Bad Blood and Broken Promises

By Kevin Fedarko

When Serbs fired two anti-tank missiles at a United Nations convoy near the Bosnian town of Velika Kladusa last Monday, Ismail Hassain had just closed the hatch on his armored personnel carrier. The blast inflicted such massive injuries to his head that the Bangladeshi peacekeeper immediately lapsed into a deep coma. Serb forces refused permission for Hassain and four of his wounded U.N. comrades to be evacuated by helicopter, so the soldiers were forced to endure an eight-hour road trip to an American medical hospital in Zagreb. Hassain, who never awoke from his coma, died the next morning.

Minutes after the attack, the commander of the Bangladeshi battalion in * Bihac requested an air strike by NATO planes under the standard rules of engagement. Despite the fact that the U.N. Security Council would shortly condemn the assault as "a heinous act of violence," U.N. commanders in Sarajevo refused to pass the request on to NATO. As the Serbs continued to harass U.N. forces, holding peacekeepers hostage and closing down the Sarajevo airport, U.N. commanders did nothing. "The U.N. is never going to fight back," remarked one American official, in an attempt to explain the commanders' conviction that air strikes only encourage the Serbs to intensify attacks on their vulnerable troops. "They are intimidated."

That passive response illustrates the extent to which the U.N. has ceded to the Bosnian Serbs control over the largest peacekeeping mission in the post- cold war world. Their unchallenged aggression in recent weeks has brought the U.N. humanitarian mission in Bihac virtually to a standstill. Through their complex chain of backtracked commitments and broken promises, the Serbs have proved themselves masters at the game of playing one side against another. Late last week, they took the game to a new level by introducing the prospect of having Jimmy Carter engage in another round of freewheeling diplomacy.

Perhaps the most formidable weapon in the arsenal of the Bosnian Serbs is their singleness of purpose compared to the contradictions dividing the Western allies. Those fault lines were evident again last week. Only a few days after France threatened to withdraw its 4,500 peacekeepers from Bosnia, French Defense Minister Francois Leotard argued for a more aggressive stance against the Bosnian Serbs. Military chiefs will gather in the Hague this week to devise ways to strengthen the U.N. presence -- even as their subordinates continue to draft plans for an evacuation.

The French about-face, which was welcomed by the U.S. but received only a cool stare from British Defense Minister Malcolm Rifkind, reflects the schizophrenia at the core of the West's response to the Balkan war. Unable to choose between mounting a more muscular response and calling off the whole show, the allies' simultaneous pursuit of both alternatives leaves them hamstrung. On one hand they fear that a more assertive approach in Bosnia is likely to entangle them more deeply in the war. Yet admitting defeat and pulling out would not only humiliate NATO but also allow the conflict to widen.

While the allies are left feeling whipsawed, the Serbs are only too . delighted to exploit the confusion. This they have achieved by doing everything to handicap the peacekeepers short of actually driving them out. On Dec. 11, Serbs announced a ban on U.N. military escorts of humanitarian convoys, thereby making it almost impossible to supply aid to Sarajevo and eastern Bosnia. They continued to block the Sarajevo airport and prevent deliveries of fuel to the U.N. mission. "The calculated attacks have never been as bad as now," said U.N. spokesman Paul Risley, "and our ability to carry out our peacekeeping mission has never been as crippled."

Into the middle of this confusion waded the master practitioner of nice-guy diplomacy, Jimmy Carter. After representatives of Radovan Karadzic, leader of the Bosnian Serbs, sent emissaries to the former President last Wednesday, Carter called Clinton to let him know that he was considering stepping in as a private citizen. On Saturday, Carter was on a commercial flight to Frankfurt, where a U.S. military plane would take him to Zagreb.

While leery of Karadzic, the White House believes Carter may be useful. Still, there were misgivings that stemmed not only from Carter's reputation for loose-cannon diplomacy and coddling dictators but also from a fear that his good offices would grant the Bosnian Serbs a legitimacy that is so far the only prize the international community has been able to deny them. Administration officials briefed the former President on Bosnia. "He will see all the players rather than be Karadzic's front man," said a senior U.S. official. "Carter sees his role as helping Karadzic out of the corner he's painted himself into. He's quite aware that Karadzic is trying to use him for his own ends. He's quite realistic about this but wants to what he can."

Carter made his journey contingent on Karadzic's fulfilling six self-imposed "concessions" to peace. In fact they were nothing of the kind. The Bosnian Serb leader promised to honor the Sarajevo cease-fire -- an area where there is not much fighting -- and release Muslim prisoners under the age of 19 -- of whom there are almost none. He also promised to release U.N. hostages, permit free movement of U.N. convoys and reopen Sarajevo airport (two U.N. planes landed on Saturday); in other words, undoing actions already deemed illegal by U.N. resolutions. Finally, he pledged to "guarantee human rights," a declaration of Orwellian hypocrisy from a man instrumental in the slaughter of tens of thousands of Bosnians.

On Wednesday evening, Karadzic declared that his points would go into effect within 24 hours. By Saturday, four civilians had been killed by Bosnian Serb snipers in Sarajevo, two American aid workers had been taken hostage by Bosnian Serbs outside Sarajevo, and a helicopter flying to pick up U.N. Commander Lieut. General Michael Rose was struck by Serb gunfire. Said U.N. spokesman Risley: "There is absolutely no change."

With reporting by Bonnie Angelo/New York, J.F.O. McAllister/Washington and Alexandra Stiglmayer/Zagreb