to build “socialism with a human face”. This line of argument provides evidence in Gorbachev’s speeches, which he purportedly rewrote to highlight true Marxist ideas. Others claim that the younger generation of Soviet officials grew increasingly dissatisfied with the state of society and in that way sowed the seeds of revolution well before Gorbachev assumed the position of General Secretary (Hollander 1999). Moreover, Gorbachev had backing from some of the most prominent members of the CPSU. His first prime minister, Nikolai Ryzhkov, thought the “moral state of the society” in 1985 was its “most terrifying” feature, and asserted that the Party leaders “stole from ourselves, took and gave bribes, lied in reports, in newspapers, from high podiums, wallowed in our lies, hung medals on one another” (Ryzhkov 1992, p. 94). The Foreign Minister at the time, Eduard Shevardnadze, urged Gorbachev to implement reforms as he deemed that “everything had gone rotten” (Shevardnadze 1991). The former Soviet Ambassador to Canada, Aleksandr Yakovlev, who is also referred to as the ‘godfather of glasnost’, said “Enough! We cannot live like this any longer. Everything must be done in a new way . . . There has come an understanding that it is simply impossible to live as we lived before” (Yakovlev 1991, pp. 7–8).5 Perestroika (reconstruction or restructuring) was the initial reform process that was announced in 1985. At first, the concept was rather vague and subject to interpretation to mean anything from a modest “reorganization of existing Soviet institutions” to transformative “reconstruction of the system from the foundations up” (Brown 2004, p. 124). Gorbachev’s view on what such reconstruction signified and what it would encompass evolved from a less ambitious reform to systemic change. Even before he became the General Secretary, Gorbachev delivered an important speech in December 1984, which flagged that “perestroika of the forms and methods of running the economy” was high on the agenda (Brown 1997, p. 123). At this point, it should be noted that ‘reform’ was a taboo word in the Soviet Union, and it remained as such well into the late 1980s. Soviet economic ‘reformers’ prior to Gorbachev had to resort to using euphemisms such as “the  perfecting of the economic mechanism” (Aganbegyan 1987, p.  3). It was  politically courageous when, in his speech to the Twenty-­Seventh Party

100   Part III Congress in February 1986, Gorbachev not only referred to the need for reform, but “a radical reform” (Brown 1997). This is also a testament to the scope of changes that started taking place. A year later, Gorbachev’s stance on what was needed became much broader – a more radical reform of the existing system. An additional piece of evidence regarding the development in thinking was Gorbachev’s change in terminology to describe the Soviet system. While in 1987 he referred to it as broadly communist with unfamiliar values such as freedom and the rule of law, by the end of the decade he referred to the system as “socialism of a social democratic type” (Brown 2013, p. 202). As Gorbachev’s view on reform evolved, the need for glasnost (openness) became increasingly apparent. Frustrated with the obstacles perestroika was encountering and skepticism towards the plan of reforms, in spring of 1986 Gorbachev exclaimed “it was necessary to get rid of these kinds of doubts, to convince people of the necessity of the chosen course” (Gorbachev 1995, pp. 294, 298). Moreover, what precipitated the need for more openness was the Chernobyl nuclear disaster in April 1986, which further raised the questions on the limits of official secrecy. Again, the version of glasnost Gorbachev introduced was limited and definitely not intended to challenge, or worse, destroy the Soviet system (Kotkin 2008). However, once the proverbial genie was released out of the bottle, it was hard to control all the newspapers, journals, once-­banned books, and revelations from archives that emerged and attracted increasing audiences. Glasnost soon became a big reflector that was pointed at everything that the regime had been previously hiding from the public (Aron 2012). The revelations kept on flowing in and the record of mass repressions, abuses, lies and corruption became widely publicized. With each new revelation, the public grew more distrustful of the regime (Aron 2012). To those who were against any liberalization of the regime, this served as evidence that glasnost was a double-­edged sword that could serve, as well as turn against its user. A fellow member of the CPSU, Yegor Ligachev, purportedly told Gorbachev that it was not wise to enter a room if you do not know the way out (Linden 2004). Unravelling power struggle between Gorbachev and Yeltsin While glasnost served as a catalyst for the strong emergence of the national independence movements in some of the peripheral republics, within the RSFSR it set the ground for leadership struggle. The struggle began in the fall of 1987, as the factions within the Politburo6 started becoming increasingly visible and the men who were once under Gorbachev turned against him. On the one hand, Yeltsin was dissatisfied with the insufficient progress of the economic and political reforms, while on the other hand Ligachev thought the reforms were too ambitious and heading towards democratization. The first public display of tensions came out at the Central Committee Plenum on October 21, 1987. The agenda initially included approving Gorbachev’s speech for the November 2 celebration of the seventieth anniversary of

Russia and Serbia – the core as the key   101 the Bolshevik Revolution. However, after Gorbachev finished with his presentation, Yeltsin stole the limelight by delivering a ten-­minute impromptu speech in which he confronted Ligachev for sabotaging his reform efforts as Moscow party chief. Moreover, he accused Gorbachev of being too weak in his perestroika efforts and creating a cult of personality around him. Yeltsin also exclaimed that leaders were sheltering Gorbachev from the harsh realities of Soviet life (Brown 1997, p. 167). The reactions from within the party were almost immediate. The Plenum deemed Yeltsin’s mini-­performance as immature and arrogant. Gorbachev accepted Yeltsin’s prior resignation from the Moscow Party Committee and asked the Central Committee to take the appropriate steps for his removal. Yeltsin also lost his seat on the Politburo, which made him the first high-­level Gorbachev appointee to lose his position (Colton 2011, pp. 155–156). Yet, as a proof that Yeltsin did not fall completely out of grace with Gorbachev, he was appointed as the first deputy chair of the USSR State Committee for Construction. In such capacity he was allowed to remain in Moscow and within the political loop. Moreover, while the party might have demoted him, after the word came out on what happened at the meeting, Yeltsin was launched on a path of establishing himself as a popular leader. Almost one thousand Muscovites rallied in his support after he was ousted from the position of being de facto mayor of Moscow. The protest was so strong that police had to break it up (Ploss 2010, p. 163). Furthermore, the radical measures Gorbachev first proposed in January 1987 with respect to the election of party leaders from below, rather than by cooptation from above finally began to be realized in March 1989. This meant that the Congress of Peoples Deputies was made up of two thirds of deputies that were popularly elected, while the remaining third got selected by the party and other official organizations (Robertson 2004). Under the new rules, the Congress became an arena for duels between the leading democratic faction, IRDG, and the ruling party. The heated debates were first between Sakharov-­led opposition and the CPSU members, but after Sakharov passed away in December 1989, Yeltsin took over as the leader of the democratic faction (O’Connor 2008). From here on, Yeltsin cemented his place as a serious challenger to Gorbachev and the leader of a viable alternative to the Soviet system. In March 1990 he was elected to the Russian Congress of People’s Deputies, while in May of the same year he became the chair of the Russian Supreme Soviet. Soon after assuming the latter position he declared Russia sovereign, which triggered what is popularly referred to as the ‘war of laws’ between RSFSR and Soviet institutions. Moreover, under Yeltsin’s initiative the Russian presidency was transformed into a national elective office. Running as an independent candidate in June 1991, Yeltsin won that office in a national election with a sweeping majority of almost 60 percent of the votes. In doing so, he became the first democratically elected president of Russia (Steele 1994; Easter 1997). It was clear this gave him much greater democratic legitimacy than Gorbachev could argue for himself, even though the very fact that the introduction of competitive elections into the Soviet system was Gorbachev’s doing (Brown 1997).7

102   Part III The failed coup The negotiations for a new union treaty which would provide for confederal organization of the state and changing the name from the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics into the Union of Soviet Sovereign Republics marked the beginning of 1991 (Linden 2004).8 Yeltsin was again challenging Gorbachev by pushing strongly for devolution of key powers to the federal republics and redefinition of the powers of autonomous republics, since he felt the latter were given too much power in comparison to the federal republics (Hough 1997). By July 1991, the two eventually managed to come to an agreement as Yeltsin preserved the power of Russia, while Gorbachev still got to preserve the Union albeit with a smaller membership. The signing ceremony for the new treaty was approved by a Party plenum and it was scheduled for August 20. However, just a day before the new institutional framework for the continuation of the reformed Union was to take place, hardliners staged a coup fearing that the new treaty would seal the fate of the great Soviet state, as well as their own.9 After putting Gorbachev under house arrest, the eight-­man Emergency Committee dispatched troops to key positions around Moscow, ordering all independent media outposts to be shut down, banning all non-­Communist political organizations, and proclaiming a state of emergency. However, what they failed to do, which serves as evidence to organizational incompetence of the whole endeavour, was to shut down the phone lines and disable fax communication. In that manner, the independent media merely went underground and proceeded with reporting on the developments (Dunlop 1995; Volkogonov 2008). There were two other elements that thwarted the plans for coup – the new president of RSFSR Yeltsin and popular resistance. It still remains unexplained why the Emergency Committee did not arrest Yeltsin and let him split. At the beginning of the coup, Yeltsin was at his dacha at the outskirts of Moscow, where he was soon joined by key Russian political elites.10 Even though the KGB elite forces surrounded the house, they did not arrest any of the men who were inside drafting the appeal ‘To the Citizens of Russia’. Some see this as yet another tactical failure on part of the Emergency Committee’s planning, while others deem it as the result of infighting among the ranks of secret police (Weigle 2000, pp. 178–179). Either way, Yeltsin was able to leave for the parliament building (the ‘White House’). There, in a scene that would make history, he climbed atop a tank that was part of the cordon surrounding the White House, condemning the coup as illegal and calling for general strike (Bonnell et al. 1994). Moreover, Yeltsin used his position to declare that he had authority over the military and police forces within Russia. In response to the hardliners, Yeltsin’s team started a public relations blitz by putting out news reports that countered the putschists and reaching out to the Western media to help with broadcasting it back into the USSR (Billington 1992). Muscovites heard the appeal and tens of thousands of them assembled outside the White House. On August 20, the crowds were still persistent in their numbers and Yeltsin kept the momentum going by waving the pre-­communist Russian flag and asking them to choose

Russia and Serbia – the core as the key   103 democracy over the Emergency Committee. He was joined by more than two hundred and fifty RSFSR Supreme Soviet deputies, who were also going into the crowds to convince the Soviet soldiers to disobey the orders they were being given by the Vice President Yanayev (Steele 1994).11 Members of Russian and Western media helped their cause by entering the White House and offering a first-­hand glimpse into the events (Constable 1991).12 The twenty-­four hours between the evenings of August 20 and 21 proved to be critical. After Acting President Yanayev failed to deliver at a press conference on the night of August 20, it was clear the Emergency Committee had little potential to establish credible authority.13 Around midnight, military troops began to advance. In a struggle between the protesters and the troops, three civilians were shot. However, after that incident, the military and police forces refused to shoot at civilians. Next morning, the Emergency Committee was left with no option but to surrender, while the military troops withdrew in the process. After the failed coup, both the winners and the losers rushed to see Gorbachev. The winners, led by Yeltsin and supported by the Western media and Russian security forces, reached the dacha first and assured Gorbachev’s safety. The group representing the plotters sought to plead their case to Gorbachev, however they were arrested immediately upon arrival (Steele 1994). After the three dramatic days there was one certainty – the people rallied around Yeltsin, not Gorbachev, which was reflected in the developments over the course of following four months until the final collapse of the Union (Breslauer 2002). During that period, Yeltsin disbanded Soviet structures and symbols from the Communist Party and the media, to the flag, while at the same time reaffirming Russian control over the republic’s institutions and all property on its territory. In mid-­September, the USSR Congress of People’s Deputies was working on creating the Union of Sovereign States, which would allow the republics to enjoy much greater autonomy (Dunlop 1993).14 However, at a State Council meeting in late November, Yeltsin proposed that the new confederal structure be made even looser so that the member republics would have the power to conduct their own diplomacy and form their own militaries. That demand apparently made Gorbachev so furious he left the room (Shvetsova 1999). The negotiations over the reformed union became increasingly hard, as the leaders from the would-­be constituent republics kept on stalling the talks. They were anticipating Ukraine’s referendum on independence, which was set for December 1. When the overwhelming majority of Ukrainians, or more than 90 percent of those who voted, finally opted for independence, they foreshadowed the fate of the Soviet Union (Nohlen and Stöver 2010). A week later a meeting between Yeltsin, Ukrainian president Leonid Kravchuk and Belarusian parliamentary chair Stanislav Shushkevich took place in the Belovezhskaya Forest in Belarus. There the trio signed the agreement known as the ‘Belavezha Accords’ by which the 1922 USSR Union Treaty was annulled and the Commonwealth of  Independent States (CIS) was established in its place (Sussex 2012).15 The first CIS meeting took place on December 21, when seven Soviet republics joined the organization. In no instance was Gorbachev included in consultations

104   Part III or discussion over forming such an alliance. By December 25, it was clear to all that the Soviet Union was history, and Gorbachev thus resigned. The only formality left was to vote for dissolution of the Union in the Council of Republic deputies, which occurred on the following day. Liberal mobilization prevails, ethnonationalist mobilization delayed In terms of sequencing, mobilizational dynamics within the RSFSR corresponds to late mobilization, or the order in which liberalization preceded mobilization. However, it is important to note that the dominant stream of mobilization in this case was not the ethnonationalist, but the liberal-­democratic which did not have the creation of an ethnic Russian nation as the primary goal, but rather equal rights for all the citizens of Russia (O’Connor 2008). As the analysis showed, the Russian polity was significantly fractured following the introduction of per­ estroika and glasnost, and three major types of popular movements emerged. Among those three, the ethnonationalist movement was the most lacking in capacity for ethnopolitical action due to both internal deficiencies, as well as the inability to rally the majority of the population around its main goals. For instance, groups such as Pamyat, which operated on a platform of xenophobic ideology and defence of all things Russian, failed to rally overwhelming support. It has been estimated that even at its pinnacle in 1988, it had around twenty thousand members and forty branches across the Soviet Union, which pales in comparison to the support that liberal anti-­regime opposition had in those days (McFaul and Markov 1993). From then on Pamyat faced infightings that resulted in the creation of many smaller groups that operated under the umbrella of anti-­Semitism and xenophobia. Two main competing factions emerged as a result – Moscow-­based National-­Patriotic Front Pamyat and the National-­Patriotic Movement Pamyat. As the internal divisions and chauvinist rhetoric grew, many Russian nationalists distanced themselves from Pamyat (Remnick 1994). The ethnonationalist movement only picked up around late 1991 and early 1992, which is of significance for analysis of conflict in Chechnya.16 However, this was not as critical for the collapse of the USSR and the stance of the RSFSR as the core republic towards the independence movements in other union republics. Moreover, the analysis has shown that within Russia the most successful stream of mobilization in the lead-­up to dissolution appeared to be non-­violent liberal-­democratic. The implications of this point are clear in terms of the stance of the Russian majority towards the independence impulses coming from the union republics and the eventual collapse of the USSR. It is visible that as the political liberalization set off, the liberal stream within Russia was from the beginning successful at rallying support for its cause. Tens of thousands of supporters repeatedly turned up at the protests in Moscow and Leningrad at first, but subsequently also in other bigger cities. As the pressures for further political opening mounted and the reforms were being carried out, the liberal front managed to operate close to the centre of power and within institutions. The

Russia and Serbia – the core as the key   105 turning point was the creation of a loose democratic coalition, the IRDG, at the first session of the USSR Congress of People’s Deputies in mid-­1989. Furthermore, as the state of the economy worsened, the demands of the labour-­based mobilization stream began overlapping with the objectives of the liberalizers. Thus, in terms of organizational capacity and cohesiveness, the liberal-­ democratizing stream had a clear advantage. Yet, the critical aspect of the liberal wave’s success was its leadership. Boris Yeltsin played a crucial role in positing the interests of Russia against those of the Soviet Union. There is, of course, no doubt that the incompatibility between Gorbachev’s reforms on the one hand, and his insistence on preserving the Union in some form on the other hand, was the source of his undoing and the state collapse. Yeltsin’s vocal opposition to the regime, from the incident that got him expelled from the Politburo in 1987 to the rising political trajectory after he came back in 1989, paired with his charismatic character made him a credible face of the Soviet alternative. Moreover, by establishing roots within the RSFSR, Yeltsin had a strong political base to challenge Gorbachev. First as a representative in the Russian Congress of People’s Deputies in March 1990, then as the chair of the Russian Supreme Soviet, and finally as the first democratically elected president of the RSFSR. The final showdown between Yeltsin and Gorbachev was in the negotiations for the new Union Treaty. Again, Yeltsin was increasingly assertive and made it very clear that he would defend Russian interests only.

Dynamics of ethnonationalist mobilization and liberalization in the socialist republic of Serbia Etiology of ethnopolitical action Identity Modern Serbian history has been defined by the struggle of surviving under the rule of foreign empires and as a consequence, a sense of victimization. After the loss against the Ottomans at Kosovo Polje and the collapse of the Serbian Empire in the fourteenth century, Serbian national identity increasingly became “obsessed with suffering” (Marković 1996, p. 647). Serbian national mythology has been built on the legend of Prince Lazar who became a martyr after the 1389 Battle of Kosovo in which he chose to sacrifice his earthly kingdom in return for a heavenly one (Judah 2000). In the following five centuries of Ottoman rule, Serbs developed a sense of noble victimhood, with Kosovo the ultimate symbol of their suffering. Even as the last Turkish soldiers retreated from Serbia in the second half of the nineteenth century, the narrative of victimization remained among the Serb nationalists, who were working towards consolidation of the emerging Serb state (Duijzings 2000). The second pivotal episode that would further solidify the sense of victimhood for the Serbs occurred during the Second World War, as they were persecuted and killed in concentration camps of the

106   Part III fascist Croatian Ustasha regime. The strong sense of trauma of these two historic experiences served as mobilizational points for different Serbian politicians and ethnic entrepreneurs ever since (Kaufman 2001). After the rise of the Second Yugoslavia and the communist takeover, the sense of injustice that Serb nationalists felt only increased due to several developments. First, Marshal Josip Broz Tito’s regime essentially overthrew the Serbian dynasty and took control over Serbian medieval lands, Kosovo and Macedonia. Second, it negated the role Serbs played in the Balkan wars of the early twentieth century, as well as the First World War when they liberated these territories. What is more, the emphasis was placed on the negative role of the Serb royalist and nationalist paramilitary, the Chetniks, which was collaborating with Axis powers during the Second World War. Third, and perhaps the greatest strike for the Serbian nationalists, was the implementation of the 1974 Yugoslav Constitution which promoted two Serbian provinces of Kosovo and Vojvodina to the same federal status as Serbia and the remaining five Yugoslav republics. This effectively made Serbs a minority in Kosovo and Metohija, which was seen as the second loss of Kosovo after medieval times (Pavković 2000). Up until the second part of the 1980s Serbian nationalism was confined to the Serb Orthodox Church and dissident circles (Pavković 2000).17 Yet, the definition of national identity through the narrative of victimization remained, which became evident not long after Tito’s death. The first instance of open revival of Serb nationalism occurred on September 24–25, 1986 when the ‘Memorandum of the Serbian Academy of Sciences and Arts’ was published in Belgrade’s leading daily tabloid, Večernje Novosti.18 The Memorandum was vocal in its disagreement with the 1974 Constitution and argued for the reunification of the Serbs within Yugoslavia. It ended with a caveat that alternative options would be pursued should other constitutive nations disagree with such a proposal (Dragović-Soso 2002). The document was also critical of political, economic and social inequality in Yugoslavia and the fact that Serbs had arguably drawn the short straw.19 In the Memorandum, the notion of Serb suffering was one of the central themes, as exemplified in the following section: In less than fifty years, for two successive generations physical annihilation, forced assimilation, conversion to a different religion, cultural genocide, ideological indoctrination, denigration and compulsion to renounce their own traditions because of an imposed guilt complex. (Mihailović and Krestić 1995, p. 138) The theme of victimhood and suffering was prominent in the lead-­up to the celebrations of the six hundredth anniversary of the Battle of Kosovo. Academic publications, mass media and political rhetoric alike focused on the perpetual suffering. However, no one was better at utilizing this aspect of national identity than the Serbian communist leader, Slobodan Milošević. In the period of mass rallies and celebrations between 1988 and 1989, Milošević successfully played the Serb nationalist themes and symbols. Often described as a heroic figure who

Russia and Serbia – the core as the key   107 stood outside historical time and with almost supernatural powers, just as some of the most important characters in Serbian history, Milošević promised the Serbs he would end their humiliation through the unification of Serbian lands, and get rid of their perennial enemies – Turks (to denote Albanians) and Ustasha (to denote Croats) (Duijzings 2000, p.  197). More importantly, in that period Milošević began with the rhetoric of the past military glory and historical achievements that reinforced the Serb nationalist belief in Serb superiority over other constitutive nations in Yugoslavia (Ramet 2006). In brief, the implications of such interpretation of national identity allowed Milošević to justify the return to the idea of creating a Serb nation-­state. Incentives The incentives for Serb ethnopolitical action could be broadly grouped into three categories – grievances about past losses, the sense of collective disadvantage and the fear of future losses. First, while the human losses and suffering throughout the Serb history were central in creating the victimization narrative, the losses that Serbia experienced in the Second Yugoslavia acted as the primary incentive for the political entrepreneurs and ethnic elites to begin with ethnonationalist mobilization. To refer to the Memorandum of the Serbian Academy of Sciences and Arts again, the drafters of the document thoroughly addressed Serbian resentment of the past Communist policies. For many of them the wrongdoings were personified in Tito, as he was the leader under whom the 1974 Constitution which further empowered the federal republics and provinces, was adopted. The allegations went so far to assert there was an orchestrated systematic policy, even conspiracy, organized by the non-­Serb communist leaders against the Serbs, being that Marshal Tito was a Croat, while Edvard Kardelj, the 1974 Constitution drafter, was a Slovene (Mihailović and Krestić 1995, p. 107). The principal grievance with the last Yugoslav Constitution was that it disadvantaged Serbia in both absolute and relative terms. The Constitution divided Serbia into three parts, Central Serbia, Kosovo and Vojvodina, and granted republican powers to the latter two provinces. It also highlighted the differences between Montenegrin and other Serbs, while at the same time allowing Croat regions of Dalmatia, Istria and Krajina to come under one. Moreover, Serbs also felt at a loss in Bosnia and Herzegovina, since Tito recognized Muslims as a ‘nationality’, thus weakening the relative position of Serbs in that republic. Lastly, Serb politicians claimed Tito created prosperous industrial zones in the western republics of Yugoslavia, Slovenia and Croatia, leaving Serbia as the less well-­off producer of raw materials. While proving that there was a conspiracy on the part of communist leadership against Serbs is virtually impossible, the fact is that the constitutional charter did leave Serbia indisputably weaker, since one third of the total Serb population was left outside their home republic (Trbovich 2008, p. 198). In addition to the grievances of the losses past, there was a fear of future losses as Yugoslavia began to take a more confederal form. Furthermore, if the

108   Part III state was to disintegrate, Serbs stood to lose the most since the Yugoslav state was a guarantor of Serbian unity. The Serb elite projected this vision in the Memorandum, as Yugoslavia was strongly preferred to a Greater Serbia (Bilbija 1997). However, Yugoslavia would have to be reformed in a way to strengthen the standing of Serbia and improve the Serbs’ rights throughout the state. Serbian proposals for restructuring the common state were further detailed in October 1990, under the title of ‘A Concept for the Constitutional System of Yugoslavia on a Federal Basis’.20 While the proposal failed to be adopted by the Yugoslav Presidency later on, the intention was to create a “modern federation” in which the federal elections would be based on the principle of “one man, one vote” on the federal level, and under such a framework, a simple majority would suffice to determine the will of the people (Trbovich 2008, p. 199). Such a design would without a doubt favour the demographically strongest nationality, that of Serbs. Finally, the collective disadvantage narrative was the final aspect of incentives to mobilize for ethnopolitical action. It mostly related to the economic standing of Serbs in Yugoslavia, and to a certain extent, their political representation. Milošević explained Serbian developmental lag as a result of exploitation on the part of richer republics, Croatia and Slovenia, rather than internal weaknesses of the Serbian economy (Gianaris 1996).21 Moreover, in a fashion similar to Yeltsin’s early days, Milošević’s rhetoric focused on the need to fight the bureaucrats to advance the economy and achieve social justice (Dawisha and Parrott 1997). Yet, unlike Yeltsin, Milošević promoted populist policy with nationalist objectives. With respect to the issue of representation, Serbs were overrepresented in the officer corps of the military, as well as the secret police, while at the same time underrepresented in the institutions with the operational decision-­making on the federal level. However, the issue at stake was that of perception. The gap in representation stemmed from the fact that on the republican level Serbia enjoyed the same privileges as the other republics, but on the federal level its influence was not proportional to its size and population (Vujačić 1996).22 Capacity Serb nationalists led by Slobodan Milošević operated from the position of strength. First of all, Milošević’s rise in the Communist Party of Yugoslavia was closely sponsored by the crucial Serbian elites.23 Even though he was not highly regarded within the party, Milošević’s friendship with Ivan Stambolić proved vital. Milošević was first elected as the president of the Belgrade League of Communists’ City Committee in 1984. However, his political trajectory took off after Stambolić assumed the position of President of the Serbian State Presidency. Stambolić was crucial in giving his support for Milošević’s bid in the elections for new leader of the League of Communists of Serbia. Those elections demonstrated the extent of dissatisfaction over Milošević’s election as he received among the smallest number of votes of any new member (Bennett 1995; Sell 2002). Yet, once he was elected to arguably the most powerful post in

Russia and Serbia – the core as the key   109 the republic, Milošević was able to use it to further his agenda as he built support in the party and the public.24 Moreover, a rift between Milošević and Stambolić began to emerge, as the former began positioning himself as the more conservative socialist, while the latter led the faction of moderate reformers within the Serbian communist party (Magaš 1993, p. 222; Sell 2002, p. 32). The fact that Serbia was endowed with the same republican institutions as all the other Yugoslav republics went in Milošević’s favour. In that way, Milošević was able to play the party and republican institutions, as well as the media, in order to set the agenda. A telling example can be seen in Milošević’s response after Stambolić blocked his efforts to install his followers in the presidency of the League of Communists of Serbia. Milošević turned to using previously inactive and unassertive party commissions as the organs through which he would be able to influence decision-­making. He appointed his supporters as the heads of the commissions dealing with economic, social and political issues and then extensively publicized their meetings as an agenda-­setting exercise (Sell 2002, p. 33). Moreover, as the republican-­controlled media flooded the outlets with the narrative of Serbian suffering and victimization, liberal alternatives to Milošević’s ideology of nationalist socialism had a hard time grounding the debate. Milošević purged editorial boards of major newspapers and magazines from those who held opposing views. Print media, such as Politika and Politika ekspres, as well as Duga and NIN became instruments for channelling propaganda (Doder and Branson 1999, p.  46; Ramet 2006, p.  345). Moreover, despite being a staunch atheist, Milošević began forming an important alliance with the Serbian Orthodox Church by placing the Church in a prominent position in the conduct of social and political life. This was pivotal in tapping into the sphere that was traditionally known to be the guardian of Serbian nationalism and appealing to those who sympathized with such ideology (Saideman 2001, p. 110).25 Another aspect of building the capacity for mobilization came in the form of building the cult of personality. Such endeavour had the standard features of autocratic propaganda, which included displaying photo portraits of Milošević in the front windows of shops and restaurants, and presenting a highly controlled positive picture of him in the media. However, the effort did not stop with symbolism, as many Serbs found it impossible to criticize Milošević without running the risk of losing their jobs. In essence, opposition to Milošević was treated as “internal treason”, and since the hype over “national danger” was only intensifying, liberal-­democratic stream almost did not stand a chance (Ramet 2006, p.  346). In that sense, the ethnonationalist stream of mobilization never found competition in an equally vocal liberal movement. As Vujačić (1996) sums it up, by playing the ethnic card and the rhetoric of danger, Milošević was successful in narrowing the social base of the Serbian opposition, while at the same time being able to postpone any meaningful reform until such conditions were resolved. Moreover, it is important to note that not only did the Serbian liberal intelligentsia have an extremely arduous task at hand in competing with Milošević, but it so happened that many of the oppositional intelligentsia who struggled for

110   Part III democracy and human rights in Tito’s Yugoslavia switched sides. Some of them ended up supporting Milošević, while others created opposition parties after the collapse of Yugoslavia, which remained silent in response to Milošević’s war-­ mongering (Dragović-Soso 2002). Some may argue that the motivations behind such actions were purely opportunistic, however, structural-­contextual circumstances seemed to have played a substantial role. Namely, the liberal intelligentsia failed to react as a response to the structural crisis of the Yugoslav system and the interplay of different nationalisms stemming from other Yugoslav republics/provinces (Vujačić 1996). As Dragović-Soso (2002) aptly explains in her account of the intellectual movement in Serbia during the 1980s, the Belgrade intelligentsia ultimately chose nation over democracy. Sequencing of mobilization versus liberalization Mobilization enters first The first mass demonstrations of Serbian discontent with the situation in Kosovo and Metohija were not organized as an ethnonationalist protest. Yet, the events of August 23, 1983 are telling in terms of discontent that was felt in central Serbia over the mobilization of Kosovo Albanians and counter-­mobilization of Kosovo Serbs, as well as the grievances over what was seen as Yugoslavia growing more decentralized at Serbia’s expense (Vladisavljević 2004).26 The occasion was the funeral of one of the top-­ranking Yugoslav politicians, Aleksandar Ranković who, at the height of his political career, was third in line of importance after Tito and Kardelj.27 In terms of his political views, Ranković was a strong advocate of centralized Yugoslavia, and deemed the provisions of the 1974 Constitution as going against Serbian interests and unity. Moreover, he was known for his hardline stance against Kosovo Albanians, as well as pro-­ Serb advocacy in order to secure their position in Kosovo and provide them with key positions in the province’s institutions (Dragović-Soso 2002). His death was seen as a loss of a politician who was a guardian of Serbs in Kosovo, and who was equally dissatisfied with federal politics. The funeral turned into a spontaneous mass demonstration in which tens of thousands of people participated (Thomas 1999, p. 35; Judah 2000, p. 156). Yet, after the above episode and up until the rise of Milošević on the republican level, the dissent in Serbia proper over federal policies was largely inhibited. For instance, when in March 1986 a group of almost one hundred Kosovo Serbs sought to travel to Belgrade in order to express their grievances to the federal authorities, the leader of the group was arrested. Moreover, three months later, a few hundred Serbs from the village of Batusi on the outskirts of Priština headed to Belgrade determined to protest at the Thirteenth Party Congress held in the capital. Their objectives also failed as the local police on the border between Kosovo and Serbia blocked their path (Vladisavljević 2008). The nationalist protests gained momentum after Milošević’s visit to Kosovo in 1987 and the central message directed at Kosovo Serbs “no one should dare to

Russia and Serbia – the core as the key   111 beat you” (cited in Silber and Little 1996, p. 37). This was the episode which is widely seen as Milošević’s transformation point, where he dramatically changed his tune of repetitive communist platitudes to the outright nationalist rhetoric (Silber and Little 1996; Thomas 1999; Ramet 2006). At the meeting, clashes broke out between the local police and around fifteen thousand Serbian protesters who assembled outside the building in which Milošević was meeting local party leaders. Even though Milošević and Kosovo Serb activists organized the protest, Milošević was left surprised at how violent and angry the protesters were (Pavković 2000). After a long meeting that outlined the grievances of the local Serb population, Milošević returned to Belgrade determined to make the cause of Kosovo Serbs his own. In an address to the meeting of the executive of the League of Communists, Milošević said: “What we are discussing here can no longer be called politics, it is a question of fatherland” (Thomas 1999, p. 44). This was a groundbreaking moment in Yugoslav history as no other high-­ ranking communist politician had been this open and vocal about fighting for the Serbian cause. What followed was an open confrontation with the Party members who stood in his way of providing a ‘solution’ for Kosovo, and a series of rallies throughout 1988 and 1989 (Vladisavljević 2008). In a bid to secure control over the Serbian government, Milošević ousted one of his chief political opponents and a member of the Stambolić clique, Dragiša Pavlović. Pavlović was the head of the Belgrade Communist Party and was against acting quickly and resolutely in response to developments in Kosovo, favouring dialogue with Kosovo Albanian leaders in order to reach a resolution to the crisis. The fully televised clash between the two occurred on September 23–24, 1987 at the Eighth Session of the Serbian Communist Party. Milošević first came after Pavlović by putting his insubordination on the agenda, after which he turned on Stambolić (Ramet 2006). In a matter of two months, Stambolić was dismissed from the office of the President of Presidency of Serbia. There was an attempt to bring the developments in Serbia to the attention of the Central Committee of the League of Communists of Yugoslavia (CC-­ LCY), however, due to divisions within the Party there was little political will to deal with Milošević’s putsch. From that point on, Milošević and the members of his faction became the sole source of power in the Serbian government. The new communist cadres who came from central and south Serbia replaced the political elite from Belgrade. Given that Milošević recruited them, he was able to count on their obedience in carrying out his objective to reshape the constitutional structure of first Serbia, and after that Yugoslavia (Pavković 2000). After the bid for government was secured and successfully executed, Milošević and his supporters organized a series of mass rallies between mid-­ 1988 and early 1989 in major centres around Serbia.28 The demonstrations were organized as “rallies for truth” and “rallies of solidarity” with the aim to unite Serbia with its provinces under the slogan “united, single Serbia” taken from the Memorandum of the Serbian Academy of Arts and Sciences (Thomas 1999, p.  45). As the demonstrations continued over several months, the rhetoric became increasingly nationalist. For instance, at some of the first rallies, Serbian

112   Part III and Yugoslav flags stood alongside each other, together with the portraits of Milošević, Lenin and Tito. Yet, as they gained momentum, Serbian national symbols took over and Yugoslav insignia was crowded out. It has been estimated that there were around one hundred such demonstrations from 1988 to 1989 and that a cumulative total of five million people took part in the protests (Pavković 2000, pp. 106–107). The rallies that were dubbed the ‘happenings of the people’ reached their fever pitch in Belgrade on November 19, 1988, when reportedly more than a million people attended the protest.29 Nationalists consolidating power In a set of rallies that took place in the provinces of Vojvodina and Kosovo, as well as the republic of Montenegro, mass demonstrations resulted in overturning the local leadership. The protest that would be remembered as the ‘Yoghurt Revolution’ took place on October 5–6, 1988 in the capital of Vojvodina, Novi Sad, with an attendance of over one hundred thousand people.30 Interestingly, a mid-­level Communist Party official, Mihalj Kertes, whose ethnic background was Hungarian and who sympathized with the Serb cause led the protest. The leadership of Vojvodina was feeling increasingly under pressure from the protests and in the end resigned. Kertes was promoted to high ranks of the newly appointed government and was considered to be part of Milošević’s cadre (Thomas 1999, p. 46). Not long after, on November 17, 1988, Milošević was successful in replacing Kosovo Albanian leadership with the help of Kosovo Serb protesters. It was actually the second time in six months that the local leadership had been changed. First in May 1988, Azem Vllasi, who was one of Tito’s young protégés, was forced to resign from his position as the chair of the party leadership in Kosovo. Kaqusha Jashari, who the leadership in Belgrade considered more likely to cooperate on the issue of Kosovo because he was ethnically half-­ Montenegrin, replaced Vllasi (Ramet 2006). However, it turned out that Jashari’s views were aligned with Vllasi’s. Thus in November 1988, Milošević first replaced some of Jashari and Vllasi’s main allies in the local leadership, after which Jashari was forced to resign in January 1989. Just as in Vojvodina, Milošević’s man, former police chief Rahman Morina, was promoted to the post of president of the party presidium in Kosovo (Sell 2002). These moves caused a major protest by more than one thousand Albanian miners in Trepča mines in Kosovo. The hunger strike that took place over eight days in February 1989 was conducted underground, and the miners pledged they would not come out until ten requirements they articulated would be fulfilled.31 The main demands of the miners on strike were obeying the provisions of the 1974 Constitution and the resignation of pro-­Milošević leadership in Kosovo (Bennett 1995). The epilogue of the strike was that Morina and his associates resigned, the Presidency of Yugoslavia a declared state of emergency in Kosovo, and Azem Vllasi was arrested on charges of organizing Kosovo Albanian unrest (Pavković 2000).

Russia and Serbia – the core as the key   113 The dynamics similar to those in the two provinces unravelled in Montenegro. However, in the mass demonstrations in August and November 1988, Montenegro’s communist leadership was still able to control the protests, as it had authority over the republic’s police forces. Yet on January 10 and 11, 1989, the republic’s capital, Titograd (now Podgorica) began experiencing unrest with more than fifty thousand protesters on the city streets. The difference regarding this round of protests was that Milošević’s followers were able to get the republican police commanders’ support (Ramet 2005). Left without police protection the entire Montenegrin collective presidency resigned on the second day of the demonstrations. Again, the officials who were installed as their replacement were Milošević’s loyalists (Thomas 1999). The significance of this episode is that it was the first time in SFRY’s history that the leaders from one republic were able to influence the political developments of such scale in another federal republic. As visible from the events described, and as a result of the intense series of “street democracy”, Milošević managed to establish control over politics in central Serbia, Vojvodina, Kosovo and Montenegro (Pavković 2000, p.  106). Yet, two major developments in 1989 helped him strengthen his power even further. First, on March 28, 1989 the news broke that the Serbian parliament unanimously approved a package of amendments to the Constitution of Serbia. These amendments outlined the denial of veto power on constitutional changes in Serbia for the two autonomous provinces of Vojvodina and Kosovo, as well as depriving them of their legislative, juridical and executive powers (Ramet 2006).32 The second development was Milošević’s election to the position of state president of Serbia on May 8, which was sanctioned by a unanimous open vote. This post enabled him to rally further support and implement his agenda (Vladisavljević 2008). Riding the wave of power, Milošević delivered one of his best-­known speeches as part of the celebrations around the six hundredth anniversary of the Serbian defeat at the battle of Kosovo. The ‘Gazimestan speech’ was delivered on June 28, 1989 in front of almost a million Serbs who gathered in central Kosovo for that occasion. Despite being initially touted as a Yugoslav event, the messages communicated were predominantly in the rhetorical style of Serbian heroism and ominously foreshadowing the events that would unravel soon after. These are the final passages from Milošević’s speech: The Kosovo battle contains another great symbol. This is the symbol of heroism. Poems, dances, literature and history are devoted to it. The Kosovo heroism has been inspiring our creativity for six centuries and does not allow us to forget that at one time we were brave and, one of the few that entered the battle undefeated. Six centuries later, now, we are being again engaged in battles and are facing battles. They are not armed battles, although such things cannot be excluded yet. However, regardless of what kind of battles they are, they cannot be won without resolve, bravery and sacrifice, without the noble qualities that were present here in the field of

114   Part III Kosovo in the days past. Our chief battle now concerns implementing the economic, political, cultural and general social prosperity, finding a quicker and more successful approach to a civilization in which people will live in the twenty-­first century. (BBC 1989) Liberalization that was never to be In his rise to power, Milošević advocated for the so-­called “anti-­bureaucratic revolution” (Vladisavljević 2008). He condemned the constitutional provisions that limited the tenure of high-­ranking officials on the federal level to one year, pointing that such measures essentially removed a sense of responsibility from the decision-­makers, which in turn led to economic and political mismanagement. Since Yugoslavia was facing economic hardship at the time, such messages resonated with many Serbs. Federal politicians and senior administrators were seen as getting rich at people’s expense, and not being held accountable as a result of their short terms in given positions (Ramet 2006). This sort of strategy has been deemed extremely populist and demagogic, albeit effective, since Milošević was initially speaking from the position of a relative outsider and someone who was just climbing in the party hierarchy (Ramet 2006). Furthermore, his disdain for elite mismanagement and bureaucratic corruption won him the votes of some of the Serbian intellectuals and dissidents who initially thought very little of his leadership style (Cohen 1993). Yet, despite coming from a technocratic background with experiences in the business and banking sector prior to his political ascent, Milošević’s proposals for economic and political reforms were at best limited, and at worst non-­ existent. Milošević gathered prominent Serbian economic and political specialists under a ‘Commission of the Presidency of the Republic of Serbia: The Commission for Questions of Social Reform’. The sub-­commission for economic reform was first to present a strategy in May 1988. The plan for economic recovery was based on the notion of “socialism as a wealthy society”, and market-­oriented reforms in which the “world market and world competition” represented “the strongest generator of economic operation” (Cohen 1993, p. 56). The way out of the economic crisis would be sought through the stimulation of investments and production in enterprises, introduction of new programs and technologies, stepped-­up development of the small-­scale economy, and increased foreign investments (Cohen 1993, pp. 55–58).33 Moreover, under the Commission’s strategy, the creation of a united market was an essential “condition for Yugoslavia’s existence”, and could not “be called statism or centralism” (Cohen 1993, p. 56). However, the plan for economic reform was not that ambitious, as it did not call for elimination of the self-­management system, only for some form of reorganization, which would increase productivity and curtail bureaucracy. Although Milošević publicly claimed that he was working for a “mixed economy” and a “pluralism of property ownership”, his reform program clearly

Russia and Serbia – the core as the key   115 emphasized the “social ownership” sector or “public means of production” rather than the private sector (Cohen 1993, p. 57). According to Milošević, establishing real equality between the public and private sectors would be a mistake. Thus at the end of the 1980s, reform efforts focused on the public sector, which was generating approximately 85 percent of national income in Yugoslavia, rather than on the private sector (LeBor 2002). Still, in the West, particularly in the United States at first, such plans were greeted with approval, as it was viewed that the proposed reforms, if implemented, would make the country resemble South Korea in terms of economic management (Ramet 2006). In July 1989 the sub-­commission for political reform announced a comprehensive proposal for the political reorganization of Yugoslavia. The tone was very optimistic and promising as the report emphasized Milošević’s commitment to a “modern democratic and efficacious federation” (Ramet 2006, p. xxi). The proposal then recommended that decision-­making in the Federal Assembly should be reformed with a view to support economic development. Namely, it should be based on the principle of interregional unanimity and limited to only the “narrowest circle” of the constitutional questions. The main recommendation was that voting should follow the principle of qualified majorities (Cohen 1993). The reform proposal also referred to creating a political system that would nominally guarantee civil liberties, institutional oversight, accountability of all public officials and an independent judiciary. While the talk of pluralism in Serbia subscribed to the ideas of free expression of different views and values, as well as the freedom of association, the official stance was that these would be regulated by the Socialist Alliance, or as it was referred to “in harmony with the social or interest structures of our society” (Cohen 1993, p. 58). Thus, there is much doubt over the extent to which these proposals could be deemed as credible commitments to system reform and political liberalization. More pertinently, the ambitions for implementing meaningful multiparty pluralism were simply not present. Milošević recognized that Yugoslav socialism found itself “in a transition period of its development”, however, he stressed that should other forms of “pluralistic political organization” need to emerge, such alternatives to the ruling party would have to be created on a democratic and socialist basis and “within Yugoslav frameworks” (Cohen 1993, p.  58). Multiparty pluralism was neither specifically ruled out nor encouraged in the political reform outline presented by the Milošević Commission in 1989. Therefore, the precise parameters of political pluralism appeared very indefinite, and the meaning of the phrase such as “within Yugoslav frameworks” was left unclear. Tellingly, in an interview for French newspapers in July 1989, Milošević confessed that he was hostile to the idea of a multiparty system and that he would prefer “a system without parties” instead (Le Monde, July 12, 1989). Moreover, when the head of the Milošević Commission’s working committee for political reform was asked whether the draft proposals called for the legalization of opposition parties in Yugoslavia, he reiterated his opposition to unregulated political pluralism. More specifically, he said, “logic does not exclude the

116   Part III possibility that tomorrow there would be eight communist parties and socialist parties, but not parties whose programs advocate the privatization of social wealth, a return to capitalism. Here is that barrier” (Cohen 1993, p. 58). On the whole, promises of economic and political reforms never came to fruition as they were envisaged in the proposals from the sub-­commissions. First of all, Milošević was a priori ideologically socialist and for all the talk of economic reform, the line was clearly drawn at transforming the managed economy into a market-­led one. Moreover, pursuing economic reform would not be as effective as focusing on political strategies in order to legitimate his authority. Namely, by exploiting the Serbian party apparatus as an instrument of power and not allowing political pluralization, Milošević understood he would be more successful at maintaining his position. In that vein, the attempts of reforms have been widely recognized as efforts for recentralization under the guise of the maxim “modern, efficient, stable state” (Ramet 2006, p. 355). Serbia as an early mobilizer The dynamics of mobilization in Serbia seem to correspond to the pattern of early mobilization. From the analysis presented above, it can be seen that the ethnonationalist movement in Serbia emerged already in the early 1980s and took hold from 1987 onwards, parallel to Milošević’s rise on the republican political scene. From the mid-­1980s there were also pressures for political pluralization in Yugoslavia due to dramatic social crisis and the consequent erosion of power and influence of the one-­party state. The political groups and movements that began appearing in 1988, including the protest movements in Serbia signalled the opening of the federal polity to political competition. The mass rallies that occurred between 1988 and 1989 in Serbia, Kosovo, Vojvodina and Montenegro, were the product of informal networks that collaborated with Milošević and that existed almost as parallel governments outside central Serbia (Silber and Little 1996).34 At the same time, demands were addressed to the CC-­LCY to “open its ranks to invite and include all those who had been denied” (Arfi 2005). Moreover, the political liberalization that was occurring in Poland, Hungary and the USSR only intensified such appeals. The LCY decided to allow for the development of “non-­party pluralism” in 1988, as a compromise between the desire to maintain the Party’s political monopoly and allow new political participants that could not make demands to participate in the government (Goati 1992). The same year saw the formation of tens of independent political entities throughout Yugoslavia, most prominently in Slovenia and Croatia. However, labelling themselves as political parties was at first largely avoided for the fear of repression, thus they were created under labels such as “associations”, “alliances” and “councils” (Goati 1992, p. 8). This changed by the end of 1989 and early 1990, after the federal League of Communists adopted the multiparty concept at its Fourteenth Congress. In a short time, political parties surfaced all around the federation. It was estimated that by October 1990, there were around one hundred and fifty parties operating in

Russia and Serbia – the core as the key   117 SFRY, which was well after ethnonationalist mobilization took place in the core and most of the Yugoslav periphery (Goati 1992, p. 9). By the beginning of 1990, there were already six major opposition parties operating in the republic and forming a loose alliance under the name Associated Opposition of Serbia (Thomas 1999; Popov and Gojković 2000).35 Inspired by the first multiparty elections that took place in Slovenia and Croatia in April and May, these parties staged a seventy thousand people strong rally in Beograd in June 1990, asking for the same to take place in Serbia (Thomas 1999, p.  69). However, their first defeat occurred even before the first republican multiparty elections that were scheduled for December of the same year. In September 1990, the Serbian government adopted a new constitution that gave the president more powers, while at the same time restricting those granted to the parliament. This was thought to be a calculated move by Milošević, for whom the presidential system would ensure the position of strength even if the opposition won the majority in the parliament. The new Serbian constitution also formally terminated Kosovo’s autonomy as it emphasized that the republic of Serbia was “unified and unalienable”, and that it had full sovereignty (Constitution of Serbia 1990, Article 4). The few months of campaigning were marked by accusations that the government controlled the media, but also by splits within the loose opposition alliance on the issue of whether the opposition should boycott the elections since the campaign had been corrupted.36 However, the consensus to participate finally emerged and the opposition was even optimistic about its prospects for the general elections (Thomas 1999, pp. 71–74). The election results came to destroy all hopes, since Milošević’s Socialist Party of Serbia (SPS), the new name for the League of Communists of Serbia, won almost two thirds of the vote in the presidential elections. Additionally, it is important to note that the runner up in these elections was also a nationalist, Vuk Drašković, from the Serbian Renewal Movement with 16 percent of the votes cast (Nohlen and Stöver 2010). This demonstrates the degree to which nationalist rhetoric took over the polity. It also fits into general expectations regarding the effect of early mobilization on the results of elections. Furthermore, the results of the elections for the National Assembly granted Milošević’s SPS overwhelming majority of seats due to the ‘first-­past-the-­post’ setup of the Serbian electoral system (Bideleux and Jeffries 2006). Namely, even though SPS won just under half of the votes, it was granted more than three quarters of the seats out of the two hundred and fifty seats in the parliament. Among the opposition parties, the Serbian Renewal Movement again received the most votes, but it translated into only 7 per cent of the seats, while the Democratic Party came third and won just under 3 per cent of parliamentary seats (Gordy 1999, p. 36). Based on these election results, it becomes clear that Milošević faced the most competition from the nationalist alternative rather than liberal-­democratic options. This signals how the Serbian population by the time of the elections largely bought into the nationalist rhetoric, both as a result of efficient rallying

118   Part III techniques by Milošević and his supporters, and as a consequence of misuse of power by the ruling party. Moreover, even if the first multiparty elections in Serbia are taken as evidence of political liberalization, it can be seen that such moves were more nominal than real. SPS inherited the vast capacities that LCS once had, which included the braches and networks across the country and membership that was almost half a million strong. On the other hand, opposition was underfunded and lacking these connections on a local level. Most importantly it was denied full access to the electronic media, which meant that it was unable to reach out to the citizens in the way SPS could (Seroka and Pavlovic 1992).

Discussion This chapter aimed to show the essentially opposite etiology of ethnopolitical action and dynamics of ethnonationalist mobilizations in Russia and Serbia. First, Russian identity was unarguably defined within the context of an empire. The absence of the Russian question was in stark contrast with other East European nationalisms since the frontiers of the Russian nation overlapped with the state borders. On the other hand, Serbian ethnic identity suffered from a national question as the Serbian state did not coincide with the boundaries of the Serbian nation until the early twentieth century, and even later there was a significant proportion of Serbs living outside Serbia proper in the neighbouring Yugoslav republics. Moreover, the dominant narrative for politicization of Serbian identity was primarily tied to the perception of being an ethnic victim. Second, a largely divergent set of incentives motivated the mass mobilization that emerged in the 1980s in the two core republics. Russian mobilization came as a response to the tide of nationalist movements that were occurring throughout the Soviet Union, as well as a reaction to the political opening, making it a late riser. The incentives for political action differed within each of the three streams of mobilization: the nationalist-­conservative movement had a fear of future losses especially for Russians outside Russia proper; the liberal stream was motivated by hopes of democratization and positioned itself against the party state; while the organized labour movement was mostly the result of economic grievances. On the other hand, Serbian mobilization was not nearly as divided as the Russian, and one could trace multiple complementary incentives. There was the resentment regarding past losses, most notably the 1974 Constitution that made Serbia the only republic with two autonomous provinces with equal federal decision-­making power. Moreover, there was a fear of growing Albanian nationalism in Kosovo compounded with high Albanian birth rates and high rates of Serbs leaving the province. Lastly, there was a sense of the collective disadvantage of Serbian people especially regarding material well-­being when compared to the more developed Yugoslav republics. Third, what truly sets the mobilizational experiences in the two republics apart is the difference in the leadership and coalition-­building. In Russia, not only was the polity divided and various republic-­based movements propagated competing claims, but also the leadership struggle between Mikhail Gorbachev

Russia and Serbia – the core as the key   119 and Boris Yeltsin made liberalization and democratization the main issues of the political debate. On the other hand, Slobodan Milošević was increasingly able to dominate the Serbian political scene through shrewd tactical moves and by maximizing the use of party apparatus. His goals were primarily those of greater centralization of SFRY and maintaining the political status quo in terms of the rule of the communist party. However, they were successfully masked in nationalist rhetoric to rally the most support. This brings us to the crucial part of the comparison – the difference in sequencing of ethnonationalist mobilization and liberalization. As indicated in Table 3.1, in Russia the all-­union reforms of the economic and political spheres commenced in the summer of 1985 with perestroika and in the spring of 1986 with glasnost. The political opening gave way to mass movements of Russian discontent, which were motivated by different and often competing objectives. However, these mass expressions of discontent began taking place after 1988, which was after the implementation of liberalization reforms. More importantly, the political option that gained the most traction within RSFSR, as the CPSU began losing clout, was the liberal-­democratizing stream of Democratic Russia led by Yeltsin and his associates. Therefore, one can clearly see that such sequence of events points to liberalization that took place first, and (liberal) mobilization that followed. This type of dynamic corresponds to the general expectations regarding the late mobilization from Chapter 1, since it is hypothesized that if liberalization is to occur first, it is more likely that there would be a competition among different political ideologies and less likely it would lead to ethnic outbidding. On the other hand, Serbia rather neatly fits into the category of an early mobilizer. It saw the first mass demonstration of Serbian discontent with the situation in Kosovo and Metohija in August 1983, and the ethnonationalist movement certainly gained momentum since Milošević’s visit to Kosovo Polje in 1987 and subsequent ‘happenings of the people’. The moves towards economic and political liberalization started in 1988 and 1989, and they were at best modest in their reach. Moreover, despite the positive developments in terms of the pluralization of Serbian polity in 1990, Milošević’s stronghold of polity and primacy of nationalist rhetoric hindered the emergence of strong liberal alternatives. Another piece of evidence that demonstrates the degree to which ethnonationalism took hold in the Serbian polity is seen from the 1990 election results, which show that Milošević faced most serious opposition from other nationalists, rather than liberals. Thus, the assumption regarding early ethnonationalist mobilization leading to ethnic outbidding after political liberalization seems to be confirmed. Overall, the hypothesis H1 (early ethnonationalist mobilization in the core unit is more likely to lead to conflict within the core federal unit and peripheral unit(s) than late mobilization in the core unit) is confirmed in the case of Serbia, since early ethnonationalist mobilization contributed to early counter-­ mobilization in Slovenia and Croatia, and conflicts in those republics. In the case of Serbia’s war with Kosovo, the same hypothesis is not fully supported, since there was a significant time lag between the early mobilization in the core and

120   Part III Table 3.1  Dynamics of ethnonationalist mobilization in Russia and Serbia, 1980–1991 Russia

Serbia

Identity

Defined within a context of an empire The conqueror and/or the elder brother

Defined through historical struggle of existing on the doorsteps of empires The victim narrative

Incentives

Hopes for relative gains Repression – political victims of a totalitarian state

Resentment about losses past and present Fear of future losses Collective disadvantage (particularly in economic realm)

Capacity

Fragmentation of polity impeded conservative nationalist movement Yeltsin’s coalitionbuilding and opposing Gorbachev strengthened liberals

Nationalists able to dominate due to institutional changes and limited liberalization

Ethnonationalist mobilization

Timing

In 1988 to some extent, but significant Russian nationalist protests started in early 1989, however with very limited impact within RSFSR

The first mass demonstration of Serbian discontent with the situation in Kosovo and Metohija in 1983, gains momentum from Milošević’s visit to Kosovo in 1987

Liberalization

Timing

With perestroika in summer 1985 and glasnost in spring 1986

Market-oriented economic restructuring rather than reform in 1988 Political pluralism first denied, then allowed in 1990

Sequencing

Late mobilization – Early or late ethnonationalist though liberal stream prevailed mobilization

Etiology of ethnopolitical action

Early mobilization – also, issues whether political liberalization within Serbia was meaningful

Russia and Serbia – the core as the key   121 periphery and the onset of conflict. Conversely, the sequencing of mobilization in Russia strongly supports hypothesis H3 (late ethnonationalist mobilization in the core federal unit is less likely to lead to conflict within the core federal unit and peripheral unit(s) than early mobilization). The liberal movement that prevailed in Russia limited its involvement within the periphery after the state collapse.38 37

Conclusion The empirical analysis in the next three chapters will look at mobilization dynamics in peripheral republics and provinces of the two federations. Yet, the main takeaway point from this chapter is that in case of the RSFSR, mobilization occurred relatively late in regards to liberalization when compared to peripheral republics. More importantly, because its dominant form was not a priori nationalist, but liberal, it failed to set off strong reactive ethnonationalist spiral from the periphery. Such developments occurred only after the collapse of the USSR and within Russia proper. In contrast, early nationalist mobilization in Serbia, albeit triggered by Kosovo Albanian mobilization, was what largely contributed to counter-­mobilizational spirals from Slovenia, Croatia and Bosnia-­ Herzegovina. In essence, the former Yugoslavia saw the interethnic security dilemma in which the core republic’s mobilization was pitted against the peripheral republic’s demands, while in the former Soviet Union, incompatible ethnonationalist claims were not as pronounced on the core versus peripheral republic level, but rather within the republics (core and periphery alike) or between peripheral republics as the following chapters will argue.

Notes   1 There was another stream of Russian mobilization, which is referred to as the ‘nationalist-­conservative’. This stream emerged in the peripheral republics of the USSR as the response to majority-­led mobilizations in those republics. For the purposes of analysis that explores the dynamics of core unit mobilization, the nationalist-­ conservative stream will not be explored in this chapter, as it referred to counter-­mobilization movements which first started in mid-­1988 in Estonia and spread to Latvia and Lithuania (Baltic mobilization will be analysed in detail in Chapter 6). Though it has to be acknowledged that in 1988 Russian nationalists started forming organizations and parties that were in favour of ultranationalism and ‘a return to Russian roots’ in terms of advocating autocracy, anti-­Semitism and xenophobia. However, despite being well-­publicized and well-­organized, they remained largely marginal. Candidates nominated by Pamyat and other nationalist organizations failed to get elected to either the USSR or the RSFSR Congresses of People’s Deputies in 1989 and 1990 (Guroff and Guroff 1994). In that respect, they do not represent the dominant mobilization groups.   2 Mobilizational turnouts at demonstrations expressing liberalizing demands were on average six times greater in Moscow and Leningrad than in other large cities in Russia which had the population of over half a million. The protesters in these two cities accounted for 78 percent of the total number of Russian participants in liberal demonstrations (Beissinger 2002).

122   Part III   3 An example of liberal-­labour national coalition is the case of Solidarity in Poland in 1980.   4 There were only a few experts who, before 1988, entertained the possibility that the Soviet Union might disintegrate as a result of its nationality problems (Beissinger 2002). However, even this group’s predictions were, as history would show, erroneous; for they believed that an ethnic issue that would precipitate the breakup would be Muslim uprising in Central Asia (Carrere d’Encausse 1980; Pipes 1984; Motyl 1992).   5 Nonetheless, it is important to note that there were differences even among those in Gorbachev’s inner circle who supported changes. For instance, the Second Secretary of the CPSU, Yegor Ligachev, was in favour of less reaching changes than Yakovlev and Shevardnadze (Aron 2012).   6 Politburo or the ‘executive committee’ was the central policymaking and governing body of the CPSU.   7 Claims have been made that if Gorbachev had taken the risk of calling a general election for the presidency of the Soviet Union in 1989, rather than resorting to the path of least resistance and being elected on the basis of existing legislature in March 1990, he could have enhanced his popular legitimacy, extended his own period in office and extended the life of the Soviet Union (even though it would have meant a smaller union, with the Baltic states as the prime candidates for early exit). More importantly, it was during the early summer of 1990 that Yeltsin took over the lead in the opinion polls (Brown 2004, pp. 577–583).   8 However, the new union would be smaller by six republics, as Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania, Armenia, Georgia and Moldova withdrew from treaty negotiations expressing that they were seeking outright independence.   9 The Emergency Committee represented the traditional bastions of power in the Soviet system, and among them were Gennady Yanayev (USSR vice president), Valentin Pavlov (prime minister), Vladimir Kryuchkov (head of the KGB), Dimitri Yazov (minister of defence), Boris Pugo (minister of interior), Alexander Tizyakov (head of the Association of State Enterprises), Oleg Baklanov (head of the military-­industrial complex and deputy chair of the Defence Council) and Vasil Starodubsev (chair of the Soviet farmers’ union). Although Yanayev was the reluctant public face of the Committee, Kryuchkov was the real architect. Key leaders such as parliamentary speaker Anatoly Lukyanov and Gorbachev’s long-­time chief of staff Valery Boldin supported the Committee, although they were not formal members (Robertson 2004, pp. 96–99). 10 The group included including Prime Minister Ivan Silayev, parliamentary speaker Ruslan Khasbulatov, Leningrad mayor Anatoly Sobchak, Moscow deputy mayor Yuri Luzhkov and General Konstantin Kobets, chair of the Russian parliament’s military affairs committee (Robertson 2004, pp. 96–99). 11 Among the notable pro-­democracy advocates were then Minister of Foreign Affairs of Soviet Union, Eduard Shevardnadze, rights activist and Sakharov’s wife Yelena Bonner, and renowned cellist Mstislav Rostropovich (Robertson 2004, pp. 96–99). 12 The reactions from outside Moscow were split. In republics that opted for non-­ communist leaders, such as the Baltics, the coup was strongly condemned. Elsewhere, some of the local political entrepreneurs hurried to give their support to the Emergency Committee. Outside the USSR, Western states were reluctant to react hastily, while strong backing for the coup organizers came from Libya and Iraq (Robertson 2004, pp. 96–99). 13 At the press conference, Yanayev’s hands were quivering, he was sniffling and his delivery suggested lack of conviction. Reporters even laughed at some of his pitiful answers about the past day’s events (Bonnell et al. 1994). 14 While the central government would still have the control over foreign affairs, defence and monetary policy. Moreover, the union would still have an office of president and prime minister, albeit with fewer powers than under the Soviet system (Dunlop 1993).

Russia and Serbia – the core as the key   123 15 The CIS has nine official members which include Russia, Belarus, Armenia, Azerbaijan, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Moldova, Tajikistan and Uzbekistan, and two states which are unofficial associate members, Ukraine and Turkmenistan. 16 Please refer to Chapter 5 for analysis of ethnonationalist mobilization and conflict in Chechnya. 17 Serb Orthodox Church has been argued to be the only institution that did not ‘betray’ the Serbian nation under communism. Theologian and bishops, such as Atanasije Jevtić, were instrumental in reactivating the discourse of the Serbian suffering, especially related to the struggle for Kosovo. For instance, see Jevtić (1987) and van Dartel (1996). Moreover, Church dissent with communist policy in Kosovo was openly expressed in April 1982, when twenty-­one priests petitioned the authorities to protect the existence of Serbs in Kosovo and Metohija (Duijzings 2000, p. 180). 18 The document, that was intended for perusal by Yugoslav and Serbian political leaders, was in fact never completed by the Academy, was prematurely leaked and was published in the form of a two-­part newspaper article under the title ‘A Proposal for Hopelessness’ (Cohen 1995). 19 This was, as the Memorandum argued, the result of the historical depiction of Serbs as “oppressors”, “unitarists”, “centralists” and “policemen” of other Yugoslav nations (Mihailović and Krestić 1995, pp. 121–123). Moreover, it was argued Serbia was disadvantaged economically, as it had lower per capita investment, unfair terms of trade with other republics and a disproportionately high level of contributions to the Federal Fund for Underdeveloped Regions. Lastly, the argument was outlined that Serbs, as the most populous ethnic group in Yugoslavia, were underrepresented in the federal bodies. 20 Borba, October 18, 1990. “Predstavništvo SFRJ dostavilo Skupštini koncept federativnog uredjenja Jugoslavije” (The SFRY Presidency submitted a Concept of Federal Arrangement of Yugoslavia to the Assembly). 21 Recall the macroeconomic indicators for SFRY republics in Chapter 2. 22 In SFRY, political bodies at the top of the system were based strictly on a ‘one republic/province, one vote system’ which was argued as a mechanism to prevent the hegemony of the largest and most populous republics. 23 Most notably the support came from his close university friend, Ivan Stambolić, who served as the President of the Executive Council of Serbia (1978–1982) and the President of the Presidency of Serbia (1986–1987), and his uncle, Petar Stambolić, who was the President of the Federal Executive Council of Yugoslavia (1963–1967) and President of the Presidency of Yugoslavia (1982–1983). 24 This included creating a team of conservative team advisors, which included younger members of the Serbian party who were against liberal reforms, hardline academics from the University of Belgrade who controlled significant portions of vote on the Belgrade League of Communists committee, as well as key media figures. Yet, arguments have been made that Milošević’s wife, Mirjana Marković, who was a professor of sociology at the University of Belgrade, played an instrumental role in organizing his group of close collaborators, consulting him and helping in formulating policies (Sell 2002, p. 32). 25 The commemoration of the anniversary of the battle of Kosovo in June 1989, when Milošević joined the Orthodox Church dignitaries in a joint celebration, was one such highly publicized exercise. Another occurred a year later, when Milošević received a delegation of Serbian Orthodox Synod and committed to working out problems in the relations between the Church and state in Serbia (Ramet 2006). 26 The grassroots mobilization of Kosovo Serbs will be specifically addressed in Chapter 4, under the discussion of early mobilization dynamics of the peripheral republics/ provinces. However, it is important to note that the ethnonationalist mobilization process that took place in central Serbia has to be viewed as an answer to the mobilization that originated in Kosovo. I agree with Vladisavljević (2004) who argues that

124   Part III Kosovo Serb mobilization in the early 1980s was relatively small-­scale with moderate demands. However, it arose very early on, and more importantly, it became exploited by Milošević after he rose to power. 27 After the Second World War, Ranković became the first Minister of Interior Affairs of Yugoslavia (1946–1966) and the head of the secret police and military intelligence (1944–1946). His political downfall occurred in 1966 due to abusing his powers by tapping Tito’s sleeping quarters. This was also the reason behind his expulsion from the Communist Party of Yugoslavia in the same year (Cox 2002, p. 107). 28 The most prominent nationalist activists were Kosovo Serbs, who founded the ‘Committee for Organizing Departures to the Protest Gatherings Outside the Province’. They were joined by the ‘Association for the Return of Serbs and Montenegrins Exiled from Kosovo’, which operated within the framework of the Socialist Alliance of Working People of Serbia. These groups were central in transporting Kosovo Serbs to rallies around Serbia where they were greeted with “genuine enthusiasm” by their compatriots (Thomas 1999, p. 46). 29 Pavković (2000, p. 106) notes that the official figures of rally attendance were brought into question by members of opposition, who claimed that participation did not surpass three hundred thousand people. In any case, the point to be made is that the participation was counted in hundreds of thousands and that it surpassed the attendance of any of the rallies during Tito’s rule (cf. Popov (1993)). 30 The name ‘Yoghurt Revolution’ comes from the fact that among the protesters there were angry farmers who splattered yoghurt in front of the assembly building of the local government. 31 The protest was openly supported by Slovenian leadership, which increased the strains and led to a breakdown of relations between Slovenia and Serbia (this is discussed to a greater extent in Chapter 4). 32 Deputies in the provincial parliaments had little objection to the said amendments being that some of them were either Milošević’s men or they were visited by the Serbian police forces on the eve of the vote (Ramet 2006). 33 Milošević urged people to overcome their “unfounded, irrational and . . . primitive fear of exploitation” by foreign capital. He added that such prejudices about foreign capital investments were spread by the bureaucracy “which itself is on the lowest level of education and cultured existence” and has frequently made wrong investment decisions regarding foreign loans, “on the basis of personal criteria of the top leaders and not on the basis of economic criteria” (Cohen 1993, p. 56). 34 For instance, the creation of the previously mentioned ‘Committee for Organizing Departures to the Protest Gatherings Outside the Province’ which was a group that was formed based on the decision of the local branch of the Socialist Alliance in Kosovo Polje in June 1988 had been arguably more powerful than many formal institutions (Goati 1992). 35 The alliance included parties from vastly different positions on the political spectrum – Democratic Party (social-­democratic); Serbian Renewal Movement (royalist-­ nationalist); National Radical Party (nationalist-­crypto fascist); Democratic Forum; Liberal Party (emerged from Democratic Party) and Serbian St Sava Party (nationalist) (Thomas 1999). 36 It is worth mentioning that during the campaign, Milošević focused on economic development, rather than nationalist themes. For the most part, he completely dismissed the opposition’s existence as politically irrelevant. Nationalist rhetoric became the political signature of Vuk Drašković, the leader of Serbian Renewal Movement (Thomas 1999). 37 The explanation behind the ‘delayed’ violent conflict in Kosovo will be provided in Chapter 4, while the dynamics behind the onset of war in Bosnia-­Herzegovina will be discussed in Chapter 5.

Russia and Serbia – the core as the key   125 38 Chapter 5 will explore the dynamics of conflicts in Moldova and Chechnya and demonstrate how liberal mobilization in Russia limited the war in Transnistria, and why it avoided the violent conflict with Chechnya until 1994. Moreover, Chapter 6 will show that Yeltsin’s support for the Baltic republics in pursuing independence is a testament to the strength of liberal movement in the core.

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4 The Periphery I – early to rise, early to fight?

Republics and provinces in the Western Balkans and South Caucasus today belong to largely different regions, as the former increasingly look towards European Union integration, while the latter remain in deadlock, with occasional flaring up of the frozen conflicts. However, their starting points in the years immediately prior to the collapse of the former Soviet Union and Yugoslavia were in many ways similar. The conflicts that Armenia, Georgia, Croatia, Kosovo and Slovenia experienced in the period between 1988 and 1999 can all be broadly grouped as the products of early ethnonationalist mobilization within these territorial units. This chapter will thus trace the etiologies of ethnopolitical action of the titular groups, emphasizing how the prerequisites for ethnonationalist movements emerged and developed prior to significant political openings in these units, which in turn contributed to the onset of violent conflicts. This chapter refers to the model presented in Chapter 1. Namely, it tests the hypotheses of the likelihood of conflict occurrence in cases in which the periphery mobilizes early, and the core mobilizes either early or late. Following the theoretical assumptions outlined earlier in the book (Chapter 1), the regions that are most likely to see eruptions of conflicts are the ones in which both the core and the periphery mobilize on an ethnonationalist basis before experiencing political opening. Such conflicts would be expected in three different scenarios – within the core, between the core and periphery and within the periphery. The cases in which the core undergoes late ethnonationalist mobilization and the periphery mobilizes early are less likely to result in conflict within the core and between the core and periphery than the dyad in which both the core and periphery mobilize early. However, it is still expected that early peripheral mobilization would lead to conflicts within the periphery. The general expectations regarding the likelihood of conflict occurrence have been summarized in Figure 4.1. Figure 4.2 places the cases within the corresponding quadrants. It is important to reiterate that ‘core’ denotes the core republic (i.e. Russia and Serbia), while the ‘periphery’ refers to the remaining constitutive republics and provinces. All three conflicts that took place on the territory of the former Soviet Union were conflicts within the periphery. Namely, these conflicts occurred within non-­core republics and, more specifically, between the federal republics and federal units

Periphery

EM

EM

LM

P (conflict) = very high

P (conflict) = high

P (conflict) = moderate

P (conflict) = low

Core

LM

Figure 4.1  Dynamics of ethnonationalist mobilization and conflict occurrence. Periphery EM

EM

LM

Kosovo Slovenia Croatia

Core

LM

Armenia Georgia

Figure 4.2  Selected cases of early peripheral mobilization in USSR and SFRY.

132   Part III of the lower order that had separatist goals. It has to be emphasized that all three conflicts in question (Nagorno-­Karabakh, Abkhazia and South Ossetia) had strong elements of internationalization, i.e. involvement of an external third party to the conflict. Conflicts on the territory of the former Yugoslavia also experienced internationalization, however these conflicts were the result of incompatibilities between the core and periphery. Namely, conflicts that snowballed from Slovenia, Croatia, Bosnia-­Herzegovina to Kosovo were the result of conflicting objectives on the part of the core as opposed to ethnopolitical goals of peripheral republics and provinces (centralizing and preserving SFRY versus decentralizing and seceding). The selected five cases differ not only in terms of regional dynamics, since in the case of the former Soviet Union the core mobilized late, whereas in the former Yugoslavia the core mobilized early. They are also different with respect to conflict initiation, intensity, duration and resolution. First, regarding conflict initiation, the war in Kosovo stands out as a laggard as it erupted in late 1998 despite the fact that ethnonationalist mobilization commenced a decade and a half earlier. The conflict over Nagorno-­Karabakh, on the other hand, began before the collapse of the Soviet Union. On the point of intensity, Slovenia is at one end of the spectrum with a conflict that lasted only several days and resulted in a minimal number of casualties. On the other end of the spectrum, Croatia, Kosovo, Abkhazia and Nagorno-­Karabakh were all classified as intrastate and/or internationalized wars according to the UCDP dataset (2015). Finally, the wars in Nagorno-­Karabakh and Croatia were the longest, lasting six and four years respectively. However, while the conflicts involving former Yugoslav republics got resolved (albeit with the resolution for Kosovo proving to be the hardest one to reach), Abkhazia, South Ossetia and Nagorno-­Karabakh remain de facto states with very limited international recognition, as well as the zones of frozen conflict. While it is important to acknowledge these differences, this chapter will focus more on the developments that preceded the conflicts, demonstrating that ethnonationalist mobilization, which commenced prior to the major opening of the polity, had a significant effect on increasing the likelihood of conflict occurrence. Thus, the etiology of ethnopolitical action, which is based on the conflation of ethnic identity, mobilizational incentives and capacity will be traced first, after which the analysis of mobilization dynamics will follow for each of the five cases. A brief summary of sequencing for each of the cases is presented in Table 4.1. The chapter will conclude with a comparative summary and discussion of the main findings.

The Periphery I   133 Table 4.1 Summary of sequencing for the selected cases of early peripheral mobilization with conflict

Armenia Georgia Kosovo Slovenia Croatia

Ethnonationalist mobilization (timing)

Political liberalization (timing)

Mobilizational dynamics (early or late mobilization)

Early 1987 1980–1981 1981 1987–1988 Late 1988

1988–1989 1987 Repression first 1989 1989

Early Early Early Early Early (concurrent)

Early mobilizers in the Soviet Union Armenia Etiology of ethnopolitical action Id e ntity

In order to understand the sources of Armenian nationalism and pan-­nationalism that contributed to the escalation of ethnic conflict over Nagorno-­Karabakh, it is important to understand that contestations over the region are not of modern origin. Quite the opposite, the territory had been under the rule of different empires and foreign powers that were present in the area and included the Arabs, Seljuks, Ottomans, Persians and Russians. Yet, with the end of the First World War, and the definition of the modern-­day republics of Armenia and Azerbaijan, calls have been made to reunite the majority Armenian enclave of Nagorno-­ Karabakh in Azerbaijan with the neighbouring Armenia. These claims have been built around the Armenian national identity and extensive list of grievances Armenians held against the Azeris (Suny 1993). The sense of distinct Armenian identity stems primarily from the perceived and real threat of being a Christian nation surrounded by mostly Muslim neighbours. The loss of ancestral lands after the collapse of the Ottoman Empire, Hamidian Massacres (1894–1896) and the Armenian Genocide (1915–1923) cemented the self-­perception of Armenians as victims (Suny 1993). After a long history of statelessness due to foreign occupation, Armenians had their first experience of independence when the Democratic Republic of Armenia was proclaimed in 1918 (Libaridian 1991). This was, however, a relatively short episode as in 1920 the Soviet Red Army occupied the state and transformed it into a Soviet Republic. After the Bolsheviks took over control of Azerbaijan and Armenia in 1920, the status of Nagorno-­Karabakh did not get resolved. First, in December 1920, the Revolutionary Committee of Soviet Azerbaijan announced that Nagorno-­ Karabakh would be put under Armenian authority, however, in March 1921 a treaty signed by the Soviet Union and Turkey instructed the territory should be

134   Part III placed under Azerbaijan’s control. The developments around the status did not end there – in early July 1921 the Caucasian Bureau of the Communist Party (Kavburo) first ordered that Nagorno-­Karabakh should be placed under control of the Armenian SSR, only to reverse that decision a day later when the enclave was integrated with the Azerbaijan SSR. In July 1923 Nagorno-­Karabakh was finally given the administrative status of an Autonomous Oblast within the Azerbaijan SSR, and as such, it remained until the breakup of the Soviet Union (Voronkova 2011). In that respect, Nagorno-­Karabakh’s status as a region within Azerbaijan played well into the Armenian narrative of historical injustices and suffering. Namely, the fact that a significant portion of the Armenian population was concentrated in a republic that was seen as the traditional enemy, and that it was the subject of repression (Libaridian 2004). I nc e ntive s

The incentives for ethnopolitical action of Armenians from Nagorno-­Karabakh stemmed from the grievances this group held regarding their social status within Azerbaijan. More specifically, even though the oblast lagged behind the Armenia and Soviet average, its state of development was not significantly different from the rest of Azerbaijan. Moreover, claims have been made that the living conditions were somewhat better in Nagorno-­Karabakh than in the rest of Azerbaijan; however there are no objective and detailed analyses regarding these assertions (Human Rights Watch 1994, p. 177; Voronkova 2011, p. 109). Objections over cultural mistreatment and neglect had more resonance, as there were examples of how the Armenians were discriminated against in the provision of education and access to media. For instance, even though primary education was offered in the Armenian language, there were no Armenian history classes. Furthermore, print and radio media in Armenian was limited, while TV broadcasts were exclusively in Azeri and Russian. In addition, religious and cultural monuments that were of significance to the Armenian population were continuously neglected (Cornell 1997; Zürcher 2007). Moreover, since its establishment as an Autonomous Oblast, Nagorno-­ Karabakh witnessed significant emigration of Armenians, which was only intensified by the perception of inequality. After Heidar Aliev rose to power as the First Secretary of the Azerbaijan CP in the 1970s, there was a substantial inflow of Azeris to the oblast. In relative terms, the percentage of Armenian population in Nagorno-­Karabakh dropped from 89 percent in 1928 to 75 percent in 1979 (Moutafian 1994, p.  142). Adding to the sense of inequality were the titular republic’s affirmative action policies, which enabled Karabakh Azeris to assume high-­level positions in political and cultural spheres. The manner in which these trends were interpreted painted a gloomy picture over the Armenian community’s future dominance and security in the oblast.

The Periphery I   135 C apacity

Even though the Armenian nationalist movement flourished after the policies of perestroika and glasnost were introduced, it would be misleading to think that the late 1980s were the first instance of Armenian ethnonationalist mobilization within the Soviet Union. Armenians were early mobilizers since their experiences of ethnopolitical action date back to their incorporation into the Soviet Union.1 However, as will be argued, the movements from the 1960s and 1970s within the Armenian SSR and Nagorno-­Karabakh were critical for the re-­ emergence of nationalist mobilization in the post-­glasnost period. The first major breakthrough for Armenian ethnopolitical action occurred in the 1960s. In 1963, the first large-­scale demonstrations took place in the capital of Nagorno-­Karabakh, Stepanakert, following a petition signed by over two thousand representatives of Karabakh Armenians and addressed to the General Secretary of CPSU, Nikita Khrushchev. The Soviet leadership ignored the petition and the epilogue of the episode was tragic, as Azeris killed eighteen Armenians involved in protests (Cornell 2001). Nonetheless, 1965 proved to be a turning point as the Soviet authorities allowed the large-­scale remembrance of the fiftieth anniversary of the Armenian Genocide. On April 24, 1965, around forty thousand young Armenians marched through the capital of the Armenian SSR, Yerevan. From then onwards, public commemorations of the anniversary occurred on an annual basis.2 Protesters shouted out slogans such as “Our Lands!” referring to the lost territories both in Turkey and Azerbaijan (Moutafian 1994, p. 146). Two months later, in June 1965, a new letter petitioning for unification of Armenia and Karabakh was sent to the Soviet leadership. This time there were more than forty-­five thousand signatories who were led by thirteen prominent Karabakh Armenians. Some of these leaders played important roles in the late 1980s mobilization wave, in a petition named ‘Letter of the 13’. Furthermore, in 1966, a secret underground Party of National Unity was formed in Yerevan.3 Its main goal was independence of the Armenian SSR, though it was broadly advocating unification of two autonomous units within Azerbaijan – Nagorno-­ Karabakh and Nakhichevan (Suny 1993, p. 187; Olson et al. 1994, p. 50). In the 1970s nationalist activism and demonstrations in Armenia only continued to grow. The 1978 discussions of the new Soviet Constitution, which proposed that the titular languages in the Transcaucasian republics (Armenia, Azerbaijan and Georgia) be demoted from being the official languages, ignited mass protests in Yerevan (Suny 1983, p.  80). These protests followed the protests in Georgia over the same issue, after which the Soviet government decided against the implementation of the proposed policy. Moreover, the question of Nagorno-­Karabakh remained, as the Armenian population in the oblast continued to be denied the access to Armenian higher education institutions and Armenian media, as well as living in worse economic conditions than their kin in the titular republic (Olson et al. 1994, p.  50). There have even been claims that as time progressed, Armenian nationalism expressed mainly through art and

136   Part III music began to be “tolerated” by the CPSU (Suny 1993, p. 186). However, it is with great certainty that it can be established that Gorbachev’s rise to power and the announcement of economic and political reforms acted as a window of opportunity for the pre-­existing nationalist movement to fully emerge. Dynamics of Armenian ethnonationalist mobilization The first instance of national re-­awakening occurred in March 1987 when a prominent Armenian member of CP, Suren Aivazian, wrote a letter to Gorbachev with calls for unification of Armenian enclaves in Azerbaijan with Armenia (Chorbajian et al. 1994). An official petition by the Armenian Academy of Sciences voicing similar calls followed in August, with the signatures from around eighty thousand individuals among which were forty deputies of the Nagorno-­Karabakh Autonomous Oblast. The petition tapped into the narrative of the Turkish threat by referring to Azerbaijan as “a Turkish fifth column in the USSR” (Hiro 1994, p. 82). By the end of the year, several prominent Armenians from public life appealed that Karabakh should be returned to Armenia.4 Moreover, already in mid-­October, clashes between the Azeri authorities and Armenian population in a majority Armenian village just outside Nagorno-­Karabakh began to erupt. The news of the oppression of Armenians in Azerbaijan travelled fast to Yerevan, which was at the time experiencing ecological demonstrations.5 After that, environmental protests soon turned nationalist as participants started calling for solidarity with Armenians in Azerbaijan and the transfer of Nagorno-­ Karabakh to Armenian control.6 The nationalist protest with over a thousand people that took place in late October in Yerevan became violent as the police was trying to disperse it (Beissinger 2002, p. 66). Yet, it was increasingly apparent that the organized nationalist movement was re-­emerging, building on the narrative and capacities from the decades earlier. In the early 1988 Karabakh Armenians began a campaign of civil disobedience after the Central Committee in Moscow dismissed the petition calling for the oblast’s transfer to Armenian control. Simultaneously, Yerevan was experiencing environmental protests over the proposition that a new chemical plant be built on the outskirts of the city. Just a couple of months earlier, these protests again turned into demonstrations of solidarity with transborder ethnic kin that was yet again denied the approval for unification. However, this time around, nationalist protests gathered almost thirty thousand people. Soon after, news broke that the anti-­Armenian campaign erupted in Nagorno-­Karabakh, leaving over a dozen people wounded and a couple dead. The demonstrations that followed in Yerevan had a million people demanding unification (Beissinger 2002, p. 67). At the end of February 1988 the ‘Organizational Committee for the Issue of the Reunification of Karabakh with Armenia’ emerged as the body that was the representative of Armenians in talks with Gorbachev (Zürcher 2007, p.  159). After a few days of negotiations, the Committee and the central government reached a compromise. A promise was made that the cultural and economic

The Periphery I   137 autonomy of Karabakh Armenians would be ensured in return for ending the mass-­scale protests. However, by this time Azeris began counter-­mobilizing, which was demonstrated by the Sumgait pogrom.7 In an episode that took place from February 27 to 29, northwest of the Azerbaijani capital Baku, almost thirty Armenians and half a dozen Azeris were killed. The violence resulted in an upsurge of Armenians escaping Azerbaijan and Azeris fleeing Armenia. This was the episode that is considered a turning point in the relations between the two republics, and the beginning of what is referred to as the six-­year-long Nagorno-­Karabakh War (De Waal 2003, pp. 34–40). After this event, the dominance of nationalist groups on the political scenes of both Karabakh and Armenia was evident. Beginning in March 1988, the nationalist political organization Krunk was formed in Nagorno-­Karabakh, only to be banned in the following month. Its successor groups were the Council of Factory Directors and Miatsum, which in essence had the same leadership (Zürcher 2007, p. 162). In Armenia, the Karabakh Committee was formed simultaneously with the main goal of integration of Karabakh with Armenia proper. Together with other nationalist groups, the Committee was behind the initiative of organizing a coalition, which came to be known as the Armenian National Movement (Hayots Hamazgayin Sharzum) in mid-­1988. The founder of the National Movement was Levon Ter-­Petrossian, who was in the leadership of the Karabakh Committee and who would become the first president of Armenia. The movement was Pan-­Armenian in character and its formation catalysed the creation of a number of new informal political organizations with a similar agenda (Dudwick 1997, p. 79). These developments also signalled the beginning of political pluralization in the Armenian SSR. In the period between late 1988 and mid-­1990 when the first parliamentary elections took place in the Armenian SSR, the citizens of Armenia staged a number of rallies, which were dubbed as “street democracy” by the critics. The protests or the “mitings”, were used primarily to pressure the Armenian leadership towards reunification with Nagorno-­Karabakh (Dudwick 1997, pp. 79–80).8 However, they soon turned into rallies for the release of prominent members of the arrested Karabakh Committee members, and a platform advocating boycott of the 1989 elections for the Congress of Peoples’ Deputies. The “mitings” were successful in pushing the latter two issues to realization – the Committee members were released in mid-­1989 and the first round of elections saw a rather low turnout by Soviet measures (Gossoudarstvennaya Duma (State Duma) 1989).9 These instances clearly point to the political weight the nationalist movement in Armenia gained as the first parliamentary elections in the republic were approaching. Moreover, in the second round of the 1989 Congress of Peoples’ Deputies elections, which were necessary in four Armenian districts due to turnout that was lower than 50 percent, the candidates endorsed by the Armenian National Movement won in all the districts. This was an additional sign of the movement’s strength (Dudwick 1997, p. 81). Parallel to the strong rise in the nationalist movement in Armenia, the Azeri Popular Front was formed in mid-­1989, with unyielding determination to keep

138   Part III Nagorno-­Karabakh within Azerbaijan. Moreover, from the latter half of 1989 armed clashes between Armenians and Azeris in the autonomous oblast intensified to the point that the Soviet direct command there was abolished in November. In the beginning of 1990 a state of emergency was proclaimed in Karabakh, and the nationalist movements from Armenia and Azerbaijan began to negotiate over the oblast’s status. This was a testament to the power nationalists held in both republics, despite the fact that they had not been formally elected at the time (Cornell 2001, p. 76). As there was no compromise, both sides continued with armament, focusing on Karabakh as the central political issue. Considering this set of circumstances, it is not surprising that the Armenian National Movement emerged triumphant in the first multi-­candidate elections that took place in May 1990.10 The Movement in the end won 193 seats in the 260 strong parliament. The Communist Party nominally won 129 seats, however, over two thirds of its candidates were endorsed by the Armenian National Movement (Dudwick 1997, p.  81; Nohlen et al. 2001, p.  335). At the beginning of August 1990 the new Supreme Council chose Ter-­Petrossian as its new chairman and, a couple of weeks later, the Armenian SSR declared that it would pursue independence and unification with Nagorno-­Karabakh.11 This plan became realized after the failed coup in Moscow, and a referendum in September 1991 which showed that over 99 percent of the Armenian voters were in favour of secession from the USSR (Suny 1996, pp. 22–24). In brief, the dynamics of ethnonationalist mobilization in Armenia in the late 1980s correspond to early mobilization based on two accounts. First, the nationalist movement that began developing in 1987 represented a direct continuation of the underground movements from the 1960s and 1970s, since they shared the main goal of reunification with Nagorno-­Karabakh, and often involved the same participants. Second, the nationalist movement emerged prior to significant pluralization of the polity and the first semi-­competitive elections within the republic. Moreover, the expectations regarding counter-­mobilization of the rival ethnic group seem to be confirmed with the emergence of the Azeri Popular Front in 1989. Thus, the nationalist rhetoric came to the forefront in both republics and further complicated the resolution of crisis in Nagorno-­Karabakh. After the Armenian National Movement won the elections, the armed conflict continued in the autonomous oblast and escalated after the collapse of the USSR. The conflict ended in May 1994 with a ceasefire and maintenance of a de facto independence of Nagorno-­Karabakh Republic (proclaimed in September 1991) ever since (Zürcher 2007). Finally, while the conflict over Nagorno-­Karabakh did not directly spill over into new territories, the emergence of the Armenian nationalist movement from 1987 provided inspiration to other Soviet ethnic groups to organize ethnopolitical action. Namely, there is evidence to show that demonstration effects were at play as the Balts and Georgians began mobilizing soon after (Suny 1993, pp. 133–136; Beissinger 2002, p. 160).

The Periphery I   139 Georgia Etiology of ethnopolitical action Id e ntity

Similar to the Armenian ethnic identification, Georgian identity was largely based on Christianity as the official religion. Moreover, like its southern neighbour Armenia, Georgia was invaded by Persians, Arabs, Seljuk Turks, Ottoman Turks and lastly Russians. After the Russian Revolution and with the end of the First World War, Georgia finally became a sovereign republic in 1918. However, independence was very short lived as in 1921 the Soviet Red Army invaded the country and established the Transcaucasian Federation, which extended over the territories of modern Georgia, Armenia and Azerbaijan. In 1936, Georgian SSR was established and it remained as such until the collapse of USSR (Suny 1996, pp. 157–162). Modern Georgian nationalism from the nineteenth century onwards can be interpreted as both an alignment with and a reaction to the imperial core, Russia. After defeating Persians, the Russian Empire incorporated Georgia under its reign in the early nineteenth century. Georgian intelligentsia at the time was pragmatic and viewed the integration with the Russian Empire as protection from the Ottomans and Persians, as well as the path to development and Europeanization. As Jones cleverly observed, the Russian Empire might have been Georgia’s “prison guard”, but at the same time, it was its “key to liberation” (Jones 2005, pp.  2–3). Therefore, Georgian nationalism throughout the nineteenth century was marked by demands for more autonomy and recognition within the Russian Empire through self-­rule and right to schooling in the Georgian language, while petitions for secession were very rare (Suny 1994). In the same period, the view of Georgian national identity was more inclusive, multiethnic and less confrontational towards minorities living in Georgia (Sabanadze 2010). During the Soviet rule Georgia developed into an urban and industrial society, yet preserving the national culture and folklore by virtue of the dictum “national in form, socialist in content” (Jones 2005, p. 262). Throughout this period, Georgian nationalism has been referred to as being built on a myth of “mystification” and “exaggeration” of Georgia as one of the most plentiful and beautiful places in not just the USSR, but the world (Sabanadze 2010, p. 89). Moreover, the myth of Georgia being a multiethnic and tolerant society still continued, however, in a way that the majority viewed the minorities as guests who are welcome to enjoy the hospitality of the titular group (Sabanadze 2010). This sort of rhetoric proved particularly problematic as the Soviet regime began to unravel since Georgian nationalists began using it to mobilize the ethnic majority.

140   Part III I nc e ntive s

Throughout the Soviet era, separatist demands rarely made it on the list of demands of Georgian nationalists. Instead, patriotic intelligentsia was more concerned about preserving Georgian culture and advocating for more recognition for Georgian history and language (Pelkmans 2006). Namely, their campaign was directed against the state sponsored ‘falsification’ of Georgian history and censoring the records that showed the episodes of Georgian independence and anti-­Bolshevik efforts. Therefore, there were underground attempts to publish books and articles that referred to these historical instances (Alekseeva 1987, p. 108). Moreover, strong opposition was exhibited against Russification policies that took hold in the 1970s, as Russian began taking over Georgian as the language of instruction in high schools and universities. This was the background to the 1978 nationalist demonstrations in Tbilisi, which will be discussed further below. Another set of grievances was over the status of Georgians living within the autonomous units of Georgia and in other Soviet republics. For instance, in 1976, an article in the Georgian samizdat magazine Georgian Herald called for the return of Meskhetian Turks to Georgia, asserting that they were the integral part of Georgian people (Zisserman-­Brodsky 2003, pp.  122–123).12 A letter addressed to Brezhnev and Shevardnadze in 1981 further substantiated this and asked for coordinated response to ensure the group’s return to Georgia.13 In the late 1970s, there were also expressions of concern over the status of the Georgian minority that lived in Saingilo, a northwestern district in the Azerbaijan SSR that belonged to Georgia prior to Sovietization in 1921. Calls were directed towards the Georgian government and the CPSU to protect the Ingiloy Georgian population that was discriminated against, as well as at risk from increased migration of Muslims from Azerbaijan and Dagestan. One of the solutions that was put forward was to allow this population to relocate to Georgia and settle near the capital, Tbilisi (Zisserman-­Brodsky 2003). Moreover, all throughout the Soviet era there had been evidence of ethnic imbalances within Georgia that had the potential to lead to disturbances, particularly in Abkhazia. For instance, Abkhazians have, after a set of mass protests from the 1930s to 1970s, managed to obtain significant concessions from the Soviet government, which in turn strengthened their cultural and economic autonomy. The preferential treatment extended into the realm of government, as in the 1980s Abkhazians made up for more than two thirds of ministerial positions and Oblast committee department heads, while they accounted for less than one fifth of the population of the Abkhaz ASSR (Kaufman 2001, pp. 88–89). C apacity

The first major expression of nationalist mobilization in Georgia was also one of the first instances of disobedience in the Soviet Union for decades. The events of March 1956 in Tbilisi came as a reaction to Khrushchev’s policy of denouncing

The Periphery I   141 Stalin’s legacy and criticizing the cult of personality he created. Georgia had a special status during Stalin’s rule, so with his death came an end to its preferential position relative to the other Soviet republics. The protests commenced on March 4 and within a couple of days they gathered almost seventy thousand participants.14 The available evidence suggests that Georgian CP leadership was passively involved in the demonstrations as it allowed them to proceed at first, but as they spun out of control, it acquiesced to forceful response from the Soviet Army (Blauvelt 2009, p. 664).15 The second, and arguably more nationalist round of protests took place in spring 1978 as a response to the proposal of changing one of the articles in the new Georgian constitution. The source of contestation was the content of article 75, which was seen as a means of imposing Russian in all organizations and institutions in Georgia. As in 1956, the protest was made up of mostly university students who gathered in Tbilisi chanting out slogans and carrying banners with messages to protect Georgian language (Alekseeva 1987, p. 109). As a result of a coordinated campaign that began at the University of Tbilisi, the protests were around twenty thousand protesters strong at their peak on April 14. Yet, unlike the tragic aftermath of the protests two decades earlier, the epilogue to this expression of public discontent was successful.16 The Soviet regime ultimately decided not to revise the contested article, and maintained the status quo for titular languages of other Caucasus republics fearing that similar dynamics could unravel in Armenia and Azerbaijan. The grievances surrounding the lack of recognition for Georgian language and culture were a major part of Georgian samizdat (Zisserman-­Brodsky 2003). A samizdat from 1981 reported on a letter that was written in June 1980 in which 365 prominent members of Georgian intelligentsia called on Brezhnev and Shevardnadze for violating the cultural rights of Georgians and demanded Georgian language and history be given the status they deserve within Georgian schools and universities (Zisserman-­Brodsky 2003, p. 124). The same samizdat reported on another letter, from April 1980, which was authored by one hundred Georgians from Abkhazia who expressed their frustration with discrimination that they were facing, despite being the majority in the Abkhaz ASSR (Alekseeva 1987, p. 117). These letters were the first instances of the re-­emergent Georgian nationalist movement that would continue well into the 1980s decade and that evolved from an underground student-­led phenomenon into a powerful political alternative with a broad membership. March 1981 marked the beginning of major protests expressing Georgian nationalism. The first took place on March 23 when around one thousand students gathered at the University of Tbilisi demanding the restoration of a course of philology studies. Their demands were met, however only a week passed and the students were joined by intellectuals in a protest that voiced out the demands from the Letter of 365, as well as calls for a better treatment of Georgians in Abkhazia and Saingilo (Zisserman-­Brodsky 2003, p. 125). Another demonstration took place on May 18 and it served as a platform to outline the demands they asked Georgian authorities to deliver to the Chairman of the Supreme

142   Part III Soviet, Leonid Brezhnev, and the First Secretary of the Georgian CP, Eduard Shevardnadze (“Claims of the Georgian People to Brezhnev and Shevardnadze, AS no. 4639” (between 20 April 1981 and 18 May 1981)). Their demands focused on legal recognition of Georgian as the official language, its use on all signposts across the union republic, increase in the proportion of Georgian language programs on radio and television, as well as in print media. Moreover, they called for stronger efforts in Georgian resettlement in Abkhazia and the restoration of historical monuments there. The demonstrators also demanded that in Saingilo the breaches of human rights of the local Georgian population should cease and more respect for the religious practices of the Orthodox Christians should be ensured (Zisserman-­Brodsky 2003).17 Another pivotal episode occurred in 1983, when preparations for the two-­ hundredth anniversary of the Georgian-­Russian agreement were under way. While the Soviet newspapers described the 1783 treaty as a wise decision that ensured the well-­being of the Georgian nation, the increasingly vocal Georgian nationalists saw it as a document that unreservedly surrendered Georgia to Russia (Alekseeva 1987, p. 119). The latter group started a campaign of distributing pamphlets that called for the boycott of celebrations. However, it was soon stopped after the authorities in June 1983 arrested the individuals who were distributing them. Not long after, the student who was purportedly the editor of a magazine of ‘Republican Party of Georgia’ was arrested, as well a large number of those who later rallied for his release. The demonstrators involved in this incident were deemed the “new generation of activists of the Georgian national movement” (Alekseeva 1987, p. 120). Among them were the leaders of nationalist fronts that began emerging in 1987 and which organized the first large-­scale protests towards the end of 1988.18 Dynamics of Georgian ethnonationalist mobilization The awakening of nationalist sentiments in the early years of the 1980s set the conditions for the large-­scale mobilization that was made possible by the reforms of perestroika and particularly glasnost. Moreover, the memory of the protests that took place in the 1950s and the 1970s only contributed to the nationalist movement that started gaining prominence in 1987. Therefore, it is important to point out that ethnic mobilization of Georgians within the Georgian SSR already began before economic and political opening in 1985–1987. The protests that took place after that were merely a continuation of the mobilizational waves that commenced in 1981, as they included the same participants and they focused on the same issues of Georgian identity, culture and language. Despite sharing the goals of national revival and later secession, the parties and associations that were formed in the late 1980s under the umbrella of the Georgian nationalist movement were quite disjointed. After their release from prison in early 1987, many notable Georgian dissidents joined in establishing Ilia Chavchavadze Society in October of the same year, as a unifying platform for those who opposed the Soviet regime (Gerber 1995 in Cornell 2001, p. 147).

The Periphery I   143 However, this loose coalition began splintering after only a few months of its existence due to internal disagreements. As a result, several new organizations were formed; amongst them were the Society of St. Ilia the Righteous, with Zviad Gamsakhurdia and Merab Kostava as leaders; the National Democratic Party formed by Giorgi Chanturia; and the National Independence Party founded by Irakli Tsereteli (Cornell 2001, p. 147). The Society of St. Ilia the Righteous and the National Democratic Party were created chiefly due to the fact that their leaders were at odds with each other. Notwithstanding the competition, both organizations were strong advocates of separatism and they equally rejected the more moderate path that sought some form of compromise with the Soviet government (Sabanadze 2010, p. 90). Furthermore, the nationalist groups were soon able to rally substantial support at public rallies and protests. The first big nationalist demonstration took place in November 1988 when more than two hundred thousand people gathered in Tbilisi to protest against amendments to the Soviet Constitution that aimed to remove the right of union republics to secede (Sabanadze 2010, p. 90). Seeing how strong the opposition became in a relatively short period of time, the Soviet government decided to abandon the initiative. Moreover, the CPSU also helped create a moderately nationalist movement called the Rustaveli Society, which favoured reforms towards looser federation rather than secession (Dawisha and Parrott 1997, p. 161; Cornell 2001, p. 148). However, the more radical nationalist movement gained further momentum as the anti-­Soviet protests continued throughout the republic on an almost daily basis, and as many public intellectuals began a campaign that opened the question of official representation of Georgia’s history (Cornell 2001, pp. 147–148). As nationalist politics became increasingly prominent in Georgian public life, and a majority population began mobilizing along ethnic lines, republican minorities started feeling increasingly threatened. The dynamics that ensued fall into the proactive-­reactive nationalism spiral. Abkhazians, South Ossetians, Armenians and Azeris were all on the receiving end of the grievances Georgians harboured due to the ethnic policies dictated from the Soviet centre; with Abkhazia and South Ossetia particularly targeted. After witnessing the rise of Georgian nationalists throughout the republic, Abkhazian communists sent a letter to the Presidium of the Nineteenth Conference of the CPSU in June 1988, expressing their discontent with the majority’s ethnic politics. Moreover, in March 1989, Abkhaz demands intensified as the Autonomous Republic sent a petition signed by thirty thousand people seeking that Abkhazia become a Union Republic (Aves 1992, p. 160).19 At the same time, South Ossetia saw a rise of a popular front that was sympathetic to the Abkhaz cause and concerned with the open display of Georgian nationalism.20 This only worsened as the Georgian government introduced the ‘State Program for the Georgian Language’, which replaced Russian with the Georgian language as the official language and implemented a Georgian language test as a prerequisite for higher education in the republic (Fuller 1988; Dale 1996). This not only emphasized the ethnic tensions,21 but it also set off a ‘war of laws’ as both Abkhazia and South Ossetia soon declared

144   Part III their native languages as the official languages within the administrative units, and enacted other laws to assert their autonomy (Furtado and Chandler 1992, p. 377; Cornell 2001, p. 153). These developments saw the tipping point in the most pivotal episode of Georgian mobilization, which occurred on April 9, 1989 in Tbilisi. The protest in the capital gathered thousands of people from all around the republic in the first days of April, while those who could not join them initiated solidarity strikes (Suny 1994, p.  323). The leaders of the prominent nationalist parties were all there, under the ‘Independence Committee’, staging peaceful protests and hunger strikes as a reaction to the increased secessionist rhetoric from Abkhazia, and also as a plea for Georgian independent statehood. However, this time around the local communist leadership was less sympathetic to the protesters and requested that special troops be used to disperse them. The Soviet army violently intervened in the demonstrations and in doing so killed nineteen people, while leaving dozens injured and hundreds poisoned with tear gas (Wheatley 2005, pp. 42–44). The way in which this episode represented a turning point was two-­fold. First, the plan that the local communist leadership had in mind when they asked for special forces backing was that acting tough would put an end to mass protests. However, the result was exactly the opposite since the violent crackdown made the nationalists even more defiant and completely shattered any legitimacy the Communist Party had left. Second, nationalist rhetoric took over the polity to the point that even the Georgian Communist party, which soon after April 9 had its leadership replaced, adopted nationalist rhetoric. The nationalists proudly referred to themselves as the “irreconcilables”, as they made it clear they would not make any compromises and that pursuing independence was non-­negotiable (Sabanadze 2010, p. 91). The first signs of political opening came in mid-­1989, which was already in the wake of strong ethnonationalist mobilization that took place throughout the Georgian SSR (Jones 1995).22 First, a new electoral law was proposed for the elections to the Georgian Supreme Soviet, which would take place the following year. It proposed that all registered organizations could put forward candidates and that there would be no reserved seats for social organizations, which showed the commitment to opening up the polity (Aves 1992, p. 164). Furthermore, the second half of 1989 and the beginning of 1990 saw a rapid increase in the number of new political organizations.23 A large number of these quasi-­parties were advocating green, social-­democratic and liberal agendas; however, their membership was rather small and they were poorly organized due to a lack of funding and infrastructure (Aves 1992, pp.  164–166). Lastly, in June 1990, Gamsakhurdia joined hunger strikes staged by Tbilisi State University students, who were calling for national independence. He added to their list of demands that the upcoming Supreme Soviet elections should be held as multiparty elections. Georgian communist leadership was forced to agree to the latter in the end, since this seemed to be a more sensible demand than allowing secession. It also reflected the changes in the Georgian Constitution which ended the Communist Party’s monopoly in March 1990 (Aves 1992, p. 32; Wheatley 2005, p. 51).

The Periphery I   145 The first free elections to the Georgian Supreme Soviet took place on October 28, 1990. Zviad Gamsakhurdia’s Round Table-­Free Georgia won with almost 55 percent of the votes. In the elections that had eleven political blocs participating, the Communist Party of Georgia came second with almost 30 percent of the vote (Wheatley 2005, p.  52). However, even the communists pursued a nationalist agenda as the new, post-­April 9 massacre, leadership subscribed to promote the “Georgian national movement” (Press Release of the Georgian Communist Party’s Program of National Development). Nationalist rhetoric took an even harder stance towards the minorities after the elections, as the Georgian government declared independence in April 1991 and held presidential elections a month later.24 The vocal advocate of Georgian nationhood, Gamsakhurdia became the first popularly elected president of Georgia. As the newly elected president, Gamsakhurdia had an even greater power to act on his program under the slogan of “Georgia for the Georgians”, and implementing exclusionary language and citizenship laws (Jones 1995, p.  542).25 The narrative of minorities being ‘guests’ in the country became the norm for the nationalists, who saw the rights of Georgian minorities as a legacy of Soviet affirmative action and who thought such policies should be eliminated (English 2008). The first free parliamentary elections in Georgia also indicated the extent to which the polity radicalized, since the moderates and liberals, represented by the Georgian Popular Front and Democratic Georgia Bloc managed to secure only 16 out of 125 seats in the new parliament (Nohlen et al. 2001, p. 371). Georgia was in fact the only Soviet republic in which radical nationalists overwhelmingly won the first competitive elections (Wheatley 2005, pp.  52–53). Similar to the Armenian case, the strength of the ethnonationalist mobilization in the late 1980s can be explained by the pre-­existing capacity to mobilize which dated from a decade earlier. However, the dominance of radical nationalism can be ascribed to the relative failure of the more moderate Georgian Popular Front and affiliated groups to play a stronger role in the polity, thus leaving the field open to exclusionary nationalists. Within this context, the conflicts that ensued in South Ossetia and Abkhazia can be largely ascribed to incompatible nationalist goals on the rival sides. The South Ossetian conflict flared up again in late 1990. First, in September 1990, the South Ossetian government declared that it was seceding from Georgia and becoming a South Ossetian Soviet Democratic Republic. The Georgian Supreme Soviet responded by issuing a resolution revoking such declaration. Soon after the first parliamentary elections in which Gamsakhurdia became the new Georgian leader, another resolution on the status of South Ossetia was passed. This time Gamsakhurdia’s government completely revoked the autonomy of South Ossetia, arguing that South Ossetian separatism is unconstitutional and a legacy of Soviet imperialism (George 2009, p. 136). Almost instantaneously, Georgian leadership declared a state of emergency in South Ossetia, which prompted the Soviet government to send its troops to the region. The second stage of the war between Georgia and South Ossetia ensued involving combatants from North Ossetia and Russia, and this time lasting for over a year (from early 1991 to mid-­1992).

146   Part III On the other hand, it is worth mentioning that in mid-­1991, Georgian and Abkhazian leadership tried to negotiate a revised electoral code, despite Gamsakhurdia’s chauvinist rhetoric (Coppieters 2001; George 2009). However, as the conflict in South Ossetia progressed and the collapse of the USSR became imminent, there was very little chance for peaceful resolution of the dispute. The violent military coup d’état that saw deposition of Gamsakhurdia in January 1992 and the civil war that ensued further complicated the already tense relationship between Abkhazia and Georgia.26 In wake of these developments, Abkhaz president Vladislav Ardzinba first declared a state of emergency and secession became an increasingly discussed option within the Parliament. The events culminated as the Georgian government reinstated its 1921 Constitution in the summer of 1992, in that manner subjecting Abkhazia to Georgia’s direct rule (Zürcher 2007, pp.  122, 137–138). This in turn triggered the restoration of the 1925 Constitution in Abkhazia, according to which Abkhazia was free to exercise the right to secede from Georgia (O’Ballance 1997). With these institutional changes, Ardzinba’s rhetoric became increasingly confrontational, and he was even recorded saying that Abkhazia was “strong enough to fight Georgia” if the circumstances would ask for that (Cornell 2001, p. 158). Soon after, in August 1992, the situation on the ground changed indeed, as the Georgian National Guard moved into Abkhazia to free hostages captured by the Zviadists hiding there. The forces in armoured vehicles went straight to the capital, Sukhumi, where they shelled the parliament. Russia and militias from the Caucausian Mountain Peoples came to Abkhaz’s help, reinforcing the internationalized dynamics of conflict. The war ended after more than a year of fighting, albeit in stalemate and with no agreement on the status of Abkhazia (Coppieters 2000).

Early mobilizers in Yugoslavia Kosovo27 Etiology of ethnopolitical action I d e ntity

The Albanian sense of nationalism emerged only in the late nineteenth century, which makes it somewhat of a laggard compared to the other Balkan nations. First came the establishment of the Prizren League in 1878, whose goal was to protect Albanian lands against foreign powers, primarily the Ottoman Empire. Not too long after, with the end of Second Balkan War and the adoption of the Treaty of Bucharest in 1913, Albania was established as an independent state. However, almost half of the Albanian population, those who lived in Kosovo and western Macedonia, were not incorporated in the new state. More importantly, after the First World War, Kosovo Albanians became part of the newly founded Kingdom of Serbs, Croats and Slovenes (Curtis 1992; Kostovicova 2005).

The Periphery I   147 Kosovo Albanians consider themselves the descendants of Illyrians who settled the region in the pre-­Roman times, counter to the arguments from Serbian historians who have claimed that Albanians settled in Kosovo only in the seventeenth century (Babuna 2000, p. 77).28 Moreover, just as Serbian ethnic mythology sees Kosovo as the cradle of the nation, Kosovo Albanians deem the territory their own through the myth of Skanderbeg, a folk hero who led the campaign of resistance against the Ottomans in the fifteenth century (Schwandner-­Sievers and Fischer 2002). Despite the obvious cultural-­linguistic uniqueness, Kosovo Albanians were not recognized as a distinct nation in the Kingdom of Yugoslavia, but rather as Albanian-­speaking Serbs. Between 1918 and 1941 the Serbian leadership implemented policies with the intention of assimilating Kosovo Albanians; some of these included prohibiting the use of Albanian language, preventing Albanian children from attending public schools, allowing only limited religious education in Arabic and Turkish, etc. (Babuna 2000, pp. 68–69). Yet, state repression only contributed to Albanian defiance and decisiveness to preserve their culture and language through underground activities. Following Italian occupation in 1941, a large part of Kosovo was united with the Kingdom of Albania and Western Macedonia. However, with the end of the Second World War, Kosovo was again placed under Yugoslavian rule and given the status of autonomous region of Kosovo-­Metohija (Guzina 2003, pp. 29–30). Inc e ntive s

In the years following the establishment of SFRY, Kosovo Albanians enjoyed a far better treatment from the state than they ever had in the Kingdom of Yugoslavia. Apart from having been given autonomy and recognition as a distinct ethnic identity, Kosovo Albanians were allowed to school their children in Albanian-­language schools. For a while, Yugoslav leadership also attempted to have Albania join Yugoslavia in a federal arrangement, however due to a split between Tito and Stalin, that initiative failed as Albania allied itself with the Soviet Union in 1948 (Djokić 2003). As a consequence, Yugoslav authorities denied the recently given rights to ethnic Albanians throughout the country, after which there were increasing reports of discrimination against Albanians in all spheres of life (Guzina 2003, p. 31). For Kosovo Albanians the incentives to mobilize stemmed mainly from grievances regarding their status, and as a result of state-­led repression and discrimination. However, there was also an element of hope that more autonomy would grant them the prospect of their own state and potentially joining the ‘Greater Albania’. In the 1950s, being ethnically Albanian was so highly undesirable that a lot of Albanians began declaring themselves as ‘Turks’. This was in fact something that the Yugoslav leadership openly encouraged, consequently enabling a lot of Yugoslav ‘Turks’ to emigrate to Turkey (Vickers 1998). The 1963 Yugoslav Constitution and reforms of 1965 further weakened the federal centre and empowered the constituent republics and provinces. Yet,

148   Part III Kosovo Albanians were becoming increasingly aware of the underdevelopment of their province and the very poor economic status in comparison to the rest of Yugoslavia. In November 1968 the first large-­scale protests took place in Kosovo. The Albanians were demanding more autonomy, establishment of an Albanian University in the capital of the province, and the right to fly the Albanian flag under the Yugoslav flag. Even though the protests yielded some success, since the latter two demands were fulfilled shortly after, and several other constitutional amendments were made to improve the autonomous status of the province, Kosovo was not given the status of a federal republic (Elsie 2010). The 1970s brought further political liberalization with significant implications for Kosovo. The 1974 Constitution granted Kosovo the de facto status of a republic with veto power in the Serbian parliament (Curtis 1992). However, the new constitution created contradictions in both a practical and legal sense since Kosovo remained an autonomous province within Serbia, while being recognized as “a constitutive element of the federation” equal to the federal republics (Trbovich 2008, pp.  166–167). Yet, even though Kosovo’s political status improved, its economic woes remained. In the decades before Yugoslavia’s disintegration, Kosovo was the least developed federal unit by any macroeconomic measure.29 In the early 1980s its unemployment rate was three times higher than the Yugoslav average, its GDP per capita was only a quarter of the Yugoslav average, its birthrate was the highest of all the republics, while it had the highest concentration of students per capita in Yugoslavia (Horvat 1989; Jović 2009).30 These factors combined created the perfect storm in which the already underperforming economy had the additional burden of a high number of unemployed and those who just graduated. Such conditions were not only the result of misguided economic policies,31 but also a consequence of the culturally traditional family structure and religious influences (Babuna 2000, p.  71). The decline of the Yugoslav economy in the early 1980s only exacerbated the already dire socio-­economic conditions in Kosovo. C apacity

Post-­1968 the idea of Kosovo becoming a republic strongly emerged among the Albanian intellectual elite and some of the political leaders in the province. The numbers were clearly on their side, since by the 1980s, Albanians made up around 80 percent of the one and a half million population of Kosovo. The University of Priština was the hub from which the student protests in November 1968 commenced, and it was also the institution at which most of the intelligentsia who demanded that Kosovo be given the status of a republic was employed (Guzina 2003, p. 34; Jović 2009, p. 179). Albanian historians who belonged to this camp put forward two sets of arguments in support of such demands. Their main argument was the often-­used ‘sons of the soil’ justification. In brief, Albanians are the direct descendants of the Illyrians who had settled the territories of modern Kosovo much earlier than Serbs, and therefore have the right of creating a state on their ancestral land. The second argument was tied to more recent

The Periphery I   149 history and claims that the contribution of Kosovo Albanians in the Partisan struggle for the liberation of Yugoslavia was comparable to the other constitutive nations (Pavković 2000, p. 87). The other major faction in the nationalist mobilization consisted of the prominent Albanian members of the Communist Party in Kosovo. Their approach was more pragmatic, since they understood that the demands for being upgraded to the level of republic stood very little chance with the Serbian and Yugoslav leadership. However, they were in a perfect position to place themselves as more moderate than the nationalist intelligentsia, and in that way still negotiate more autonomy for the province (Jović 2009, p.  182). An example of solidarity and sympathy that the Communist leadership of Kosovo had for the University of Priština’s activists came after the 1968 demonstrations. The province authorities decided against harsh punishment of those involved, as they understood that such measures might destroy the Kosovo Albanian intellectual circle and backfire against them (Jović 2009). Dynamics of Kosovo Albanian ethnonationalist mobilization In the early 1980s the Kosovo Albanian ethnonationalist movement was dominated by the University of Priština students who protested over Yugoslavia’s inability to address economic backwardness and resolve the administrative status of the province. The first mass-­level nationalist protests after the death of Marshal Tito began as an expression of discontent over poor food and service at the student cafeteria at the University of Priština on March 11, 1981. The initial messages of the protesters were expressing grievances over the social status of the Kosovo Albanian students and the unjust treatment from the state. However, the slogans that students chanted were primarily socially motivated, with very infrequent mentioning of ethnic complaints.32 The next day police dispersed the protesters, who by now went on to the streets of Priština, and arrested about a hundred of those who participated. In the following days the authorities treated the protest as an isolated incident that was motivated purely by student dissatisfaction (Jović 2009, pp. 184–185). However, on March 26 new rounds of demonstrations emerged after it became apparent that the police failed to release the students who were detained a couple of weeks ago. This time there were several thousand protesters who were determined to get to the main square of Priština, and they were met by equally unwavering police forces whose task was to prevent them from doing so. In just the first day of brutal clashes between the demonstrators and police over thirty protesters were injured. These demonstrations were also different in their tone, which by now became increasingly nationalist and which used the ethnic card as an explanation of the poor socio-­economic status of Albanians in Yugoslavia. The nationalist messages ranged from demands for more recognition (“We are Albanians, not Yugoslavs!”), and more autonomy (“Kosova Republic”), to irredentist aspirations (“Unity with Albania”) (Horvat 1989, p. 100; Judah 2002, p. 40).

150   Part III As the Communist leadership in Kosovo tried to curb the protests by applying force and arresting hundreds of participants, student disobedience only grew. University of Priština students began boycotting classes at the three largest faculties, and in a matter of days protests began spreading all around Kosovo rallying more support. After the news broke that over a dozen policemen became injured in an incident involving the demonstrators, and when it became obvious that Kosovo Albanian workers had also joined the protests, authorities called in the army to intervene with tanks. They also requested police reinforcement from Central Serbia, which resulted in the roadblock near Podujevo, on the border between Kosovo and Central Serbia. Angered by the harsh response from the authorities, protesters took hostages from the local Serbian and Montenegrin population. The hostages were eventually released after an intervention from the police, however the vandalism continued throughout the province (Djokić 2003, p. 305; Jović 2009, p. 185).33 After the mass demonstrations in 1981 and state repression against those who participated in the protests, a whole generation of Kosovo Albanian activists emerged. They were referred to as the “Enverist faction” (after the Albanian dictator Enver Hoxha), and they took a more radical position of standing up against the state – that of armed struggle and a war of liberation (Nation 2003, p. 224). From late 1981 to 1983 several bombs were detonated in Priština, almost a thousand fires were set throughout the province, and there were a few incidents in which the attempts to re-­start a new round of protests turned violent. Moreover, in the period between 1981 and 1987, there was a state-­led campaign against Kosovo Albanians who were members of various underground organizations, which resulted in criminal charges against more than five thousand of them. The interethnic tensions in Kosovo were exacerbated by the mobilization of Kosovo Serbs, who began evoking the Ranković years of repression against Albanians as the “good old days” and initiating a boycott of Albanian shops and bakeries (Ramet 2006, p. 302). Yet, the rise of Slobodan Milošević from 1986 onwards marked a new period in Albanian mobilization, since Milošević chose the status of Kosovo as one of the central issues in building his political profile.34 In response to replacing the popular leader of the League of Communists of Kosovo, Azem Vllasi, and ‘spontaneous’ mass-­level protests by Serbs and Montenegrins living in Kosovo in August 1988, Albanians organized a one hundred thousand-­strong march through Priština on November 18. This was the largest Albanian nationalist protest in Kosovo since 1981 (Elsie 2010). In the following five months, between November 1988 and March 1989, the tensions between Kosovo Albanians and Serbs only escalated as Milošević’s government managed to pass amendments to revoke Kosovo’s autonomy, which was followed by the strike of Albanian miners in the Trepča mines and the arrest of Vllasi. In the protests that ensued in 1989 and 1990 against the annulment of Kosovo’s autonomy, more than seventy Albanians were killed, while several hundreds were reported injured (Babuna 2000, p. 73). The change came in 1989 when Ibrahim Rugova and his Democratic League of Kosovo (Lidhja Demokratike e Kosovës, LDK) took over in what became

The Periphery I   151 largely non-­violent resistance over the next several years (Clark 2000).35 LDK was created by a group of intellectuals led by Rugova, as a response to Milošević’s politics towards Kosovo and with the goal of secession (Rugova 1994).36 In a referendum that the LDK-­led Kosovo government carried out not long after declaring the ‘Republic of Kosova’ a sovereign and independent state in September 1991, 99 percent of voters supported this decision. In May 1992, unofficial elections were held for the assembly and president of the Republic of Kosova. With almost 75 percent of the votes, LDK won the majority in the parliament, while Rugova was chosen as the first president of the republic (Clark 2009; Maliqi 2011).37 In the following years there was a systemic worsening of human rights conditions of Kosovo Albanians, which ranged from restrictions on education in Albanian, dismissal of ethnic Albanians from professorial positions and public service, closing down of the TV and radio stations in Priština, and the Serbian government sponsored attempts to resettle more Serbs in Kosovo (Clark 2000; Kostovicova 2002). Yet, the escalation to major armed conflict did not occur until 1996. While the tensions between Kosovar and Serbian states and peoples were apparent, they found a way to exist side by side with very little political violence. The explanation for such development of events is usually considered to be in the leadership of Ibrahim Rugova, who chose the path of non-­violent resistance and led the parallel Kosovo state. For instance, since Rugova’s LDK assumed power, the campaign for non-­ violence strongly emerged with the petition “For Democracy, Against Violence,” which had over 40 percent of the Kosovo Albanian adult population making a pledge they would avoid violent responses; as well as the campaign to “Reconcile Blood Feuds” that resulted in over two thousand feud reconciliations within a couple of years (Clark 2009, pp.  280–281). Other initiatives included documenting violent acts and responding in non-­violent actions such as mass wakes and short pickets. Moreover, this sort of political discourse allowed for other liberal political groups to emerge, which wanted to surpass the national question, and throughout the early 1990s they managed to isolate the more radical Albanian factions such as the Enverists (Maliqi 1998, p. 101).38 However, two events from the mid-­1990s were instrumental for the collapse of non-­violent resistance and the eruption of armed conflict in Kosovo. First, after the 1995 Dayton Agreement recognized Republika Srpska (the Serbian Republic of Bosnia), many Albanians began thinking the peaceful resistance campaign was ineffective, and that armed conflict would make the international community intervene and resolve the situation sooner. Second, in April 1996, the European Union recognized the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia, only weakly stipulating that Kosovo Albanians should be granted a special status and the respect of their fundamental rights should be ensured (Caplan 2005, p. 140). As a consequence, political discourse among Kosovo Albanians became dominated with calls for a change in tactics. Some prominent politicians, such as Adem Demaci and Azen Vllasi, called for pursuing a constitutive status in a federal arrangement with Serbia and Montenegro (Pula 1996). However, a more

152   Part III radical stream prevailed, as in 1996 the Kosovo Liberation Army (KLA), a guerrilla organization, stepped up a campaign against Serbian targets and set the stage for the Kosovo War (February 1998–June 1999). As the leading organization of Kosovo Albanian nationalism, the KLA is interesting because it was created without any political platform or ideology apart from armed resistance against the Serbs. Comprised of several underground organizations, the KLA had two main factions. On the one hand, there was the far right wing, which was led by the descendants of Albanian fighters from the Second World War (who were at the time Nazi collaborators). On the other hand, there was a faction of Stalinists, who were mostly former University of Priština students when Kosovo was granted autonomous status in 1974. Despite internal disagreements over the understanding of representation and democratic institutions, the organization managed to gain support from all of those who were fighting for the independence of Kosovo. It grew with the recruits from the Kosovo Albanian diaspora, as well as the support from Albania and Macedonia (Hedges 1999, pp. 26–28). In 1999, following the breakdown of the Rambouillet Accords, the leader of the strongest KLA faction, Hashim Thaçi, declared himself the prime minister of the provisional government of Kosovo and forced Rugova into temporary exile. Overall, the dynamics of ethnonationalist mobilization of Kosovo Albanians is a somewhat unusual case of early and sustained mobilization as it commenced in the early 1980s, which was followed by severe repression from the Yugoslav and Serbian core throughout the decade, and then de facto liberalization within the Kosovo polity in the late 1980s and early 1990s. On the one hand, the early mobilization in Kosovo fits into general theoretical expectations as it triggered counter-­mobilization from the rival ethnic group, the Serbs, and led to an interethnic conflict. However, the fact that major violent conflict between Kosovo Albanians and Serbs occurred only in the late 1990s can be ascribed to non-­violent tactics employed by the moderate Albanian leadership in the period between 1989 and 1998. In that respect, the dominance of Rugova’s LDK does not fit the proposed model of polity radicalization given early mobilization. Slovenia Etiology of ethnopolitical action I d e ntity

The Slovenes were a Slavic tribe that settled the territory of the Western Balkans in the mid-­sixth century. From their initial settlement until the thirteenth century they owed allegiance to the Avars, Charlemagne, Carolingian Empire and medieval German state. From then on until the end of the First World War, Slovenes were subjects of the House of Habsburg. The first instances of the Slovene national consciousness date back to the late sixteenth century, with the birth of Slovene grammar and the use of Latin script (Grafenauer 1979). However, the

The Periphery I   153 Slovenian national awakening truly began in the mid-­nineteenth century, when the first demands for a unified Slovene province within the Austrian Empire emerged, and as Slovene cultural renaissance was instigated with a focus on language, literature and music (Radan 2004; Trbovich 2008). By the early twentieth century, Slovenia made significant steps forward in its political development. The society was becoming increasingly urbanized, the literacy rate surged, and the peasants began organizing in cooperatives. Despite the fact that Habsburg rule was not as repressive as some other empires, Slovenian parties that emerged at the time shared the goal of combating germanization. Following the dissolution of the Austro-­Hungarian Empire, Slovenes declared independence in October 1918 and established the State of Slovenes, Croats and Serbs (or what would later become the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats and Slovenes, and finally the Kingdom of Yugoslavia). In the Second World War Slovenia was divided among Italy, Germany and Hungary. With the Allied victory the country managed to return most of its occupied territory and join the Federal People’s Republic of Yugoslavia (Allcock et al. 1998). In both the Kingdom of Yugoslavia and SFRY, Slovenia managed to assert a degree of cultural and economic independence. Its ethnic identity was largely based on the nineteenth century emancipation movement belief that the Slovene nation was culturally and linguistically distinct from the other South Slavs (Pavković 2000). Due to its history of being ruled by the Western Empires, Slovene identity gravitated more towards Central Europe rather than the Balkans. The fact that Slovenia became the most developed republic in the SFRY only amplified the sense of dissatisfaction with the federal politics of wealth distribution, as Slovenes compared themselves with the neighbouring Italy and Austria (Curtis 1992). Inc e ntive s

Unlike the experience of relatively poorer groups, the sense of deprivation and disadvantage for Slovenes was related to federal policies of wealth distribution. As the most prosperous republic, Slovenia had found it increasingly difficult and against its interests to see its resources diverted towards less wealthy republics and provinces in the south of Yugoslavia. One of the earliest formal complaints in that regard came in 1967, when the Slovenian chairman of the League of Yugoslav Writers spoke about this issue. Not long after, one of his compatriots and novelist wrote an article for a Slovenian journal in Italy, in which he pointed, “Slovenia is being sacrificed for Yugoslavia’s purposes” (Ramet 2006, p. 242). The society at large shared similar sentiments, and there were even reports that Slovenian workers demonstrated against showing movies with Serbo-­Croatian subtitles. Slovenian Communist leadership also faced some infighting, as one camp led by the head of the Slovenian government in 1970–1971, Stane Kavčič, gravitated towards further decentralization and cooperation with Croatian liberals; while the camp of hardliners, such as France Popit who would become the president of the League of Communists of Slovenia, opposed such moves (Ramet 2006).

154   Part III In 1983 already there were increased discussions about the alternatives to the totalitarian system and transformation to democracy. The ‘Alternative Scene’ that arose soon after was the product of mobilization of autonomous social groups that were operating in Slovenia from the late 1970s.39 These groups included pacifists, environmentalists, feminists, gay rights advocates and similar subcultures that were primarily reacting against the existing political system, rather than promoting nationalist goals (Mastnak 1992). They operated under the umbrella of The League of Socialist Youth of Slovenia (Zveza socialistične mladine Slovenije, ZSMS), which first operated within the auspices of the League of Communists of Slovenia (LCS), but split to become an independent movement in 1986 (Plut-­Pregelj and Rogel 2010). However, these groups were the foundation of the nascent civil society in Slovenia, which would in just a few years’ time react to the rise of Milošević and be used for mobilization of the Slovenian people. The early 1980s were also the period when Slovenian intelligentsia began organizing around two camps, which shared the goals of Slovenian national revival and transformation of the existing political arrangements. One was a journal called Nova Revija (The New Journal), which was established in 1982 with the aim of gathering prominent authors and intellectuals who were critical of the regime. It was touted as a magazine for the promotion of cultural modernization, adoption of a pluralistic political system and creation of an independent Slovenian state (Dragović-Soso 2002, p. 165). The other group was the Slovenian Writers’ Society, which had grown rather autonomous after Tito’s death, thus enabling it to lead the campaign of promoting Slovenian cultural rights and to advocate the program of bringing Slovenia ‘back into Europe’. One of the first major victories of the Writers’ Society was evident in the Slovenian communist leadership’s opposition to the common core curricula in secondary school teaching that was dictated by the LCY in 1983 (Ramet and Hafner 2006, p. 149). However, it was Milošević’s rise to power and demands for re-­centralization that were coming from Belgrade, which began to create nationalist momentum among Slovenian public. Surveys of public opinion in Slovenia (Slovensko Javno Mnenje) from 1987 show that over half of the respondents expressed that Slovenia was insufficiently independent or not independent at all. Moreover, almost two thirds of Slovenes were worried about the status of the Slovenian language and stated that it was endangered. Lastly, almost 60 percent of the population was in favour of further decentralization and more independence for all Yugoslav republics and provinces, while less than 10 percent believed that Yugoslavia should be recentralized (Toš 1987; Jović 2009).40 Thus, what was at first a sentiment reserved for the intelligentsia and peripheral social movements began to trickle down to the wider segments of the society. C apacity

By the latter half of the 1980s the Slovenian communist leadership became increasingly aware that the pressures for political pluralization would be hard to

The Periphery I   155 ignore. Thus, due to pragmatism and somewhat owing to their own beliefs that political liberalization would be a good idea, they allowed the operation of anti-­ regime newspapers such as Mladina (published by ZSMS) and Nova Revija, as well as the creation of an increasing number of grassroots organizations (Mastnak 1994). This is not to say that there was talk of secessionism among the high-­level officials of the LCS. However, there was certainly a considerable degree of tolerance towards incremental democratic reforms, while at the same time protecting the autonomy Slovenia had within Yugoslavia (Cohen 1993, p. 64). Moreover, the LCS became quite a vocal advocate of minority rights and protection of political minorities in Slovenia and Yugoslavia (Jović 2009, p. 325). Therefore, the republican authorities’ attitude towards alternative political movements, and even some instances where the LCS openly opposed the LCY, facilitated subsequent Slovenian mobilization.41 The real demonstration of unity in the aspirations for Slovenian statehood came about in January 1987, when the journal Nova Revija published a special edition issue entitled ‘Contributions to the Slovenian National Program’. The issue contained sixteen contributions for Slovenian national revival and sovereignty, and was partially considered a Slovenian response to the Memorandum of the Serbian Academy of Arts and Sciences published a year earlier (Milosavljević 2000, pp.  54–55). It is worth noting that despite sharing anti-­ communist and anti-­regime beliefs, the authors of these contributions differed in their political programs for Slovenia. While they offered different paths for the future development of the country, the idea of Slovenian separatism was common to all (Pavković 2000, p. 91). Despite the uproar the special edition created throughout Yugoslavia, the response that came from the Slovenian leadership was quite cautious. On the one hand, the LCS recognized that the ‘Slovenian National Program’ was a ‘nationalist provocation’, while on the other hand, the publishers were not imprisoned, only dismissed (Dragović-Soso 2002, p. 194). Even the president of the Slovenian Central Committee, Milan Kučan, rejected the claims that secessionist demands should be seen as illegal, stating that the journal was advocating the “legal right to secession” (Dragović-Soso 2002, p. 193). As a result, the federal leadership and the army repeatedly criticized the Slovenian leadership for being too accommodating towards the opposition, and perhaps even supporting nationalism in the republic (Jović 2009, pp. 326–327). Dynamics of Slovenian ethnonationalist mobilization While the January 1987 issue of Nova Revija certainly signalled the beginning of a new era in Slovenian nationalism, the mass mobilization of the Slovenian public, or what has been referred to as the ‘Slovene Spring’, commenced a year later. More specifically, in May 1988 the Yugoslav army first arrested Janez Janša, who was one of the leading anti-­militarism advocates. Just a couple of days later, the editor of Mladina Franci Zavrl, columnist of the same newspaper David Tasič, and JNA non-­commissioned officer Ivan Borštner were arrested

156   Part III and charged with illegal possession of classified army materials. In the days before these arrests, Janša and Tasič published pieces that referred to the plan of the army to crush the liberal movement in Slovenia (Benderly and Kraft 1996). The trial that ensued became instantly politicized. The fact that the trial was conducted in Slovenia, but the language of the court was Serbo-­Croatian, only contributed to the politicization, as such practice was considered gravely dis­ respectful of the defendants’ civil rights (Rogel 2004, p. 18). Public protests came as a reaction to the whole case, as well as an expression of anti-­Yugoslav sentiment that was spreading throughout the republic. On June 22, 1988, over forty thousand people gathered on Ljubljana’s Congress Square demanding the release of the arrested four journalists. After their sentencing and imprisonment later in the year, Slovenes continued protesting on the streets in large numbers, which continued well into early 1989 (Woodward 1995, p. 95; Ramet 2002, p. 24). Another strong reaction to the trial was the creation of an independent Committee for the Defence of Human Rights, which became the unifying platform for the Slovenian opposition (Motyl and Schnetzer 2004). The Committee issued protest petitions against the aims of the federal authorities to suppress democratization in the country. Over one hundred thousand individuals signed the petitions, while more than a thousand organizations, which ranged from trade unions to the Catholic Church in Slovenia, joined its ranks (Ramet 2002). The success of the Committee was mostly the consequence of political liberalization that came in the form of legalization of new social movements in 1988, allowing the ideas of democratization and sovereignty to become part of the public discourse (Mastnak 1992, p. 58). In the following months Slovenia saw a proliferation of political parties and movements, which included the Social Democratic Alliance, the Slovenian Democratic Union, the Slovenian Christian Socialist Movement and the ‘Greens’, while the pre-­existing Slovenian Peasant Union recorded a substantial growth in membership to about twenty-­five thousand (Ramet 2002, p. 25; Motyl and Schnetzer 2004, p. 568). At the same time, the LCS was faced with steady decline in membership and prestige. The only ‘outlier’ to these trends was its leader, Milan Kučan, who would in 1990 become the first democratically elected president of Slovenia. As a reaction to Milošević’s decision to revoke Kosovo’s autonomy and as an expression of solidarity with the Kosovo Albanian miners’ strike, the Committee for the Defence of Human Rights organized a rally in Ljubljana in February 1989. The speakers at the event were both members of the LCS, as well as the liberal opposition. However, they were all in unison in their condemnation of Milošević’s policies. The response from Belgrade was swift – Serbian nationalists organized a counter-­rally and accused Slovenes of collaborating with Albanian separatists. The epilogue was a ‘trade war’ between Slovenia and Serbia, as the latter imposed a trade embargo on Slovenia and broke ties with the LCS (Pavković and Radan 2007, p. 145). The momentum of movements for independence that took off in Slovenia, as well as the freezing of relations with Serbia, made the Slovenian communist

The Periphery I   157 leadership express the need for a system reform that would make it more pluralistic and fair. Throughout 1989, high-­ranked Slovenian officials spoke publicly about changes to the system which would ensure that the LCY competes “equally with other subjects” if it wanted to preserve its position within the polity (Cohen 1993, p. 64).42 Moreover, in a statement from June 1989, Slovenian communist leaders were alerted to unfair voting practices based on one vote per delegate system at the forthcoming LCY Party Congress. Such rules would enable Serbia, which had the most delegates, a crucial advantage. As a result, LCS announced that it would boycott such practices, and potentially assert complete party independence (Cohen 1993). The public opinion surveys from 1988 to 1989 show that Slovenes were no different in their sentiment towards the federal government in Belgrade and the need for party pluralism. Almost 60 percent of the respondents agreed that Slovenia’s economic association with the federation was too strong. Moreover, over 72 percent of those surveyed felt that the federal organs rejected important Slovene proposals. Lastly, over two thirds believed that the Slovene political pluralism and democratization efforts were being attacked from outside Slovenia (Toš 1989). In September 1989 one of the final blows was dealt to the republic’s relationship with the federal centre, as the Slovenian Assembly adopted constitutional amendments on state emergencies and the formal right to secession from SFRY (Pavković and Radan 2007, p.  146). These decisions caused another round of rallies by Serbs and Montenegrins who called for the dismissal of the entire Slovenian communist leadership. The rift between Slovenia and Serbia was only deepened in November 1989 after Slovenian authorities denied entry to Serbs who planned to organize demonstrations there. The Serbian response came in the formal announcement of termination of all government and business links with Slovenia (Cohen 1993, p. 65). In December 1989 the Slovenian Assembly passed two laws that legalized the existence of political opposition and reformed the election system, thus setting the conditions for holding free elections soon after. In the same month a coalition of five Slovenian opposition parties was formed under the name DEMOS (Democratic Opposition of Slovenia), while in the following month the LCS officially severed its links with the LCY. In the elections that took place in April 1990, DEMOS came out as the winner, controlling 127 out of 240 seats in Parliament.43 However, the outgoing LCS leader, Milan Kučan, became the first freely elected president of Slovenia after two rounds of voting, capturing almost 60 percent of the votes (Mastnak 1992).44 Throughout the following year, Slovenian leaders made constant reference to events in Lithuania, positing a fundamental analogy between Baltic independence from the USSR and Slovene independence from Yugoslavia (Beissinger 2002, p.  448). In December 1990, Slovenia held a plebiscite on independence that received overwhelming support from over 88 percent of the voters in favour of seceding from Yugoslavia. Importantly, just a couple of months earlier the Slovenian parliament adopted a constitutional amendment which declared that

158   Part III the Slovenian Territorial Defence (Teritorialna Obramba) was to remain under Slovenian government control (Cohen 1995, p. 176). Slovenes were also increasingly cooperating with the Croats regarding the proclamation of independence in both republics. Thus it is no surprise that Slovenia declared its independence on the same day as Croatia, June 25, 1991.45 Despite Milošević’s assurances that it would allow Slovenia’s peaceful secession from Yugoslavia, which came in a private meeting with President Kučan in January 1991, the JNA launched an attack on Slovenia on June 27. The Ten-­Day War that ensued between the JNA and Slovenia was the first conflict of the Yugoslav wars for independence. The low intensity and short duration of the conflict could be partially ascribed to the fact that Slovenia did not fit the plans for creating ‘Greater Serbia’ due to its ethnic composition, since there were less than 3 percent of ethnic Serbs living in Slovenia, and did not share a border with Serbia (LeBor 2002; Jonsson 2006, p.  89).46 Rather, the conflict was more a result of ‘strategic momentum’ and a way of setting a precedent which the Serbian leadership could apply to execute their plans in Croatia and Bosnia-­ Herzegovina (LeBor 2002, p. 137; Ramet 2006, p. 393). At the same time, the conflict was undoubtedly a product of strong nationalist mobilization on both sides. On the whole, the Slovenian case of nationalist mobilization fits into the early mobilization pattern, as the rise of pro-­independence movements throughout 1988 preceded the decisions to allow political pluralism in late 1989. However, contrary to theoretical expectations, these dynamics did not lead to strong radicalization in the polity and the triumph of nationalists over moderates. Instead, the stream that gained the most traction was the liberal democratic coalition (DEMOS). Such developments can probably be ascribed to the fact that already in the early 1980s Slovenia witnessed the rise of an alternative social scene that was primarily organized around liberal ideals and civil rights, rather than nationalism per se. Moreover, as Serbian nationalist mobilization gained momentum, there was a consensus among the ruling Slovenian communist leadership and the opposition regarding the need to pursue genuine democratization and independence, thus avoiding the strong ethnonationalist counter-­mobilization. In that sense, even though the hypotheses that early mobilizations in the core and periphery are more likely to lead to conflict tend to be supported, nationalist mobilization in Slovenia was qualitatively somewhat more liberal than in most of the other cases discussed in this chapter. Croatia Etiology of ethnopolitical action I d e ntity

There are diverging theories over the origin of Croats. The more widely accepted historical account claims that Croats were a Slavic tribe that migrated from the

The Periphery I   159 territory of present Ukraine and settled in the Western Balkans in the seventh century. Yet, a more recent theory has been put forward stating that Croats originally descended from Sarmatians from Central Asia, finding their way to Europe in the fourth century where they started to mix with Slavic tribes (Bellamy 2003, pp.  33–34). Since they settled the territory of the Western Balkans, Croats were first subjected to the rule of the Byzantine Empire and the Franks. The first record of Croatia as an independent nation stems from 924. From the twelfth century until the end of the First World War the lands of modern-­day Croatia were divided between the Habsburgs, Hungarians, Ottomans and Venetians (Darby 1968).47 Another key feature of Croatian national identity has been the affiliation to the Roman Catholic Church, which played a strong role in preserving the national memory of Croatian statehood despite centuries of foreign rule (Perica 2004). Similar to Serbs and Slovenes, Croat national consciousness also emerged in the mid-­nineteenth century with literature and language as the main pillars of ethnic identity. The Croat national movement at the time was also a reaction to Hungarian domination, and it brought out visions that ranged from creating the ‘Greater Croatia’, which would include incorporation of the Catholic population in Bosnia, to the creation of a common ‘Illyrian’ state that would unite the South Slavs within the Austro-­Hungarian Empire (Lampe 1996, p.  44). At the same time, reform of the Croatian language was conducted, which resulted in adopting a modified Latin alphabet, as well as a revised shtokavian dialect. The Creation of the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats and Slovenes after the First World War pitted the awoken national identities of the constitutive groups against each other. Croats and Serbs had the most problematic relationship due to disagreements over the issue of centralization, which tipped the power towards Belgrade (Lukic and Lynch 1996, p. 59). The escalation of the Second World War only aggravated the situation, as the Independent State of Croatia was proclaimed with the sponsorship of the Italian and German fascist regimes. What followed was a three-­way civil war among the Croatian fascist Ustasha government, Serbian nationalist Chetniks and Yugoslav communist guerrilla Partizans (Allcock et al. 1998). Finally, in socialist Yugoslavia, Croatia again found itself at odds with the federal centre, especially regarding issues such as cultural autonomy and economic independence. Inc e ntive s

After Slovenia, Croatia was the most developed Yugoslav republic with an economy that was structurally quite different from the other republics, heavily relying on the income generated from tourism and industrial development.48 The constitutional and economic reforms that took place in the 1960s and which promoted decentralization and marketization were seen as highly favourable to the Croatian leadership. Similar to the previously discussed Slovenian sentiments towards federal redistribution of wealth, the dissatisfaction regarding unfairness in the allocation of investment funds was also prevalent in Croatia (Curtis 1992).

160   Part III The first instance of Croatian nationalist mobilization emerged parallel to debates on federalization and decentralization, as well as new constitutional amendments in 1967–1968 that gave greater autonomy to the federal units.49 The Croatian national movement was initially about voicing dissatisfaction over the underrepresentation of Croatian literature and culture in Croatian schools, as well as what was seen as the diminishing role of the Croatian language under the conventions for the use of Serbo-­Croatian as the standard language in the country. One of the triggers for the so-­called ‘Croatian Spring’ or ‘Maspok’ (short for mass movement, ‘Masovni Pokret’) was the publication of the Serbo-­ Croatian dictionary in 1967, which presented the Serbian language as the sole standard, and which caused Croatian linguists to issue a declaration of protest (Bartlett 2002, pp.  29–30).50 The response from Serbian writers followed soon after, and the nationalist exchange between Serbia and Croatia became one of the main worries of the LCY leadership (Ramet 2006, pp. 230–231). The movement soon evolved into an alliance between Croatian liberals and nationalists, as the economists and technocrats were pointing to the disproportionately high contributions to the federal budget, while nationalist groups called for constitutional changes that would grant more autonomy to the republic (Halpern and Kideckel 2000, p. 91).51 The situation escalated in November 1971 when students and activists began demonstrating on the streets of Zagreb. The protests had to be broken up by the police forces and the army, after which hundreds of participants were arrested. Among them was also Franjo Tudjman, who would later become the first democratically elected president of Croatia. In addition, a large number of those who were seen as Croatian nationalists were dismissed from the League of Communists of Croatia (LCC), as well as other high-­level organizations and institutions within the republic (Tanner 2001; Ramet 2006). In the following decade and a half, the Croatian political scene was dominated by communist hardliners who maintained the status quo and prevented competing political movements from arising. Moreover, Croatian grievances were intensified due to the fact that the LCC operated on a basis of power-­ sharing agreement between Croats and Serbs (Zakošek 2008, p. 591). By 1989, one third of the high-­ranking members of the LCC were Serbs, who therefore had a significant impact on the political developments within the republic and a de facto veto power (Curtis 1992). In addition, the political reforms that followed the adoption of the 1974 Yugoslav Constitution failed to address the inherent problems of the inefficiency of production and the politicization of the economy, thus contributing to the dissatisfaction of the Croatian intelligentsia (Allcock et al. 1998). C apacity

Despite the fact that there were liberal and nationalist factions present within Croatia in the early 1980s, they operated underground and outside the formal institutions that were in the LCC’s control. Moreover, after the ‘Croatian Spring’ came to a halt, the nationalist and liberal options worked independently and with

The Periphery I   161 very little cooperation both within the republic, as well as across Yugoslavia with like-­minded groups (Kasapović 1992, p. 34). However, the fact that there was a steady loss of interest and citizen participation in the electoral process of political and economic organizations helped the cause of groups that would become the opposition in the late 1980s (Kasapović 1986).52 The erosion of legitimacy of the LCC, which began in the late 1970s, created one of the basic conditions for the emergence of opposition and regime change. The impetus behind the rise of groups that challenged the political environment in Croatia came as a consequence of the political developments in Slovenia and Serbia. Throughout 1989 there was an influx of political groups that soon became proper political parties. Moreover, following the LCS’s decision to legalize opposition in Slovenia and enable multiparty elections, the LCC managed to pass a similar piece of legislation in December 1989, signalling the beginning of political liberalization in the republic. Between the end of 1989 and the first parliamentary elections in Croatia, which took place in the spring of 1990, more than forty political parties emerged (Kasapović 1992, p. 37). The newly established parties were organized around two major blocs. The right leaning was the Croatian electoral bloc, which comprised the Croatian Democratic Community (HDZ), the Croatian Christian Democratic Party (HDKS), the Croatian Social-­Liberal Party (HSLS) and the Social Democratic Party of Croatia (SDSH). The left bloc included the League of Communists of Croatia-­Party of Democratic Change (SKH-­SDP). Other larger parties, such as the Serbian Democratic Party (SDS), the Yugoslav Autonomous Democratic Party (JSDS) and the Greens (Zeleni) have also been ascribed to the latter bloc (Grdešić 1999, pp. 172–174). Unlike Slovenia, where the old and new political actors, and parties from the left and right cooperated, in Croatia such arrangements never came to being. From the moment elections in Croatia became a certainty, the short pre-­ election campaign was built on values that only contributed to nationalist mobilization.53 This occurred due to the fact that in their pursuit of votes political parties created programs that had very little programmatic differences. The major parties agreed on the need for free elections and parliamentary democracy, as well as the marketization of the economy and privatization (Kasapović 1992, p. 39). Thus, the ethnic card was the only one that remained readily available to secure the popular votes. Pursuing such a strategy meant that the proposed policies began to appeal to the voters’ patriotic sentiments by referring to the old grievances towards the Yugoslav centre and the Serbs in particular.54 The most successful at playing the nationalist card was HDZ, which was the largest opposition party with the most financial resources, led by a former JNA general turned nationalist and political prisoner, Franjo Tudjman (Cohen 1993). Dynamics of Croatian ethnonationalist mobilization In less than a year between 1989 and 1990, the Croatian polity changed dramatically, and with it the political discourse. The elections that were scheduled for

162   Part III late April and early May of 1990 were dominated by competition between the right-­wing bloc led by HDZ and the reformed communists. The third way, which presented a centrist compromise, was the Coalition for National Accord (KNS). It consisted of several parties, movements and politically non-­aligned individuals. However, as the campaign developed, the HDZ-­led nationalist campaign, which advocated the reorganization of Yugoslavia into confederation or a loose alliance of states where Croatian interests and sovereignty would be asserted, only rose in popularity.55 On the other hand, reformed communists led by Ivica Račan advocated democratic reform of the Yugoslav federation as it was, and leaving the economic reforms that were introduced by the Prime Minister of Yugoslavia, Ante Marković, to begin working (Cohen 1993, pp. 96–98). The same period showed signs that interethnic relations between Croats and Serbs began deteriorating. In the political sphere, Tudjman’s election platform began causing tensions after he stated that Croats and Muslims in Bosnia-­ Herzegovina should become part of the new arrangement for Croatian sovereignty, thereby eliciting accusations of the plan to create ‘Greater Croatia’.56 Moreover, he repeatedly referred to the grievances over the disproportionate representation of Serbs within the Croatian government and public institutions, which was seen as something that needed to be changed.57 The nationalist discourse was partly a response to the rhetoric that began in the Serbian press, which in late 1988 and early 1989 began evoking crimes perpetrated by Croats against Serbs and posing the question of reassigning large parts of the Croatian Dalmatian coast to another republic (Ramet 2006, p.  368). Lastly, the highly polarized environment in both Croatia and Serbia pushed the Serbian minority in Croatia to start demanding more political autonomy. The latter group insisted that in case federal arrangements changed within Yugoslavia, Croatia’s Serbs would have to be given the status of an autonomous province (Caspersen 2011, pp. 45–47).58 The first multiparty elections that took place in Croatia in late April and early May 1990 only confirmed the popularity of Tudjman’s HDZ. It won over two thirds of the legislative seats, and a clear majority in all three chambers of Croatia’s legislature.59 The League of Communists won less than one quarter of the votes, while the Centrist Coalition received just over 7 percent of the popular votes (Nohlen and Stöver 2010, p.  414). These results clearly demonstrate the shift in sentiment among Croatian voters towards independence and against Yugoslav socialism, as well as the strong appeal that nationalist rhetoric had. Following the elections, the LCC accepted electoral defeat and there were no obstacles to power transition. December 1990 brought the new constitution, which established the political system as semi-­presidential with substantial powers assigned to the president, particularly to deal with the unravelling crisis within the federation (Ramet 2006). Moreover, the new government grew increasingly anti-­Serbian, and the  propositions of power sharing and restoration of veto powers that Serbs once possessed were immediately dismissed. Even though Croatia implemented a constitutional law on the protection of minorities when it was faced with

The Periphery I   163 international pressures for recognition, the policies of defining Croatia as a nation-­state of Croats had its implications on multiple levels (Roe 2004, pp. 93–94). From the adoption of new state insignia and Croatian as the official language, to the preferential employment of Croats over Serbs and dismissal of the latter in the public service, it became apparent the polity and society alike became mobilized (Zakošek 2008, pp. 597–598).60 The victory of parties with ethnopolitical programs in both Croatia and Serbia in 1990 triggered the spiral of nationalist mobilization and counter-­mobilization, which occurred several times in the histories of the two nations. The first clashes in Croatia erupted already in August 1990 when an armed insurrection began in municipalities where Serbs were either a majority or significant minority.61 Soon after, the separate territorial entity of Republika Srpska Krajina (Republic of Serbian Krajina) was established as an expression of Serbian resistance to Croatian independence, and as an answer to Milošević’s plans to expand Serbian territory (Caspersen 2011). After several incidents that ensued in March and May 1991, which involved clashes between the Yugoslav army and Croatian police forces, war in Croatia began in all earnest in July 1991, just a week after Croatia declared its independence.62 The war ended in early August 1995, when Croatia recovered the vast majority of its occupied territories and Republika Srpska Krajina ceased to exist (Williams 2004).63 Overall, the case of mobilization dynamics in Croatia points to patterns that could be best described as concurrent mobilization since the emergence of the nationalist movement (from late 1988 and especially since early 1989) occurred in relative proximity to political opening (late 1989). However, as the section on the etiology of ethnopolitical action sought to show, the movement that emerged was closely related to the ‘Croatian Spring’ movement from the late 1960s and early 1970s. Thus, as the theoretical section of the book argued, the pre-­existing capacity tends to make the dynamics of ethnonationalist mobilization in Croatia closer to what is considered as early rather than late mobilization. In that manner, the hypothesis regarding early peripheral mobilization being more likely to lead to violent conflict appears to be confirmed.

Discussion As the theoretical framework laid out in Chapter 1 proposes, non-­core ethnic groups that mobilize prior to liberalizing are more likely to experience violent conflict than the peripheral groups that mobilize after they have experienced the process of political liberalization. Moreover, it has also been proposed that the  likelihood of conflict occurrence and spillover in those regions where both the core and peripheral units mobilized early is greater than the likelihood of conflict occurrence and spillover in regions where the core unit mobilized late and peripheral units mobilized early. This chapter has traced the dynamics of ethnonationalist mobilization in five cases of early mobilizers in the periphery. All five cases of early mobilization have been followed by violent conflicts, albeit of different intensity and duration (Table 4.2). Thus the hypothesis H2

Croatia (Serb) 1992–1993, 1995

Yugoslavia (Slovenia) 1991

Croatia

Yugoslavia (Serbia)

Yugoslavia (Kosovo) 1998–1999

Abkhazia-White legion 1997 Abkhazia-White legion, Forest Brothers 1998

Non-state conflict

Government of Croatia – civilians 1993, 1995 Government of The Republic of Yugoslavia (Serbia) Croatia – Republic – civilians of Serbian Krajina 1998–1999 1992; Republic of Croatia – SAO Krajina 1991; Republic of Croatia – SAO Eastern Slavonia, Baranja and Western Syrmia 1991

Republic of Abkhazia (civilians) 1993, 1995

Azerbaijan (Nagorno- Republic of NagornoKarabakh) Karabakh (civilians) 1992–1994 1992

One-sided violence

Notes Violence thresholds: (1) minor armed conflict – at least twenty-five battle-related deaths per year and fewer than a thousand battle-related deaths during the course of the conflict; and (2) war – at least a thousand battle-related deaths per year.

Source: UCDP (2012).

Georgia (Abkhazia) Georgia (Abkhazia) Georgia (South 1992 1993 Ossetia) 1992 Georgia (government) 1991–1993

Georgia

Yugoslavia (Croatia) 1991

Azerbaijan (government) 1993, 1995

War

Minor

Minor

War

Intrastate with foreign involvement

Intrastate

Azerbaijan

States conflict

Table 4.2  Summary of conflicts for early mobilizers

The Periphery I   165 (early ethnonationalist mobilization in the peripheral unit is more likely to lead to conflict within the periphery than late peripheral mobilization) seems to be broadly supported. Furthermore, the expectations regarding conflict setting seem to be confirmed since in the cases of late core/early peripheral mobilization (Armenia and Georgia), the conflicts occurred within the periphery with lesser involvement from the core. On the other hand, the early core/early peripheral mobilization cases (Slovenia, Kosovo, Croatia) all saw the core as the opposing party in the conflict dyads. It also has to be emphasized that there are significant intra- and inter-­regional commonalities and differences regarding the set of causes behind the nationalist mobilization (Table 4.3). First, capacity for ethnopolitical action has been confirmed as an important factor, as it seems that in four out of the five observed cases (Slovenia being the exception) the groups that mobilized in the 1980s also experienced strong mobilization in the earlier decades. Armenians in both Armenia proper and Nagorno-­Karabakh mobilized in the 1960s, while maintaining a latent national movement in the later decade. Georgians had two major instances of demonstrations with ethnonational character in 1956 and 1978, where the latter one had significant impact on the nationalist movement in the 1980s. In Kosovo, the first large-­scale Albanian protests took place in 1968, while in Croatia the national movement was at its height between 1966 and 1972. More importantly, some of the key participants and dissidents from these rounds of mobilization in the 1960s and 1970s became the central figures of the nationalist movements in the 1980s. Such were the cases of Zviad Gamsakhurdia in Georgia, Franjo Tudjman in Croatia and Ibrahim Rugova in Kosovo, who all became the first democratically elected presidents in their republics. Second, the rationale behind the sequencing argument states that ethnic mobilization that precedes liberalization is more likely to splinter the polity along ethnic, rather than ideological lines. The cases analysed tend to not only confirm this assertion, but also show how the radicalization of the polity contributed to the transformation of the communist leadership to employ the ethnic card. Of course, the main motivation behind them doing so was primarily to secure their position. The case of the Georgian communist leadership after the April 1989 massacre is an example of an unsuccessful attempt to win mandate by trying to present itself as the advocate of Georgia’s national interests. On the other hand, the Slovenian communist leader Milan Kučan managed to position himself first as a moderate by allowing democratic reforms and advocating loose confederal arrangement. Moreover, by opposing Slobodan Milošević’s nationalist policies and advancing Slovenia’s interests, he built an image that helped him secure the position of the first Slovenian president. To a lesser extent, in Kosovo and Armenia the communist leadership facilitated the emergence of nationalist movements. In the former, the leader of the League of Communists of Kosovo, Azem Vllasi, was replaced in 1988 due to his fierce opposition to amendments that revoked Kosovo’s autonomy. In the case of Armenia, some of the prominent members of the Communist Party of Armenia began calling for the reunification of Armenia with Nagorno-­Karabakh in 1987.

Etiology of ethnopolitical action

Both alignment with and a reaction to the imperial core, Russia Multiethnic society with ‘minorities as guests’ narrative

Opposition was exhibited to the increased Russification policy that took hold in the 1970s Grievances were over the status of Georgians living within the autonomous units of Georgia and in other Soviet republics

Incentives Grievances Armenians of Nagorno-Karabakh harboured were found both in the spheres of cultural and social development

Georgia

Perceived and real threat of being a Christian nation surrounded by mostly Muslim neighbours Victimization narrative

Identity

Armenia

Grievances regarding the position of Albanians within Yugoslavia State-led repression and discrimination against Kosovo Albanians Hopes that more autonomy would grant the prospect of their own state and potentially joining ‘Greater Albania’

Cultural-linguistic uniqueness within Yugoslavia Inextricable links with Albania Competing myth as to who the original ‘sons of the soil’ were in Kosovo

Kosovo

Table 4.3  Summary of the main findings for the selected cases of early mobilization

Position of strength – Slovenia as the most prosperous republic in the SFRY dissatisfied with the redistribution of wealth and allocation of budget ‘Slovenia is being sacrificed for Yugoslavia’s purposes’

Slavic identity gravitating more towards Central Europe rather than the Balkans Linguistically somewhat distinct from Serbian and Croatian

Slovenia

Similar to Slovenia, regarding the perceived unfairness of economic aspects of federalism Reaction to what was seen as hegemony of Serbian language and culture

Link between Croatian lands and Croatian people The narrative of historic struggles for independent statehood

Croatia

Sequencing, early or late mobilization?

Early

First political Several nationalist organizations formed parties emerging in 1988–1989 from 1987

Timing

Liberalization

Early

Already in 1980, significant student mobilization from 1981, again in 1983

Early 1987, by the end of the year clashes between Karabakh Armenians and Azeris

Timing

Ethnonationalist mobilization

Two major instances of nationalist mobilization in 1956 and 1978 Participants from the 1970s movement prominent in the 1980s mobilization

Experiences of prior mobilization in 1960s Latent nationalist movement in the 1970s

Capacity

First the publication of ‘Slovenian National Program’ in 1987 ‘Slovene spring’ in 1988

Early 1980s saw the emergence of alternative movements (albeit of liberal, not ethnopolitical program) which later became an opposition Magazines for Slovenian national revival

Early

Early

Repression, followed December 1989 by establishment of legalizing political parallel government opposition in the early 1990s

Mass demonstrations began in 1981, nationalist movements pushed underground

Student protests in November 1968, seeking more autonomy Intelligentsia around University of Priština, as well as some of Albanian members of CP in Kosovo

Early (concurrent)

December 1989 legalizing political opposition

Late 1988, early 1989, as a response nationalist rhetoric from Serbia, and with the opportunity Slovenia provided

‘Croatian Spring’ between 1966 to 1972, followed by curbing opposition until the late 1980s Some of the most prominent participants of the ‘Croatian Spring’ emerged as the leaders of opposition in late 1980s

168   Part III Third, the dynamics of nationalist mobilization that emerged in the decade when both the Soviet Union and Yugoslavia began collapsing significantly differed across the five cases. Georgia’s national (re)awakening began as early as 1980, with significant instances of student mobilization in 1981 and 1983, which was first curbed by the authorities, only to re-­emerge in the years following glasnost. Kosovo was somewhat similar in that its mass demonstrations occurred in early 1981 and that the same protagonists began mobilizing later in the decade. However, what followed after 1981 in Kosovo was severe repression. Yet, what could be seen as liberalization in Kosovo are the creation of a parallel state in 1991 and the first multiparty parliamentary elections in 1992. Slovenia and Armenia had somewhat comparable experiences in terms of the time that passed between the rise of nationalist movements and political opening, which was less than two years. In Slovenia the so-­called national spring began in 1988, while in Armenia the calls for reunification with Nagorno-­Karabakh came in 1987. Political pluralism was legalized in Slovenia in late 1989, whereas political organizations began freely operating in Armenia already in 1988. Croatia, on the other hand, experienced somewhat of a “political shock” as the political environment changed drastically within a year (Cohen 1993, p. 95). The rise of the Croatian nationalist movement began in 1989 with the formation of opposition groups, which by the end of the year became legal. In the following year Croatia held its first pluralistic elections. In that manner, the Croatian case could also be described as one of ‘concurrent’ mobilization, where ethnonationalist mobilization and political liberalization occurred simultaneously. Finally, the core units of the two states had significantly different effects on the rise and development of the ethnonationalist movements of the early mobilizers, as well as the subsequent conflict occurrence and spillover. In the Yugoslav case the main tension occurred mainly on the level of first-­order administrative units, that is, between the federal republics and primarily along the line of core versus periphery. The core unit had been at the centre of all three cases of violence that broke off in the units that mobilized early, since Serbia’s goal was to prevent secessionism. On the other hand, as the Soviet regime began to unravel, the ethnic tensions that arose were largely intra-­republican, and between the first- and second-­order administrative units (i.e. the titular republic versus autonomous republics/regions). The core was not the main combatant as in the case of Yugoslavia, as seen from the conflicts over Nagorno-­Karabakh, Abkhazia and South Ossetia. However, in all three cases, Russia had been involved in the conflicts by openly siding with Abkhazians and South Ossetians, while in the Nagorno-­Karabakh conflict, initially supporting Azeris and later on, with Yeltsin’s rise to power, switching sides.

Conclusion The legacy of ethnonationalist movements seems to have a great impact on the way nationalist politics is pursued once political liberalization sets in. The five cases analysed in this chapter have broadly shown that when ethnopolitical

The Periphery I   169 action in the periphery was pursued prior to political opening, the emergence of truly liberal alternatives was impeded once the polity became pluralized. The main reason for this seems to be that politicians who played the ethnic cards were able to mobilize large segments of the population and gain power by tapping into the pre-­existing capacities to organize collective action. While there were differences in the extent to which the polity became radicalized across the cases, there is no doubt that the onset of violent conflicts had roots in ethnonationalism. As expected, not only did early mobilization in the periphery contribute to the assertion of the nationalist agenda, it also led to the counter-­mobilization of rival groups. In turn, the incompatibility of ethnonationalist goals on the opposing sides led to conflicts of different intensities, based on the strength of nationalist blocs. The next chapter will explore the dynamics of late mobilization in the periphery, and whether such sequencing has mitigating effects on the likelihood of conflict occurrence.

Notes   1 The first attempt to reunite the Nagorno-­Karabakh Autonomous Oblast with Armenia came with the ‘Karabakh to Armenia’ movement, which operated underground in the mid-­1920s and that largely based its campaign on distributing leaflets. After the movement was banned in 1927, appeals for unification of Armenia and Nagorno-­ Karabakh were sent to the Soviet leadership in form of letters and petitions in 1940s and 1950s (Moutafian 1994, p. 144; Service 2005, p. 204).   2 Khrushchev’s decision to allow the mass rally in Yerevan was pragmatic rather than idealistic. Armenian expression of nationalism was directed towards the Soviet Union’s enemy at the time, Turkey, and thus fitted well into Soviet foreign policy objectives.   3 The Party of National Unity was actually the most extreme separatist group and its members were tried and executed for some of their activities, which included setting a bomb in the Moscow Metro in 1977 (Suny 1993, p. 187).   4 Among them were writer Zori Balayan, historian Sergei Mikoyan, and even Gorbachev’s economic adviser, Abel Aganbegyan (Moutafian 1994, p. 148).   5 These demonstrations were part of the wave of protests over environmental justice that by that time already took place in Tartu, Leningrad, Kazan and Irkutsk (Beissinger 2002, p. 65). Specific concerns included the condition of Lake Sevan, the Nairit chemicals plant, the Metsamor nuclear power plant and the air pollution in Yerevan.   6 The pattern of ecological protests turning into nationalist ones was not uncommon in the Soviet Union at that point in time (see for instance, Dawson (1996)).   7 The pogrom was precipitated by the news that two Azeris were killed on the outskirts of Nagorno-­Karabakh, which acted as the “match in the tinderbox” (de Waal 2003, pp. 32–44). Also, important to note is that while the Armenian nationalist movement had been on the rise since the 1960s, similar developments in Azerbaijan never materialized prior to the late 1980s, which was mostly due to strict republican leadership and imposition of Russification policies (Cornell 2001, p. 64).   8 The “mitings”, Dudwick (1997, p. 80) explains, should be seen as “informal barometers which measure public concern or support for issues and individuals”. They would amass hundreds of thousands of participants at their peaks and their tradition continued after the fall of the Soviet Union.   9 The turnout for the 1989 Congress of Peoples’ Deputies elections around the republic was 72 percent; while in Yerevan only 53 percent of the eligible voters participated in

170   Part III the elections. The all-­union average was reported at 89 percent. See more at Gossoudarstvennaya Duma (State Duma) (1989). 10 It has to be pointed out that even though these elections were the first multi-­candidate polls, the nomination right was granted to working collectives, social organizations and voter initiative groups rather than political parties. The persistence of these electoral provisions points to the fact that political liberalization was somewhat limited (Nohlen et al. 2001, p.  322). Moreover, the Movement’s victory came after several rounds of run-­off elections due to the policy of minimum turnout requirement. 11 Ter-­Petrossian would also become the first democratically elected president of Armenia in September 1991. 12 The term samizdat is usually translated as ‘self-­publishing’. According to Lupinin, “it refers to the clandestine practice in the Soviet Union of circulating manuscripts that were banned, had no chance of being published in normal channels, or were politically suspect”. For more see Lupinin (2004, pp. 1347–1348). 13 Meskhetian or Meskheti Turks originally inhabited the Meskheti region in Georgia, which is on the border with Turkey. In the early 1940s they were accused as collaborators with Turks from across the border and deported to Central Asia. There are still debates over whether Meskhetians are ethnic Turks or Georgians. Some Georgian historiographers clam that Meskheti Turks are Georgians who have converted to Islam during the two centuries of Ottoman rule over the region they settled (Khazanov 1995). 14 Georgian students made up a significant portion of the protesters. More generally, young CPSU members were well represented (Alekseeva 1987). 15 The episode is also known as the March 9 massacre. Soviet tanks moved on to disperse the protesters and in doing so injured hundreds and killed dozens. These are the estimates as no official records had been kept. However, it is also known that hundreds of protesters were subsequently arrested and sent to forced labour camps. See more in Kozlov (2002, pp. 112–136). 16 As an evidence of success of the movement and national unity, it is noteworthy to mention that only one person was arrested as a result of their involvement, or more precisely for filming the events (Alekseeva 1987, p. 112). 17 The calls for better treatment and ensuring the rights of the Georgian population in Azerbaijan SSR were echoed in a 1983 letter that was signed by six prominent Georgians and sent to the central government and print media (Report on a Demonstration of Azerbaijanis in Marneuli in February 1983, AS no. 5235). 18 The individuals in question were former dissidents such as Zviad Gamsakhurdia, Merab Kostava, Giorgi Chanturia and Irakli Tsereteli (Sabanadze 2010). 19 The first instance of a more organized Abkhazian response came in November 1988, just a couple of months after a number of prominent Abkhazians sent a letter to the Presidium of CPSU Conference. This is when Aidgylara (Unity) or the Abkhazian Popular Front was formed – an association which would serve as the representative body for all the Abkhazians who were calling for recognition of ASSR as a union republic (Kaufman 2001, p. 103; Beissinger 2002, p. 224). 20 In January 1989 the South Ossetian Popular Front was created with Alan Chochiev as its leader. The front was also known as the Popular Shrine (Adaemon Nykhas) and its main goal was to increase the autonomy of the oblast into an autonomous republic. One of its first activities was a letter of support for the Abkhazians, who were in March 1989 protesting against the opening of Tbilisi University in the capital of their republic (Aves 1992). 21 In June 1989, Vladislav Ardzinba, who was at the time the Director of the Abkhazian Institute of Language, Literature and History, and who became the first president of Abkhazia, spoke to the Congress of People’s Deputies:  Not just the Abkhazians, but also others in the republic, are seriously concerned over the promotion and discussion of the draft state program for the development

The Periphery I   171 of the Georgian language, which raised the question of the use of Georgian as the only official language in all establishments, and of the compulsory study  of Georgian by every person in the republic. This has reopened unhealed wounds . . .”  (Furtado and Chandler 1992, p. 377) 22 The language status was at the forefront of mobilization in the republic and during the election campaign all Georgian parties referred to it as one of the most important issues. Even the moderates, such as the Liberation and Economic Revival bloc, demanded that “teaching in any institution must be conducted solely in the Georgian language” and that there would be no government funding for teaching in minority languages (Jones 1995, p. 542). 23 November 1989 would also mark the beginning of the first stage of conflict between Georgia and South Ossetia, as Georgian paramilitary forces led a twenty thousand-­ strong march to the South Ossetian capital. Armed Ossetians and Soviet Ministry of Interior forces stopped them before they managed to reach the town. However, clashes between Georgian paramilitary troops and local population still occurred in the Georgian villages nearby, killing half a dozen people and injuring over a hundred (Zürcher 2007). Over the next year the tensions eased due to the fractionalization within the Georgian national movement and disagreements over Gamsakhurdia’s response to the South Ossetian crisis. 24 The two ethnic groups that felt they had the most to lose from such a turn of events were the Abkhazians and South Ossetians, as their autonomy was severely threatened. The point of no return, after which conflict between Georgia and Abkhazia was only a matter of time, was the referendum on the Union Treaty that was proposed by Gorbachev in March 1991 (please refer to Chapter 3, section analysing developments in RSFSR). The new Georgian government banned voting in the referendum for the citizens of Georgia. Despite the ban, Abkhazians and South Ossetians managed to organize the said referendum, casting the majority of votes in favour of the proposal for a less centralized federal system. The Georgian government insisted that Abkhazian and South Ossetian referenda were invalid, as well as their outcomes, and went on to declare the independence of the republic a month later. By declaring independence, Georgia essentially eliminated the internal borders and autonomy of all autonomous republics and oblasts within the republic. This in turn created an impetus for secession from Abkhazia and South Ossetia, as it became clear that they would not be granted the desired level of autonomy by the Georgian government (Coppieters 2001; George 2009). 25 Throughout the election campaign Gamsakhurdia had compared the Georgian language to Lazarus, “ready to rise again”, and in his first speech to the new Supreme Soviet called for the “real implementation of the Georgian language’s state status, not just on paper . . .” He also threatened he would “put an end to the existence” of all organizations in the republic that did not conduct their affairs in Georgian. Moreover, Gamsakhurdia stressed Georgian schools would have “priority” in education, while the Russian schools “must be reduced in accordance with the number of Russian children, and Georgian children must no longer be taught in Russian schools” (Jones 1995, p. 542). 26 The Military Council took over control and invited Eduard Shevardnadze to take over the leadership. Gamsakhurdia first fled to Mingrelia (south of Abkhazia) and later even took refuge in the capital of Abkhazia before taking off to Chechnya. His supporters, known as Zviadists, came to help and the civil conflict soon started spreading to Abkhazia. 27 Throughout the book, the Anglicized version ‘Kosovo’ will be used rather than the Albanian ‘Kosova’. However, this should not be taken as a sign regarding my position on its status.

172   Part III 28 In order to understand the Albanian ethnic identity more broadly, it is crucial to emphasize internal divisions, as well as the commonalities. Even though the majority of Albanians is Muslim, there is still a substantial proportion of Albanians who are Christian and Orthodox (around 20–30 percent). Moreover, Albanian Muslims adhere to two different branches of Islam, namely Sunni and Bektashi. Therefore, even in their struggles against Ottomans, religion was not the central point of Albanian ethnic mobilization. On the other hand, the elements that provided the sense of belonging to the same community were Albanian culture, language and the feeling of “common blood” (Babuna 2000, p. 67; Duijzings 2000). 29 Recall the macroeconomic indicators for Yugoslav republics and provinces in Tables 2.5 and 2.6 in Chapter 2. 30 In 1985, the unemployment rate in Kosovo was three times higher than the state average; or for one available job, there would be forty-­three job seekers. In 1984, GDP per capita in Kosovo was 26 percent of the Yugoslav average. At the same time, it had 61 percent of the population under the age of 25 and a third of population receiving education (Horvat 1989; Jović 2009). 31 Kosovo was the recipient of economic aid from other Yugoslav republics through different programs distributed by the federal agencies. This help was steadily increasing over the decades and it helped the province develop at a rate significantly higher than the national average. The problem was that the population at large did not feel the effects of aid, since most of the money went towards political investments (such as public buildings, monuments, etc.) (Babuna 2000). 32 Some of these slogans were “We want deeds, not words”; “Some sleep in armchairs, and others are without bread” (Jović 2009, pp. 184–185). 33 Central authorities in Belgrade realized the severity of such a turn of events and thus called a joint meeting of the Presidency of the LCY and the Presidency of Yugoslavia. The result of the meeting was a proclamation of the state of emergency in Priština and crisis situation in Kosovo (Jović 2009, p. 186). In addition, Yugoslav army units in all republics were given the command for the level of combat readiness, along with the order for mobilization of the reserves. In the following days the Kosovo Ministry of Interior declared a ban on all public meetings, while the Executive Council (effectively, the government of Kosovo) issued an order for the temporary closure of all educational institutions. Even though attempts were made to reignite the protests in smaller towns throughout the province on April 3, the police intervened instantaneously and made it impossible for the demonstrations to continue (Ramet 2006). 34 Please refer to Chapter 3 for a more detailed analysis of Milošević’s stance towards Kosovo. 35 The movement was said to be strategically non-­violent, rather than pacifist (which would stand for principled rejection of lethal force) (Clark 2009, p. 280). 36 Rugova’s philosophy of non-­violence is best seen described in the book of conversations two French authors, Marie-­Françoise Allain and Xavier Galmiche had with him, Ibrahim Rugova: La Question de Kosovo. In it Rugova asserted that he was “a realist, and not a man of fantasy” (p. 76) and that he realized that after the Milošević-led government removed Kosovo’s autonomy, the province was under a serious “threat of ethnic cleansing” (p. 117). Thus, he said he considered “self-­control” as the best political response, adding that “the aim of our policy is to avoid a tragedy” (p. 170). See more in Rugova (1994). 37 The Republic of Kosova, which was declared independent in October 1991, possessed all the features of a sovereign state. It had its own government, parliament, president, media, education, health care, and they ran parallel to the Serbian institutions, which were treated as alien regimes. Serbian authorities almost made peace with such arrangements, as they did not collect taxes from Kosovo, nor did they draft Albanians from Kosovo to serve in the Yugoslav Army (Maliqi 2011, pp. 43–76).

The Periphery I   173 38 These groups included the Council for the Defence of Human Rights and Freedoms, the independent trade union federation, Youth Parliament and similar organizations which were broadly referred to as the “Kosova Alternative” (Maliqi 1998, p. 101). 39 It has to be mentioned that already in the late 1970s the ‘punk movement’ emerged as the first social movement in Slovenia, and despite official repression, began proving that “an independent social life was possible” (Mastnak 1992, p.  51). Furthermore, “the punk movement at the end of the 1970s offered young Slovenes a way to live, not in opposition or confrontation with the system, but outside it” (Halpern and Kideckel 2000, p. 66). However, it was not a dissident scene necessarily, as Mastnak (1994, p. 95) writes, the punk scene “understood its own action as the production of a social sphere”. 40 At the same time, around 40 percent of the population fully supported Slovenian communist leadership and a similar percentage of respondents said they trusted the authorities in pursuing Socialism. 41 In 1982 the SLC Congress issued a statement which advocated the use of the Slovenian language, while the Socialist Alliance set up a ‘language court’ to ensure the correct use of Slovenian and its linguistic purity in public use. Also, it supported the Writers’ Society rejection of the ‘common core curricula’ a year later, coming at odds with the LCY (Ramet 2006). 42 In 1989 Slovenian communist leader Milan Kučan, for instance, said that political pluralism should “not be seen as a danger, but a new chance for the country”; even though he at first advocated a “nonparty” form of pluralism (Cohen 1993, p. 64). This was a rather liberal view, if compared with Milošević’s stance, which was “political pluralism on socialist foundations” (Cohen 1993, p. 65). 43 Though it had to be pointed out that based on the individual votes, the Communists and the Liberals actually won the highest number of votes, 17 and 15 percent respectively, while the individual parties within the DEMOS coalition won around 10–12 percent each. These results reflected the similarity in positions that the major competing parties had over issues of Slovenian sovereignty and disassociation with Yugoslavia. One of the DEMOS representatives summed it up as “Yugoslavia as a concept is exhausted. Slovenia simply wants to join Europe and is not willing to wait for the rest of Yugoslavia to catch up with it” (Cohen 1993, p. 90). 44 After the elections Kučan declared, “the election results are a demonstration of the criticism of Serbia” and stressed that he would defend “Slovenia’s right to self-­ determination in a non-­disruptive manner” (Cohen 1993, p. 94). 45 Slovenia formally declared independence the next day, however it was already on June 25, 1991 that the independence acts had been passed in the parliament. 46 For the data on distribution of Serbian population in Yugoslav republics, please refer to Chapter 3, Table 3.11. 47 One of the key texts for understanding the Croatian national idea is the five volume-­ long “History of the Croats” (Povijest Hrvata) published by Croatian historian Vjekoslav Klaić in the early twentieth century. The book pointed to what is seen as an inextricable link between Croatian people and Croatian land, hence promoting the reunification of Croatian lands. Moreover, the existence of Croatian Diet (Sabor) throughout the centuries of Hungarian rule has been interpreted as instrumental for preserving the rights of Croatian state (Tanner 2001). In that manner, it had been later used as an evidence of historic struggles for independent statehood. 48 For the macroeconomic indicators of Yugoslav republics and provinces, please refer to Chapter 3, Tables 3.5 and 3.6. 49 Constitutional Amendments in 1967 and 1968 marked the beginning of the process of altering the structure of the Yugoslav federation. For the first time in SFRY’s history an open debate on the national question was initiated, and with it the discussions regarding economic inequalities. Thus, the first set of Amendments (I–VI) to the 1963

174   Part III SFRY Constitution, which were adopted in 1967, introduced the Council of Nationalities as the general jurisdiction chamber within the Federal Assembly, as well as made changes in the position of the federal bodies of power. The second set of Amendments (VII–XIX) adopted in 1968 granted provinces the right to adopt their own constitutional laws and the status of constituent elements of the federation, even though they did not possess the features of federal units like republics (The Archives of Yugoslavia 2011). 50 In March 1967, Croat intellectuals published Deklaracija o nazivu i položaju hrvatskog književnog jezika (Declaration on the Name and Position of the Croatian Literary Language), which stressed the distinctiveness of the Croatian language as completely separate from Serbian, rather than being considered as a dialect of one common language. Soon after, Croatian newspapers began publishing articles that were demanding more autonomy and the main cultural organization (Matica Hrvatska) began calling for outright independence (Alexander 2006, p. 414). 51 The leading officials within LCC, Miko Tripalo, Savka Dabčević-Kučar and Pero Pirker were advocating more autonomy and reform of the system of distribution of federal funds. The Maspok’s main slogan was “For Straight Accounts!”, which referred to both economic, as well as political organization of Yugoslavia. The student movement, organized under the Croatian League of Students was led by Dražen Budiša, while other notable participants included Franjo Tudjman, Vlado Gotovac and many other activists and students who would in the late 1980s and 1990s become leaders of the first political parties in Croatia (Halpern and Kideckel 2000, p. 91; Bartlett 2002, p. 30). 52 Kasapović (1986) measured the approval for the ruling elite as the level of interest and participation in Croatian ‘elections’ from 1978 to 1986. She showed there was a consistent drop in the interest and number of participants in the elections for political and economic organizations, which pointed to a significant decrease in the legitimacy of the socialist elite. 53 For instance, one of Tudjman’s HDZ campaign slogans stated, “Let us decide ourselves the destiny of our own Croatia” (Cohen 1993, p. 96). 54 Tudjman’s speeches most of the time referred to cultural grievances and repression, such as this one from April 1990,  Croatian sovereignty means above all that we restore Croatian legitimacy. In the last forty-­five years Croatism has not only been exposed to pressure but also to persecution. Streets and squares named after Croatian kings were changed. Croatian children were not allowed to sing innocent Croatian songs.  (Cohen 1993, p. 97) 55 In absence of reliable opinion polls from the election campaign, one way of measuring support for HDZ is by considering the money raised towards the party’s electoral campaign. It has been estimated that HDZ’s campaign raised over four million USD; a vast share of resources were donated by Croatian diaspora (Cohen 1993). 56 In early May 1990, Tudjman said, “Croatia and Bosnia constitute a geographical and political unity, and have always formed a joint state in history” (Cohen 1993, p. 97). 57 This remark came from Tudjman in April 1990, “we cannot agree with there being forty percent Serbs in the government of Croatia and sixty-­one percent in the trade unions administration, when eleven percent of the total population is Serb” (Cohen 1993, p. 97). 58 The Serbian counter-­mobilization in Croatia began in the Knin region. Some of the early attempts for asserting more autonomy included creation of Serbian cultural society (‘Zora’) in summer 1989, which was soon banned and its organizer jailed (Ramet 2006, p. 327). 59 It has to be pointed out that HDZ’s victory was not as overwhelming as the statistics present it. Namely, the electoral system was set up according to the double-­ballot

The Periphery I   175 model in which only a plurality is necessary for victory in the run-­off ballot when no one obtains an absolute majority in the first ballot. Thus, the coalition of parties around HDZ helped it secure victory (Cohen 1993). 60 For instance, Section 1 of the new Draft Constitution outlined the “thousand-­year national independence and continuity of the Croat State” and “the historic right of the Croatian nation to full sovereignty”. It also outlined that the republic of Croatia is “the national state of the Croatian nation and the state of the members of other nations and minorities that live within it”, thereby demoting the Serbs’ status from previously constituent nation to that of “other nations and minorities”. Dual-­language signage and road signs were also removed, and streets and squares were given more “patriotic” names (Roe 2004, p. 94). 61 This was popularly referred to as the “Log Revolution”, as the Serb insurgents began making barricades of logs and placing them on the roads in the Dalmatian hinterland, thus effectively splitting Croatia in two. 62 It began with the occupation of eastern Slavonia, after which Serbs gained over 15 percent of Croatia’s territory. At the height of the war between Croatian forces and Serbian insurgents, aided by JNA and Serb paramilitaries, Serbs controlled over a fourth of Croatian territory. 63 Eastern Slavonia, Baranja and Western Syrmia remained under Serbian control until 1998, after which they were peacefully reintegrated with Croatia.

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The Periphery I   177 Grafenauer, B. (1979). Prihod Slovanov (“The Arrival of the Slavs”). Zgodovina Slovancev (“The History of the Slovenes”). Ljubljana, Cankarjeva zalozba. Grdešić, I. (1999). The Radical Right in Croatia and Its Constituency. The Radical Right in Central and Eastern Europe Since 1989. S. P. Ramet. University Park, Pennsylvania State University Press. Guzina, D. (2003). Kosovo or Kosova – Could It Be Both? The Case of Interlocking Serbian and Albanian Nationalisms. Understanding the War in Kosovo. F. Bieber and Z. Daskalovski. London, Taylor & Francis. Halpern, J. M. and D. A. Kideckel (2000). Neighbors at War: Anthropological Perspectives on Yugoslav Ethnicity, Culture, and History. University Park, Pennsylvania State University Press. Hedges, C. (1999). “Kosovo’s Next Masters?” Foreign Affairs (May/June). Hiro, D. (1994). Between Marx and Muhammad: The Changing Face of Central Asia. London, HarperCollins. Horvat, B. (1989). Kosovsko pitanje. Zagreb, Nacionalna i sveučilišna biblioteka, Zagreb. Human Rights Watch (1994). Seven Years of Conflict in Nagorno-­Karabakh. Helsinki, Human Rights Watch. Jones, S. F. (1995). “The Georgian Language State Program and its Implications.” Nationalities Papers 23(3): 535–548. Jones, S. F. (2005). Socialism in Georgian Colors: The European Road to Social Democracy, 1883–1917. Cambridge, MA, Harvard University Press. Jonsson, A. (2006). Changing Concepts of Rights in Post-­Communist Societies. Democratic Transition in Slovenia: Value Transformation, Education, and Media. S. P. Ramet and D. F. Hafner. College Station, Texas A&M University Press. Jović, D. (2009). Yugoslavia: A State That Withered Away. West Lafayette, IN, Purdue University Press. Judah, T. (2002). Kosovo: War and Revenge. New Haven, CT, Yale University Press. Kasapović, M. (1986). Delegatski izbori 1978–1986. Usporedni rezultati. Zagreb, Institut za politicke nauke Fakulteta politickih nauka. Kasapović, M. (1992). The Structure and Dynamics of the Yugoslav Political Environment and Elections in Croatia. The Tragedy of Yugoslavia: The Failure of Democratic Transformation. J. Seroka and V. Pavlovic. New York, M. E. Sharpe. Kaufman, S. (2001). Modern Hatreds: The Symbolic Politics of Ethnic War. Ithaca, NY, Cornell University Press. Khazanov, A. M. (1995). “People with Nowhere To Go: The Plight of the Meskhetian Turks”, After the USSR: Ethnicity, Nationalism and Politics in the Commonwealth of Independent States. Madison, University of Wisconsin Press. Kostovicova, D. (2002). ‘Shkolla Shiqpe’ and Nationhood: Albanians in Pursuit of Education in the Native Language in Interwar (1918–41) and Post-­Autonomy (1989–98) Kosovo. Albanian Identities: Myth and History. S. Schwandner-­Sievers and B. J. Fischer. Bloomington, IN, Indiana University Press. Kostovicova, D. (2005). Kosovo: The Politics of Identity and Space. Abingdon, Oxon, Routledge. Kozlov, V. A. (2002). Mass Uprisings in the USSR: Protest and Rebellion in the Post-­ Stalin Years. Armonk, NY, M. E. Sharpe. Lampe, J. R. (1996). Yugoslavia as History: Twice There Was a Country. Cambridge, Cambridge University Press. LeBor, A. (2002). Milosevic: A Biography. New Haven, CT, Yale University Press.

178   Part III Libaridian, G. (1991). Armenia at the Crossroads: Democracy and Nationhood in the Post-­Soviet Era. Watertown, MA, Blue Crane Books. Libaridian, G. (2004). Modern Armenia: People, Nation, State. New Brunswick, NJ, Transaction Books. Lukic, R. and A. Lynch (1996). Europe from the Balkans to the Urals: The Disintegration of Yugoslavia and the Soviet Union. New York, Oxford University Press/ Stockholm International Peace Research Institute. Lupinin, N. (2004). Samizdat. Encyclopedia of Russian History. James R. Millar. 4. New York, Macmillan Reference USA. Maliqi, S. L. (1998). Kosova: Separate Worlds: Reflections and Analyses. Pristina, MM Society and Dukagjini. Maliqi, S. L. (2011). Why the Peaceful Resistance Movement in Kosovo Failed. After Yugoslavia: Identities and Politics Within the Successor States. R. Hudson and G. Bowman. Houndmills, Basingstoke, Palgrave Macmillan: 43–76. Mastnak, T. (1992). Civil Society in Slovenia. The Tragedy of Yugoslavia: The Failure of Democratic Transformation. J. Seroka and V. Pavlovic. New York, M. E. Sharpe. Mastnak, T. (1994). From Social Movements to National Sovereignty. Independent Slovenia: Origins, Movements, Prospects. J. Benderly and E. Kraft. London, Palgrave Macmillan. Milosavljević, O. (2000). Yugoslavia as a Mistake. The Road to War in Serbia: Trauma and Catharsis. N. Popov and D. Gojković. Budapest, Central European University Press. Motyl, A. J. and A. Schnetzer (2004). Nations in Transit 2004: Democratization in East Central Europe and Eurasia. Lanham, MD, Rowman & Littlefield. Moutafian, C. (1994). Karabakh in the Twentieth Century. The Caucasian Knot: The History & Geopolitics of Nagorno-­Karabagh. L. Chorbajian, P. Donabédian and C. Mutafian. London, Zed Books: 109–175. Nation, C. (2003). War in the Balkans, 1991–2002. Carlisle, PA, Strategic Studies Institute. Nohlen, D. and P. Stöver (2010). Elections in Europe: A Data Handbook. Baden-­Baden, Germany, Nomos Verlagsges/MBH + Company. Nohlen, D., F. Grotz and C. Hartmann (2001). Elections in Asia and the Pacific: A Data Handbook: Volume I: Middle East, Central Asia, and South Asia: Volume I: Middle East, Central Asia, and South Asia. Oxford, Oxford University Press. O’Ballance, E. (1997). Wars in the Caucasus 1990–1995. London, MacMillan Press Ltd. Olson, J. S., L. B. Pappas and N.C. Pappas (1994). An Ethnohistorical Dictionary of the Russian and Soviet Empires. Westport, CT and London, Greenwood Press. Pavković, A. (2000). The Fragmentation of Yugoslavia: Nationalism and War in the Balkans. Basingstoke and London, Macmillan Publishers Limited. Pavković, A. and P. Radan (2007). Creating New States: Theory and Practice of Secession. Aldershot, UK, Ashgate Publishing, Limited. Pelkmans, M. (2006). Defending the Border: Identity, Religion, and Modernity in the Republic of Georgia. Ithaca, NY and London, Cornell University Press. Perica, V. (2004). Balkan Idols: Religion and Nationalism in Yugoslav States. New York, Oxford University Press. Plut-­Pregelj, L. and C. Rogel (2010). The A to Z of Slovenia. Lanham, MD, Scarecrow Press. Pula, G. (1996). “Modalities of Self-­Determination – The Case of Kosovo as a Structural Issue for Lasting Stability in the Balkans.” Südosteuropa 4–5.

The Periphery I   179 Radan, P. (2004). The Break-­up of Yugoslavia and International Law. London, Routledge. Ramet, S. P. (2002). Balkan Babel: The Disintegration of Yugoslavia from the Death of Tito to the Fall of Milošević. Boulder, CO, Westview Press. Ramet, S. P. (2006). The Three Yugoslavias: State-­Building and Legitimation 1918–2005. Washington, DC, Woodroow Wilson Center Press. Ramet, S. P. and D. F. Hafner (2006). Democratic Transition in Slovenia: Value Transformation, Education, and Media, Texas A&M University Press. Roe, P. (2004). Ethnic Violence and the Societal Security Dilemma. London, Routledge. Rogel, C. (2004). The Breakup of Yugoslavia and Its Aftermath. Westport, CT, Greenwood Press. Rugova, I. (1994). La Question du Kosovo: Entretiens réalisés par Marie-­Françoise Allain et Xavier Galmiche. Paris, Fayard. Sabanadze, N. (2010). Globalization and Nationalism: The Cases of Georgia and the Basque Country. Budapest, Central European University Press. Schwandner-­Sievers, S. and B. J. Fischer (2002). Albanian Identities: Myth and History. Bloomington, IN, Indiana University Press. Service, R. (2005). Stalin: A Biography. Cambridge, MA, Belknap Press of Harvard University Press. Suny, R. G. (1983). Armenia in the Twentieth Century. Chico, CA, Scholars Press. Suny, R. G. (1993). Looking Toward Ararat: Armenia in Modern History. Bloomington, Indiana University Press. Suny, R. G. (1994). The Making of the Georgian Nation. Bloomington, Indiana University Press. Suny, R. G. (1996). Armenia. Armenia, Azerbaijan, and Georgia. G. E. Curtis. Washington, DC, Federal Research Division, Library of Congress. Tanner, M. (2001). Croatia: A Nation Forged in War. New Haven, CT and London, Yale Nota Bene. The Archives of Yugoslavia (2011). Amendments to the 1963 SFRY Constitution. Belgrade, The Archives of Yugoslavia. Toš, N. (1987). Slovensko javno mnenje 1987: pregled in primerjava rezultatov raziskav SJM 69–87 [Slovenian Public Opinion 1987: Overview and Comparison of Polling, SJM 69–87]. Ljubljana, Delavska enotnost. Toš, N. (1989). Slovenski utrip: rezultati raziskav javnega mnenia 1989–1989. Ljubljana, Fakulteta za sociologijo, politicne vede in novinarstvo. Trbovich, A. S. (2008). A Legal Geography of Yugoslavia’s Disintegration. New York, Oxford University Press. Uppsala Conflict Data Program (UCDP) (2012). UCDP Database Categorical Variables 1989–2008. Uppsala University. Available at: www.ucdp.uu.se. Last accessed: August 18, 2016. Uppsala Conflict Data Program (UCDP) (2015). UCDP Conflict Encyclopedia. Uppsala University. Vickers, M. (1998). Between Serb and Albanian: A History of Kosovo. London, Hurst & Co. Voronkova, A. (2011). Understanding the Dynamics of Ethnonationalist Contention: Political Mobilization, Resistance and Violence in Nagorno-­Karabakh and Northern Ireland. School of Politics and International Relations. London, Queen Mary, University of London. Doctor of Philosophy. Wheatley, J. (2005). Georgia from National Awakening to Rose Revolution: Delayed Transition in the Former Soviet Union. Aldershot, UK, Ashgate.

180   Part III Williams, K. P. (2004). Internationalization of Ethnic Conflict in the Balkans: The Breakup of Yugoslavia. Ethnic Conflict and International Politics: Explaining Diffusion and Escalation. S. E. Lobell and P. Mauceri. New York, Palgrave Macmillan. Woodward, S. L. (1995). Balkan Tragedy: Chaos and Dissolution after the Cold War. Washington, DC, Brookings Institution. Zakošek, N. (2008). “Democratization, State-­building and War: The Cases of Serbia and Croatia.” Democratization 15(3): 588–610. Zisserman-­Brodsky, D. (2003). Constructing Ethnopolitics in the Soviet Union: Samizdat, Deprivation and the Rise of Ethnic Nationalism. New York, Palgrave Macmillan. Zürcher, C. (2007). The Post-­Soviet Wars: Rebellion, Ethnic Conflict, and Nationhood in the Caucasus. New York, New York University Press.

5 The Periphery II – mobilizational laggards and interethnic conflicts

The sequencing of ethnonationalist mobilization in Bosnia-­Herzegovina, Chechnya and Moldova makes these federal units ‘late mobilizers’ since the rise of nationalist movements in all three cases followed political liberalization.1 Some comparative politics scholars would argue that such sequencing is more likely to lead to successful democratic transitions than if the opposite was the case. Yet, the late mobilization dynamics not only thwarted the potential for successful democratic transition, but it also led to violent conflicts shortly after ethnonationalist movements gained strength. This chapter will thus trace the reasons behind such developments. Following the theoretical framework and model presented in Chapter 1, the hypotheses relating to late ethnonationalist mobilization in the periphery will be tested (Figure 5.1). Namely, it is expected that the late peripheral mobilization would see a more pluralized polity in which nationalist goals are pursued along with other anti-­regime movements. Moreover, it is also assumed that the groups mobilizing late would be influenced by the already established movements from either within the core or other parts of the periphery, and that their mobilization would be a direct response (counter-­mobilization) to these pre-­existing movements. Thus, the interaction between these phenomena would then determine the likelihood of conflict. In the case of the former Yugoslavia, ethnonationalist mobilization and the war in Bosnia-­Herzegovina were, to a large extent, products of early core and early peripheral mobilizations in the neighbouring republics of Serbia and Croatia. On the other hand, the nationalist movements in Chechnya and Moldova emerged primarily as a result of political opening, rather than being a response to rival mobilizations. The conflicts that occurred in these Soviet republics were the product of counter-­mobilization of the minorities, and to an extent, the core. Moreover, these three cases offer a good variation in terms of scope and magnitude of the dependent variable, since they experienced violent conflicts of different intensities and duration. In all three cases the explanation behind late majority mobilization can be found in the local communist leadership’s tight control of the polity. As soon as it subsided and political pluralism was introduced, nationalist movements in all three cases gained clout. However, the success and durability of the nationalist

182   Part III Periphery

EM

EM

LM

P (conflict) = very high

P (conflict) = high

P (conflict) = moderate

P (conflict) = low

Core

LM

Figure 5.1  Dynamics of ethnonationalist mobilization and conflict occurrence.

alternatives was not at all uniform. In Bosnia-­Herzegovina, Bosniak nationalism of the late 1980s was mainly a response to Serb and Croat nationalisms, even though its origins stem from decades earlier. Thus, as long as nationalist rhetoric remained dominant within Serbia and Croatia, and by extension within their communities in Bosnia-­Herzegovina, Bosniak nationalism presented itself as a counter-­mobilizational response. Chechnya and Moldova were similarly prone to nationalist mobilization from within the core, since the former was an autonomous republic within the RSFSR, while the latter was a union republic that had a sizable Russian-­speaking community. However, their nationalist movements began primarily as an expression of grievances over repression they experienced in the Soviet era. It was only after these movements gained momentum that Russia responded. In the case of Chechnya, the response was more forceful due to separatism pursued by Dzhokhar Dudaev’s government. On the other hand, the war in Transnistria had arguably fewer implications for Russia, even though the protection of Russian minority and the strategic setting of Moldova were of high importance. Yet, given that moderate forces overpowered the radical nationalist faction within the Moldovan polity, the conflict between Moldovan and Transnistrian forces was relative short and of low intensity (Figure 5.2). This chapter will first trace the origins of ethnopolitical action, after which the dynamics of ethnonationalist mobilization will be analysed in order to better

The Periphery II   183 Periphery EM

EM

LM

Bosnia-Herzegovina

Core

Chechnya Moldova

LM

Figure 5.2  Selected cases of late peripheral mobilization in USSR and SFRY.

understand how the radicalization of polity that took place after political opening contributed to conflict occurrence. The sequencing of mobilization and liberalization are presented in an abbreviated version below (Table 5.1), while the concluding section of the chapter will offer a comparative summary of the main findings. Table 5.1 Summary of sequencing for the selected cases of late peripheral mobilization with conflict

Bosnia-Herzegovina Chechnya Moldova

Ethnonationalist mobilization (timing)

Political liberalization (timing)

Mobilizational dynamics (early or late mobilization)

1990 1990 Latter half 1989

Mid-1989 Mid-1989 Mid-1989

Late Late Late

184   Part III

Late mobilizers in the Soviet Union Chechnya Etiology of ethnopolitical action I d E ntity

Chechens are ethnically Turkic tribespeople who have settled the area of modern Chechnya since the eighth century.2 From the eight century onwards, Chechens had continuously found themselves fighting foreign invaders. First, the Arabs attacked and converted the Chechens to Islam, while the Mongols who invaded Russian territory in the thirteenth century continued with the Islamization of the Caucasus peoples (Evangelista 2002, p. 91). With the arrival of Russians as part of Peter the Great’s Persian campaign in the early eighteenth century, Islam began to have a stronger influence in building the nation’s identity. In these early struggles against the Russian Empire, Chechens joined other Muslim tribes from the North Caucasus, thus subscribing to a broader identity of being Caucasian. Throughout the eighteenth and nineteenth century Chechnya was torn by wars with the Russian Empire, as well as being at the periphery of Ottoman expansionism (Gall and De Waal 1999, p. 37). While the Russian Empire ultimately emerged victorious from the Caucasus Wars, some cultural and religious autonomy had been granted to Chechnya in the end. Moreover, after oil was found in the region in the late nineteenth century, Chechnya underwent substantial modernization (Dunlop 1998, pp. 32–33). During the Russian Civil War Chechens sided with the Bolsheviks. As a great display of historical irony, Stalin, who would later commit heinous crimes against the Chechen people, was instrumental in returning the land taken by the Tsars back to the North Caucasus people in 1921.3 A year later, Chechnya and Ingushetia would each become an Autonomous Oblast, only to be paired into Chechen-­Ingush Autonomous Oblast in 1934, and finally into Chechen-­Ingush ASSR in 1936 (Gammer 2006, p.  152). The 1930s were also the beginning of Chechen suffering under Soviet rule, and instrumental for understanding where the narrative of identity built on historical losses stems from. The first episode was Chechen rebellion against the introduction of agricultural collectivization throughout the Soviet Union. By the beginning of the Second World War, more than ten thousand Chechens were killed in Stalin’s ‘Great Purge’ (Gall and De Waal 1999, p.  55). The misery of the Chechen people only grew larger since Stalin accused them of treason and collaboration with the Germans. The punishment was extreme – Chechen-­Ingush ASSR was liquidated in early 1944, and its population was deported to Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan (Pohl 1999, pp. 97–98).4 With Stalin’s death and Khrushchev’s policy of repatriation, Chechens were allowed back to the territory of Checheno-­Ingushetia in 1956. A year later, the Chechen-­Ingush ASSR again came into being. After their return, Chechens were not given the opportunity to participate in the top levels of the Communist party,

The Periphery II   185 nor in the regional government leadership. The difficult relationship with the Soviet centre was aggravated by the fact that the North Caucasus region was being increasingly Russified. Russian migrants from other parts of the Soviet Union settled in the Chechen homes that were abandoned during the years in exile, while the Chechens suffered religious persecution similar to the other minorities (Seely 2012, pp. 87–88). Inc E nti V E s

The factor that undoubtedly had the most impact in generating Chechen nationalism in the late 1980s and the early 1990s was the experience of repression under the Soviet regime. Grievances over deportation and the mass killing of the Chechen population had profoundly influenced ethnic mobilization that occurred half a century later. Despite the regime ban on public discussion of the deportation, Chechens passed the memories of the event within families and social circles. These intergenerational oral histories of the tragedy were the primary sources of Chechen memory during the Soviet rule (Campana 2007). Once the glasnost policies enabled open discussion of this tragic episode, the legacy of Stalinist deportations served as a catalyst for the Chechen nationalist movement (Gall and De Waal 1999; Lieven 1999). Political liberalization also enabled the debate over the Soviet-­promoted concept of the ‘voluntary inclusion of Chechen-­Ingush in Russia’ (Yevsyukova 1994). The voluntary inclusion narrative emerged from the historical accounts of professor Vitaly Vinogradov in the 1970s, who maintained that Chechnya joined Russia in January 1781 and that the Caucasian war was merely a myth invented by the tsarist historians and military generals. Moreover, professor Vinogradov further argued that the idea of forceful incorporation was the product of bourgeois nationalists who wanted to mobilize the Chechens and Ingush in their hate towards Russia (Shnirelman 2006, pp.  286–287). With the onset of glasnost Chechen and Ingush historians and intellectuals were increasingly able to offer their version of history, especially by influencing the school textbooks published in Chechen and Ingush. The local communist leadership expressed its dissatisfaction over the debate as they saw it as damaging for interethnic relations. However, they refrained from quashing these efforts.5 Moreover, the dismissal of the ‘voluntary inclusion’ concept soon became one of the central policies of the Popular Front that emerged in the Chechen-­Ingush ASSR in 1988. Lastly, in terms of the incentives for mobilization, it is crucial to recognize the grievances regarding the republic’s economic underdevelopment. Chechnya was both resource rich and heavily industrialized. However, none of these translated into improved standards of living. The republic was home to the two largest petrochemical companies in the USSR (Grozneft and Orgsynthez), yet the majority of workers in these two were not ethnic Chechens. The indigenous population was mostly employed in the agricultural sector. Moreover, the average wages in Chechen-­Ingush ASSR were a quarter lower than the Russian average, and the wages in the republic’s agricultural sector were lower than in

186   Part III other regions. In addition, due to the centralized nature of the command economy, there was little reallocation of resources back from where they originated. As a result of such systemic neglect, a great number of settlements in Chechnya lacked basic infrastructure. Thus, the official statistics paint a gloomy picture of a republic that lagged behind other autonomous republics in terms of  all human development indicators (Dunlop 1998, p.  88; Gall and De Waal 1999, p. 127). Adding to the detriment of the indigenous population, the petrochemical industry also left a lasting impact on the environment. After the plans to build a biochemical plant in the town of Gudermes were made public in 1988, the citizens for the first time organized protests against such decision. The authorities attempted to silence the protesters by raising charges against the local construction engineer who revealed the negative impact such industry would have on the citizens. However, the intimidation tactic failed and the demonstrations soon spread to the capital, Grozny (German 2003, p. 23). Thereafter, it became increasingly apparent that Chechnya was following the footsteps of other Soviet republics (the Baltics, Armenia), where voicing primarily non-­ethnic environmental grievances soon evolved into opposing the ruling elites and pursuing ethnopolitical goals. C apacity

While there is no doubt that Chechen identity and grievances over events from their history created strong enough foundations for ethnopolitical action, the capacity to organize such a movement was severely impeded due to severe oppression from the state core. From the late 1950s almost until the collapse of the Soviet Union, Chechens were excluded from the higher levels of the communist establishment and local rule. Despite the fact that a small circle of Chechen intelligentsia emerged in that period, there was very little potential for upward social mobility (Seely 2012). The aforementioned environmental protests that evolved into political activism in 1988 created the need for a more formal organization of the Chechen citizens. The protests that took place in Grozny in spring 1988 were organized under the informal slogan ‘Union To Promote Perestroika’. Since the popular fronts began to mushroom around the country, the loose organization was soon renamed the National Front of Chechen-­Ingush ASSR with Khozh-­Akhmed Bisultanov as its first leader. It also came out with a program which included “democratization of public political life, a revival of Chechen and Ingush history, language, and national traditions, as well as the protection of environment” (Yevsyukova 1994; German 2003, p. 23). In the next two years the National Front became the main opposition to the communist leadership in the republic. Throughout that period, the Front’s leadership organized a number of anti-­regime protests in the capital, during which new demands were articulated. One of the most notable requests was for the government to finally allow the Chechens and the Ingush to assume high-­level positions within its ranks. The republican communist leadership first responded with

The Periphery II   187 repression and attacks that aimed to discredit the Front’s leader. However, the unintended consequence of an increasingly publicized argument between the government and the informal opposition was that it contributed to the popularity of the latter. The Chechen people became more aware of the positions the Front was advocating and grassroots activism began flourishing within Checheno-­ Ingush ASSR, while the members of intelligentsia formed similar activist groups (German 2003, pp. 23–24). The first semi-­competitive elections in Soviet history, which took place in March and April 1989, and yielded the representatives in the newly established Congress of People’s Deputies, fulfilled all the conditions necessary for an effective nationalist movement in Checheno-­Ingush ASSR. The demands to have ethnic Chechen representatives in the high levels of federal politics materialized. More importantly, Doku Zavgayev became the first Chechen to be elected to the position of the First Secretary of the Chechen-­Ingush Obkom of the CPSU (Tishkov 2004, p. 40). His appointment was seen as an informal victory of the emerging Chechen national movement (Gakaev in German 2003, p. 24). Thus, the decision not to install Moscow’s preferred candidate, but to choose the option Chechen-­Ingush Obkom saw as a better candidate facilitated the development of the Chechen nationalist movement. In 1990, Zavgayev was not an exception anymore, as more Chechens assumed roles in the Soviet politics (German 2003, p. 36).6 Dynamics of Chechen ethnonationalist mobilization The liberal reforms under Zavgayev enabled the nationalist movement in the republic to consolidate and arise as a formidable opposition force in mid-­ Even though liberalization was in full swing throughout the republic, the economic hardship was hard to ignore. Citizens again took to the streets of five republican districts to protest against the socio-­economic underdevelopment and the environmental pollution that was present in all parts of the Checheno-­Ingush ASSR. These demonstrations were referred to as the ‘regional revolutions’, as they resulted in replacement of the First Secretaries in each of the raions. Even though the protests were exerting pressure on the communist leadership, Zavgayev was able to exploit the situation by installing his associates to the newly opened positions around the republic (Gakaev 1997). However, as the more organized opposition began emerging not long after, the communist leadership found itself in an increasingly precarious position. The National Front of the Checheno-­Ingush ASSR was beginning to wane in influence due to internal struggles and lack of vision. Towards mid-­1990, the Chechen association ‘Bart’, which was formed in 1989, began emerging as the leader of the opposition. The association soon changed its name into the Vainakh Democratic Party (VDP) and held its inaugural congress in May 1990 (German 2003, pp.  25–26). The party leadership declared that its goal was to create a sovereign Vainakh Republic (a de facto Chechen-­Ingush union), which would become an independent state in an equal Union of Sovereign States. Not long

188   Part III after, the VDP engaged in a broader nationalist platform under the Chechen National Congress (CNC), which was formed in November 1990. The CNC was seen as the body that would unite the nationalists such as the VDP and National Front, and thus make them more effective in pursuing their agenda (Tishkov 2004, p. 58; Zürcher 2007, p. 78). Despite the fact nationalist groups shared the common goal of sovereignty, one thousand Chechen delegates at the Congress also belonged to competing ideological factions. The broad grouping could be divided into three streams – communists advocating national revival, liberal nationalists and radical nationalists. The latter group emerged as the most influential.8 However, the CNC concluded with a consensus on the issues of further democratization and recognition of national rights for the Chechen people (Tishkov 2004, p. 58).9 Moreover, the delegates agreed on the future of the Chechen national program, which would include the promotion of Chechen language, culture and religion, as well as demands for compensation of losses due to deportations of Chechen people half a century earlier. Lastly, a declaration of state sovereignty was emphasized as one of the crucial steps forward, which would require the adoption and ratification from the Supreme Soviet of the Checheno-­Ingush ASSR (Khasbulatov 1995, pp. 27–28; German 2003). Sure enough, the latter request was fulfilled just several days after the Congress ended. However, despite the fact the ‘Declaration on State Sovereignty of the Checheno-­Ingush Republic’ by the republic’s Supreme Soviet stated that the Checheno-­Ingush Republic would sign Union and federative treaties on an equal basis, it did not have any meaningful impact on the republic’s relationship with the federal and Russian centre (Yevsyukova 1994). Moreover, it is worth pointing out that at the time, the RSFSR leadership did not try to block proclamations of sovereignty on the part of sub-­republican units, as it saw them as consequences of welcomed democratization. By November 1991, nineteen out of thirty-­one autonomous units within the Russian Federation declared sovereignty (Payin and Popov 1996; Treisman 1997). Besides gathering Chechen nationalists into a single front, the first CNC would prove instrumental in the rise of Dzhokhar Dudaev, a Soviet Air Force general, who became the first Chairman of the Executive Committee of the CNC. Dudaev’s election to this position was equally a result of his biography and his convictions.10 While speaking at the CNC, he did not shy away from making clear that he had strong separatist convictions. Even though the local communist leadership found Dudaev’s radical rhetoric unsettling, he was considered a good choice as he belonged to a relatively weak clan. Thus, he was thought to have a great potential to become the unifying force rather than an agent of the big clan’s interest (Colarusso 1995, p. 331; Gall and De Waal 1999, pp. 83–89). Dudaev’s rise contributed to better organization, but also radicalization of the Chechen opposition’s requests. VDP and related organizations created an opposition bloc called the ‘National Movement of the Chechen People’ in December 1990 proclaiming that their goals were Chechen independence and

The Periphery II   189 the creation of a confederation of the North Caucasus peoples outside the RSFSR. Moreover, throughout the first half of 1991, nationalist protests demanding an upgraded status for Chechnya within the USSR were organized throughout the entire republic (Giuliano 2011, pp.  155–156).11 The August 1991 attempted putsch served as a catalyst for the Chechen nationalist movement taking over the polity. Dudaev skilfully exploited the initial silence of the ruling local communists to present it as their support for Russian hardliners, while at the same time calling on the Chechen people to support Yeltsin’s policy of democracy promotion (German 2003, p. 35).12 In this manner, Dudaev was able to present the Chechen-­Ingush Supreme Soviet as the roadblock on the Chechen path to independence, while at the same time branding the All-­National Congress of the Chechen People, which he presided over, as the champion of national interests.13 Making the most out of the situation, Dudaev’s forces stormed Grozny’s television station just a day after the failed coup in Moscow. Their demands were clear – Zavgayev had to resign and the local Supreme Soviet had to be dissolved, since they lost the support of the people. Dudaev was also quick to move to consolidate his power, as he ordered the establishment of militia units around the republic, which soon became the National Guard (Lieven 1999, pp. 61, 65).14 By the end of August 1991, mass scale anti-­regime protests organized by the All-­ National Congress of Chechen People and the parties under the National Movement of the Chechen people took place in Grozny. The atmosphere was growing hostile with each day the communist leadership refused to step down (Tishkov 1997, p. 201). The Congress of Chechen People held its session in the first days of September, adopting a resolution that deemed the Chechen-­Ingush Supreme Soviet as illegitimate, and scheduling the first parliamentary and presidential elections for late October. Naturally, Zavgayev denounced such moves, calling them illegal and undemocratic. The Supreme Soviet in turn declared the state of emergency, which seemed to be a desperate attempt to preserve power in a republic where Dudaev began operating parallel state institutions.15 However, it was not only the threatened leadership that felt the political developments in the republic were becoming uncomfortably radical. A number of religious leaders who were dissatisfied with the separatist course issued an appeal asking the Chechen people to be reasonable, which meant more autonomy and a better relationship with the federal centre, rather than full independence (Yeremenko and Novikov 1997; German 2003). Yet, Dudaev’s nationalist movement was gaining momentum and at that point in time it was hard to stop. It is indisputable that the coalition-­building, establishing armed forces and setting up the institutions served as the necessary capacity for getting into power. However, it was the confusion over the source of authority created in Moscow after the failed coup and Yeltsin’s distaste for Zavgayev that enabled Dudaev to impose himself as the inevitable new leader. Thus, as the National Guard seized the building in which the Supreme Soviet was holding its session on September 6, Zavgayev had little option but to resign. Just

190   Part III over a week later, the Supreme Soviet was dissolved and RSFSR leadership installed the Provisional High Council as the only legislative institution in the Checheno-­Ingush ASSR (Dunlop 1998, pp. 108–110).16 Despite the fact the Provisional Council was not consulted on the date of parliamentary and presidential elections, Dudaev proceeded as previously planned, declaring that elections would take place on October 27. In response, Russian leadership demanded that the National Guard should be disarmed and the seized facilities released, yet without any success. An election campaign that was unfair on several accounts, from being only two weeks long to having the media blocked by the National Guard forces ensued. The irregularities continued on the polling day, since residents in six regions of the Checheno-­Ingush ASSR were excluded from voting, while at the same time many non-­permanent residents were given the right to vote. In addition, the Electoral Commission consisted of solely National Congress representatives, which elicited numerous accusations of vote falsification from the other opposition groups (Payin and Popov 1996). Thus, it is little surprise that Dudaev emerged as the first popularly elected president of the Chechen Republic with 85 percent of the vote, while the nationalist groups won all the seats in the parliament (Lieven 1999, p.  63).17 Within days after the election Dudaev assumed emergency powers, while the Chechen parliament proclaimed the republic independent from Russia on November 2. Responses ensued from the ousted communists who soon began organizing armed opposition in northwestern Chechnya, as well as the Russian leadership as President Yeltsin declared a state of emergency in Checheno-­Ingushetia and ordered almost a thousand-­strong military force to establish order. Dudaev in turn mobilized several thousand National Guard forces, however, at that point the conflict was averted due to the pressure Yeltsin faced from his supporters and the media, who were all against the armed intervention (Yevsyukova 1994).18 Throughout the same period, Russia was open about its goal to return Chechnya under federal control. Immediately after the autonomous republic proclaimed independence, Russia imposed a strict policy of blockade in all vital spheres, including banking, trade and no-­fly restrictions, which only exacerbated the dire socio-­economic conditions in the republic. Moreover, the Russian leadership began exploiting political divisions in Chechnya, by first trying to negotiate separately with Dudaev and the opposition. After it became obvious that Dudaev would not agree to any power-­sharing agreement with Moscow, Yeltsin’s administration decided to side with the opposition (Gall and De Waal 1999, pp. 147–148; Lieven 1999, p. 87).19 As 1994 progressed, it became clear that Russians had given up negotiating with Dudaev, who refused to concede on the division of jurisdiction and power with the federal centre in a similar vein to what Tatarstan agreed to.20 Moreover, this period of time was also marked by a significant drop in popularity for Yeltsin due to the economic downturn and political crisis in Russia, which made the prospect of engaging in what was considered as a quick and decisive war in Chechnya rather tempting (Lieven 1999, p.  86; Smith 2006, p.  139).21 Thus,

The Periphery II   191 Yeltsin embarked on a campaign that denounced the illegality of Dudaev’s regime and continued to supply arms to Chechen opposition. The first clashes between Dudaev’s forces and the Russian-­backed opposition escalated in late 1994. On November 26, Yeltsin ordered a limited campaign of Russian tanks to move to Grozny. However, in this first instance, Dudaev’s army managed to prevail, forcing the opponents to retreat. Anything besides victory was not an option for Russian leadership, which is why it soon decided to commit to a full-­scale invasion of the Chechen republic at the beginning of December. The First Chechen War would last for almost two years, with over fifty thousand civilian casualties, and around ten thousand military deaths combined (Gall and De Waal 1999, pp. 360, 399).22 The analysis has shown that Chechnya and Russia were both late mobilizers. However, contrary to theoretical expectations, radical nationalists prevailed in Chechnya. The fact the First Chechen War escalated three years after Chechnya proclaimed independence is to a great extent a testament to the strength of democratic movement in the core. Even though tensions between the Russian Federation and Chechen Republic were high in late 1991, the conflict was averted because the intelligentsia in Moscow saw military intervention in ‘national-­ liberation movements’ as a return to imperialistic strategy (Payin and Popov 1996).23 Moreover, public opinion was largely on their side, as there was very little appetite for military engagement in Chechnya, even on the eve of war.24 However, by that time, the militant nationalist faction gained strength within Russia, which combined with Yeltsin’s unpopularity, influenced the administration to rethink its previous policy towards Chechnya. As democrats began playing the nationalist card in 1994, there was little hope that a conflict would be avoided. Meanwhile in Chechnya, since Dudaev assumed power, separatism remained the official state policy, thus inevitably leading into a conflict once Russia decided to mobilize its forces. Moldova25 Etiology of ethnopolitical action Id E ntity

The Moldovan indigenous population originates from the Romans who settled in the region in the second and third century, mixing with the local tribes. Moreover, Moldovans share ethnic origins with the neighbouring Romanians. However, unlike Romania, Moldova had hardly experienced any self-­rule from as far back as the Roman times to the end of the twentieth century. Yet, the crucial historical period for understanding the contemporary Moldovan ethnic arrangements and divisions dates to the Ottoman-­Russian rivalry in the nineteenth century. More specifically, this is when Moldovan territories became divided between those to the west and the ones to the east of the Nistru river, which runs through the northeast of the republic (King 2000).

192   Part III The west bank, which includes a significant proportion of Moldovan territory, has been known as Bessarabia. This territory was initially ruled by the Ottomans, after which it was annexed to the Russian Empire in 1812. From then onwards, the inflow of Slavs into the region began in earnest. Bessarabia was united with Romania after the fall of the Russian Empire. However, its experience under the Romanian rule was relatively short-­lived as it was annexed to the Soviet Union under the provisions of the Molotov-­Ribbentrop pact in 1940. On the other hand, the east bank of the Nistru became a part of the Russian Empire already in the late eighteenth century and has remained connected to the Russian core ever since. Shortly after the Russian Revolution, the Moldovan east bank area became the Moldavian Autonomous Soviet Socialist Republic (MASSR) under the authority of the Ukrainian SSR. With the absorption of the west bank area from Romania, the Soviet centre joined the two territories divided by the river, thus creating the Moldovan SSR (King 1994, pp. 348–349). Throughout the era of Soviet rule, a myth of distinct Moldovan identity, was heavily promoted (van Meurs 1998, pp. 50–52). The Cyrillic alphabet was introduced as one of the bases of the differentiation between the Romanian and Moldovan languages. Moreover, the state rhetoric of separate history and cultural legacy was heavily promoted. This kind of policy placed the Soviet centre in a precarious position. On the one hand, it wanted to advance Moldovan nationalism in order to sever the links between Romania and Moldova. On the other hand, the central government did not want to promote Moldovan nationalism to the point at which it would backfire and turn into a basis for a nationalist movement (Eyal 1990, p. 124). Thus, the Soviet centre pursued policies of Russification and facilitated the migration of Russians and Ukrainians to the republics (Bahcheli et al. 2004).26 I nc E nti V E s

The incentives for Moldovan nationalism stemmed from the grievances over past abuses and losses suffered under Soviet rule in just about every sphere of public life. The annexation of Bessarabia by the USSR and its merger with the MASSR was the first episode of Moldovan trauma. Moreover, in the first decade under Soviet rule there was a state-­led campaign of suppression of class enemies, famine and collectivization, which left tens of thousands of people dead or deported (King 2000, pp.  96–97). Being that public discussion of these events was banned until the period of glasnost reforms, the upsetting legacy became only stronger once it became allowed. Second, during the 1950s and 1960s, the Soviets pursued a policy of rapid industrialization in Moldova, which resulted in a large immigration push of Russians and Ukrainians who settled the republic and created their enclaves. Moreover, the inflow of Sovietized Slavs also had an impact on the urban-­rural divide, as well as the disproportional representation of ethnic groups in different sectors of the economy. Namely, in 1989 the population of Moldova comprised 63 percent of Moldovans, 14 percent Ukrainians and almost 13 percent Russians

The Periphery II   193 (Crowther 1997, p. 286). Yet the ethnic Russian population accounted for more than a quarter of the Moldovan SSR’s urban population, while making up only 4 percent of rural dwellers by 1989. At the same time, Moldovans made up less than half of the urban population in the republic, which was an increase from 1970, when they accounted for only 35 percent of the urban dwellers. The cause of such disparities can be found in the sectors of the economy in which the two groups were mostly employed. Russians were overrepresented in services and secondary industries, while Moldovans made up the largest share of workers in agriculture. Moldova’s developmental lag only added to the perception of collective disadvantage. In 1987, the republic’s macroeconomic indicators were on par with those of Soviet Central Asian republics, which were the least developed out of the fifteen SSRs.27 Moldova’s domestic product, capital investment and industrial employment indicators were substantially lower than national averages, while at the same time the republic led the lists of SSRs with the least educated population and the lowest levels of urbanization (Crowther 1997, p.  286). However, the underdevelopment narrative had its nuances, which were again a reflection of ethnic divides. For instance, Transnistria, despite representing a relatively small portion of the total area of the Moldovan SSR, was the site of almost one third of all industrial activity and almost all of the republic’s energy production (Chinn and Roper 1995, p. 307). Lastly, the cultural and linguistic hegemony from the union centre was perceived as forced Russification in Moldova. The linguistic policies such as the introduction of Cyrillic script in 1940 to distinguish the Moldovan language from Romanian, or promoting Russian as the language of public administration, were the first major issues around which the Moldovan population began mobilizing in the late 1980s. Moreover, a narrative that Moldovan identity was completely different from Romanian was strongly imposed in order to prevent irredentism (van Meurs 1998, pp.  52–54). The promotion of state-­controlled Moldovan nationalism based on a unique history and cultural heritage ultimately backfired, creating a strong impetus for national revival just as the Soviet Union began collapsing. C apacity

It is first important to note that the opposition groups, and particularly the nationalist movement that would emerge in the late 1980s in Moldova had to overcome the conservative leadership of the Moldovan SSR’s Communist Party. The Party’s First Secretary, Simeon Grossu, as well as the high-­ranking officials were largely against the statewide liberalization policies in economic and political spheres (Kaufman 2001, p.  139). However, the large contingent of ethnic Moldovans within the local CP leadership became increasingly sympathetic to the nationalist cause (Lobell and Mauceri 2004, p. 65). Furthermore, the March 1989 elections to the All Union Congress of People’s Deputies, which were formally committed to multi-­candidate competition, though not pluralistic in the

194   Part III true sense of the word since the candidates were all members of the CP, revealed that reformists were beginning to take power from the communist hardliners (Crowther 1997, pp. 289–291). This was the political environment in which the first informal organizations emerged in Moldova in the first half of 1988. Namely, the very first were the ‘Democratic Movement in Support of Restructuring’ and the ‘Alexei Mateevici Literary-­Musical Circle’. Although intellectuals founded both groups, their agendas were somewhat different. The ‘Democratic Movement’ was organized around the idea of further promotion of Gorbachev’s political and economic reforms, while the ‘Literary-­Musical Circle’ was more nationalist, promoting the status of Moldovan language and culture. Since a large number of members of these movements were also the members and elected officials of the Moldovan CP, they used their connections and the party network to establish support groups all around the country. By 1989, there were more than three hundred informal groups that were operating under the umbrella of the ‘Democratic Movement’ (Kaufman 2001, p. 139). In May 1989, these informal groups with both reformist and nationalist agendas joined their forces and formed the Popular Front of Moldova. The Front’s leadership was drawn mostly from the Democratic Movement, which by that time began subscribing to the usual list of national revival demands.28 The communist leadership did not take long to realize that the opposition groups that became united under the Popular Front presented a significant rival, and already in June they extended it official recognition. The reason for recognizing the opposition even though it was a rival was due to the fact that the opposition forces achieved a great success at the elections to the Congress of People’s Deputies, which made them hard to ignore. The Popular Front’s first public meeting took place on June 11, 1989, with the participation of many high-­ranking Party and state officials. The main item on the agenda was the status of the Moldovan language (Crowther 1997, p. 291; Hare et al. 1999, p. 535). Thus, by mid-­1989, the Moldovan nationalist movement had established the capacity for ethnopolitical action by utilizing the established CP infrastructure to branch out and by forming a large coalition under the Popular Front.29 Dynamics of Moldovan ethnonationalist mobilization The emergence of a state-­level nationalist mobilization in the Moldovan SSR could be pinpointed to a single month – August 1989. First, the Popular Front of Moldova organized a mass rally of over one hundred thousand people outside the Supreme Soviet building in the republic’s capital, Chisinau. The protest, which was dubbed as a ‘Grand National Assembly’, was an open expression of mass grievances over the suppression of Moldovan language and culture, annexation of Bessarabia in the Second World War, and overall a relative disadvantage of the Moldovan people under the Soviet rule (King 2000, p. 129). The protesters also demanded that Moldovan be made the official language of the republic (Crowther 1991, p. 189). The Front’s demands soon came to fruition as in the same month a

The Periphery II   195 new language law that promoted Moldovan as the state language was adopted.30 This was made possible due to the pressure that the Front exerted on the Moldovan Politburo to elect a moderate Moldovan nationalist, Mircea Snegur as the new chairman of the Moldovan Supreme Soviet (Crowther 1997, p. 291).31 The introduction of the new language law immediately caused a stir within the Moldovan Communist Party. In just weeks after the legislative changes, the Central Committee Plenum was held and Secretary Grossu was identified as responsible for the imposition of Moldovan nationalism. The Party members who were participating in the Popular Front’s activities were also singled out as being instigators of interethnic tensions within the republic. Moreover, there were already worrying signs that the Russian-­speaking members of the Party took part in creating a counter-­mobilizational movement in Transnistria. The Party’s ultimate response was Grossu’s removal from the position of First Secretary, and the promotion of a more dependable choice for Moscow, Petru K. Lucinschi (Crowther 1997, p. 292). Meanwhile, the fears of minority counter-­mobilization as a response to the nationalist rhetoric of the majority were proving to be increasingly true.32 The increasingly assertive Moldovan nationalism triggered a response from the Russian minority.33 Russians on the east bank of Nistru began joining the pro-­ unity ‘Edinstvo’ (‘Unity’) movement that was formed in April 1989. The movement really took off in August when the Russian and Ukrainian factory workers in Chisinau and Transnistria went on mass strikes to protest the new language law. At the same time, Russian-­speaking communist elites created a ‘Union of Working Collectives’, which would later serve as the organizational basis for the Transdniester Moldova Republic (TMR) (Hare et al. 1999, p. 359). In the lead-­up to the elections scheduled for February 1990, the polity was split both along ethnic, as well as ideological lines. Interestingly, both sides were insistent in describing the rivalry as ideological rather than anything else. On the one hand, the Popular Front was criticizing ‘Edinstvo’ and the ‘Union Work Collectives’ for being against political and economic reforms that originated from the federal centre. On the other hand, the latter groups accused the Popular Front of promoting nationalist ideals and aspirations to join Greater Romania, as well as undermining the socialist structures. The framing of the debate in ideological rather than ethnic terms had an unintended positive consequence, since it revealed the rift between the radical nationalist and moderate factions within the Front. This in turn affected some of the most important legislative provisions regarding the status of minorities in the Moldova post-­February 1990 elections for the Supreme Soviet (Chinn and Roper 1995, p.  301). In this manner, the developments in Moldova, somewhat unusually, fall within the predictions that late mobilization is more likely to see ideological plurality emerge rather than outright nationalist radicalization. The newly adopted law governing elections enabled opposition groups to actively present their platforms through various media channels (Fedor 1995).34 Moreover, in the pre-­election months a coalition between the Popular Front and the reformist wing of the Communist Party was created. This combination

196   Part III equally suited the moderates in the Party, who were finding it increasingly difficult to be at odds with the hardliners, while at the same time it broadened the base of potential Front voters. The most visible aspect of the new coalition was the Popular Front’s endorsement of high-­ranking communist official, Mircea Snegur, who openly campaigned on the Front’s official platform of sovereignty, economic reform and democratization (Crowther 1997, p. 292). Ultimately, at the February–March elections, which recorded a turnout of over 80 percent, the Popular Front-­reformist coalition proved to be the winning ticket. The Front’s candidates won around 40 percent of the votes, while the reform-­minded communists supporting the Front’s goals won another 30 percent (Socor 1991c, p. 25). As a result of the landslide victory of the coalition, Snegur replaced Lucinschi as the Chairman of the Supreme Soviet. Other prominent Front members were appointed to high-­ranking positions within the legislature, while economist Mircea Druc, known for his pro-­Romanian stances, became the new prime minister (Crowther 1997, p.  293). Ethnic Moldovans accounted for almost 70 percent of the new members of the Supreme Soviet, while over 80 percent were appointed to the legislative leadership positions. The new government was quick to deliver on what it promised in the lead-­up to elections, which was seen as a series of nationalist provocations by the Russian minority. First came ‘cosmetic’ changes such as the reinstatement of the pre-­revolutionary Moldovan flag and renaming the legislature from the Supreme Soviet to ‘Sfatul Țării’, which was the name for the National Council of Moldova during its time under Romanian rule. On June 23, 1990, the parliament adopted a wide reaching declaration of sovereignty, which proclaimed that Moldovan law superseded Soviet law. This was also the first time that the talk of secession from the Soviet Union emerged in the political arena. As a response to these decisions, Russian minorities created the Pridnestrovian Moldavian Soviet Socialist Republic (PMSSR) on September 2, 1990.35 To demonstrate its disagreement with the federal centre, which had by then openly sided with the Moldovan Russian minority, the republican leadership organized mass scale demonstrations on the streets of Chisinau in December 1990. The gathering of around eight hundred thousand people was labelled as the second ‘Grand National Assembly’, and its purpose was to show that the Moldovan majority was pro-­independence and against new associations with the centre. The Moldovan Popular Front instead advocated the transformation of the USSR into a confederal ‘association of sovereign states’, which would have no central institutions. This was referred to as the ‘fifteen-­plus-zero’ formula (Socor 1991b, pp. 18–20). Thus, it was little surprise that the parliament voted against Moldova’s participation in an all-­union referendum scheduled for March 1991. While Moldovans decisively boycotted the referendum, the Russian population was more divided, indicating that splits occurred within both ethnic camps. Namely, ethnic Russians who lived on the west bank of Nistru tended to lean more towards independence than those on the east bank.36 Their sentiment was only reinforced after the Soviet military intervened in the pro-­independence movements in Lithuania and Latvia in early 1991. Those living in what would

The Periphery II   197 soon become the Pridnestrovian Moldavian Republic (PMR) were more under the impact of the pro-­Russian movements operating there, hence inclining towards remaining in the Union. At the same time, the events from the Baltics and the disastrous state of the post-­Ceausescu Romania, contributed to the shift of the Popular Front’s rhetoric and policies towards a more moderate direction (Socor 1991b, p. 31). The Front began taking a more accommodative stance on issues of language and citizenship,37 while at the same time turning away from the extremist factions that advocated joining Romania, as the latter was perceived to have fallen into autocratic rule.38 However, despite these relatively promising trends from mid-­1991, the attempted coup in August 1991 soon reversed the course of political developments, contributing to the rise in interethnic tensions and ultimately resulting in an intrastate conflict. On the first day of the coup, the Moldovan leadership dismissed the Emergency Committee’s decree and mobilized the population to form human shields around government buildings and media facilities. The Moldovans ultimately prevailed following the failure in Moscow. Alike other Soviet republics, Moldovan government used the failed coup to declare its independence from the USSR. The independent Moldovan Republic was established on August 27, 1991 with sizable support from even the non-­Moldovan representatives in the parliament.39 The declaration of independence also vouched that the political, cultural and social rights of all minority communities would be respected (Socor 1991a, pp. 19–20). After the proclamation of independence Moldovan leadership began splitting along ideological lines, as the first Moldovan president Snegur advocated more moderate stances and reform, while the more radical members of the Popular Front had the hold of the parliament (Crowther 1997, pp.  300–301).40 On the other hand, there was no evidence of backing away from the nationalist rhetoric on the east bank of Nistru championed by Igor Smirnov, the chairman of the PMSSR Provisional Supreme Soviet and later the president of PMR. After Moldova proclaimed independence, the stage was set for a “creeping putsch” in Transnistria. The Russian Fourteenth Army-­backed paramilitary units in PMR began a successful campaign of taking over administrative institutions, media outlets and police stations in the region and forming the National Guard (Socor 1991a, p. 8). As militarization of both sides gained momentum and neither was willing to back away from their objectives, conditions were ripe for conflict (King 2000, p.  192).41 March 1992 began with Transnistrian attacks on the police headquarters and new road blockades, which is considered the beginning of the four-­ month-long violent conflict between Moldovan forces and Transnistrian separatists. The clashes escalated in mid-­March when the Dniester National Guard crossed the river and tried to take over Bendery (Tighina) on the west bank. Moldovan president Snegur declared a state of emergency, and ordered a military response to disarm the Transnistrian militia. The involvement of the Russian Fourteenth Army that supported the Dniester National Guard fuelled the conflict further. The ceasefire agreement was reached in late July 1992, with

198   Part III around five hundred killed, over a thousand wounded, and several thousand refugees (Högbladh 2013). The involvement of the Russian Federation was at the same time a factor that exacerbated the fighting, while ultimately helping bring the conflict to an end. Namely, the question of Russian minorities in the former Soviet republic was a central one at the time, and Yeltsin pledged that, if it came to that, he would defend the Russians abroad.42 However, the Russian Ministry of Defence never admitted it played a role in ordering involvement of the Fourteenth Army that was originally stationed in Tiraspol (King 2000, p. 195).43 Yet it is indisputable that the Army provided the personnel and military equipment to the Transnistrian National Guard, and in that manner played an important role in the “creeping putsch”. The Russian government only admitted to having an active role in reaching the ceasefire agreement. In these negotiations, Russians openly advocated a resolution that would allow the PMR significant autonomy, which forced the Moldovan government to concede to a bilateral agreement to end the fighting.44 After the conflict ended the moderate forces managed to prevail in the Moldovan political sphere with the replacement of the pro-­Popular Front Prime Minister and chair of the Parliament.45 The conflict that erupted between Moldovan government forces and Transnistrian paramilitary units backed by the Russian Fourteenth Army was a product of nationalist mobilization on both sides of Nistru. Even though the tensions were initially presented as ideological (pro-­reformist on the west bank and hardline on the east bank), ethnic lines increasingly began overlapping with the ideological divisions. As Moldovan nationalist mobilization led by the Popular Front took off, Russians and Russian-­speakers began counter-­mobilizing in a spiral that fits the template of an ethnic security dilemma. Both groups did so after the implementation of liberal reforms. This is significant because of the coalition between the communist moderates and pan-­Romanian nationalists that assumed power in 1990. The internal disagreements between the moderate Moldovan president and nationalist legislature emerged as tensions with the breakaway Transnistria heightened. Despite the fact conflict eventually escalated, the ceasefire that president Snegur signed with Yeltsin is partly a testament to the strength of the moderate stream within the Moldovan government. The other decisive element in bringing about an end to the conflict was Russian support to Transdniestria. However, even that was limited given that nationalist rhetoric was present, but not dominant within the Russian leadership at the time. For Russia, Transdniestria was arguably more of a strategic issue, rather than a problem of the Russian minority in the Near Abroad (Chinn and Roper 1995, p.  308). These factors combined can thus serve as an explanation as to why the conflict remained relatively limited in intensity and scope.

The Periphery II   199

Late mobilizers in Yugoslavia Bosnia-­Herzegovina Etiology of ethnopolitical action Id E ntity

In order to understand the competing claims Serbs and Croats alike have made over Bosnia-­Herzegovina, as well as the origins of Bosnian Muslim identity, it is important to look at the period prior to the Ottoman conquest and the Islamization of Bosnia-­Herzegovina in the late fourteenth century. From as early as the tenth century, there have been records to show that the territory was divided between the Roman Catholic, Orthodox and Bosnian Church communities (Malcolm 1996; Allcock et al. 1998).46 After the subjugation of Bosnia-­ Herzegovina to the Ottoman Empire and the conversion of large proportions of the population from all denominations to Islam between the fourteenth and sixteenth century, the ethno-­religious environment became extremely complex. However, all throughout this period and until the nationalist renaissance in Serbia and Croatia in the nineteenth century, the inhabitants of Bosnia-­ Herzegovina thought of themselves as Bosnian Muslims, Orthodox Christians and Catholics rather than being Bosniak, Serbian or Croatian (Bieber 2000, p. 20).47 After two centuries of continued struggles between the Ottoman Empire and the Habsburg Monarchy, the latter first gained the protectorate of Bosnia-­ Herzegovina in 1878, while full annexation ensued in 1908.48 The late nineteenth and early twentieth century was also the period when Bosniak national consciousness began to develop. It was based on the linguistic and religious distinctiveness, as well as an increased sense of separate political interests, which resulted in the creation of two Muslim political parties after the first Bosnian parliament was formed in 1910. Even though the smaller factions within the Muslim parties still sided with either Croats or Serbs, the idea that there should be a balance of forces in Bosnia, and that a separate Muslim identity should be preserved became the basis of the nation when it became part of the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats and Slovenes in 1918.49 During the Second World War Bosnian territory was annexed to the new fascist-­sponsored Independent State of Croatia, and divided between German and Italian administrations (Lopasic 1981, pp. 121–122).50 As the Second World War ended, Bosnia-­Herzegovina became officially reinstated as one of the constitutive republics of the Yugoslav federation, while Muslims became recognized as a nationality endowed with the right to conduct their religious affairs.51 In 1968 Muslims were given the full status of nation, and in 1971 ‘Muslim’ became a category next to Serb, Croat, Slovene, Montenegrin and Macedonian in the Yugoslav census. In that manner, Muslims became the titular nation in Bosnia-­ Herzegovina with the same rights as the other five constitutive nations in the republics they formed the majority in (Friedman 1996, p.  159). Finally, unlike

200   Part III Kosovo Albanians, whose identity hinged more on ethnicity, Bosniaks created a separate identity on the basis of their religious affiliation (Lopasic 1981, p. 123; Pavković 2000, p.  95). Thus, in order to understand the Bosniak nationalist movement, one must understand the central role of religion in Bosniak ethnic identification. I nc E nti V E s

In the first two decades after the end of the Second World War, the main sources of grievance for Bosnian Muslims were the contestation over their status and whether they should be recognized as a separate nation. Moreover, throughout this period, Yugoslav minister of internal affairs, Aleksandar Ranković conducted highly repressive Serbianization policies in Bosnia-­Herzegovina, which tolerated little expression of ethnic particularities (Ramet 2006, p. 178). As the 1960s progressed, the status of Bosniaks changed for the better since they were first recognized as an ethnic group in 1961. By the end of the decade, the broader recognition came by virtue of being given the status of a separate nation as Muslims. This decision sparked negative reactions from both the Bosnian Muslims, as well as from other republics. The former were petitioning to get recognized as a nation of Bosniaks, rather than Muslims, while the latter were against the decision that the religious group was given such status at all.52 The fierce inter-­republican debates on the topic continued well into the early 1970s, however, the communist leadership remained persistent in its decision that ‘Muslim’ was the only possible term (Perica 2004, p. 76). As previous two chapters have shown, the late 1960s and early 1970s were the years of political reforms and national awakenings in the SFRY. Bosnian Muslims were not immune to these forces. In the period between 1969 and 1970, the Islamic newspaper Preporod published a series of articles that pointed to the fact that Muslims were not allowed their own national cultural institutions, such as a national Academy of arts and sciences. Moreover, in 1970, Sarajevo lawyer and the leader of Muslim nationalist organization ‘Young Muslims’ (‘Mladi Muslimani’), Alija Izetbegović produced a document entitled ‘The Islamic Declaration – A Program for the Islamization of Muslims and Muslim Peoples’ (‘Islamska Deklaracija – Program islamizacije Muslimana i muslimanskih naroda’).53 The declaration called for the creation of an Islamic society in which religion would play a central role. Such transformation from ‘non-­Islamic to Islamic system’ would see rejection of socialist institutions and adoption of traditional Sharia law (Izetbegović 1990, pp. 14–21). Despite its great ambition and efforts made to circulate the Declaration, the document and its creators failed to mobilize Muslims in Bosnia. The authorities warned Izetbegović to discontinue his program, stopping short of prosecuting him, while the moderates in the Islamic Community (‘Islamska Zajednica’) made it clear that they were the advocates of a united Yugoslavia (Perica 2004, p.  77). Thus, the initial attempt to mobilize public support on the platform of creating an Islamic state failed.

The Periphery II   201 As a reward to the Islamic Community for favouring ‘brotherhood and unity’ over plans to create a separate Islamic state, the Yugoslav regime was very accommodating towards Muslims and granted them more religious freedoms from the late 1960s onwards (Pinson 1996, p. 145). Throughout that period, over eight hundred new Muslim places of worship had been built, which amounted to more than three thousand mosques by the early 1980s. In 1975, a Muslim funeral in honour of Yugoslav Prime Minister Džemal Bijedić was among the first religious services broadcast on state television. Moreover, Muslims had the highest cleric per believer ratio in SFRY and the number of students educated in Islamic schools was steadily growing. Even the Islamic newspaper Preporod doubled its circulation by the end of the 1980s, while its publishing house thrived. Lastly, in the late 1970s, branches of the Islamic Community of Yugoslavia were created in foreign countries (Perica 2004, pp. 78–82). This evidence suggests there are very few grounds to assert that Bosnian Muslims on the whole were strongly oppressed after the 1960s in terms of their religious freedoms. However, it is important to note that Muslim nationalism was increasingly less tolerated, as demonstrated in the arrest and imprisonment of Izetbegović and eleven others for committing nationalist offences in 1983. The group was accused of organizing with the intent to overthrow the constitutional order and spreading hostile propaganda, and Izetbegović received the highest sentence of fourteen years in prison. The trial has been described as typical for the particularly conservative faction of communists that was in power in Bosnia-­ Herzegovina. The so-­called ‘show-­trials’ were a strategy employed by the authorities to prevent dissent from the rest of the society, as well as being targeted against the accused (Andjelic 2003, p. 43). C apacity

There are several reasons why the mass level Bosnian nationalist movement emerged only in 1990. First, it has to be pointed out that the League of Communists of Bosnia and Herzegovina (LCBH) held a tight grip on power and tolerated little ethnic dissent. Bosnian communist leadership was a proponent of a strong federal centre and very much against the reforms towards market socialism, which were taking place in the wealthier republics. The period between the early 1970s and the beginning of the 1980s was the peak of their power since there were marked improvements in living standards in Bosnia-­Herzegovina, which enabled a tight control over the political and economic spheres (Andjelic 2003, pp. 26–27). Moreover, Bosnian communist elites were more than aware of the ethnic question, which explains their tactics of supporting the moderate Islamic Community, while at the same time becoming increasingly repressive towards Muslim nationalists. The leadership, which mirrored the ethnic composition of Bosnia-­Herzegovina, had also been united in their disdain towards any nationalist movements regardless of the ethnic group in question. Thus, until the late 1980s, it was very hard to challenge the republican leadership. The backlash against the authorities only came as financial scandals

202   Part III revealed the level of corruption and incompetence in the communist ranks, and this was not primarily related to questions of ethnicity (Bennett 1995). The replacement of the leadership that ensued and the pushes for democratization created a window of opportunity for the nascent nationalist movement. Second, it is important to understand that the Islamic Community, as the central institution for all Muslims, had been consistent in its loyalty to the regime throughout the entirety of Yugoslavia’s existence (Irwin 1984). Its leaders were Muslims who were members of Tito’s Partisans in the Second World War and for whom the spirit of brotherhood and unity trumped nationalist impulses (Burg 1983). The regime rewarded the Islamic Community by awarding it significant religious freedoms and enabling its development. This in turn helped the Islamic Community assume the leadership position in all ethnic and religious matters concerning the Muslims, while pushing the radical Muslim nationalists in isolation. Thus, until the beginning of the 1990s, organizations such as ‘Young Muslims’ and its offshoots had been at odds with the Islamic Community (Perica 2004). The changes within the Islamic Community began to occur only in the late 1980s, when a growing number of anti-­communist clergy started calling for replacement of the organization’s leadership and internal reforms. In 1990, the organization was restructured and began operating independently without interference from the state. In the following year, it ran elections for its first democratically elected Grand Mufti, who was a moderate Macedonian cleric, Jakub Selimoski. Despite the fact Selimoski was considered a restrained pro-­Yugoslav counterweight to the rising faction of clergy that sided with the Izetbegović-led nationalist movement, the Serbian government began a campaign which depicted the new leadership as fundamentalist and separatist (Perica 2004, pp.  84–85). At  first, the Islamic Community called for non-­involvement in party politics, steering clear of nationalist outbidding. However, as the nationalist pressure continued and the newly formed Izetbegović’s party looked for religion as  a  mobilizational tool, the Islamic Community leadership had an increasingly  hard time pursuing its organizational autonomy and the policy of Yugoslav unity  (Perica 2004, p.  88). The epilogue to these developments was the removal of Selimoski a year after the war broke out, which removed the final obstacle in consolidation of Bosniak nationalists and Muslim religious leadership in Bosnia. The emergence of non-­ethnic and non-­political movements in the late 1980s in Bosnia-­Herzegovina is the third factor that thwarted the strong early rise of the Bosniak nationalist movement. Student and youth organizations that advocated democratic changes began mushrooming from early 1988. They began cooperating with similar organizations in other republics, most notably Slovenia, and building up a platform that promoted human rights, pluralism, oversight of federal institutions and similar liberal ideals. Moreover, the youth organizations founded critical political magazines, which soon achieved record circulation and forced other media outlets to join the conversation.54 Not long after, human rights committees, such as the Sarajevo-­based ‘Committee for the Protection of Rights and Liberties of Individuals and Groups’ (‘Odbor za zaštitu prava i

The Periphery II   203 sloboda pojedinaca i grupa’) were formed, appealing for equality under the law and the respect of basic civil rights. In early 1989 there were also some environmental protests against heavy industries that were polluting townships of Zenica and Tuzla in central and northeastern Bosnia-­Herzegovina (Andjelic 2003, pp. 79–83). These developments show that the first wave of regime opposition in the late 1980s was primarily pushing for liberalization, rather than exploiting ethnic and religious cleavages.55 Thus, the combination of strong republican control, the prevailing force of pro-­Yugoslav leadership within the Islamic Community and the emergence of a primarily liberal opposition impeded the early ethnic mobilization of Bosniaks. However, mass mobilization was facilitated because ethnic identities were still well defined and durable for all three major groups in Bosnia-­Herzegovina, despite the levels of urbanization, secularization, as well as relatively high levels of interethnic trust and tolerance (Hodson et al. 1994; Sekulic 1997). Moreover, as the records show, in 1981 less than 40 percent of the population lived in urban centres, which were by and large ethnically heterogeneous (Anderson 2012, p. 63). If the data are restated in another way, this means that almost two thirds of the population lived in rural communities, which tended to be more ethnically homogenous. In the settings where the majority of the population belongs to a specific group, nationalists have a much easier task in mobilizing the population against the ‘others’. Such settings thus contributed to the capacity for mobilization of each three groups. In Bosnia-­Herzegovina, Croats tended to be most concentrated in the West central regions, while Serbs and Bosniaks overlapped in the Northwest, South and East of the republic with the trend of declining Serbian population and rising Bosniak population, which contributed to ethnic competition (Slack and Doyon 2001). Dynamics of Bosniak ethnonationalist mobilization The event that marked the beginning of the end for the communist leadership in Bosnia-­Herzegovina was the financial and political scandal involving the Bosnian food processing company Agrokomerc in 1987. Throughout the 1980s the company issued a series of fraudulent promissory notes with inadequate financial backing, which dealt a further blow to the already crippling Yugoslav economy that was struggling with the high levels of foreign debt and hyperinflation.56 The scandal was deemed as the Yugoslav equivalent of Watergate, since political leadership was heavily involved in the illegal proceedings. Namely, the company’s general director, Fikret Abdić, was a member of the Bosnian Party’s central committee, while several high-­ranking officials from the LCBH also held top positions in the company. The consequences were instantaneous – Abdić was arrested, as were over a hundred party members, while a substantial number of republican officials were forced to resign (Magaš 1993, pp. 111–112; Burg and Shoup 2000, p. 44).57 As a reaction to these events reformist forces emerged within the top ranks of Bosnian communists, which culminated with the election of moderate Nijaz

204   Part III Djuraković as the new leader of LCBH in 1989.58 Furthermore, the pressure for liberalization was mounting both from within Bosnia-­Herzegovina and more developed Yugoslav republics. The civil society organizations began operating freely and publicly, media criticism was becoming increasingly tolerated and the leadership participated in discussions as to what sort of system reform was needed.59 At first, the local communist establishment was leaning more towards some form of controlled pluralism, or “pluralism of social interests”, rather than a meaningful party pluralism (Andjelic 2003, p. 92). In that manner, it differed from the Slovenian and Croatian leadership, which began paving the way towards multiparty elections. However, the ruling party allowed the first semi-­ free elections for the representative of Bosnia-­Herzegovina in the Presidency of Yugoslavia in June 1989, which in turn provided an opening for changes that led to the first parliamentary elections in late 1990 (Andjelic 2003, p. 91).60 Meaningful political liberalization commenced at the beginning of 1990, when the republic’s government passed the Law On Citizens’ Associations (Zakon o udruživanju gradjana), which allowed free association and encouraged registration of political parties. However, the new regulations strictly prohibited all forms of organizing along ethnic and religious lines, which were seen as potentially detrimental for the interethnic relations in Bosnia-­Herzegovina. Interestingly, the public opinion surveys from the time show that an overwhelming majority of citizens in the urban centres supported the decision to ban ethnic associations.61 Furthermore, the first registered political parties were the Democratic Party, Social-­Democrat Alliance, the Democratic Party of Freedom and the Ecological Movement (Andjelic 2003, p.  129). They shared two features – all of them were based in Mostar, and none of them ended up having any influence on the course of political action at any level. The new rules on pluralism enabled Izetbegović, who had been released from the prison in 1988, to finally formalize his aspirations of creating a Bosniak nationalist party. Due to the ban on ethnic organizations, Izetbegović and his partners announced that they would be forming the Party of Democratic Action (Stranka Demokratske Akcije, SDA) in March 1990.62 Yet, at the first party convention two months later, the founders declared it belonged to the ‘Muslim cultural-­historic circle’. This was also visible among the participants, who included a substantial number of prominent members of the Islamic Community, both imams and laymen (Perica 2004, p.  87). Initially, Izetbegović positioned himself as a mediator between the radical faction within the party, which gathered the former members of the Young Muslims, and the more secular Muslims. He made it clear that the SDA wanted Yugoslavia to be a modern federation with a significant degree of autonomy for Bosnia-­Herzegovina and the protection of Muslim rights (Bougarel 2003, p. 111). Moreover, a declaration on religious liberty was created at the founding convention, which stated that religious pluralism and tolerance were at the core of democratic Bosnia-­Herzegovina (Perica 2004, p.  87).63 This goes to show that at least in the beginning, the dominant Bosniak nationalist movement was more liberal in its tone than for instance, its Serb or Croat counterparts.

The Periphery II   205 As the year progressed, political developments increasingly began to mirror events in the neighbouring republics, which were homelands to the other two major ethnic groups in Bosnia-­Herzegovina. The Croats in western Herzegovina began aligning with the Croatian-­based HDZ already in late 1989, (illegally) establishing the Bosnian branch in January 1989. After HDZ came to power in Croatia in May 1990, the campaign to establish a party network throughout Bosnia-­Herzegovina only intensified. The Croatian nationalist movement in Bosnia-­Herzegovina was particularly successful in the rural areas and communities where Croats formed the majority.64 The Serbs, on the other hand, first created a cultural society ‘Prosvjeta’ in June 1990, which was the precursor to forming a political party only a month later. This is when the Serbian Democratic Party (Srpska demokratska stranka, SDS) was formed in Sarajevo. Being that HDZ at first had Bosniak members (who later joined the SDA), SDS was the first ethnically homogenous political party (Andjelic 2003). With the first multiparty elections in Bosnia-­Herzegovina scheduled for November 1990 looming, the polity started growing ethnically polarized. Milošević and Tudjman’s parties in Serbia and Croatia began making nationalist claims that traversed the borders of their respective republics. Serb leadership saw the western border of Greater Serbia reaching the middle of Croatia, while the Croat nationalists claimed they would defend Bosnia-­Herzegovina to its border with Serbia on the river Drina (Toal and Dahlman 2011, pp.  94–95).65 Meanwhile, Izetbegović-led SDA presented itself as the guardian of Muslims, openly using Islam to mobilize Bosniaks and relying on the Muslim clergy to garner support.66 Even before the elections took place, SDA faced internal struggles due to the disagreement over its increasingly extremist and militant rhetoric. Izetbegović sided with the more radical faction, which made the moderate Adil Zulfikarpašić leave the party and form his own (Perica 2004, p. 88). Despite the high degree of ethnic polarization, SDA, SDS and HDZ were not rivals in a true sense of the word, as they could never rely on the votes from any other ethnic group but their own (Andjelic 2003). In the environment of a collapsing federation, where ethnic tensions took over the political sphere, they mobilized their ethnic kin by presenting themselves as guardians of whichever group they belonged to. Their true rivals were the more liberal parties whose membership was ethnically heterogeneous. However, there were very few such organizations and their membership was meagre in comparison to the big three. This was reflected in the results of the first parliamentary elections in Bosnia-­ Herzegovina, which took place on November 18, 1990. SDA won a total of almost 36 percent of the votes (or 86 seats in the House of Representatives and the House of Peoples), followed by SDS that won 30 percent of the votes (72 seats) and HDZ as the third ranked with 18 percent (44 seats), which roughly mirrored the ethnic distribution in the republic.67 Combined, the three ethnic parties captured about 84 percent of the votes, which demonstrates the magnitude of nationalist dynamics in Bosnia-­Herzegovina at the end of 1990 (Bideleux and Jeffries 2006, p.  342). Moreover, the three parties made a power-­sharing agreement in all government bodies and public institutions.

206   Part III Just as the rise of nationalism came as the product of developments in the neighbouring republics, Slovenian and Croatian declarations of independence triggered secessionism in Bosnia-­Herzegovina. It has to be pointed out that Izetbegović participated in the so-­called ‘Belgrade Initiative’ negotiations with Bosnian Serb and Yugoslav leadership in July 1991 over the arrangement under which Bosnia would remain in rump Yugoslavia (Kuperman 2008, p.  57). However, as the war in Croatia began to intensify, Bosniak leadership soon reneged on the agreements that were made and began organizing its militia. Croats and Serbs soon followed suit, which meant that by early 1992, all three ethnic groups had their armed militias operating in the republic.68 Moreover, by the end of September 1991, Bosnian Serbs proclaimed Serb-­controlled parts of Bosnia-­Herzegovina as autonomous regions, including East Herzegovina, Romania, Northeast Bosnia and Bosanska Krajina. Bosnian Croats did the same by declaring Croatian autonomous regions in western Herzegovina and northern Bosnia (Pavković 2000, p. 158). On October 15, 1991, Bosniak and Bosnian Croat parliamentary representatives passed ‘The Memorandum of Sovereignty’, which effectively declared Bosnia-­Herzegovina a sovereign state and paved the way for its secession from Yugoslavia. Bosnian Serbs called the decision illegal and ended the tripartite coalition, forming the Assembly of Serb People in Bosnia-­Herzegovina. They also came back with a set of counter-­proposals enabling the self-­determination of all three constituent nations, thereby allowing the secession of Serb autonomous regions (Srpska Autonomna Oblast).69 In January 1992, the Assembly of Serb People proclaimed that the autonomous regions formed the Republic of the Serb People of Bosnia and Herzegovina (Republika srpskog naroda Bosne i Hercegovine, or as it came to be known Republika Srpska) and that the republic was an integral part of Yugoslavia. Soon after, the Bosniak-­Croat parliamentary coalition agreed to hold a referendum on independence of the republic. The Bosnian Serb population boycotted the plebiscite that took place from February 29 to March 1, which was reflected in the turnout of 63 percent. However, the voters who participated in the referendum voted overwhelmingly (with over 92 percent) in favour of independence (Burg and Shoup 2000). Immediately after the Izetbegović-led government proclaimed independence on March 3, 1992, the first shots were fired as Serb militias clashed with Bosniaks and Croats in northern and eastern Bosnia and in Herzegovina (Pavković 2000, p. 161). In the following month, tens of thousands of people from all three ethnic groups participated in the peace rallies which took place in Sarajevo and Mostar. The protests had a tragic turn as two young women who were taking part in the demonstrations were killed. As April 1992 progressed clashes intensified around the republic, ultimately escalating into a large-­scale conflict.70 The factors that aggravated and protracted the war in Bosnia were the expansionist foreign policy and military support from Serbia and Croatia.71 Thus, the onset of Bosnian War has to be understood through a prism of developments outside of the republic, primarily the ethnonationalist competition in other republics, and the collapse of SFRY. The emergence of nationalist

The Periphery II   207 movements within Bosnia-­Herzegovina was relatively late and to a large extent a response to the mobilizational spiral between Serbs and Croats in their republics, which subsequently crossed the borders of their republics. In that sense, the rise of nationalism within the republic has to be seen as the product of early mobilizations in both the core (Serbia) and periphery (Croatia). Moreover, had it not been for the proclamations of independence from Slovenia and Croatia, but some form of confederal reform in Yugoslavia, there is hardly anything to support the claim that Bosnia-­Herzegovina would secede even with the nationalist forces that became prevalent in the polity. However, following other republics with the declaration of independence, Bosnia essentially pitted itself against the core republic, which resulted in conflict due to the core’s nationalist politics and matching foreign policy.

Discussion According to the theoretical framework that guides the analysis in this book, it is expected that ethnonationalist mobilization that follows liberalization would be less likely to result in conflict than if mobilization was to precede liberalization. If this expectation is to be made more specific by distinguishing between the effects of mobilizational sequencing in the core and periphery, we would expect that the dyads in which we move towards late mobilization in both the core and the periphery would be less likely to escalate to conflict than those in which both ends mobilize before liberalizing. This chapter has offered three cases of late mobilization in the periphery, with variation in the timing of core mobilization. Namely, the conflict in Bosnia-­ Herzegovina was analysed through the prism of early core mobilization, that of Serbia, while in both Chechnya and Moldova the conflicts that erupted in the early 1990s were seen as products of late core and late periphery mobilization. In all three cases the outcomes of ethnonationalist mobilizations were armed conflicts (Table 5.2), however they varied significantly in their duration, intensity, and the way they fit into the puzzle of regional conflict dynamics. Bosniak mobilization is a case of late mobilization that was caused by the ethnic security dilemma spiral, which was created form early core and peripheral mobilizations. In essence, the war in Bosnia-­Herzegovina was the spillover conflict of the war in Croatia. In that manner, H1 (early ethnonationalist mobilization in the core unit is more likely to lead to conflict within the core federal unit and peripheral unit(s) than late mobilization in the core unit) seems to be confirmed. At the same time, due to the strong regional dynamics, hypothesis H4 (late nationalist mobilization in the peripheral unit is less likely to lead to conflict within the unit than early mobilization) is not confirmed in the case of Bosnia-­Herzegovina. On the other hand, while mobilizational impulses in Chechnya and Moldova certainly belonged to the regional wave of national awakenings, the conflicts that occurred in these republics were more limited in terms of regional dynamics. While the Chechens were being armed and helped by other Soviet republics and

Moldova (Dniester) 1992

Moldova

1 Government of Russia – civilians 1995–1996,

1 Government of B-H – civilians 1992–1993 2 Croatian Rep of B-H 1993, 1995 3 Serbian Rep of B-H 1992–1995

1 Chechen Republic of Ichkeria-Forces of Ruslan Labazanov 1994; 2 Chechen Republic of IchkeriaProvisional Council of Chechen Republic 1994

Republic of Bosnia and Herzegovina – Serbian Republic of Bosnia and Herzegovina 1992

One-sided violence Non-state conflict

Notes Violence thresholds: (1) minor armed conflict – at least twenty-five battle-related deaths per year and fewer than a thousand battle-related deaths during the course of the conflict; and (2) war – at least a thousand battle-related deaths per year.

Source: UCDP (2012).

Russia (Chechnya) Russia (Chechnya) 1994 1995–1996

Chechnya

1 B-H (Croat) 1994 2 B-H (Serb) 1992–1995

1 B-H (Bihačka Krajina) 1993–1995 2 B-H (Croat) 1994

War

Minor

Minor

War

Intrastate with foreign involvement

Intrastate

Bosnia-Herzegovina

States conflict

Table 5.2  Summary of conflicts for late mobilizers

The Periphery II   209 regions, the First Chechen War was primarily between the Chechen Republic of Ichkeria and the Russian Federation. The fact that this conflict took place, albeit with a significant time lag from when the time ethnonationalist mobilization emerged in Chechnya, contradicts the hypothesis H4 (late nationalist mobilization in the peripheral unit is less likely to lead to conflict within the unit than early mobilization). The war in Transnistria tends to undermine hypothesis H4 since late ethnonationalist mobilization led to violent conflict soon after it emerged. Nonetheless, the Moldovan case seems to support the assumption that in cases where liberalization precedes ethnonationalist mobilization, the polity is more likely to become ideologically pluralized. Moreover, this conflict was of limited intensity, and it remained constrained to its initial locale and between the two primary parties to the conflict – the Moldovan government and breakaway Transnistria. Finally, hypotheses H7 and H8 are refuted given that Russia’s involvement as the secondary party did not elicit counter-­mobilization from other peripheral units (for instance, from Ukraine), and that it did not contribute to conflict spread. There are also several points of similarity that emerge from the analysis of the factors that contributed to ethnopolitical action and consequently to the onset of conflict (see Table 5.3). First, the relatively late arrival of the nationalist movements in Bosnia-­Herzegovina, Chechnya and Moldova, as compared to the cases that were discussed in Chapter 4, was mainly due to severe obstruction from the communist leadership in these republics. In none of these cases were the local elites particularly inclined to promote liberalization championed by the federal centre (as was the case of the former USSR) or more progressive peripheral republics (such as Slovenia in the former SFRY). Moreover, neither Chechnya nor Moldova had pre-­existing organizational structures along which nationalists could organize. Chechnya was arguably in an even worse position than Moldova because it had no high ranking officials in the local government, whereas Moldovans were able to use their position in the Supreme Soviet to organize the nationalist movement after the opportunity presented itself. It was only in Bosnia-­Herzegovina that the marginalized movement of ‘Young Muslims’, which was particularly active from the 1970s to the early 1980s, that provided the basis for what would later emerge as Izetbegović’s Party of Democratic Action. Second, the incentives for nationalist mobilization in the Soviet republics differed from those in Bosnia-­Herzegovina, as the impetus for the separatist movements came from what was seen as an illegal annexation by the Soviets. In Chechnya, the struggle was primarily against Russia, while for Moldova the opposition was directed first at the Soviet centre, which later evolved into a conflict in which Russia was a secondary party. Moreover, in both cases, there were severe grievances over the repression that the titular majorities in these republics experienced over the course of Soviet rule. In Bosnia-­Herzegovina, neither of the previous two factors were at the centre of the titular nationalist movement. Even though the central goal of Bosniak nationalism was the creation of an Islamic state, Bosniak leadership was primarily advocating reforms within the

Contestation over status within SFRY Recognition as a separate nation Creation of Islamic state

Meagre at first due to tight control from republic’s authorities Also, Islamic Community as the promoter of ‘brotherhood and unity’ First to mobilize are liberal movements, only after that nationalists emerge

Mid-1989 with the replacement of LCBH leadership and the first semifree elections for the B-H representative in the federal Presidency

Takes off after Izetbegović forms – in early 1990

Incentives

Capacity

Timing

Timing

Liberalization

Ethnonationalist mobilization

Sequencing, early or late mobilization?

Late

Closely tied to religion Torn between Serbian and Croatian claims over origin, heritage In SFRY, Muslims rather than Bosniaks

Etiology of ethnonationalist mobilization

Identity

Bosnia-Herzegovina

Shared linguistic-cultural links with Romania Artificial attempts to create a separate Moldovan identity within USSR

Moldova

First informal organizations emerged in the first half of 1988 Had to overcome rigid communist leadership In May 1989, Popular Front of Moldova created

Late

From 1990 onwards, as the VDP begins operating

Late

August 1989, first great demonstration and new language law

1989 saw the first competitive Mid-1989 CP extends official elections in Soviet history, Chechen recognition to PF representatives in the newly established Congress of People’s Deputies

Throughout most of Soviet history, Chechens were excluded from the higher levels of the communist establishment and local rule In 1988, Popular Front of ChechenIngush ASSR

Grievances over the deportation and Resentment over the past abuses and mass killing of Chechen population losses suffered under the Soviet rule – in cultural, economic, political realms Forceful annexation Economic underdevelopment

Clans, strong sense of opposition to foreign rule History of struggle against Russia Traumas from oppression within USSR

Chechnya

Table 5.3  Summary of the main findings for the selected cases of late mobilization

The Periphery II   211 existing federal structure of Yugoslavia, rather than arguing for secession. Of course, this had to do with the fact that Bosnia-­Herzegovina stood to lose more with the collapse of SFRY due to the system of federal funds allocation, than Moldova and Chechnya did with the breakup of the USSR. Third, keeping in mind the levels of repression from the local communist leadership, the events that ushered in large-­scale nationalist mobilization were quite different across the three republics. In Bosnia-­Herzegovina, the Bosniak nationalist movement truly took off after the creation of the SDA and the strengthening of its partnership with the Islamic Community. This was enabled only after the laws on pluralism were introduced, and as the religious community grew ideologically divided. In Chechnya, where the repression was comparatively the highest, notwithstanding the fact that its administrative status within the RSFSR contributed to it, the election of the first ethnic Chechen to the post of First Secretary of the republic served as a catalyst for large-­scale nationalist action. Given that Zavgayev was sympathetic to the Chechen cause, the Popular Front in the Chechen-­Ingush ASSR and later Dudaev’s nationalist VDP were able to rally the population around their cause. In Moldova, the Popular Front posed significant opposition to the local communist party, which resulted in the election of the moderate Snegur to the post of Chairman of the Presidium of Moldovan Supreme Soviet already in 1989, as well as the adoption of a new language law that would declare Moldovan the official language. Out of the three cases, these latter moves certainly rank as the more radical given the circumstances of late mobilization. At the same time, the Moldovan polity was the most pluralized among the three cases, and the moderate nationalist forces were able to emerge more successfully than in Bosnia-­Herzegovina and Chechnya. Finally, the latter point is also significant in terms of coalition-­building in the period leading up to elections in the three republics. Only Moldova saw the coalition between the reformist communists and the republic’s Popular Front. This also explains the rift that emerged between the two factions after they assumed power, because they diverged on issues of pan-­Romanianism and liberal reforms. In Bosnia-­Herzegovina the nationalist option prevailed, since nationalist parties representing all three entities in the republic agreed on a power-­sharing agreement. The deal fell through after Bosniaks and Croats decided to push for independence, while the Serbs advocated preservation of the federal state. In Chechnya the nationalists under VDP were operating in direct opposition to the ruling communist regime, which they presented as the main barrier to Chechen independence. It was only later that the nationalists began splintering within their own ranks, due to the growing opposition to Dudaev’s leadership.

Conclusion Compared to the findings regarding the impact of early peripheral mobilization on conflict occurrence in the previous chapter, the analysis of peripheral units that mobilized late seems to offer less support for the theoretical expectations. Namely, there is some evidence pointing to the potentially pacifying effects of

212   Part III liberalization when it precedes ethnonationalist mobilization, since it can lead to political pluralization and emergence of more moderate nationalist factions. However, it seems that under the conditions of state weakness, ethnonationalist mobilization, even when it occurs as the polity begins to liberalize, sets off the spiral that induces rival mobilization and thus makes it harder for liberal alternatives to emerge. In cases in which the peripheral units belong to a region in which the core unit and neighbouring peripheral units began mobilizing early, the effects of late mobilization seem to diminish even further. Thus, it seems that late ethnonationalist mobilization in the periphery does not necessarily reduce the likelihood of conflict occurrence. Yet, when placed within a regional context, it appears that it is more perilous in cases where it is combined with early mobilizations in the core and relevant peripheral units. While Chapters 4 and 5 examined the cases of peripheral mobilization and conflict occurrence, the next chapter will analyse the absence of violent conflicts under the conditions of early peripheral mobilization. The last empirical chapter offers final insights for understanding the relationship between spatio-­temporal setting of ethnonationalist mobilization and regional conflicts.

Notes   1 Even though there were potentially three other late mobilizers which experienced various degrees of violent ethnic conflict (i.e. Tajikistan, Uzbekistan and Macedonia), Bosnia-­Herzegovina, Chechnya and Moldova were chosen as the most similar cases in that the conflicts that occurred there were closely tied to the core group’s mobilization. Moreover, Tajikistan and Uzbekistan did not fit the case selection being that they did not experience significant political liberalization.   2 Chechens refer to themselves as ‘Nokhchi’, and they belong to the linguistic family of North Caucasus peoples, such as the Ingush, Kists and Bats. This broader grouping of four nationalities is known as the ‘Vainakh’ (‘our people’). The clan structure and the geography of territory they populate are central to understanding the Chechen ethnic identity. Namely, the clan mentality mandates bearing the responsibility for protecting the members of one’s clan, and resisting the imposition of any external authority over the group. The history of living in relative isolation in the mountainous regions had only reinforced the sentiment of the rejection of external forces interfering with the Chechen society (Jaimoukha 2004; Wimmer 2004). The combination of these factors also resulted in nurturing a martial culture dominated by a large number of competing clans during peacetime, and a type of “military democracy” in times of war as Chechnya was governed by a “council of elders on the basis of consensus” with the “institution of military chief ” (Arutiunov 1995, p. 17).   3 This was when the Gorskaya ASSR was created to include Chechnya, Ingushetia, North Ossetia, Kabarda, Balkaria and Karachai.   4 It has been estimated that one quarter of the total Chechen population died in the deportation and within the first years of mass expulsion (Pohl 1999).   5 The Chechen-­Ingush ASSR authorities at first treated the attempts to dispel the concept of “voluntary inclusion” as an “anti-­Soviet mood”, which had the aim of damaging “the close relationships between the fraternal peoples’ historical destinies”. However, as the autonomous republic began liberalizing, academic conferences, which deemed “voluntary inclusion” narrative as “non-­objective, unscientific and a falsification of the highlanders’ national liberation movement” began taking place already in late 1987 (Shnirelman 2006, pp. 292, 294).

The Periphery II   213   6 Salambek Khadzhiev was appointed as the new Soviet Minister of the Chemical Industry, while Ruslan Khasbulatov became Chairman of the RSFSR Supreme Soviet.   7 The changes within the highest ranks of government would prove to have significant impact on the Chechen people. Immediately after assuming leadership, Zavgayev began liberalizing the party regime within the republic. The media was granted independence and the publication of regime critique was becoming allowed. As a result of such decision, the first independent newspapers ‘Impuls’ were created in 1990, and they were soon followed by several other dailies and weeklies. Moreover, the ban on religion was lifted, which resulted in the establishment of new mosques, Islamic educational centres and public religious practices; Muzaev (1997, pp. 148–162) and German (2003). The liberalization also had an impact on the ideological tenets of the regime, since liberal academics who opposed the Vinogradov concept assumed positions of power. Chechen professor of philosophy, Andarbek Yandarov, became the head of the ideology directorate, while the former rector of the republic’s pedagogical institute Taimaz Abubakarov, became minister for the economy, planning and labour (German 2003, p. 25). Under their influence, the rigid ideological policies soon started to loosen, while previously imposed narratives began getting replaced.   8 The radical faction included some of the crucial Dzhokhar Dudaev’s supporters such as Bislan Gantemirov, Yaragai Mamodayev and Zelimkhan Yandarbiyev.   9 The CNC concluded with a resolution that aimed at targeting “a whole range of specific national problems that have come to confront the Chechen people, and must be resolved to secure Chechnya’s further development as a nation” (Tishkov 2004, p. 58). 10 Dudaev was an ethnic Chechen born in the year of deportation, thus spending his childhood in Kazakhstan. His rise in the military was swift and symbolic, as he became the first Chechen general in the Soviet Army (Gall and De Waal 1999). 11 At the second session of the CNC in June 1991, participants referred to the Soviet Union as “a colonial empire that had robbed the Chechen nation of its religion, language, education, science, culture, national resources, ideology, mass media, leadership cadres, and the right to freedom and life” (Muzaev 1997; Giuliano 2011, p. 156). 12 It is somewhat ironic that Dudaev openly supported Yeltsin in the anti-­coup efforts. He called upon the Chechens to “show endurance, determination and courage in defending democracy and human dignity”, deeming the junta’s actions as “a serious crime against the people and the Constitution”. From the All-­National Congress of Chechen People Executive Committee resolution, Article 4, on August 19, 1991 (German 2003, p. 35). 13 The All-­National Congress of Chechen People became the successor of the Chechen National Congress in November 1991. 14 These forces were being armed with large amounts of weapons often stolen from the Soviet troops in Chechnya or smuggled from other Soviet republics and abroad (Lieven 1999). 15 In September 1991, the National Congress’s Executive Committee unilaterally established its own legislature, thus ignoring the laws and resolutions adopted by the Supreme Soviet. This decision did not face any sanctions from the Russian centre, which was at the time dealing with political infightings (German 2003, pp. 38–39). 16 Yeltsin sent a group of parliamentary representatives to negotiate with the involved parties to reach an agreeable solution. The result was voluntary dissolution of the Supreme Soviet and the creation of Provisional Council of thirteen deputies, which would be the interim legislative body until the parliamentary and presidential elections (Dunlop 1998, p. 109). 17 The Chechen Central Electoral Committee reported that around 71 percent of the registered voters participated in the elections (German 2003, p. 46). 18 In the next three years, Dudaev continued to strengthen his nationalist and autocratic muscles, while the Chechen Republic took further strides in its independence. In January 1992, the RSFSR People’s Deputies from Checheno-­Ingushetia were ousted,

214   Part III while in March the new constitution was adopted, confirming the republic’s independence, establishing a semi-­presidential system and declaring jurisdiction over all Russian military units within Chechnya. Furthermore, in June 1992, Checheno-­ Ingushetia split into two separate republics, where the latter decided to keep its ties with the Russian Federation. The same year denoted the escalation in the internal political struggle, as Dudaev dissolved the Parliament and introduced direct presidential rule (Alker 2001). Within a year of proclamation of independence, Chechnya was facing political crisis as a result of Dudaev’s rule. The decrepit economy, high levels of unemployment, and the rule of oil and arms black markets only made the conditions worse (Gall and De Waal 1999, pp. 125, 127–128). 19 This choice resulted in sponsoring the ‘Internal Council’, led by Umar Avturkhanov, with material and military resources as of mid-­1994 (Gall and De Waal 1999, pp. 147–148). 20 In March 1992, all the autonomous republics within the Russian Federation signed a federation treaty except for Chechnya and Tatarstan. However, after two years of negotiations, the Republic of Tatarstan signed a bilateral treaty with the federal centre in February 1994. Thus, the pressure was on Chechnya to follow its footsteps since it remained the only autonomous republic from the former RSFSR not to participate in a Russian Federation treaty. 21 Yeltsin’s advisors were suggesting that military victory in Chechnya would restore the president’s popularity at home, and exploit what was thought to be a strong emerging cleavage of ultra-­nationalists led by Vladimir Zhirinovsky, who gained almost a quarter of the vote in the parliamentary elections in late 1993 (Lieven 1999, p. 86). However, there is evidence that the public was leaning more towards peaceful resolution of the crisis. See more in “Chechen Conflict Must be Settled by Peaceful Means”, Itar Tass, December 2, 1994. 22 The First Chechen War (December 11, 1994–August 31, 1996) ended with a formal ceasefire between the Russian Federation and the Chechen Republic in the same year Dudaev was killed by a Russian missile. The Khasavyurt Accord stipulated demilitarization in Chechnya, withdrawal of Russian troops and continuation of Chechnya’s autonomy. The numbers of casualties are, however, subject to controversy, since some sources almost double the number of deaths relying on international estimates. See more in Knezys and Sedlickas (1999). 23 Russian liberal leaders and intelligentsia were largely against the war in Chechnya. Yeltsin’s former Prime Minister, Yegor Gaidar, who was the leader of the largest democratic party ‘Democratic Choice of Russia’ openly disagreed with Yeltsin over Russia and expressed his fears that war in Chechnya would be detrimental to any prospect of economic stability in the country. Another prominent Russian democrat, Grigory Yavlinsky, voiced similar concerns, as well as his concerns that Russia was becoming an authoritarian country as a result of the “embarrassed military-­security apparatus”; cited in Erlanger (1995). Moreover, as John Lloyd writes, the liberal intelligentsia “who had expected more and tried to help Yeltsin achieve it have usually had their fingers burned”. Yeltsin’s Human Rights Ombudsman, Sergei Kovalev, who was a strong opponent of the war in Chechnya resigned from his post and in his letter of resignation wrote, “Yeltsin was unable to make the break from being a member of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union to become . . . a human being” (Lloyd 1996, p. 325). 24 In a survey conducted by the Public Opinion Foundation at the beginning of Russian intervention in Chechnya in late 1994, 63 percent of the public disagreed with the use of military force to address the Chechen crisis. A quarter of the respondents also said that the war in Chechnya signifies the end of democratic rule in Russia (Aleinik 1994). Moreover, after the first few weeks of intervention in Chechnya, many Russians were confused about the government’s responses in the ‘domestic’ and ‘international’ politics. See more in Smoke (1996, p. 248).

The Periphery II   215 25 This section will in principle use current Romanian place names, unless the official names require otherwise. Thus the breakaway region will be referred to as Transnistria (as opposed to Transdniestria, Trans-­Dniestr or other Latin-­Slavic hybrids) and Nistru river (rather than Dnestr, Dniestr or Dniester). 26 Between 1941 and 1989 the proportion of ethnic Russians doubled in Moldova, from over 6 to 13 percent. In absolute terms, this increase was from around 300,000 in 1959 to over 550,000 in 1989 (Bahcheli et al. 2004, p. 105). 27 Please refer to Chapter 2, Tables 2.2, 2.3 and 2.4 for Soviet macroeconomic indicators. 28 The Popular Front had a list of demands which included recognition of Moldovan as the state language, adoption of Latin script as the official alphabet, and acknowledgement of separate Moldovan and Romanian identities within Moldova (Chinn and Roper 1995, p. 297). 29 The opposition groups that joined to form the Popular Front of Moldova were already successful in organizing a series of large-­scale protests in late 1988 and all throughout 1989, which contributed to building the capacity for further ethnonationalist action (Hare et al. 1999, p. 353). 30 Moldova was not the first Soviet republic to proclaim the language of the indigenous population the state language. The Baltics and Tajikistan passed similar laws before it did. The new language law mandated that public servants, teachers and top management in all industries must become proficient in Moldovan by 1994 (Chinn and Roper 1995, p. 296). 31 The debate in the Supreme Soviet that led to the decision to adopt Moldovan as the state language became extremely heated. Even Gorbachev became involved, lobbying against the abolishment of Russian as the official language (Chinn and Roper 1995, p. 296). 32 Another group that began mobilizing at the same time was the Gagauz population living in the south of Moldova. However, this book will not explore the Gagauz counter-­mobilizational movement in depth. 33 Throughout the Soviet era, Russians in Moldova had an almost privileged status since they were the core ethnic group in the federation. Apart from Russian being the official language, the group had its own cultural institutions, schools and better employment options than the indigenous population (Chinn and Roper 1995, p. 300). 34 However, it has to be noted that the Communist Party of Moldova was the only party registered in the elections, while the opposition groups nominated candidates as individuals. Moreover, while the new First Secretary of Moldovan CP, Petru Lucinschi, advocated pluralism, opposition movements complained that the ruling party manipulated local electoral commissions (Fedor 1995). 35 In 1991 the Pridnestrovian Moldavian Republic (PMR) replaced the Pridnestrovian Moldavian Soviet Socialist Republic (PMSSR) as the breakaway territory from Moldova. 36 The Moldovan National Institute for Sociology estimated that at the time of the failed coup, almost 80 percent of Moldovan citizens were in favour of independence, which surpasses the ethnic Moldovans’ share in the total population of the republic. For more see Socor (1992a, pp. 60–61). 37 Given the circumstances, Moldova adopted a remarkably progressive citizenship law in June 1991 that gave the right to all of those who were living in the republic at the time to decide within a year if they would take up Moldovan citizenship. Moreover, in May 1991, the pan-­Romanian Prime Minister Mircea Druc was replaced by a less radical candidate Valeriu Muravschi (Crowther 1997, p. 300). 38 In reality, the pro-­unification sentiments were rejected by most of the ethnic Moldovans, since for many of the older Moldovans Romania was embodied in Ceausescu’s tight and corrupt rule. Moreover, it was made clear that the minority groups within Moldova would pursue secession should there be unification of Moldova with Romania (Horowitz 2004, p. 66).

216   Part III 39 Forty percent of non-­Moldovan deputies were in favour of independence (Chinn and Roper 1995, p. 304). 40 Mircea Snegur was elected as the first president of Moldova in the December 1991 elections, in which he faced no challengers. He ran as an independent candidate being that he decided to break away from the Popular Front of Moldova in October 1991, due to disagreements over the pan-­Romanian course the Front was advocating. 41 Until 1992, there were several incidents of limited confrontation between the Moldovan forces and Transnistrian paramilitaries. These first occurred in late 1990, after the Moldovan proclamation of sovereignty, when separatists from the east bank of Nistru blocked the bridge in Dubăsari in order to physically sever the links between the breakaway region and the central government. Another round of incidents began after the August 1991 coup and arrest of Smirnov by Moldovan police, which resulted in his prompt release by presidential decree. However, by this point the Moldovan government began the process of drafting security forces under the Ministry of Interior to respond to an increasing number of incidents on the internal border with PMR. These troops would soon become Moldova’s military forces under the new Moldovan Ministry of Defence in the early 1992 (King 2000). 42 However, even during the war in Transnistria, Yeltsin maintained that “It is necessary to protect the Russians, and people of Russia, who live in the CIS countries, but they must be protected politically” (Izvestiia, July 8, 1992). The atmosphere became tense when the new commander of the Fourteenth Army, Major General Aleksandr Lebed referred to Transdniestria as integral to Russia, as well as some of the west bank areas, such as the city of Bender (Chinn and Roper 1995, p. 308). For more, see for instance, O’Connor (2008, p. 176). 43 Some sources allege that the Fourteenth Army’s intervention in the conflict around Bendery was the order of the Army’s commander, not from Yeltsin’s leadership (King 2000, p. 195). On the other hand, some analysts suggest that because the Army had been under Russian control since April 1, 1992, there is little doubt that the order to intervene came from Moscow (Burke 1992; Socor 1992b; Chinn and Roper 1995, p 308). 44 It is noteworthy to point out the agreement was co-­signed by Yeltsin and Snegur. While Smirnov was present at the closure of agreement, he did not sign the final treaty that allowed PMR to secede if Moldova was to ever join Romania. To ensure that peace is kept, Moldovan, Transnistrian and Russian troops would be employed as peacekeepers in the area (Lamont 1993).  45 First, in July 1992, Andrei Sangheli from the Democratic Agrarian Party of Moldova replaced the Prime Minister Valeriu Muravschi. Sangheli’s government proposed improved minority representation and a more conciliatory approach to the ethnic conflict. Not long after, in early January 1993, former First Secretary of Moldovan CP Petru Lucinschi replaced Alexandru Mosanu as the speaker of the Moldovan Parliament (Crowther 1997, pp.  302–303). The Popular Front of Moldova splintered into several factions by early 1993, while its legal successor ‘Christian Democratic Popular Front’ never managed to obtain any significant popular support from then on. 46 Croatian links stemmed from the time when the Kingdom of Croatia included significant parts of modern Bosnia-­Herzegovina, as well as the fact that the Bosnian medieval dynasty of the House of Kotromanić was Roman Catholic and therefore regarded as Croatian. In contrast, Serbian claims to Bosnia-­Herzegovina emanate from the expansion of Raška principality, which was the basis for the creation of the Kingdom of Serbia in the thirteenth century. However, there is a third stream of theories claiming that a distinct Bosnian state existed already in the twelfth century and that it was neither Croatian nor Serbian. Moreover, it has also been argued that Bosnia-­ Herzegovina had its own distinctive religious tradition at the time, which was connected to the rise of the Bosnian Church and the spread of Bogomil heretics (Allcock et al. 1998).

The Periphery II   217 47 Bosniak here refers to the Slavic Muslim population of Bosnia-­Herzegovina. The term was introduced in 1993 as the official national name for all the Bosnian Muslims. However, during the Ottoman and Austro-­Hungarian rule it was used for both Muslim, as well as Christian population in Bosnia-­Herzegovina. Moreover, some of the recent propagators of Bosniak identity (such as Muhamed Filipović and Adil Zulfikarpašić) have claimed that the term should be more inclusive. However, in this book, I will use the term Bosniak solely as the label for the Muslim population in Bosnia-­Herzegovina. For more, see Dimitrovova (2001). 48 Throughout this time, the Austro-­Hungarian administration promoted the existence of a separate Bosnian identity, which was largely based on Islam, and even the creation of a separate Bosnian nation. This policy did not fare well with the Serbs and Croats, who had already began expressing goals of statehood which would include their kin living in different parts of Bosnia-­Herzegovina (Lopasic 1981). 49 The position of Bosniaks in the new state was far from favourable, as Bosnia-­ Herzegovina became divided into four separate units and the land of Muslim nobility expropriated. However, there were some improvements to the economic and social status of Bosnian Muslims as they became increasingly educated, urbanized and their religious freedoms permitted (Lopasic 1981, pp. 120–121). 50 The Muslim population became torn between three different political movements, as there were those who fought on the side of Ustasha forces, then authorities who protested against the persecution of Serbs, as well as the increasing number of those who began joining the Partisans. 51 In the first decades of the existence of socialist Yugoslavia, the Muslims in Bosnia were recognized as ‘undetermined Muslims’, ‘Serb Muslims’ or ‘Croat Muslims’, since initially they were not given the full status of nation (please refer to Chapter 2 for the differences between nations and nationalities in the SFRY). 52 University of Sarajevo professor Esad Ćimić publicly denounced the decision on the grounds that Muslims as a category represented a ‘national hybrid’, while the exiled Muslim leader Adil Zulfikarpašić proposed that Bosniaks be promoted into a nation. On the other hand the League of Communists of Serbia drafted a resolution aimed to remove the category of ‘Muslim as nation’ from the forthcoming Yugoslav census (Ramet 1992; Perica 2004). 53 The ‘Young Muslims’ was an outlawed organization that was established in the 1930s as an extremist faction of the moderate Yugoslav Muslim Organization. Many of its members were imprisoned during and after the Second World War for religious radicalism and collaboration with Axis forces (Perica 2004, p. 76). 54 The magazines Valter and Naši Dani for the first time managed to pursue regime critique in Bosnia-­Herzegovina without being prosecuted for illegal activity. In 1988 their circulation was around fifty thousand, while in 1989 it rose to one hundred thousand (Andjelic 2003, p. 80). 55 In 1989, the Association for Yugoslav Democratic Initiative (Udruženje za jugoslavensku demokratsku inicijativu) branch began operating in Bosnia-­Herzegovina not long after the organization was established in Zagreb. It was the first organized liberal platform, which gathered a significant number of intelligentsia and students. See more in Orlić (2012). 56 Please refer to Chapter 2, Tables 2.5 and 2.6 for details on SFRY macroeconomic indicators (1980–1991). 57 Attempts were made to politicize the scandal as a conspiracy against Bosniaks and a way to diminish the influence of Muslims within the republic. However, the communist leadership soon quashed the efforts aimed at making the affair gain an ethnic dimension (Andjelic 2003, pp. 57–58). 58 Djuraković’s election to the top position was not without controversy as the party hardliners in the Presidency prevented his rise to power the year earlier, despite the overwhelming support from local organizations and party members (Andjelic 2003, p. 89).

218   Part III 59 The faculty members and students from the Faculty of Law at the University of Sarajevo established the first legal anti-­regime movement known as the Green Movement (Pokret zelenih) in early July 1989 (Andjelic 2003, p. 85). 60 In the elections that took place on June 25, 1989, voters were given the choice of five candidates from the LCBH. The voter turnout was around 70 percent, and the reformist communist Bogić Bogićević emerged as the winner (Andjelic 2003, p. 91). 61 The survey was conducted in April and May 1990 by the political magazine Danas across more than a thousand citizens in Sarajevo, Banja Luka and Mostar, who were chosen so that their ethnic proportion corresponded to the census of 1981. In Banja Luka, over 80 percent supported the ban, in Sarajevo over 70 percent, while in Mostar two-­thirds of the surveyed were for the ban (Andjelic 2003, p. 134). 62 There were some rumours that the name might be changed to the Yugoslav Muslim Organization, as a continuation of the Muslim party from the early twentieth century, however, the republic’s laws prevented it from happening (Andjelic 2003, p. 143). 63 A prominent SDA member and a moderate, Adil Zulfikarpašić summed it up by saying, “we were aware that playing games with religious sentiments of the other had always been the same as playing with fire – it was a matter of life and death in Bosnia”. In Djilas and Gaće (1995, p. 134). 64 The Catholic clergy in Bosnia-­Herzegovina played a significant role in setting up the infrastructure and leadership of the party’s branches (Perica 2004). 65 Memoirs by the Yugoslav Federal Secretary of Defence, Veljko Kadijević, show that already in early 1990 JNA began selectively supplying arms to territorial defence units in the Serb-­majority municipalities of Croatia and Bosnia-­Herzegovina. Moreover, the Serbian media began a government-­sponsored campaign that accused the Bosnian government of favouring Muslim interests at the expense of the local Serb population. For instance, Belgrade-­based Politika made claims that Serbs were made to flee Bosnia as a result of “Muslim nationalism and fundamentalism”. Moreover, the propaganda materials said, “without Yugoslavia, there is no Bosnia-­Herzegovina”. Croatian nationalism was equally assertive with respect to Bosnia. After winning the elections, Tudjman said,  Bosnia-­Herzegovina and Croatia form such a whole that they simply cannot exist without each other . . . We are not against their deciding to live in an independent state, but even if they did, it would certainly become a union within a confederation, because everything points in that direction.  Tudjman went even further to claim in June 1990 in an interview for German newspapers, “Bosnia and Croatia are a geopolitical unit. They belong together and depend on each other both regarding their economy and their infrastructure.” Finally, following the Bosnian Serb nationalist provocations, Dalibor Brozović, HDZ leader from Zagreb, responded: “if Bosnia is attacked on the Drina river, we will defend Bosnia, together with it on the Drina, because Croatia too is defended on it” (Toal and Dahlman 2011, pp. 94–95). 66 Already in early 1990, Izetbegović purportedly began purchasing weapons and organizing the Muslim militia (‘Muslim Patriotic League’), while one of his first foreign trips was to Gaddafi’s Islamic Republic of Libya (Perica 2004, pp. 87–88). 67 Recall the distribution of Serbian population in Yugoslav republics in 1991 in Chapter 2, Table 2.11. 68 Bosniak militias officially began organizing in mid-­1991 when the ‘Patriotic League’ was formed. The organization was further strengthened in early 1992 when it merged with the ‘Green Berets’ and later the territorial defence reservists. These one hundred thousand strong forces became Bosnian armed forces later in 1992. The ‘Croat Defence League’ followed a somewhat similar trajectory of development, as it was founded in mid-­1991 and merged with the ‘Croat Defence Council’ in 1992. Even though their volunteers were mostly Bosnian Croats (around forty-­five thousand of

The Periphery II   219 them), they were under the patronage of the leadership in Croatia. Lastly, Serb forces in Bosnia-­Herzegovina exploited the existing defence infrastructure and resources from the JNA. Along with the militias from mainland Serbia, the Bosnian Serb army that consolidated in 1992 was around sixty thousand people strong. More in Gow (1993). 69 In November 1991 the Assembly of Serb People in Bosnia-­Herzegovina organized a referendum for Bosnian Serbs asking them if they agreed with the proposal that Serb-­ controlled areas should remain within Yugoslavia. The support for such a course of action was almost unanimous, which Bosnian Serb leadership used to support their claims that Serbs would oppose becoming a minority in an independent Bosnia-­ Herzegovina (Burg and Shoup 2000). 70 In the three and a half years of Bosnian war that followed, around one hundred thousand people lost their lives, while more than one half of the total population of Bosnia-­Herzegovina were displaced (Burg and Shoup 2000; Bideleux and Jeffries 2006). 71 In March 1991, a year before war in Bosnia-­Herzegovina began, Tudjman and Milošević met in Karadjordjevo, where they allegedly discussed partitioning Bosnia-­ Herzegovina in order to create ‘Greater Serbia’ and ‘Greater Croatia’. While there have been no official transcripts of the two leaders’ meeting, some of the first-­hand witnesses, such as Stipe Mesić and Dušan Bilandžić, confirmed that there was a plan to carve up Bosnia. However, there seems to be some disagreement over what the exact proposals were. See more in Glaurdić (2011, pp. 150–153). Furthermore, in his book of memoirs Warren Zimmermann, the last US Ambassador to SFRY, wrote, “Tudjman admitted that he had discussed these fantasies with Milošević, the Yugoslav Army leadership, and the Bosnian Serbs and they agreed the only solution is to divide up Bosnia between Serbia and Croatia.” Also, Zimmermann wrote that Tudjman was not insisting on splitting Bosnia-­Herzegovina in half,  Let Milošević take the larger half; he controls it anyway. We can make do with less than fifty percent. We’re willing to leave the Muslims a small area around Sarajevo. They may not like it, but a stable Balkans is possible only if there’s a change in Bosnia’s borders, no matter what the Muslims think. There’s nothing sacred about those borders. Bosnia isn’t an ancient state like Croatia, which once extended all the way to Zemun. (Zimmermann 1999, p. 182)

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6 The Periphery III – the conflict near misses

The final set of cases that will be analysed under the empirical section is that of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania, or as they are broadly referred to, the Baltics. These cases could be best described as the ‘near-­misses’ since strong ethnonationalist mobilization of Baltic majorities and consequent counter-­mobilization of Russian minorities in these republics did not result in violent conflicts. Arguably, claims can be made that it was due to the imbalance of power between the Soviet centre and the Baltics, as well as the proximity to Europe that made it less likely for conflicts to occur. Moreover, Baltic experience in liberal self-­rule in the period between the two World Wars could have contributed towards smoother democratic transition, and consequently a higher likelihood of averting conflict. However, this chapter proposes that the temporal dynamics of ethnonationalist mobilization in the Baltics, when considered in interaction with that of the core, contains a powerful explanation as to why interethnic tensions in the three republics never escalated to a major armed conflict. The cases of majority mobilization trends in the Baltic republics of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania offer relevant tests of hypotheses that pair late core and early periphery mobilization. Unlike Chapter 4, which looked at the similar dynamics (late core versus early periphery mobilization) in Georgia and Armenia, the Baltics directly involved the core since Russian minority in these republics mobilized against the titular majorities. Thus, these cases provide an opportunity to trace the core republic’s response to peripheral mobilization (Figure 6.1). The Baltic republics have been categorized as early mobilizers since the ethnonationalist mobilization that emerged after the liberal reforms of the mid-­ 1980s was presented as a continuation of the mobilization process that began already in the 1970s. The Russian minority mobilization, however, occurred only in the late 1980s and its main goals were primarily concerned with preserving the Soviet Union as the secessionist rhetoric came to dominate the majority nationalist movements. Yet, the Baltic Russian population had very limited external support due to Gorbachev’s initial policy of supporting the titular popular fronts, and the primacy of the liberal anti-­Soviet stream of mobilization in the RSFSR. Thus, the relatively peaceful secession of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania can be attributed to the difference in sequencing of ethnonationalist mobilization in

The Periphery III   225 Periphery EM

LM

EM

Core

LM

Estonia Latvia Lithuania

Figure 6.1 Conflict near misses – selected cases of early periphery and late core mobilization.

the core (RSFSR) and the periphery (Baltic republics). By the time glasnost was introduced, the Balts already possessed the capacities to mobilize against the Soviet centre, which makes them early mobilizers. On the other hand, the Russian core was a late mobilizer with the strongest stream of mobilization that shared the Baltic popular fronts’ goals. Thus, the likelihood of conflict occurrence between the Baltics and Russia was mitigated by two factors – first, the late core mobilization, and second, the fact that prevailing streams of Russian and Baltic mobilization had compatible goals. Unlike the previous two chapters, where the units of analysis were single republics or comparable administrative units, the following chapter will examine the etiology of ethnonationalist mobilization collectively for the three Baltic republics, instead of looking at the identity, incentives and capacity on a case-­by-case basis. The primary reason for proceeding in this manner is due to the fact that the Balts developed their ethnic identities by being part of the broader Western European sphere; their incentives for ethnopolitical action stemmed from the grievances over forceful annexation into the Soviet Union and subsequent Russification; while they equally resisted the assimilation policies and maintained vibrant underground campaigns. However, the dynamics of mobilization after 1986 will be analysed separately for each republic in order to better capture the specific developments pertaining to political opening and nationalist actions (Table 6.1).

226   Part III Table 6.1 Summary of sequencing for the selected cases of early mobilization without violent conflict

Estonia Latvia Lithuania

Ethnonationalist mobilization (timing)

Political liberalization (timing)

Mobilizational dynamics (early or late mobilization)

Early 1988 Mid-1988 Mid-1988

Early 1990 Late 1989 Late 1989

Early Early Early

This chapter will first briefly examine the competing arguments for the ‘near misses’. The subsequent section will look at the bases for ethnopolitical action, after which the dynamics of political opening and ethnonationalist mobilization will be analysed. The chapter will conclude by synthesizing the findings and explaining that a relatively non-­violent Baltic secession can be attributed to spatio-­temporal characteristics of ethnonationalist mobilization in the core and the periphery.

Alternative explanations for non-­violent secession of the Baltics There are three compelling arguments to be made from the existing literature on the relatively peaceful secession of the Baltic republics from the USSR and their ability to avoid internal rebellion immediately after collapse. First, all three Baltic states were independent democracies in the period between the two World Wars, which served as the basis for the re-­establishment of independence and democratization in the late 1980s and the early 1990s.1 The democratization literature has often cited experience of prior statehood as a helpful condition for successful democratic transitions. The underlying reasoning stems from the classic assumptions in the works of Schumpeter and Dahl, where the reference is clearly the Weberian notion of the state: territorial control and monopoly on the legitimate use of violence (Schumpeter 1943; Weber 1946; Dahl 1956). Within this tradition, Linz and Stepan assert that “a sovereign state is a prerequisite to democracy” because the democratic process presupposes a unit and a polity, i.e. the state (Linz and Stepan 1996, p. 17). This has led to a paradigm of sequencing where the state would come first, and to a discipline that focuses on democracy as a subsequent stage. Moreover, it has been claimed that a prior experience in democratic self-­rule can also have a significant effect in the regime change path. Democracy rarely thrives if it lacks indigenous roots. New democracies do best in the countries with prior democratic experience, even if the previous attempts failed or if they were interrupted (Huntington 1991, pp. 270–271). Second, peaceful resistance might have been a preferred option for the leadership of the Baltic national movements due to the imbalance of power between the core and periphery, especially if one considers the large Soviet army contingent that was stationed in Estonia and Latvia. The Balts understood that they

The Periphery III   227 were disproportionately weaker than the Soviet centre, and thus the Baltic popular fronts opted for non-­violent resistance in the form of organizing mass rallies, supporting parliamentary representatives and entering the government, passing legislation based on the national program and collaborating with neighbouring republics. After the Soviet Union collapsed and Russia became its successor state, the non-­confrontation strategy continued to be pursued due to the strong presence of Russian troops in the region (Knudsen 2007, p. 6).2 Third, the Soviet Union and later Russia also faced a disincentive to engage in violent conflict since the European Community and the United States openly supported the Baltics. After the First World War, the Baltic republics became known as the cordon sanitaire against the spread of Soviet influence. Their forceful incorporation and five decades under Soviet rule was never recognized by the Western democracies. Thus, if the Soviet Army was to initiate a large-­ scale military action in the Baltics after the armed incidents in January 1991, it would have elicited strong reactions from the West. Moreover, in the years after the Baltic secession, the United States and Western European powers exerted considerable pressure onto the Russian Federation to withdraw its troops from the Baltics (Putins Peters 1994). The ‘Stockholm Group’, which acted as an advocate of the Baltic states in the high-­level negotiations with Russia, was instrumental in the beginning of the negotiation process. These efforts ultimately resulted in brokering Russian troop withdrawal from Lithuania in 1993.3 In the later stage of negotiations, the US became more assertive in talks with Russia, which resulted in a deal that secured the complete pullout in the following year (Knudsen 2007, pp. 31–32). In brief, the literature suggests that due to the conflation of different factors ranging from institutional, rational and systemic/international perspectives, the Baltic states managed to escape conflict. All of these approaches have strong explanatory power and they should not be seen as mutually exclusive to the argument this chapter puts forward. However, it appears that all three explanations seem to neglect the very crucial dynamics of ethnic mobilization that was unfolding in the last years of Soviet Union. Namely, the historical legacy of self-­ rule and the experience in democratic practices can explain why the democratization process succeeded, but it fails to account why protests against the regime were tied to ethnic rather than civic identity. As to the balance of power argument, the explanation that weaker groups always take into account the relative might of the opponent is somewhat weakened if one takes into account another example from this book, that of the war between Russia and Chechnya. Also, while support from the West could have been there in principle, it is hard to imagine that nuclear powers would go into war over states that had lost much of their strategic importance after the collapse of communism. Thus, the alternative argument this chapter proposes is that the spatio-­temporal dynamics of ethnonationalist mobilization in the core and the periphery strongly contributed to the avoidance of conflict. The following sections will first analyse the etiology of ethnopolitical action, after which the dynamics of ethnonationalist movements in the Baltic republics will be closely inspected and synthesized.

228   Part III

Etiology of ethnopolitical action in the Baltics Identity In order to understand the national identities of the three Baltic republics and their distinctness when compared to the rest of the Soviet Union, it is important to take a brief look at the historical evolution of these nations. Throughout their history the Baltics had constantly been exposed to Western cultural influence. In the case of Latvia and Estonia this was through Germany and Sweden, while in Lithuania’s case it was through Poland (Alexiev 1983). Ever since the thirteenth century, the German Teutonic Order ruled the territories of the modern Estonia and Latvia. The Order was responsible for converting the local peoples to the Lutheran faith. In the seventeenth century, when the Swedish empire took reign over Estonian and Latvian lands, it introduced a fairly liberal rule that allowed high education for the peasants and even some rudimentary guarantees of the rule of law. In contrast, Lithuania emerged as an independent state already in the thirteenth century, gaining respectable power and control over a large area of contemporary Eastern Europe. In the sixteenth century it created a voluntary union with Poland, which is where the Catholic tradition in the republic originates from (Kasekamp 2010). The paths of these three states intersected at the beginning of the nineteenth century when they were incorporated in the renascent Russian empire. This was the first instance of Baltic struggles against the Russian core, since they began fighting an increasingly oppressive empire and its Russification policies. The end of the First World War provided an opportunity to proclaim independence and establish liberal political orders within each of the states. However, Baltic sovereignty was relatively short-­lived since the region fell under the Soviet sphere of influence within the first year of the Second World War. The forceful annexation created dissent from the Baltic elite and mass public alike, to which the Soviet regime responded with brutal force (Lieven 1993). The Soviets implemented policies of political oppression, deportations and purges in order to deal with any existing and potential opposition (Housden and Smith 2011).4 By the early 1950s, the indigenous armed resistance was completely defeated. However, the traumas of these events and the repressive policies that were in place, continued to shape the identity of the indigenous population (Pollack and Wielgohs 2004, pp. 125–126). Incentives The primary set of incentives for the emergence of Baltic nationalist movements stemmed from a strong memory of national sovereignty and independence, and consequently a sense of injustice after the forceful incorporation into the Soviet Union. Moreover, the repression of nationalist movements immediately after the incorporation, and the policies of Russification contributed to indigenous mobilization in the Baltics in the second half of the 1980s.

The Periphery III   229 First, it is worth pointing out that the Balts were equally strong in resisting the Soviet policies of assimilation, as well as in maintaining a separate political and cultural identity. A useful indicator of the distinct identity and rejection of Soviet imperialism is the level of linguistic integration.5 In 1979, according to the Union-­wide language statistics, over one third of Latvians, almost one half of Lithuanians and more than two thirds of Estonians declared that they were not proficient in Russian. Moreover, these statistics were part of a downward trend, since the number of Balts who were proficient in Russian decreased by 5 percent in some of these republics in the period from 1970 to 1979 (Rakowska-­ Harmstone 1986, p. 186).6 These statistics are also indicative of the Baltic reaction to the threat to their national survival, which was generated by demographic trends. First, all three Baltic republics had fertility rates and family sizes that were among the lowest and smallest in the Union. Second, the immigration of Russians to the region only exacerbated the already precarious position of the titular majorities in these republics. The last Soviet census from 1989 showed an extremely high share of Russian population in Estonia and Latvia, which had over 30 and 34 percent of ethnic Russian citizens respectively. Lithuania was somewhat of an exception given that ethnic Russians in the republic accounted for less than 10 percent of the total population (Anderson and Silver 1989, p. 628).7 Third, the disproportionate representation of Russians in the urban settings just added to the anxiety over unfavourable demographic trends for the local population. Again, Lithuania was somewhat of an exception with only one fourth of Russians in the total urban population. However, in Estonia in 1979 the Russian population made up almost a half of city-­dwellers, while in Latvia, it was around 53 percent with a positive growth (Rakowska-­Harmstone 1986, p. 182). These figures paint quite a clear picture of the strong position of Russians in Baltic republics, which was only improving over time as the migration from the union core continued.8 Another set of grievances that contributed to Baltic mobilization stemmed from what could be best described as the socio-­economic opportunity cost of being subjected to the Soviet totalitarian regime and command economy. On the one hand, the three republics had enjoyed the highest levels of GNP per capita in the state, as well as a high level of industrialization and specialization in the production of consumer goods (Hardt and Kaufman 1993).9 Yet, despite having been continually ranked as the most developed region within the USSR, Baltic macroeconomic indicators paled in comparison to some of their non-­Soviet neighbours, such as the Scandinavian states.10 Moreover, in times of economic downturns such as the mid-­1970s, when the region experienced frequent food shortages, the disdain for the Soviet government only grew. The communist regime’s economic mismanagement and exploitation were seen as the main impediments to Baltic prosperity (Alexiev 1983, pp. 12–15). Lastly, the heavy industrialization in the region left an adverse environmental footprint. The Baltics were the first in the USSR to express concerns over environmental issues. In all three republics strong environmental campaigns that were against the new industrial development, especially in relation to nuclear

230   Part III energy, arose after Gorbachev’s reforms.11 Environmental conservation served as a useful initial point of mobilization, since the ‘green politics’ was one of the rare issues that could be discussed openly. However, as it has been pointed out by a number of commentators, “it was not the environmental issues themselves that were crucial, but the fact that they provided a focus for social discontent at the right moment in time” (Fisher 1993, p. 99). Capacity Some comparative politics literature described the Baltics as mobilizational laggards that began with significant nationalist movements only in the late 1980s (cf. Bunce 2003, pp.  176–177). However, there is ample evidence that sizable dissident movements propagating nationalist goals emerged throughout the course of the 1970s in all of the three republics.12 Thus, if the same rigour is applied into researching the history of nationalist movements in the Baltics as was the case for other Soviet republics, the findings are unequivocal and point to early, rather than late mobilization. It is believed that the 1968 events in Czechoslovakia served as a catalyst for the Baltic national movements in the 1970s. In May 1972, the largest Baltic anti-­ regime protest took place in the Lithuanian city of Kaunas, following the self-­ immolation of a Lithuanian student.13 The protest soon evolved into mass riots, which had to be curbed by the Soviet military. In the same year anti-­regime protests also took place in the Estonian capital, Tallinn (Alexiev 1983, pp. 33–34). Moreover, protests followed in Estonian city Tartu in 1976, as well as in Latvian Vilnius and Liepaja in 1977. These events were carefully organized and they frequently gathered over one thousand people. An empirical study that pointed to these features examined all the protests that occurred in the Soviet Union between 1966 and 1977. It also found that almost one fifth of all the anti-­Soviet protests were located in the Baltic States (chiefly in Estonia and Lithuania), although the Baltic republics accounted for less than 2 percent of the total population (Kowalewski 1979a). Furthermore, a study that focused on Lithuanian dissent found that in the period between 1970 and 1977, more than half of the protests within the republic took place in villages and small towns (Kowalewski 1979b). This points to the fact that dissent was not limited to the urban population and that the dissatisfaction with the regime was widespread among the indigenous Baltic population. There is also sufficient evidence to claim that Baltic dissent was organized in national fronts and underground movements that varied in their intensity and manifestations within the republics. In Estonia, a more organized underground anti-­regime movement, referred to as the ‘Estonian Democratic Movement’ was created already in 1966 with the main aim of producing and distributing samizdat materials.14 Not long after that, an organization promoting restoration of the republic’s independence called ‘Estonian National Front’ was founded. In 1972 these two organizations appealed to the United Nations General Assembly in the  hope it would help Estonia reinstate independence and stop the regime

The Periphery III   231 repression (Zarins 1976). The leaders of these organizations were soon arrested. However, they inspired other Estonians to form two new organizations, the ‘Association of Concerned Estonians’ and the ‘Estonian Patriotic and Democratic Front’.15 By the late 1970s, several other groups emerged and the Estonian samizdat only strengthened its position as the voice of the dissidents (Alexiev 1983, p. 35). In the early 1980s there was a significant increase in the public expression of grievances against the Soviet regime in Estonia. In October 1980, thousands of Estonian students were protesting in Tallinn and Tartu in order to point to their dissatisfaction with the Russification policies.16 In the same month workers’ strikes in Tartu demanded a more fair compensation and better working conditions.17 In December 1980, a school children’s march was turned into an overt expression of Estonian nationalism as the children carried the pre-­war Estonian flag, while at a choral celebration in Tallinn, the pre-­war national anthem was sung (Rakowska-­Harmstone 1986, p. 189). In Lithuania, a strong and wide-­reaching dissident movement emerged in the early 1970s with two streams of organizations promoting religious and human rights. At the centre of the religious movement was the Lithuanian Catholic Church with related groups that protested against religious discrimination and atheistic propaganda. The first underground journal to appear in the republic was the Chronicle of the Catholic Church in Lithuania with its first issue in March 1972. In the following decade, over a dozen samizdat journals came into circulation in Lithuania. The activities of the Catholic Church, particularly in youth education and maintenance of a separate Lithuanian identity, have been referred to as the nucleus of the coalition between the various segments of society that enabled nationalist mobilization (Alexiev 1983). The human rights activism took off in 1976 when the Lithuanian Helsinki Committee was established. The organization was active in producing a number of publications that pointed to Soviet abuse of human rights. It also inspired a wave of other samizdat periodicals. These publications varied in their demands – from relaxation of repressive measures to the right of self-­determination and independence. However, their sheer quantity made the Lithuanian samizdat opus the most prolific in all of the Soviet Union (Remeikis 1984). In comparison to the other two republics, Latvian opposition in the 1970s was somewhat smaller and not as organized. The first dissent activity began in 1971 when a group of seventeen Latvian communists wrote a letter to their comrades in Western Europe criticizing the Soviet economic and nationality policies. In 1975, Latvian pro-­democracy activists joined forces with Estonians in addressing the Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe taking place in Helsinki. They jointly expressed their demands for independence. In the same year two new dissident groups were established, the ‘Latvian Democratic Youth Committee’ and the ‘Latvian Independence Movement’ (Zarins 1976). A year later, a religious nationalist group ‘Latvian Christian Democratic Association’ emerged. It has also been established that since the mid-­1970s, an underground Latvian Social Democratic Party was operating, demanding political liberties

232   Part III and self-­determination (Remeikis 1984).18 Yet, unlike their counterparts in Estonia and Lithuania, the Latvian dissent movement was not as productive in publishing samizdat periodicals. However, the body of underground texts that were produced was in line with the other republics’ demands for the implementation and respect of human rights (Misiunas and Taagepera 1993, pp. 252–253). Lastly, it is important to recognize that the Baltic cooperation in anti-­regime protests in the late 1980s was not the first instance of forming a common front against the Soviet centre. While each of the national dissent movements was primarily promoting self-­determination of its own republic, various groups from all three republics began joining forces already in the late 1970s around issues that concerned them as a region. In August 1979, on the fortieth anniversary of the Molotov-­Ribbentrop Pact, a Baltic Charter was published and signed by forty-­five prominent dissidents from all three republics. The document demanded that the provision concerning the incorporation of the Baltic republics into the Soviet Union be annulled (Pollack and Wielgohs 2004, pp. 131–132). In January 1980, anti-­regime activists again cooperated in drafting a petition against the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan. Several other letters and statements were published over the course of 1980–1981, including a petition for the boycott of the Moscow Olympics, a letter to the world leaders promoting denuclearization of the Baltic region, and a letter of support to Lech Walesa after he formed the independent trade union ‘Solidarity’ in Poland (Alexiev 1983, pp.  37–38). Finally, Baltic dissidents also cooperated with underground movements from other Soviet republics, most notably from Russia and Ukraine.19 The evidence of Baltic activities from the 1970s and 1980s tends to show that the republics possessed the capacity for an effective nationalist movement. Moreover, they were already mobilized (through underground activities) by the time reforms of the mid-­1980s were adopted. Despite being led by organizations with different goals and being expressed in distinct ways, the opposition groups in all of the three republics were in unison in their demands for the implementation of basic human and civic rights, and more importantly, the restoration of national independence. Moreover, they were equally vocal in their rejection of the Soviet value system and their resistance against the policies of Russification. Thus, the claims that by the late 1980s Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania were mainly reconciled with the reality of being forcefully incorporated into the Soviet Union (Beissinger 2009, p. 233), are refuted by the existence of a vibrant nationalist subculture, which contributed to the swift mobilization once political opening came into being.

Dynamics of ethnonationalist mobilization in the Baltics The first major mobilizational cycle during the Gorbachev years began in the summer of 1987, when iterative attempts to contest the state were made by the nascent nationalist movements that grew regularized and began influencing one  another. One of the striking aspects of the mobilizational cycle within the USSR was the degree to which specific types of demands were spread modularly

The Periphery III   233 – within a relatively compressed period of time with similar issues (Beissinger 2002). So did the first manifestations of Baltic nationalisms under glasnost, as they assumed the form of environmental protests in 1987. In Lithuania, there was a series of mass protests against the upgrade of the Ignalina nuclear power plant (Dawson 1996). Latvians joined the campaign to stop the construction of a hydroelectric dam on Daugava river (Reuters 1988), while Estonians strongly opposed the Soviet projects of unsafe phosphorus mining (Auer 1998, pp. 659–661). The protests against a series of industrial projects, however, had a vital nationalist undertone (Auer 1998, pp.  664–666; Malloy 2009, p.  385).20 Most of the proposed industrial developments were supposed to be operated by Russian immigrants to the region, which meant a new influx of foreigners and further decline in the native population’s proportion of the general population (Misiunas and Taagepera 1993, pp. 112, 282).21 The Nineteenth Conference of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union in June 1988 proved to be instrumental for strengthening the capacities of groups that began mobilizing. At this major summit Gorbachev unveiled the plans for major political reforms and brought into being ‘popular fronts’ in support of perestroika across the country. However, by this time already popular fronts had been formed in Estonia and Lithuania, in April and May 1988 respectively, while the Latvian Popular Front was created in the same month as the Communist Party Conference. What perhaps best explains the swift development of Baltic popular fronts is the pre-­existing capacity in terms of underground nationalist movements and social capital in the form of workplace, family and friendship networks. At this stage of analysis, it is worth focusing on the developments within individual republics, as there were slight variations in the progression of nationalist mobilization. Having said that, the three Baltic movements all broadly conform to the category of early/concurrent mobilization that was based on a strong sense of identity, multifaceted incentives for collective action and the pre-­ existing organizational capacity from the late 1970s and the early 1980s. Estonia Estonia was arguably the leader in mobilization as it not only formed the first popular front in the Baltics, but it also had a number of ‘firsts’ in terms of key political events – from the declaration of sovereignty, legalization of the national flag and language, adoption of the new language law, to the removal of the hardline CP leadership (Ulfelder 2004, p. 39). The first large-­scale protests began in June 1988 when a summer festival in Tallinn turned into a singing celebration of Estonian identity and heritage with the participation of around one hundred thousand people.22 In the period between June and September 1988 Estonia experienced changes that clearly point to political liberalization. At the same time, there was a strong sense of politicization of national identities, and as a consequence, radicalization of the political sphere. The first change came about in June, when Gorbachev ordered the replacement of the hardline First Secretary of Estonian CP, Karl

234   Part III Vaino with Vaino Väljas, who was a more moderate politician sympathetic to the nationalist cause. The change in leadership came after Vaino requested the Soviet army’s intervention in the Popular Front-­led protests that were gaining traction throughout Estonia (Lieven 1993, pp.  227–228). Gorbachev, however, saw the Front as an ally in carrying out the set reforms and thus chose to appoint Väljas as the leader who would be more accommodating to the new economic and political program within the republic (Beissinger 2009, pp. 234–235). As a response to the growing majority mobilization,23 the Russian minority in Estonia formed a counter-­movement already in July 1988. The International Movement of Workers in the Estonian SSR (the Intermovement) had the support from communist hardliners and a large following among the Russian workers in Estonian factories.24 The two groups were united in their opposition to the Estonian Popular Front since the former stood to lose their monopoly of power, while the latter their jobs in the republic’s industry. It has been estimated that the Intermovement’s membership was anywhere between tens of thousands to over one hundred thousand (Bugajski 2002, p. 77). The more conservative approximations came from the Estonian Popular Front leadership that claimed the Intermovement represented only blue-­collar Russians, while the organization’s representatives claimed to represent all the Russian-­speakers in Estonia, as well as the working class more broadly (Kagarlitsky 1990, p. 72). The mobilizational spiral continued in August 1988 when a number of Estonian dissidents and anti-­regime activists formed the Estonian National Independence Party (Eesti Rahvusliku Söltumatuse Partei, ERSP). In comparison to the Popular Front, this organization was more radical in its demands. As its name clearly signals, its central objective was the establishment of an independent Estonian state. For the ERSP the main incentive for mobilization was the fear of the Russian-­dominated federation and the Russian population within the republic. Thus, its rhetoric revolved around defending Estonia from what was seen as disproportionate and unjust Russian influence, and making Estonia primarily the home of ethnic Estonians (Mudde 2000, p. 21).25 As the nationalist camp began pluralizing, the largest mass demonstrations yet took place in September. The national song festival was used as a rallying platform for the Popular Front that gathered over three hundred thousand Estonians, or about 20 percent of the total population. The mass rally was also significant in the sense that it clearly showed there was a rift between the Popular Front of Estonia and groups such as ERSP and the Estonian Heritage Society. In the speeches delivered in front of the gathered crowds, the Popular Front stopped short of demanding outright independence, while the leader of the Estonian Heritage Society, one of the groups in the more radical camp, demanded that Estonia have its status of an independent state restored (Laar 2004, p. 235). Furthermore, on November 16, 1988 the Estonian Supreme Soviet adopted the declaration ‘On Sovereignty’, which was the first institutional consequence of mobilizational dynamics in Estonia. It also signalled the change in relations between the Estonian SSR and the union centre (Ulfelder 2004, p.  37). In essence, the Supreme Soviet passed a constitutional amendment that gave the

The Periphery III   235 republic the right to veto any decision by the central government, thus reaffirming its sovereignty. This decision came about as an expression of the Estonian national movement’s dissatisfaction with Gorbachev’s attempts to strengthen the power of the Soviet government with constitutional changes (Pettai 1996). This decision has also been referred to as the beginning of the ‘parade of sovereignties’ in the Baltics, as in the first half of 1989 Lithuania and Latvia would follow suit in declaring their sovereignty.26 It also set off the so-­called ‘war of laws’ between the republics and the centre, as each side contested the other’s authority in the republican matters (Beissinger 2009, p. 235). In January 1989 a new law on language, which required that all service workers must be proficient in Estonian, was adopted. Unsurprisingly, this caused further counter-­mobilization from the Russian-­speaking population in the republic. Moreover, Estonian nationalists began pressing the Soviet government to grant more autonomy to the republic. At this point, even the Popular Front representatives declared that independence was the ultimate goal of the movement in April (Raun 2001, p.  229).27 This tends to show the strength of the nationalist movement, as well as the impact that mobilization versus counter-­ mobilization dynamics had on the political groups that were initially more moderate. The day of the fiftieth anniversary of the Molotov-­Ribbentrop Pact, August 23, 1989, was also the pinnacle of the anti-­Soviet resistance in all three Baltic republics.28 Dubbed as the ‘Baltic Way’, two million people joined hands across six hundred kilometres stretching from Estonia to Lithuania to form a human chain. At that point, the Balts received unreserved attention of the international public, union government and Russian intelligentsia, as it became increasingly clear that the secession of the three republics was just a matter of time. The protest also demonstrated the continuing cooperation among the Baltic popular fronts. This resulted in creating initiatives such as the Baltic Assembly in May 1989, renewal of the pre-­war Treaty of cooperation, restoration of the Baltic Council, as well as cooperation with other anti-­Soviet movements and Western governments (Raun 2001, p. 239). The end of 1989 and the early months of 1990 only reinforced how dominant the ethnonationalist platform became in Estonian polity. In the six months leading up to the municipal elections, the Estonian Popular Front reaffirmed its commitment to full independence, while the more radical groups started creating Citizens’ Committees that promoted the idea that the Balts never really lost their independence in a legal sense. The Committees’ campaign centred on registering the interwar residents of Estonia and their descendants as they believed these were the only citizens who should be given the right to participate in the upcoming elections.29 Another Citizens’ Committees’ initiative was the creation of a new Estonian representative body, as they deemed the Supreme Soviet an inadequate body for pursuing the goals of the Estonian national movement. Thus, just a month before the republic-­wide elections, the Committees organized their own elections for a  Congress of Estonia, which was said to be the grassroots body representing

236   Part III Estonians on questions of citizenship and statehood. While the ERSP and the Heritage Society dominated the Congress, it is important to stress that both the Popular Front of Estonia and the Estonian CP, participated in the elections and won less than quarter of the seats (Misiunas and Taagepera 1993, pp. 333–334). The significance of this stage of mobilization is in the degree to which exclusionary ethnic nationalism gained traction among all major parties on the political scene. Again, as a reaction to such Estonian mobilization, the Intermovement organized hostile demonstrations in the republic (Ilves 1991). The Supreme Soviet elections took place in a highly polarized political environment in March 1990. They brought a slim victory to the Estonian Popular Front led by Edgar Savisaar, since there were no restrictions on voter participation.30 However, even with 40 percent of the seats, the Front was able to coalesce with other anti-­Soviet deputies to obtain a two thirds majority and fulfil its objectives of proclaiming independence (Miljan 2004, p.  455). Already by the end of March, the nationalist majority formally issued a declaration of independence from the Soviet Union. Yet, in the following months, the union government neither sanctioned nor recognized Estonian unilateral proclamation of independence. Thus, the Estonian government continued to cooperate with other Baltic republics in order to coordinate their next moves, while furthering economic liberalization at home.31 The final stage of the Estonian independence movement began in early 1991, with the first violent incidents in the Baltics. Even though Estonia did not experience severe clashes with the Soviet forces, as did Latvia and Lithuania, the Russian minorities organized mass protests in the capital in the wake of the Baltic leaders’ meeting with Boris Yeltsin, who was at the time the chairman of the Presidium of the RSFSR Supreme Soviet. At the meeting with the leaders from the three republics, Yeltsin emphasized the Baltics’ right to self-­ determination, which was reaffirmed in a treaty that recognized the sovereignty of republics represented at the meeting (Clemens 2001). In early March, Estonia held a referendum on independence in order to pre-­empt and boycott the union-­ wide plebiscite asking whether the USSR should be preserved by means of a new union treaty. The results showed that 78 percent of the Estonian citizens favoured independence, while almost one third of ethnic Russians in the republic wanted to see the republic secede (Raun 2001). In the months leading up to the attempted coup in Moscow, neither the Estonian nor Soviet leadership were willing to make any compromises on their position in the negotiations. The negotiation efforts were further thwarted by several attacks on Estonia’s border with Russia in mid-­1991, which were allegedly organized by the breakaway units of the Soviet Ministry of Internal Affairs, known as the ‘Black Berets’ (Marples 2004, p. 55). Estonia declared its independence on the second day of what would turn out to be a failed coup. In an emergency session on August 20, 1991, the Estonian parliament passed a resolution that re-­established the republic as an independent state and requested international recognition. The parliamentary session went even further as it began the process of drafting a new constitution, joining for the

The Periphery III   237 first time the representatives from the Supreme Council and the Congress of Estonia. The collaboration between the two led to yet another assertion of exclusionary ethnic policies, as issues of citizenship and who counted as an Estonian citizen emerged.32 In the following year, the tensions between the ethnic Estonians and Russians intensified as a result of the debate on citizenship, however they never escalated into a violent conflict (Pettai 1996). Lithuania The Lithuanian national movement did not lag much behind its Estonian counterpart. However, unlike in Estonia where a more accommodative communist leadership was put in place, Lithuania was ruled by hardliners who were reluctant to implement Gorbachev’s reforms.33 Nevertheless, from early 1988 demonstrations with an overt nationalist tone began taking place throughout the republic. One of the first large-­scale protests was the celebration of the pre-­war Independence Day on February 16, which took place despite the Soviet strategy of obstruction by placing the organizers under house arrest. Military troops were then sent on the streets of Vilnius to break up over ten thousand peaceful demonstrators (Smith 1990, p. 79). The protests served as an impetus for a more formal organization of the pro-­ reform advocates, which came to being in June 1988 at the meeting of the Lithuanian Academy of Sciences. Different groups of intellectuals, from the Writers’ Union to cultural conservationists, gathered to create the ‘Lithuanian Reform Movement’, which came to be known simply as ‘Sąjūdis’ (the Movement). The goals of the Movement were two-­fold – the groups that formed it wanted to further the process of liberalization, and at the same time promote the Lithuanian cultural identity, in particular the language (Barrington 2006, p. 165).34 Not long after their founding meeting, Sąjūdis organized its first mass public rally to voice these concerns. Even though the announced organizational program conflicted with the views of the Lithuanian CP leadership, there was little that republican authorities could do. As was demonstrated in the case of Estonia, in those early stages of mobilization, Gorbachev considered the Sąjūdis and similar informal associations as the union-­wide facilitators of reforms (Beissinger 2009, pp. 234–235). In the latter half of 1988 changes that enabled the strengthening of the nationalist factions came to being. The mass protests on the forty-­ninth anniversary of the Molotov-­Ribbentrop Pact that gathered over two hundred thousand people in Vilnius became the source of great contention between the Soviet centre and the local party bureaucrats. The First Secretary of the Lithuanian CP, Ringaudas Songaila called for Moscow’s intervention. The central leadership, however, reaffirmed its support for the popular fronts and similar movements, banning all attempts of censoring and harassing Sąjūdis. Songaila and his men still decided to go against these orders in the follow-­up to the August protests by obstructing the rallies that took place in the following weeks. Going rogue backfired, as Gorbachev ordered the removal of Songaila from the top position in October 1988

238   Part III (Senn 1990, pp. 86–92, 102).35 The fact that there was no use of force against the protesters is further evidence that the core republic was primarily undergoing the process of liberalization and did not mobilize along ethnic lines at the time. Moreover, the Sąjūdis held its first Constituent Congress in the same month, which due to its wide media coverage had a significant impact on the rise of the movement’s membership.36 One of the original founders of the Sąjūdis and a staunch anti-­communist, Vytautas Landsbergis was elected as the chairman of the movement (Ashbourne 1999, p.  22). From an initiative with a relatively narrow scope of members, Sąjūdis was transformed into a mass movement and became the leader of the Lithuanian national revival. With the change in the local CP leadership, the Sąjūdis was now able to influence a series of legislative changes, which included the legalization of the national flag and declaration of Lithuanian as the state language over the course of October and November 1988 (Ashbourne 1999, pp. 22–23). Following the hypothesized dynamics of minority counter-­mobilization as a response to the assertion of the titular group’s nationalism, Russian-­speaking minorities began organizing a pro-­Soviet movement of their own, called ‘Yedinstvo’ (Unity) in November 1988. However, unlike the Intermovement in Estonia, Yedinstvo had a much greater challenge to organize the Russian-­speaking communities, since they were highly stratified and had different levels of assimilation within the Lithuanian society (Barrington 2006, p.  167).37 The Polish minority in Lithuania was arguably more successful in organizing the anti-­ Sąjūdis movement, the ‘Union of Poles’, since it was more concentrated in particular regions of the republic, and it consisted of mostly farmers and the rural population. Unlike the Russian speakers, Poles in Lithuania made territorial claims and petitioned for autonomy in the southeastern section of Lithuania, where the majority population was of ethnic Polish background (Lieven 1993, pp. 167–168). Throughout the entire course of 1989, the Lithuanian mobilization only strengthened its scope and impact. First in March, the Sąjūdis dominated in the Lithuanian elections to the Soviet Congress of People’s Deputies. Already in May, the Supreme Soviet of Lithuania declared the republic’s right to self-­ determination and the re-­establishment of the Lithuanian state. Moreover, in an unprecedented move from the communist elites in the Baltics, Brazauskas and his associates became the first to declare that the local CP was splitting from the CPSU in December 1989. At the same time, constitutional changes were made to repeal the CP’s dominance and towards legalization of party pluralism within the republic (Ulfelder 2004, p. 39). These provisions set the stage for the first multiparty parliamentary and presidential elections, which took place in late February and March. The Sąjūdis’ sweeping victory came as little surprise (Krickus 1997; Popescu and Hannavy 2002).38 The restoration of the republic’s independence was among the first declarations that the newly established Lithuanian parliament adopted. Unlike in Estonia, the Soviet government’s response was much stronger in this instance. The all-­union leadership imposed an economic blockade and exerted significant

The Periphery III   239 political pressure on the Lithuanian government, which resulted in proclamation of a six-­month moratorium on independence (Vardys and Slaven 1996, p. 185). However, this did not result in revocation of the decision to secede from the USSR. The Sąjūdis leadership continued to press for independence, thus adding to the tensions with the Soviet centre. The situation culminated in January 1991, when the union government launched actions that aimed to overthrow the democratically elected Baltic governments. Moscow-­sponsored Russian-­speaking and Polish minorities staged demonstrations in factories across Vilnius, protesting price hikes and ethnic discrimination. Under Yedinstvo’s leadership, the protesters tried to take over the parliament building. However, they were met with strong resistance from the pro-­independence activists. In the meantime, the Soviet leadership already sent its special military units under the pretence that Lithuania had slipped into chaos. A struggle between mostly Lithuanian civilians, who tried to protect the republic’s infrastructure, and the Soviet military forces ensued. The developments took a turn for the worse when the Soviet forces tried to descend on the Vilnius TV Tower, which resulted in the killing of over a dozen and injuring several hundred people (Lieven 1993, pp. 250–255). The Soviet use of force and the attempts to destabilize the republic failed in suppressing the Lithuanian national movement, since the rate of ethnonationalist action did not significantly subside throughout the course of 1991. The protests that took place in the months following the January events displayed strong resistance against the occupation of public sites in the capital (Ulfelder 2004, p. 40). As in Estonia, the failure of the August 1991 attempted coup provided the window of opportunity for reaffirming the republic’s independence, which was finally recognized by the Soviet Union in early September and followed with admission into the United Nations. These seemingly smooth developments in late 1991 were only possible since the liberal stream prevailed in the Russian core. Thus, the initial expectations that conflict would be less likely in cases where the core mobilizes late or where liberal mobilization trumps ethnic mobilization seem to be confirmed. Latvia The third Balt, Latvia, was the first of the three republics to stage a series of mass protests to commemorate significant dates in Latvian history – from the proclamation of independence after the First World War, the signing of the Molotov-­Ribbentrop Pact, to the mass deportations of Latvians in 1941. A group of young working class Latvians united under the ‘Helsinki ’86’ organized the first demonstrations in June 1987 in Riga, which turned into a spontaneous mass rally.39 These protests triggered a series of demonstrations across the Baltics, which came to be known as ‘calendar demonstrations’, since they marked important days in the republics’ histories. During 1987, the Latvian CP leadership tried to thwart the demonstrations by mistreating the organizers and demonstrators alike. However, these tactics had very little effect as the activists

240   Part III persisted in staging new protests (Dreifelds 1996a, p. 56). By the beginning of 1988, the response from the local authorities was becoming less repressive, as some of the moderate CP officials began attending the rallies. The protests organized by the Helsinki ’86 were also critical in evoking a response from Latvian intellectuals – a circle that was usually the primary champion of national revivals. In March 1988, Latvian intelligentsia began organizing under the umbrella of creative unions and positioning itself as the more moderate faction than the Helsinki ’86. The unions thus obtained an approval from the Latvian CP to organize mass commemoration of deportations of Latvians in the late 1940s. Soon after, the Latvian Writers’ Union meeting that took place in June became a platform for voicing various grievances regarding the status of Latvian history and culture, the question of autonomy and the respect of human rights. Almost parallel to the meeting, the initiative for organizing the Latvian Popular Front emerged. In a similar fashion to the already established fronts in Estonia and Lithuania, it was meant to be an umbrella organization for the anti-­ regime factions. The Front’s organizing committee consisted of over a dozen different groups and individuals, including prominent intellectuals, human rights activists and Lutheran clerics (Misiunas and Taagepera 1993, pp. 316–318). Over the next couple of months the Popular Front quickly grew in membership and impact, attracting eminent individuals from public life and organizing a number of events that were successful in appealing to the wider masses.40 The Front’s founding congress took place at the beginning of October, when Dainis Īvāns, a prominent Latvian journalist, became the organization’s first leader. The congress also yielded a program demanding the recognition of Latvia’s autonomy and sovereignty over internal affairs, as well as the reassertion of Latvian language, culture and history. In addition, the Latvian Popular Front made arguably the strongest stance regarding the indigenous group and the exercise of power, advocating that legislative changes should be made in order to ensure that Latvian representatives have an “irreversible and permanent majority” regardless of the demographic fluctuations (Aves 1992, pp.  32–33; Ulfelder 2004, p. 28). These strong demands should not come as a surprise given that in Latvia titular groups made just over half of the total population, while ethnic Russians accounted for over a third.41 October 1988 was a crucial month for the dynamics of nationalist mobilization in Latvia due to several other reasons. First, the all-­union party leadership replaced the conservative First Secretary of the Latvian Communist Party, Boris Pugo with a more reformist minded Jãnis Vagris. Even though Vagris was not the Popular Front’s preferred choice, the replacement provided an opening in terms of having a pro-­Latvian reformist leading the local CP, as opposed to a Soviet traditionalist (Barry et al. 1991, p.  249).42 Indeed, in the same month Latvian was declared as the state language and the pre-­war Latvian insignia was legalized. Second, as it would be expected, the reassertion of the titular group’s nationalism provoked minority counter-­mobilization. In October 1988 the International Front of the Working People of the Latvian SSR (the Interfront) was created. As

The Periphery III   241 in the case of its Estonian counterparts organized within the Intermovement, the Russian-­speaking minority was united in its defence of the Soviet order and against the Popular Front’s agenda, since it represented a direct threat to its status. The Interfront too appealed to the hardliners within the CPSU and KGB (O’Connor 2003, p. 153). The organization was able to stage a few larger protests in the first half of 1989 as a response to the passage of a series of laws that imposed limits on immigration and that asserted the position of the Latvian language in the public sphere. However, the protests never managed to mount a strong enough opposition to the pro-­Latvian forces. The Russian-­speakers within the republic were not unified and the support from the centre was only factional (Muizneks 1993, p. 197).43 As 1989 progressed, the Popular Front only gained more followers, successfully organizing mass rallies and steering the political developments in the republic. In the first half of the year the Front-­supported candidates won a majority of votes and became Latvian representatives in the all-­union Congress of People’s Deputies (Misiunas and Taagepera 1993, p. 323). Moreover, during the same period Latvian polity witnessed the emergence of another nationalist movement – the Latvian National Independence Movement. Its program was more radical than the Front’s, as it advocated immediate and complete independence for Latvia. This sort of rhetoric had a great impact on the Front as it soon published an open appeal for considering such move (Trapans 1991). Thus, facing the pressure from the republic’s Popular Front and witnessing the recent developments in Estonia and Lithuania, the Latvian Supreme Soviet passed the declaration on sovereignty in July 1989. Moreover, just as in Lithuania, by the end of the year the Latvian CP ended its monopoly in the political sphere, thereby allowing the campaign for the first multiparty elections in the republic scheduled for March–April 1990 (Ulfelder 2004, p. 39). Similar to Estonia, Latvia witnessed the emergence of Citizens’ Committees in the lead-­up to the elections. Just as its northern neighbour, the Latvian population consisted of a large proportion of non-­Latvians, mainly Russian-­speaking immigrants from the past fifty years. Thus, out of fear that this segment of the population might vote against independence in a plebiscite and support the pro-­ Soviet parties in the elections, the Committees set out to register ethnic Latvians and the descendants of the pre-­war immigrants. By the end of 1989, the campaign resulted in the registration of around nine hundred thousand citizens that were deemed eligible to vote (Muizneks 1993, p.  28). Moreover, just as in Estonia, the radical nationalists that spearheaded the Citizens’ Committees founded the Citizens’ Congress of the Republic of Latvia, which denied the legitimacy of the Latvian Supreme Soviet as the governing body of the republic (Nørgaard 1999, p. 28). In the first multiparty elections for the Latvian Supreme Soviet in mid-­March and the following runoffs, the candidates supported by the Popular Front won over 78 percent of the votes. However, a rift within the CP overshadowed the first session of the new Latvian Supreme Council.44 Since the communist hardliners and reformers failed to reach an agreement in the discussions over Latvian

242   Part III independence, the party split into two – the old Communist Party of Latvia with a new First Secretary, Alfreds Rubiks, and the new Independent Communist Party of Latvia with Ivars Kezbers as its leader. As the Supreme Council continued with its session discussing independence, Gorbachev invited the Latvian leadership to negotiate over a special status within the federation in return for not pursuing independence. However, at the beginning of May the Supreme Council re-­established the Republic of Latvia, thereby triggering the process of secession from the USSR (Plakans 1995, p. 177).45 A high level of nationalist protest from both the pro-­independence and pro-­ Soviet factions followed throughout the rest of 1990, particularly in the months after the proclamation of independence. The non-­Latvian citizens became increasingly worried about their prospects with the looming separation from the Soviet Union, while the Latvian pro-­independence activists responded to these protests by further stressing the need to complete the process of secession and even mobilizing the Latvian diaspora from around the world (Plakans 1995, p. 176). By the end of July the talks between the Baltic leaders and central government completely collapsed, as the Balts did not want to take part in a new union treaty. In Latvia specifically, the Supreme Council began implementing new border policies, as well as multiple reform measures in the economic and political spheres. After over half a year of political stalemate, the Soviet leadership began a crackdown in January 1991. It began with the Black Berets’ seizure of the press building in the Latvian capital, after which the Interfront staged a mass protest against the Latvian government. Witnessing the violence in neighbouring Lithuania, over half a million Latvians came to the defence of public buildings, resisting the Soviet forces. However, a week after the killings of Lithuanians in Vilnius, clashes between the Black Berets and Latvian citizens resulted in loss of four lives and almost a dozen wounded (Pabriks and Purs 2001). The disturbances continued over the next months, though with less intensity than those in January. Finally, just as in Estonia and Lithuania, the failed coup in Moscow led to Latvian independence virtually overnight.

Discussion In essence, the dynamics of mobilization in the Baltics fits the category of early peripheral mobilization and late core mobilization, which can then help explain why major conflicts were avoided. The cases presented point to several strong observations that pertain to the hypothesized relationship between spatio-­ temporal dynamics of ethnonationalist mobilization and the absence of conflict. Primarily, the analysis of etiology of Baltic mobilization clearly demonstrates that a strong and swift mobilizational wave in the three republics came from cohesive identities, pro-­independence tendencies and substantial experience in organizing ethnonationalist action in the late 1970s and early 1980s (Table 6.2). Thus, contrary to some assessments of Baltic mobilization that described it as a result of the Soviet liberalization program in the mid-­1980s, the evidence tends

Loss of sovereignty and socioeconomic cost of living under communist regime Russification Environmental concerns

Early underground movements already in late 1960s Samizdat with nationalist program in the 1970s

Formal end to Estonian CP’s role in February 1990

Estonian Popular Front founded in April 1988

Incentives

Capacity

Timing

Timing

Liberalization

Ethnonationalist mobilization

Sequencing, early or late mobilization?

Early

Similar historical development to Latvia (German Teutonic Order, Swedish Empire, Russian Empire) Lutheran legacy Short history of independence between two World Wars

Etiology of ethnonationalist action

Identity

Estonia

Early

Latvian Popular Front founded in June 1988

Formal end to Latvian CP’s role in December 1989

Somewhat smaller and less organized opposition than other two Balts In the mid-1970s dissident groups and underground parties

Loss of sovereignty and socioeconomic cost of living under communist regime Russification Environmental concerns

Similar historical development to Estonia (German Teutonic Order, Swedish Empire, Russian Empire) Lutheran legacy Short history of independence between two World Wars

Latvia

Table 6.2  Summary of the main findings for the selected cases of ‘near misses’

Early

Sąjūdis founded in May 1988

Formal end to Lithuanian CP’s role in December 1989

Strong dissident movement from the early 1970s – religious and human rights Prolific samizdat program

Loss of sovereignty and socioeconomic cost of living under communist regime Environmental concerns

Historically stronger than the other two Balts Union with Poland Catholic tradition Incorporated into Russian Empire with the other two Balts Short-lived independence post-WWI

Lithuania

244   Part III to show that all three republics were early mobilizers, and that glasnost only reactivated the existing ethnonationalist movements. However, the expectations for early peripheral mobilization, as outlined in hypothesis H2 (early ethnonationalist mobilization in the peripheral unit is more likely to lead to conflict within the unit than late peripheral mobilization), are not confirmed. The violent conflicts between the Baltic titular majorities on the one side, and the Russian minorities and Russian core on the other, were avoided since the central government was open to liberalization, and the liberal mobilization prevailed within the core. First, the response from the all-­union government to the development of nationalist movements in the Baltics was rather accommodative and supportive of the popular fronts in the Baltics. Gorbachev saw the fronts as essential aspects of his reformist program. When the local communist leaders objected to the emerging nationalist mobilization in their respective republics and asked for sanctions against the popular fronts from Moscow, they were removed from their positions. Communist officials who were more inclined towards liberalization were then appointed to these positions. In Estonia this occurred already in mid-­1988, while in the other two republics replacement of the First Secretary of the local CP came about in October of the same year. The fronts were at first more moderate in their nationalist rhetoric, and they subscribed to political and economic liberalization. Hence, the support from the all-­union leadership was continuous until the point when the fronts began openly advocating independence and adopting policies to fulfil those goals in the first half of 1990. It was only then that the Soviet leadership reversed its initial stance towards the fronts and worked to thwart the pro-­independence governments in the Baltic republics. The obstruction tactics included everything from economic sanctions, supporting the Russian-­speaking countermovements to ultimately deploying limited military force in order to stop the secessionist momentum in early 1991. The final two points that can help explain the relatively peaceful secession are the relative weakness of the counter-­mobilization of Russian minorities in the Baltics, and the insufficient support from the Russian core. The Estonian Intermovement, Latvian Interfront and Lithuanian Yedinstvo were all reactive movements that emerged primarily as a response to the mobilization led by Baltic popular fronts, which fits the general assumption of the ethnic security dilemma. Moreover, the minorities in the Baltic republics, albeit making up a significant proportion of the total population, were never endowed with an ethno-­territorial unit that would facilitate their claims (Beissinger 2009, p. 244). In addition, as the referenda on independence demonstrated, the Russian minority was far from united over the issue. In March 1991, almost one third of the non-­Estonians in Estonia, as well as half of the non-­Latvians in Latvia supported secession (Taagepera 1993, p. 141; Karklins 1994, p. 101). Additionally, the membership in these movements was lacking intelligentsia and was on average made up of older citizens (Lieven 1993, p. 197). Finally, while the Russian minority countermovements successfully staged mass protests in the period between early 1989 and early 1991, their activities

The Periphery III   245 were highly dependent on support from the Soviet government. However, the central government’s support was at first factional and limited only to hardliners within the regime institutions (CPSU and KGB), which again confirms the centre’s initial commitment to liberalization. Only as it became apparent the Balts would not concede on their independence goals in the late 1990 and early 1991, the all-­union government offered support to the Russian minority counter-­ movements. However, after the January 1991 events in Lithuania and Latvia, and with the growing weakness of the union centre, the counter-­mobilization movements began to dissipate and diminish in significance. After the failed coup attempt, these movements lost their sponsorship in the core since their goals were in direct conflict with the policies of the Yeltsin government. This validates the expectations laid out in hypothesis H3, since the primacy of liberal mobilization within the core made the conflict less likely.

Conclusion In a study that examines the factors that contribute to the incidence of ethnic conflict, it is equally important to analyse the dynamics behind the non-­occurrence of conflict. The cases analysed in this chapter were labelled as conflict ‘near-­misses’ given that they experienced early nationalist mobilization, yet without escalating into violent conflicts. There is little doubt that factors such as previous experience in democratic self-­rule, disparity in power vis-­à-vis Russia, and support from the West contributed to a relatively non-­violent secession. Moreover, the counter-­ mobilization of the minorities in the Baltic states failed to gather enough support and lacked the institutional capacity to become successful. However, there is an important point to be made regarding theoretical expectations and the case evidence. While the peripheral units in question mobilized early, the core mobilized late and thus did not respond violently to peripheral mobilization. More importantly, the escalation of violence was prevented due to the compatibility of goals between the dominant mobilization streams in the Baltic states and Russia. Otherwise, had Russia mobilized principally around nationalist goals, it is reasonable to believe that it would have led to a situation in which a violent conflict with the Baltics would have occurred. Thus, the findings in this chapter reaffirm the importance of mobilization-­liberalization sequencing in the core, given the implications this has on the conduct of ethnic politics at home and abroad.

Notes   1 In the interwar period, Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania obtained a two-­decade-long lesson in independent democratic rule. Following the Bolshevik takeover of power in Russia after the October Revolution of 1917 and German victory against the Russian army, Estonia declared independence in February 1918. Estonia was initially a parliamentary democracy, but the parliament (Riigikogu) was disbanded in 1934, following political unrest caused by the global economic crisis. Subsequently, the country was ruled by a presidential decree. The People’s Council of Latvia declared independence

246   Part III of the new country in November 1918. The proclamation of independence was followed by a year-­long War of Independence that was part of a wave of civil and new border wars in Eastern Europe. A freely elected Constituent Assembly convened in 1920, and adopted a liberal constitution. Similar to Estonia, Lithuania proclaimed independence in February 1918 and established itself as a democratic state. As in the other two republics, the Act of Independence served as the legal basis for the creation of post-­Soviet Lithuania (von Rauch 1974; Vardys and Misiunas 1978).   2 After the formal recognition of the Baltic states independence in September 1991, approximately two hundred thousand troops were stationed in the bases throughout the Baltics as the integral part of the Baltic Military District. However, at that point the Soviet Union failed to make any arrangements regarding the troop withdrawal or a redefinition of the status of these forces that were now occupying the territory of sovereign states. Furthermore, after the Union collapsed, Russian leadership began stipulating troop withdrawal on an improved legal status of the Russian minorities in Estonia and Latvia (Putins Peters 1994, p. 623).   3 The Stockholm Group was originally the British government’s initiative from 1992, gathering Scandinavian countries, US, Canada and European Community (now European Union) member states. The group was chaired by the Swedish government and held its meetings in Stockholm (Knudsen 2007, p. 31).   4 It has been estimated that overall more than half a million Balts were deported by the early 1950s, which accounted for around 10 percent of their total population (Housden and Smith 2011).   5 The logic behind such evidence is that Soviet ethnographers saw linguistic integration (i.e. fluency in Russian) as the best proxy of ethnic assimilation and acceptance of Soviet identity. In that sense, non-­Russians who listed Russian as their first language were considered as integrated in attitudinal terms, while those who listed themselves as bilingual were seen as functionally integrated. On the other hand, the non-­Russians who declared they could not speak Russian at all were either members of groups that rejected Soviet culture and norms, and/or they were not exposed to an environment in which Russian was spoken (Rakowska-­Harmstone 1986, pp. 184–185). The Balts seemed to fall into the former group.   6 Comparable trends were present only with the Soviet Muslim population. See Naselenie SSSR po dannym perepisi naseleniia 1979 goda (Moscow, Politizdat, 1980).   7 This was due to the fact that it had a lesser need for foreign workforce than the other two republics (Anderson and Silver 1989, p. 628).   8 It is worth noting that the Baltics were the only Soviet region in which the indigenous versus Russian population disbalance only increased with decades, due to the high levels of industrial development and military build-­up (Rakowska-­Harmstone 1986, pp. 182–183).   9 In 1991, the average Soviet GNP per capita was less than 6,100 rubles, while in Estonia it was almost 8,500 rubles, in Latvia 8,200 and in Lithuania, which was ranked fifth after Belarus and RSFSR, it was still above the average, with 6,100 rubles (Hardt and Kaufman 1993, pp. 934–935). 10 This is a similar sort of grievance the Slovenes held in former SFRY, since they compared their standard to neighbouring non-­Yugoslav states such as Austria and Italy. Please refer to Chapter 4 under the section analysing etiology of ethnopolitical action in Slovenia. 11 In Latvia for instance, even the old-­guard First Secretary of the Latvian CP referred to “the notable sharpening of national feelings” and condemned the neglect by the central ministries of environmental issues; more in Nove (2011, p. 122). 12 Although it is worth noting that already in 1956 and 1960 first mass demonstrations and violent riots took place in Lithuania (Alexiev 1983). 13 Romas Kalanta was a nineteen-­year-old high school student who immolated himself as an expression of protest against the Soviet regime in mid-­May 1972. Throughout

The Periphery III   247 the following year, over a dozen Lithuanians committed suicide by self-­immolation (Misiunas and Taagepera 1993, pp. 252–253). It has been speculated that the timing was set to coincide with the US President Richard Nixon’s visit to Moscow (Remeikis 1984). 14 A samizdat journal ‘Eesti demokraat’ (‘The Estonian Democrat’) began with publication in 1971 (Remeikis 1984). 15 In October 1975 four members of the ‘Estonian Democratic Movement’ were sentenced to several years in labour camps for organizing and taking part in dissent activities. Their trial also revealed that Estonian underground organizations had extensive links with similar organizations in other Soviet republics (Remeikis 1984). 16 Some of the more specific grievances that emerged were the relative decline of Estonian population in comparison to Estonia’s Russian population, especially in urban settings; the prevalence of Russian language from business to science; the rapid decline in the availability of scholarly publications in Estonian; revisionism and propaganda in teaching history that embellished the roles Russia and the Soviet Union played. These objections were reaffirmed in an open letter that prominent Estonian intellectuals addressed to Pravda soon after, and they were in many ways similar to the grievances that Georgian and Armenian intelligentsia expressed at the time (Remeikis 1984). 17 The workers’ strike in Poland was believed to be the inspiration for similar industrial action in Estonia (Rakowska-­Harmstone 1986, p. 189). 18 This became known after the party leader was arrested in 1980 and sentenced to fifteen years in prison in 1981 (Misiunas and Taagepera 1993, p. 253). 19 Already in 1969 there was a ‘Program of the Democrats of Russia, the Ukraine, and the Baltic Lands’, which gathered anti-­regime activists from these five republics. Russian dissidents, such as Andrei Sakharov, also helped the Balts in circulation of their concerns and demands. 20 Lieven (1993, p. 220) points out that in the Baltic states “the term ‘green’ needs to be treated with caution” since “the Green parties stand on the nationalist Right, and their current main activity is agitation for the removal of the Russian armed forces”. He explains the link between the Greens with the Right as “partly to do with the fact that both stemmed originally from the nationalist dissent cause”. Moreover, as Malloy (2009, p. 286) argues, the environmental protests carried a strong “protect our nation” message. However, “the lines between protecting and promoting the nation can easily become blurred . . . as nation protection becomes nation-­building, the need to seek sovereignty is created and drawing on the nationalistic discourse becomes helpful”. This is evident in the reports on the Baltic environmental protests, which state, “requests from Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania for greater autonomy from Moscow have stressed ecology as strongly as economic concerns”, and “worries about pollution have been a major factor fueling nationalist resentment toward Moscow in the three Baltic republics”. From LA Times (September 4, 1988) “Latvians, Lithuanians Protest Baltic Pollution” and Associated Press (September 4, 1988) “Thousands Mass On Baltic Shore To Protest Pollution”. 21 For instance, in Estonia the proportion of indigenous population declined from 94 percent to 62 percent in the period from 1945 to 1987, whereas Latvia’s native population share in the same period dropped from 83 percent to 53 percent (Misiunas and Taagepera 1993). 22 The gathered masses openly waved Estonian flags, while the protests continued over several days. The events of June 1988 are considered to be the initial stage of what would become the Estonian ‘Singing Revolution’. In the same month the Supreme Soviet also legalized the national flag and declared Estonian as the state language. 23 It has been estimated that within six weeks of its founding, the Estonian Popular Front claimed a membership of over forty thousand people in over eight hundred localities (Beissinger 2009).

248   Part III 24 At the time of its founding, the Intermovement was originally called the International Front of Workers in the Estonian Soviet Socialist Republic (Interfront), which changed later in 1988. 25 Not long after its founding, the ERSP and another Estonian pro-­independence movement, the Estonian Heritage Society, organized a petition signed by over eight hundred thousand Estonians, which called for disowning the legality of the Soviet occupation and declared the signatories were citizens of the Republic of Estonia (Raun 2001, p. 228). 26 Analogous declarations of sovereignty were adopted by Lithuania on May 18, 1989 and Latvia on July 28, 1989. 27 Polls show that in April 1989 around 56 percent of Estonians and 5 percent of the non-­Estonians in the republic supported independence. In September of the same year, the proportions only increased, with 63 percent of the titular population supporting independence and 9 percent of the non-­Estonians backing such a decision. In May 1990, after the republic declared independence, 96 percent of Estonians, as well as 26 percent of the non-­Estonians agreed with the declaration (Raun 2001, p. 229). 28 As the fiftieth anniversary of the Molotov-­Ribbentrop Pact started to approach, Estonia and the other two Baltic republics demanded that the Soviet government recognized the existence of secret protocols and the illegality of Baltic annexation. Their campaign proved effective as the first Soviet Congress of People’s Deputies established a special commission to assess their claims, and indeed, confirmed that the secret protocols should be declared invalid, although not reporting that there is a link between the Nazi-­Soviet deal and forceful annexation (Raun 2001). 29 Estimates suggest that in the year-­long campaign, the Citizens’ Committees managed to register about seven hundred thousand out of one million ethnic Estonians (Pettai 1996). 30 Out of one hundred and five total seats in the Supreme Council, as the Supreme Soviet came to be known, the Popular Front won 43, reformed Communist Party 27, while the Russian minority representatives united under the Joint Council of Work Collectives obtained 25 seats (Raun 2001, p. 230). 31 The government began implementing market and price reforms. It also discontinued contributing to the all-­union budget, while introducing plans for a separate currency (Pettai 1996). 32 In early 1992, the Estonian parliament set out naturalization terms for the Soviet-­era immigrants, which mandated two years of residency, proficiency in Estonian and a one-­year waiting period after lodging the application for citizenship. The major problem with this policy was that the elections for the new legislature, Riigikogu, were scheduled for September of the same year, which thus prohibited the non-­ Estonian citizens’ participation (Pettai 1996). 33 Petras Griškevičius, who was the First Secretary of the Communist Party of Lithuania during the time of introduction of perestroika and glasnost, was known as a staunch Brezhnevite and a regressive politician. He strongly opposed any assertion of Lithuanian nationalism. After Griškevičius’ death in late 1987, Ringaudas Songaila, who also belonged to the conservative camp of the CP, was appointed to his position (Smith 1990, p. 79). 34 Calls were made to proclaim Lithuanian as the official state language, strengthening its position in all educational institutions, as well as dispelling the Soviet version of Lithuanian history in the twentieth century (Barrington 2006, p. 165). 35 A high-­ranking member of the Lithuanian CP who was much more sympathetic to the Sąjūdis’ cause, Algirdas Brazauskas was promoted to Songaila’s post (Senn 1990). 36 By November 1988, Sąjūdis had more than one hundred thousand active members and supporters. Its October conference was attended by 1,121 delegates from over a thousand professional, political, cultural and social groups. See more in Blasko and Januauskiene (2008, p. 95).

The Periphery III   249 37 A large number of ethnic Russians from the urban centres, particularly in the capital, had been living in Lithuania since the pre-­war times. Others had migrated as a result of industrialization policies and belonged to the working class employed in the republic’s factories (Barrington 2006). 38 It has to be noted that the Sąjūdis did not run as a political party, but rather as a movement, endorsing candidates from a number of different parties. These candidates won over two thirds of the seats in what would soon become the Supreme Council. During its first session, the Sąjūdis-backed delegates overwhelmingly voted for Landsbergis as the Council’s new chairman, who replaced Brazauskas in that position (Krickus 1997, p. 297). 39 Helsinki ’86 was a group formed in the Latvian city of Liepaja and its initial activities included writing petitions to Western governments and non-­governmental organizations, and publishing pamphlets that called for Latvian autonomy, respect of human rights, cultural revival and an end to Russification policies (Dreifelds 1996b, pp. 55–56). 40 By the time the first congress of the Latvian Popular Front took place, it was claimed that the movement had over one hundred thousand members in over two thousand local chapters (Plakans 1995, p. 172). 41 Please recall the data on distribution of Russian population in the Soviet republics from Chapter 2, Table 2.12. 42 The Front was more closely aligned with the charismatic and overtly supportive Anatolijs Gorbunovs. 43 Lieven (1993) suggests the Front was unable to become a broad-­based movement since a significant proportion of the workers in the republic disagreed with the Soviet policies, lack of transparency and credibility. They were also afraid they would be dismissed from republic-­level enterprises. See more in Eglitis (2002, p. 58). 44 The change of name from Latvian Supreme Soviet to Supreme Council ensued immediately after the elections, just as in the other two republics. 45 The Supreme Council also elected Anatolijs Gorbunovs as its Chairman and Ivars Godmanis as the premier of the Cabinet of Ministers (Plakans 1995, p. 177).

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Part IV

Conclusion

The introductory section to this book observed that the nexus between ethnic mobilization, regime change and interethnic conflict has been relatively understudied. On the one hand, comparativists have been providing explanations of successes and failures of democratic transitions, with only cursory accounts regarding the occurrence of interethnic conflicts. On the other hand, international relations scholars have proposed broader theories of the sources of interethnic conflicts and mechanisms of their spread, however with little analysis of internal processes of the polities in question. Thus, the aim of this study was to develop an understanding of whether the dynamics of ethnonationalist mobilization in interaction with political opening and spatial setting have an impact on the occurrence of violent conflicts. The federal republics and provinces within the Soviet Union and Yugoslavia had a varied experience with regards to these critical variables, and thus made for good cases in studying the relationship between spatio-­temporal determinants of ethnonationalist mobilization and manifestation of interethnic conflicts in the period between 1980 and 2000. The theoretical argument has been built around several assumptions. First, ethnonationalist mobilization is a product of three factors, which include politicized ethnic identity, incentives for ethnopolitical action and the capacity to organize collective action around ethnonationalist goals. Groups that began pursuing ethnonationalist goals in the years before the political opening (either overtly or through underground movements) were considered early mobilizers, while those that commenced mobilizing after political liberalization were deemed as late mobilizers. Second, following the comparative politics literature which states that temporal sequencing of mobilization relative to liberalization matters for the future of democratic transition, it is assumed that if ethnonationalist mobilization precedes political liberalization it would be more likely to lead to conflict than if the opposite was true. This is because early ethnic mobilization would be more likely to cause ethnic polarization and would decrease the likelihood of non-­ethnic coalition-­building once the polity opened up. Under such circumstances it would be expected that illiberal ethnic mobilization would be more likely to lead to conflict, than if ethnic mobilization took place following liberalization. Third, there is an expectation that within asymmetric ethnofederations mobilization of the core unit’s titular group would have greater implications for

256   Part IV the security of the state and counter-­mobilization of the non-­core groups, than mobilization within the peripheral units. This is due to the relative size, resources and institutional clout the core unit possesses in comparison to the non-­core units. Fourth, ethnonationalist mobilization of any group is likely to lead to counter-­mobilization from rival group(s). Moreover, under the conditions of state weakening, the mobilizational spiral would assume the dynamics of the ethnic security dilemma – as one ethnic group begins to mobilize along ethnic lines, other groups follow suit. The proactive-­reactive mobilization spiral is then likely to contribute to a higher likelihood of conflict occurrence. Lastly, interethnic conflicts are expected to occur within federal units in which at least one subnational unit contains a significant proportion of rival ethnic group population. In brief, by combining these assumptions, it would be expected that in ethnofederal states in which the core unit undergoes early mobilization the likelihood of conflict occurrence would be higher than if the core unit mobilizes late. Moreover, the likelihood of conflict occurrence would be further increased in cases in which both the core and periphery mobilize early, as opposed to instances in which both experience late mobilization. Four hypotheses were generated from these assumptions and divided under two stages of conflict occurrence and conflict spread (Table C.1).

Summary of results The empirical section of the book tested whether the temporal sequencing and spatial setting of ethnonationalist mobilization matter for interethnic conflict occurrence. Variation in these critical variables made the former Soviet and Table C.1  Summary of hypotheses Stage I – Conflict occurrence Proposition

Hypotheses

1. Early mobilization is more likely to lead to conflict than late mobilization

H1. Early ethnonationalist mobilization in the core unit is more likely to lead to conflict within the core federal unit and peripheral unit(s) than late mobilization in the core unit. H2. Early ethnonationalist mobilization in the peripheral unit is more likely to lead to conflict within the peripheral unit(s) than late peripheral mobilization.

2. Late mobilization is more likely to lead to conflict than no mobilization

H3. Late ethnonationalist mobilization in the core federal unit is less likely to lead to conflict within the core federal unit and peripheral unit(s) than early mobilization. H4. Late ethnonationalist mobilization in the peripheral unit is less likely to lead to conflict within the peripheral unit(s) than early peripheral mobilization.

Conclusion   257 Yugoslav republics highly suitable cases for studying the dynamics of ethnonationalism and regional conflicts. The timing of core mobilization within the two ethnofederations differed, while in both states there were instances of early and late peripheral mobilization. The incidence of interethnic conflicts also widely varied between the Soviet and Yugoslav territories, which points to certain patterns regarding the effect of dynamics of ethnonationalist mobilization on conflict occurrence. It can be broadly concluded that the comparative cases support the theory developed in this book on the relationship between the dynamics of ethnonationalist mobilization and incidence of interethnic conflicts within a given region. Namely, the timing of mobilization within the core appears to be a significant factor contributing to the nature and timing of counter-­mobilization within the periphery, as well as the occurrence of conflicts. In cases where the core mobilized early, the peripheral counter-­mobilization soon followed, which resulted in conflicts between the core and periphery. On the other hand, in cases where the core mobilized late, early peripheral mobilization was not pitted against the core, and the conflicts that arose were contained within the periphery. Moreover, due to late core mobilization, conflicts involving the core did not arise immediately and they remained limited in terms of spread. Proposition 1 – early mobilization is more likely to lead to conflict than late mobilization The comparative evidence supports the proposition that early ethnonationalist mobilization contributes to the likelihood of conflict. The hypothesis H1 is confirmed in the case of Serbia, since early ethnonationalist mobilization contributed to early counter-­mobilization in Slovenia and Croatia, thus fitting into the pattern of ethnic security dilemma. The combination of early ethnonationalist mobilization on the rival sides and the apparent incompatibility of nationalist goals resulted in wars in Slovenia and Croatia. These conflicts also provide support for hypothesis H2. While Kosovo also experienced early mobilization, which in fact triggered mobilization in Serbia, this case only partially supports the hypothesis H2. The early mobilization in Kosovo did not result in an immediate conflict, despite the fact the core mobilized early. Arguably, there were two factors that prevented it – first, Kosovo Albanian mobilization in the early 1980s was followed by severe repression; and second, Kosovo Albanian leadership in the years following the collapse of Yugoslavia opted for a non-­violent resistance strategy. However, the war in Kosovo occurred as a result of the re-­emergence of the radical nationalist stream, which had its roots in the ethnopolitical action from the early 1980s. In the former Soviet republics, the dynamics of ethnonationalist mobilization in Armenia and Georgia strongly support hypothesis H2. In both republics early mobilization made the nationalist parties dominate and prevented the more liberal political factions from emerging once the political opening began in the  late 1980s. Moreover, the increasing assertion of Georgian and Armenian

258   Part IV autonomy and separatist demands triggered counter-­mobilization from their rival groups, which then led to wars in South Ossetia, Abkhazia and Nagorno-­ Karabakh. On the other hand, early ethnonationalist mobilization in the Baltics refutes hypothesis H2, since there was no major conflict in any of the Baltic republics even though Russian minorities responded by mobilizing against the titular movements. However, the way in which the theory presented in this book accounts for the non-­occurrence of conflicts in the Baltics is related to late mobilization in the core unit, Russia. Proposition 2 – late mobilization is more likely to lead to conflict than no mobilization Overall, there are more mixed results for the proposition that late mobilization makes conflict less likely than early mobilization. The sequencing of ethnonationalist mobilization in Russia clearly supports hypothesis H3. The fact that the liberal movement prevailed in the Soviet core contributed to a relatively peaceful dissolution of the state when compared to the former Yugoslavia, and it limited Russia’s involvement within the periphery after the collapse of the state. This was particularly prominent in the case of Russian leadership’s stance towards the Baltics in the years immediately prior to the collapse of the USSR, since the core sided with the Baltic majority movements rather than the Russian minority counter-­movements. Moreover, while Russia became directly involved in the war in Moldova as it supported the breakaway Pridnestrovian Moldavian Republic, its policy stance did not reflect a desire to unite the de facto republic with the core. Finally, the fact that violent conflict in Chechnya did not escalate by late 1994 can also be explained by the late core mobilization. The cases of late peripheral mobilization, on the other hand, do not seem to provide clear support for hypothesis H4. First, Bosniak late mobilization can be best seen as a reaction to the mobilizational spiral that originated from neighbouring republics, and the war that escalated in Bosnia-­Herzegovina can be best interpreted as a result of spillover from Slovenia and particularly Croatia. Thus, the ethnic security dilemma dynamics proved stronger than the potentially mitigating effects of late ethnonationalist mobilization. Second, late mobilization in Chechnya also refutes hypothesis H4 since the radical nationalist stream prevailed, which resulted in the First Chechen War. Lastly, the war in Transnistria contradicts hypothesis H4 yet again, given that late titular mobilization and minority counter-­mobilization led to violent conflict soon after they emerged. Though, it is important to note this was a minor armed conflict that was limited in both duration and scope, while the more radical nationalist stream became replaced after the conflict ended. These developments might be explained as a result of late peripheral mobilization, as well as late core mobilization. In brief, as it has been demonstrated throughout the empirical section, Russia qualifies as a late mobilizer that was initially dominated by the liberal democratizing stream of popular mobilization. Thus, the conflicts that arose in the periphery were the result of either early peripheral mobilization where Russia was

Conclusion   259 not the principal combatant (Nagorno-­Karabakh, South Ossetia, Abkhazia); or late peripheral mobilization in which Russia had high stakes, but these conflicts were either limited (Moldova) or delayed due to the initial prevalence of the liberal stream in the core (Chechnya). On the other hand, early mobilization in Serbia was a reaction to early peripheral mobilization in Kosovo. This dynamic set off a wave of early mobilization in other peripheral units (Slovenia and Croatia), which soon escalated into conflicts. In turn, these conflicts triggered counter-­mobilization and conflict in another peripheral unit (Bosnia-­ Herzegovina), which finally contributed to the escalation of conflict within the core and its breakaway unit (Kosovo). The occurrence and spread of the conflicts across the territories of the former Soviet Union and Yugoslavia reinforce the notions that the role of the core unit and its mobilization dynamics are crucial. The case evidence presented suggests that the nature and timing of ethnonationalist mobilization in the core determines mobilizational responses in the periphery, and consequently the occurrence and spread of conflicts within a given region. As it has been demonstrated, early ethnonationalist mobilization in the core contributes to the early ethnonationalist mobilization in the periphery, which is also the dyad that is most likely to experience violent conflicts, and spread to other peripheral units. On the other hand, late ethnonationalist mobilization in the core unit seems to have limited effects on the nature and timing of mobilization in the periphery. Thus, in cases where peripheral mobilization generates violent conflicts, given the late core mobilization, the conflicts within the periphery tend to be more contained. Finally, the empirical evidence presented suggests that sequencing of peripheral mobilization when studied independently is a less useful indicator of conflict occurrence. This in turn reaffirms the argument that studying the dynamics of ethnonationalism in the core unit is essential for understanding the regional conflict dynamics. The summary of the results is presented in Table C.2.

Future research directions There are several trajectories for extending the theoretical approach presented in this book and examining specific variables that have emerged as relevant from the analysis. First, the issue of the time lag between ethnonationalist mobilization and the onset of conflict requires further research since the hypotheses presented did not account for the period of time within which it could be considered that mobilization in year ‘t’ contributed to conflict in year ‘t + n’. This was particularly prominent in case of war between Serbia and Kosovo, since both mobilized early and there is no evidence to suggest that mobilization waned. However, the war escalated with a significant temporal lag from the initial mobilizations. One way this could be better examined is by using survival analysis in quantitative studies.1 The second trajectory for further research is to apply the proposed theoretical framework to other federal and ethnofederal settings. Despite the fact that the assumptions for my theoretical model stem largely from the post-­communist

Periphery LM

Yes Yes Yes H2 H2 H3

H1, H2 H1, H2

H2

H1, H2 Yes Yes

Russia (Chechnya) Moldova (Transnistria)

H3

H4

H4

H4

Conflict H supported H refuted

Serbia (Bosnia-Herzegovina) Yes

Conflict H supported H refuted Case

Core LM Armenia (Azerbaijan) Yes Georgia (South Ossetia, Abkhazia) Yes Russia (The Baltics) No

Core EM Serbia (Slovenia) Serbia (Croatia) Serbia (Kosovo)

Case

Periphery EM

Table C.2  Summary of results

Conclusion   261 transitions literature, I believe that application could be much broader, as long as there are elements of temporal sequencing between mobilization and liberalization. Based on the research by McGarry and O’Leary (2005), Bednar (2008), Roeder (2009) and Christin and Hug (2012), I have identified at least five potential cases of federal and ethnofederal settings which have experienced ethnonationalist mobilization, liberalization and ethnic conflict in temporal proximity. These include ethnic conflicts in Mexico 1994, Mali 1990–1994, Pakistan 1990–1996, Spain 1980–1992 and Sudan 1983–2005 (Table C.3). Building on that, the sequencing argument could also be applied to a large-­N sample, which would include both federal and unitary states, and thus test whether the order in which ethnic mobilization and political liberalization take place contributes to intra- and inter-­state conflicts. There has been a limited attempt for such a test in a paper that looked at the effect of mobilization-­ liberalization sequencing within a state on militarized interstate dispute initiation (Goldsmith and Grgić 2013). However, from that preliminary analysis it was clear that there is a need for creating a more refined index of ethnonationalist mobilization, as a substitute to the somewhat deficient ‘Minorities At Risk’ dataset’s indices on discrimination, protest and rebellion. Lastly, what remains relatively underexplored, and yet equally puzzling is the relationship between ethnic mobilization and autocratization. Namely, to what extent political repression contributes to conflicts, or whether it suppresses them. Table C.3 Selected cases for future research of mobilization, liberalization and conflict nexus Federations and Ethnofederations

Mobilization Polity score (Polity IV) (MAR)

Ethnic conflict duration (EPR)

Mexico

1994

Opening – 0 in 1994, 4 in 1996

1994–1994

Mali

1990–1991

Democratization –7 in 1990 and 7 in 1992

1990–94

Pakistan

1990

1 in 1970 Opening to 8 from 1973 to 1977 Opening from –4 to 8 from 1988 to 1990 Constant 8 from 1990 to 1996 Closing in 1998–1999 to –6

1971–1971 1974–1977 1990–1996

Spain

N/A prior to 1980; 1985

Opening from 5 in 1977 to 9 in 1978 to 10 in 1982

1980–1992

Sudan

1980 1985 2002

Democratization from –7 to 7 from 1985 to 1987 Autocratic reversal – from 1989 to 1990

1983–2004 2003–2005

Sources: Ethnic Armed Conflict dataset (Cederman et al. 2008); Minorities at Risk Project (MAR 2009); Polity IV (2012).

262   Part IV More importantly, it would be well worth studying whether the sequencing of ethnic mobilization relative to repression matters, since the dynamic approach to this relationship is missing from the present studies (Chenoweth and Lawrence 2010, p. 150; Landis and Albert 2012, p. 8). Again, the empirical tests for this proposition could be both qualitative small-­N comparative studies, and large-­N statistical analyses.

Final words The analysis in the preceding chapters has provided answers to the questions that motivated the study, while at the same time it has raised some new questions that await response in future projects. I believe that in a number of respects the argument regarding spatio-­temporal dynamics of ethnonationalist mobilization provides a good explanation of the ethnic conflicts that arose in the two studied postcommunist realms. First, it better accounts for the intricacies of regime change, as it separates liberalization and democratization, and the effects political opening has on the relative ease (or difficulty) with which ethnopolitical action is pursued. Furthermore, contrary to the literature which suggests that democratic transitions inevitably lead to conflicts, this book finds that political liberalization can have pacifying effects (Ward and Gleditsch 1998; Daxecker 2007). However, this depends on the regional dynamics of ethnonationalist mobilization. More importantly, the effects of liberalization are more pronounced in the core than they are in the periphery, since they can act as a restraining factor for the incidence of regional conflicts. Second, there is a body of literature that strongly advocates that ethnofederal systems are much more stable when they are set up without core ethnic units. The fact that both the Soviet Union and Yugoslavia collapsed goes to support this line of argument. However, what this book sought to demonstrate is that there are clear differences in the consequences of such ethnofederal collapses, especially in the subsequent escalation of violent conflicts. Herein lies another important contribution of this book, since the timing of ethnonationalist mobilization of the core unit relative to liberalization of the polity appears to be a potential explanation of violence. Thus, the key to studying regional conflict dynamics seems to be in the core’s actions and responses to developments in the periphery. This is also an important insight that might be useful to the policy realm. Namely, given that early core mobilization seems to be the most threatening for regional stability, states would be well advised to address it as early as possible. This suggestion might be more easily said than implemented, since the states in question would be weak as they are undergoing regime transformation, or given that central government could be implicated in mobilization efforts itself. However, it seems that such mobilization is more likely to trigger a greater scope of counter-­mobilization and potentially higher incidence of conflict, than solely peripheral mobilization. Finally, the fields of comparative politics and international relations often disregard insights from one another, and thus remain limited in their explanatory

Conclusion   263 power. This book’s aim was to bridge this gap as it explored how the interaction between asymmetric federal setup and changes in polity contributes to onset of violent conflict. While such an approach may seem objectionable to each of these disciplines’ purists who believe in parsimony and hold that their single explanations are the most powerful, I hope it will be reassuring to those who tend toward a view that this type of synergy surpasses the explanatory power of a given field.

Note 1 Some studies that have used hazard models in this context include: Hegre et al. (2001); Wucherpfennig (2012); Sunde and Cervellati (2013).

References Bednar, J. (2008). The Robust Federation. New York, Cambridge University Press. Cederman, L. E., B. Min and A. Wimmer (2008). Ethnic Armed Conflict dataset. V1 [Version] ed. Chenoweth, E. and A. Lawrence (2010). Rethniking Violence. Cambridge, MA, The MIT Press. Christin, T. and S. Hug (2012). “Federalism, the Geographic Location of Groups, and Conflict.” Conflict Management and Peace Science 29(1): 93–122. Daxecker, U. E. (2007). “Perilous Polities? An Assessment of the Democratization-­ Conflict Linkage.” European Journal of International Relations 13(4): 527–553. Goldsmith, B. E. and G. Grgić (2013). Ethnonationalist Mobilization, Regime Change and Regional Conflicts: Does Sequencing Matter? ISA Annual Convention. San Francisco. Hegre, H., T. Ellingsen, S. Gates and N. P. Gleditsch (2001). “Toward a Democratic Civil Peace? Democracy, Political Change, and Civil War, 1816–1992.” American Political Science Review 95: 33–48. Landis, D. and R. D. Albert (2012). Handbook of Ethnic Conflict: International Perspectives. New York, Springer. McGarry, J. and B. O’Leary (2005). Federation as a Method of Ethnic Conflict Regulation. From Power-­sharing to Democracy: Post-­Conflict Institutions in Ethnically Divided Societies. S. Noel. Montreal and Kingston, McGill-­Queen’s University Press. Minorities At Risk Project (2009). Minorities At Risk Dataset. Center for International Development and Conflict Management. College Park, MD. Polity IV (2012). Polity IV Project. Center for Systemic Peace. Severn, MD. Roeder, P. G. (2009). “Ethnofederalism and the Mismanagement of Conflicting Nationalisms.” Regional and Federal Studies 19: 203–219. Sunde, U. and M. Cervellati (2013). “Democratizing for Peace? The Effect of Democratization on Civil Conflicts.” Oxford Economic Papers. Ward, M. D. and K. S. Gleditsch (1998). “Democratizing for Peace.” American Political Science Review 92(1): 51–61. Wucherpfennig, J., N. W. Metternich, L.-E. Cederman and K. S. Gleditsch (2012). “Ethnicity, the State, and the Duration of Civil War.” World Politics 64(01): 79–115.

Index

Page numbers in italics denote tables, those in bold denote figures. Abkhazia 4, 9n2, 60, 73, 171n24, 258–60; ethnic conflict 60, 132, 145–6, 164, 168; ethnic mobilization 140–6, 170n19, 170n21 Abkhazians 70, 80, 141–6, 168 Armenia 7, 30, 54, 60, 66, 70, 122n8, 123n15, 130, 139, 141, 165, 168, 169n1, 170n11, 186, 224; capacity for mobilization 135–6; economic indicators and development 44–6, 48–9, 78n5; ethnic identity 133–4; ethnic mobilization 131, 133, 136–8, 166–7, 169n7, 257, 260; incentives for mobilization 134, 247n16 Ardzinba, Vladislav 146, 170n21 ASSR see Autonomous Soviet Socialist Republic asymmetric federalism 24, 34, 73–4 Autonomous Soviet Socialist Republic 25, 80n18, 140–1, 170n19, 184–8, 190, 192, 210, 211, 212n3, 212n5 Azerbaijan 54, 60, 70, 123n15, 133–41, 164, 169n7, 170n17, 260; economic indicators and development 44–6, 48–9 Azeris 133–5, 137–8, 143, 167–8, 169n7 Baku 137 Balkans see Western Balkans Baltics 43, 44–6, 60, 98, 122n12, 186, 197, 215n30, 224–49 Belarus 54, 103, 123n15; economic indicators and development 44–6, 48–9, 70, 246n9 Belavezha Accords 103 Belgrade 77, 106, 108, 110–12, 154, 156–7, 159, 172n33, 206, 218n65 Bosnia and Herzegovina 4, 8, 9n1, 30, 61,

72, 107, 121, 132, 158, 162, 174n56, 216n46; capacity for mobilization 201–3; economic indicators and development 46–7, 50–1, 54; ethnic conflict 208, 218n65, 218n68, 218n70; ethnic identity 199–200, 217n48; ethnic mobilization 181–3, 203–7, 210, 211–12, 258–9, 260, 209; incentives for mobilization 200–1 Bosniaks 8, 182, 199–200, 202–7, 209, 210, 211, 217n47, 217n49, 217n52, 217n59, 218n68 Caucasus 5, 9n2, 98, 130, 184–5, 189, 212n2 CC-LCY see Central Committee of the League of Communists of Yugoslavia Central Asia 29, 43, 44–6, 47, 58, 60, 68, 70, 122n4, 159, 170n13, 193 Central Committee of the League of Communists of Yugoslavia 111, 116 Chechen National Congress 188, 213n9, 213n11 Chechnya 8, 9n2, 30, 70, 91, 181–2, 212n3; capacity for mobilization 186–7, 213n9, 213n18; constitution 213n18; ethnic conflict 60, 67, 104, 208, 214n22, 214n23, 214n24; ethnic identity 184–5, 212n2; ethnic mobilization 183–4, 187–91, 207, 209–11; incentives for mobilization 185–6 Chisinau 194–6 citizenship policies 145, 197, 215n37, 236–7, 248n32 CNC see Chechen National Congress Communist Party of the Soviet Union 52, 58, 79n10, 214n23, 233

Index   265 core federal unit 4, 7, 24, 26, 34, 91–2; see also Russia; Serbia CPSU see Communist Party of the Soviet Union Croatia 3–4, 7–8, 9n1, 30, 36n14, 72, 107–8, 116–17, 119, 158, 199, 204, 208, 216n46; capacity for mobilization 160–1, 174n51, 174n52; constitution 162, 175n60; economic indicators and development 45, 46–7, 50–1, 54, 70; ethnic conflict 61, 132, 164, 175n62; ethnic identity 158–9, 173n47; ethnic mobilization 121, 130, 131, 133, 161–3, 165, 166–7, 168, 174n53, 181–2, 206–7, 218n65, 219n71, 257–9, 260; incentives for mobilization 69, 159–60, 174n50 cultural theories of mobilization 62–3 Dayton Agreement 151 demographic indicators 64, 77, 108, 229, 240 Demokratična opozicija Slovenije (Democratic Opposition of Slovenia) 157–8, 173n43 DEMOS see Demokratična opozicija Slovenije (Democratic Opposition of Slovenia) Dudaev, Dzhokhar 67, 71, 182, 188–91, 211, 213n8, 213n10, 213n12, 213n18, 213n22 economic oppression 69–70 Eesti Rahvusliku Söltumatuse Partei (Estonian National Independence Party) 234, 236, 248n25 ERSP see Eesti Rahvusliku Söltumatuse Partei (Estonian National Independence Party) Estonia 8, 30, 43, 54, 55, 68, 122n8, 224; capacity for mobilization 230–2; constitution 236; economic indicators and development 44–6, 48–9, 70, 246n9; ethnic identity 228, 245n1; ethnic mobilization 60, 66, 71, 94, 96, 121n1, 225, 226, 233–7, 243, 244, 247n22; incentives for mobilization 228–30, 247n15, 247n16 ethnic identity 18; see also Armenia, ethnic identity; Azerbaijan, ethnic identity; Bosnia and Herzegovina, ethnic identity; Chechnya, ethnic identity; Croatia, ethnic identity; Estonia, ethnic identity; Georgia, ethnic identity; Kosovo, ethnic identity; Latvia, ethnic

identity; Lithuania, ethnic identity; Moldova, ethnic identity; Russia, ethnic identity; Serbia, ethnic identity; Slovenia, ethnic identity ethnic mobilization 16–18, 28–30, 32 ethnofederalism 4, 6, 13–14, 17, 20, 73–4, 256, 259, 261–2 ethnonationalism 14–16 European Community 227, 246n3 federalism 13–14, 42, 52–3, 73–4, 78; see also asymmetric federalism Gamsakhurdia, Zviad 143–6, 165, 170n18, 171n23, 171n25, 171n26 Georgia 7, 30, 54, 60, 66, 122n8, 130, 131, 135, 170n13; capacity for mobilization 80n18, 93, 140–2, 170n17; constitution 141, 144, 146; economic indicators and development 44–6, 48–9, 70; ethnic conflict 164, 165, 171n23; ethnic identity 139–40; ethnic mobilization 71, 133, 138, 142–6, 166, 168, 171n22, 171n25, 257, 260; incentives for mobilization 140, 247n16 glasnost 4, 59, 60, 66, 93–4, 99–100, 104, 119, 120, 135, 142, 168, 185, 192, 225, 233, 244, 248n33 Gorbachev, Mikhail 56, 58–60, 76, 92–3, 96–103, 105, 118, 120, 122n5, 122n7, 122n9, 136, 171n24, 194, 215n31, 224, 230, 232–3, 235, 237, 242, 244 Grozny 186, 189, 191 HDI see Human Development Index Hrvatska Demokratska Zajednica (Croatian Democratic Union) 161–2, 174n53, 174n55, 174n59, 205, 218n65 HDZ see Hrvatska Demokratska Zajednica (Croatian Democratic Union) Human Development Index 44, 46, 48 Inter-Regional Deputies’ Group 97, 101, 105 IRDG see Inter-Regional Deputies’ Group Izetbegović, Alija 200–2, 204–6, 209, 210, 218n66 JNA see Jugoslavenska Narodna Armija (Yugoslav People’s Army) Jugoslavenska Narodna Armija (Yugoslav People’s Army) 53, 61, 79n11, 155, 158, 161, 175, 218n65, 218n68

266   Index Kazakhstan 54, 95–6, 123n15, 184; economic indicators and development 43, 44–6, 48–9, 70 KGB see Komitet Gosudarstvennoy Bezopasnosti (Committee for State Security) KLA see Kosovo Liberation Army KNS see Koalicija narodnog sporazuma (Coalition of People’s Accord) Koalicija narodnog sporazuma (Coalition of People’s Accord) 162 Komitet Gosudarstvennoy Bezopasnosti (Committee for State Security) 79n10, 102, 122n9, 241, 245 Kosovo 3–4, 7, 9n1, 30, 54, 74, 78n4, 105–7, 116–17, 120, 123n17, 123n25, 130, 156; capacity for mobilization 148–9; economic indicators and development 45, 46–7, 50, 69, 172n30, 172n31; ethnic conflict 61, 119, 132, 164, 259; ethnic identity 146–7, 200; ethnic mobilization 66, 70, 72, 110–14, 118, 121, 131, 133, 149–52, 165, 166–7, 168, 257, 260; incentives for mobilization 147–8, 172n36 Kosovo Liberation Army 61, 79n17, 152 Kučan, Milan 155–8, 165, 173n42, 173n44 Kyrgyzstan 54–5, 123n15; economic indicators and development 44–6, 48–9, 70 language policies 52, 69, 71–2, 93, 134–5, 139–43, 146–7, 153, 156, 159–60, 163, 166, 170n21, 170n22, 170n25, 172n28, 173n41, 174n50, 175n60, 186, 188, 193–5, 197, 210, 211, 215n28, 215n30, 215n31, 233, 235, 238, 240–1, 247n16 Latvia 8, 30, 54–5, 68, 122n8, 224, 246n2, 248n33; capacity for mobilization 230–2; constitution 245n1; economic indicators and development 43, 44–6, 48–9, 70, 246n9; ethnic identity 228; ethnic mobilization 60, 66, 71, 96, 121n1, 196, 225, 226, 232–3, 239–42, 243, 244–5, 246n11, 247n20, 249n39; incentives for mobilization 228–30 LCBH see League of Communists of Bosnia-Herzegovina LCC see League of Communists of Croatia LCS see League of Communists of Slovenia LCY see League of Communists of Yugoslavia

LDK see Lidhja Demokratike e Kosovës (Democratic League of Kosovo) League of Communists of BosniaHerzegovina 201, 203–4, 210, 218n60 League of Communists of Croatia 160–2, 174n51 League of Communists of Slovenia 153–7, 161 League of Communists of Yugoslavia 55, 111, 116–17, 154, 157, 160, 172n33, 173n41 liberalization see political liberalization Lidhja Demokratike e Kosovës (Democratic League of Kosovo) 150–2 Lithuania 8, 30, 54, 122n8, 157, 245n1, 248n26; capacity for mobilization 230–2; economic indicators and development 43, 44–6, 47, 48–9, 70, 246n9; ethnic conflict 93; ethnic identity 228; ethnic mobilization 60, 66, 68, 71, 121n1, 196, 224, 225, 226, 232–3, 237–9, 243, 244–5, 246n12, 247n20; incentives for mobilization 228–30 Ljubljana 156 Macedonia 9n1, 54, 72, 106, 146–7, 199, 202, 212n1; economic indicators and development 46–7, 50–1; ethnic conflict 61, 152 MASSR see Moldavian Autonomous Soviet Socialist Republic Milošević, Slobodan 3, 61, 67, 106–20, 123n25, 124n33, 150–1, 154, 156, 158, 163, 165, 172n36, 173n42, 205, 219n71 Moldavian Autonomous Soviet Socialist Republic 192 Moldova 8, 30, 54, 122n8, 123n15, 191, 215n26, 215n30, 215n35; capacity for mobilization 193–4; economic indicators and development 44–6, 48–9, 70; ethnic conflict 96, 183, 208, 216n41; ethnic identity 191–2; ethnic mobilization 60, 181–2, 183, 194–8, 207, 209, 210, 211, 215n28, 258–9, 260; incentives for mobilization 192–3, 215n33 Moscow 74, 94–7, 101–2, 104, 121n2, 122n10, 136, 138, 169n3, 187, 189–91, 195, 197, 216n43, 232, 236–7, 239, 242, 244 Nagorno-Karabakh 4, 9n2, 60, 74, 132–8, 164, 165, 166, 168, 169n1, 169n7, 258–9

Index   267 National Bank of Yugoslavia 49 NBY see National Bank of Yugoslavia oblast 25, 52, 73, 80, 134–6, 138, 140, 169n1, 170n20, 171n24, 184, 206 okrug 52, 74 perestroika 4, 43, 52, 58, 60, 66, 97, 99–101, 104, 119, 120, 135, 142, 186, 233, 248n33 peripheral federal units 24, 73–4, 130–3, 181–3, 224–7 periphery see peripheral federal units PMR see Pridnestrovian Moldavian Republic PMSSR see Pridnestrovian Moldavian Soviet Socialist Republic Podgorica 113 political liberalization 22–3, 74–6 political oppression 71–2 Pridnestrovian Moldavian Republic 197–8, 215n35, 258 Pridnestrovian Moldavian Soviet Socialist Republic 196–7, 215n35 Priština 61, 110, 148–52, 167, 172n33 Rambouillet Accords 152 Riga 239 RSFSR see Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic Rugova, Ibrahim 150–2, 165, 172n36 Russia 3–7, 30, 52, 54–6, 91, 121n2, 123n15, 139–40, 145–6, 166, 168, 182, 184–5, 188, 190, 198, 210, 227–9, 232–3, 236, 243; capacity for mobilization 95–7; economic indicators and development 44–6, 48–9, 70; ethnic conflict 191, 208, 209, 214n20, 214n22, 214n23, 216n42, 258; ethnic identity 53, 92–3; ethnic mobilization 60, 74, 98–105, 118–19, 120, 121, 125n38, 225, 244–5, 260; incentives for mobilization 94–5 Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic 3, 36n14, 43, 54–6, 58, 78n7, 91–2, 96–8, 100–5, 119, 120, 121, 182, 188–90, 211, 214n20, 225, 236, 246n9 Sąjūdis 237–40, 248n35, 248n36, 249n38 Sarajevo 200, 202, 205–6, 217n52, 218n59, 218n61, 219n71 SDA see Stranka Demokratske Akcije (The Party of Democratic Action)

SDS see Srpska Demokratska Stranka (Serb Democratic Party in Bosnia) Serbia 3–5, 9n1, 30, 44, 53, 54, 55–6, 61, 69, 74, 91–2, 148–52, 155–8, 166–7; capacity for mobilization 108–10; constitution 117; economic indicators and development 45, 46–7, 50–1, 52, 123n19; ethnic conflict 164, 205–6, 219n71, 257; ethnic identity 105–7; ethnic mobilization 8, 21, 30, 66, 110–14, 116–19, 120, 123n26, 162–3, 181–2, 189, 259, 260; incentives for mobilization 107–8 SFRY see Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia Shevardnadze, Eduard 99, 122n5, 122n11, 140–2, 171n26 Slovenia 3, 9n1, 30, 54, 72, 107, 116–17, 133, 161, 173n43, 202, 206–7, 209, 257–8; capacity for mobilization 154–5; constitution 157; economic indicators and development 45, 46–7, 50–1, 69–70, 108; ethnic conflict 61, 130, 131, 132, 164; ethnic identity 152–3; ethnic mobilization 66, 119, 124n31, 155–8, 165, 166–7, 168, 259, 260; incentives for mobilization 153–4 Snegur, Mircea 195–8, 211, 216n40, 216n44 Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia 3–6, 32, 34, 36n13, 77, 113, 117, 119, 123n20, 132, 147, 153, 157, 166, 173, 200–1, 206, 210, 211; constitution 49, 52, 56, 69–72, 74, 76, 78n4, 79n8, 106–8, 110–15, 118, 147–8, 160, 173n49; defense 53; economic indicators and development 46–7, 50–1; ethnic politics 53–6; ethnofederal structures 52, 72, 74; liberalization 57–9, 75 Socialist Republic of Serbia 3, 36n14, 91, 105, 193 Socijalistička Partija Srbije (Socialist Party of Serbia) 117–18 South Ossetia 4, 9n2, 25, 70–1, 80n18, 260; ethnic conflict 60, 132, 145–6, 164, 168, 171n23, 258–9; ethnic mobilization 143, 170n20, 171n24 Soviet Union see Union of Soviet Socialist Republics SPS see Socijalistička Partija Srbije (Socialist Party of Serbia) Srpska Demokratska Stranka (Serb Democratic Party in Bosnia) 161, 205

268   Index SRS see Socialist Republic of Serbia Stranka Demokratske Akcije (The Party of Democratic Action) 204–5, 211, 218n63 Tajikistan 29, 54, 123n15; economic indicators and development 43, 44–6, 48–9, 70; ethnic conflict 212n1; ethnic mobilization 215n30, 260 Tallin 230–1, 233 Tbilisi 60, 71, 94, 140–1, 143–4, 170n20 Ter-Petrossian, Levon 137–8, 170n1 TMR see Transnistrian Moldovan Republic Transnistria 4, 8, 9n2, 193, 197–8, 215n25; ethnic conflict 60, 125n38, 182, 209, 216n42, 258, 216n44; ethnic mobilization 195 Transnistrian Moldovan Republic 195 Tudjman, Franjo 160–2, 165, 174n51, 174n53, 174n54, 174n56, 174n57, 205, 218n65, 219n71 Turkmenistan 54, 123n15; economic indicators and development 44–6, 48–9, 70 Ukraine 43, 54, 55, 58, 103, 123n15, 159, 209, 232, 247n19; economic indicators and development 44–6, 48–9, 70; ethnic mobilization 60, 95–7 UNDP see United Nations Development Program Union of Soviet Socialist Republics 3–5, 30, 32, 34, 45, 94, 96, 102–4, 121, 196, 226, 232, 236, 258; constitution 135, 143, 234–5; economic indicators and development 43–4, 47, 48, 50–1, 98;

ethnic politics 53–5; ethnofederal structures 52, 74; defense 53; liberalization 36n13, 57–9, 66, 75, 116 United Nations Development Program 44, 48, 78n6 United States 98, 115, 227 uskoreniye 66 USSR see Union of Soviet Socialist Republics Uzbekistan 29, 43, 123n15, 184; economic indicators and development 44–6, 48–9, 70; ethnic conflict 212n1 Vainakh Democratic Party 187–8, 210, 211 VDP see Vainakh Democratic Party Western Balkans 5, 9n1, 63, 130, 152, 159 Yedinstvo 238–9, 244 Yeltsin, Boris 3, 77, 94, 96–7, 99–103, 105, 108, 119, 120, 122n7, 125n38, 168, 189–91, 198, 213n11, 213n16, 214n21, 214n23, 216n42, 216n43, 236, 245 Yerevan 135–6, 169n2, 169n5, 169n9 Yugoslavia see Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia Zagreb 160, 217n55, 218n65 ZSMS see Zveza socialistične mladine Slovenije (The Socialist Youth League of Slovenia) Zveza socialistične mladine Slovenije (The Socialist Youth League of Slovenia) 154–5