In London, Mostly Talk

Poor Sarajevo. It may not survive many more peace talks. Every time an international conference declares a cease-fire or debates a plan to save the battered city, fighting seems to get worse. So it was last week at the start of a 30-country London conference on the crisis. As the participants arrived at the Queen Elizabeth II Conference Center, Serbian irregulars subjected the half-ruined Bosnian capital to one of its worst poundings since the siege began more than five months ago. Shells and rockets slammed into the city from hillside emplacements, killing more than a dozen townsfolk and damaging elegant buildings.

The bombardment appeared to be in defiance of the London conference, where participants condemned Serbian violence and threatened tougher sanctions (though they stopped short of advocating military action). "No trade. No aid. No international recognition or role," warned British Prime Minister John Major. Acting U.S. Secretary of State Lawrence Eagleburger said Serbia must make peace or pay "what we will ensure is an unacceptable price for aggression." The warnings brought at least lip service from the Serbs. They promised to open all prison camps and return about a fifth of the 70% of Bosnia-Herzegovina they have seized.

But the Balkan war has produced as many broken promises as broken bodies. Though the warring parties agreed to begin new talks next week in Geneva, some of those closest to the crisis are giving up hope. Britain's Lord Carrington, the European Community negotiator, resigned after a year of fruitless labor -- including more than 30 cease-fires, all broken. And George D. Kenney, a career diplomat who heads the State Department's Yugoslavia desk, resigned to protest America's failure to act decisively against Serbian "genocide." The London conference, he said, was "a charade."