Revolutionary Movements: Otpor in Serbia
author: Free Cascadia!
Otpor (Resistance) was a nonviolent youth movement that lead to democratic revolution in Serbia.
"In the aftermath of NATO airstrikes against Yugoslavia and the Kosovo War, Otpor started a political campaign against the Yugoslav president Slobodan Milošević. This resulted in nationwide police repression against Otpor activists, during which almost 2000 of them were arrested and some of them beaten. During the presidential campaign in September 2000, Otpor launched its "Gotov je" (He's finished) campaign that galvanized Serbian discontent with Milošević and eventually resulted in his defeat. Some students who led Otpor (whose name means "Resistance" in the Serbian language) used Serb translations of Gene Sharp's writings on nonviolent action as a theoretical basis for their campaign."
 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Otpor
"The National Endowment for Democracy, which this fiscal year got $60 million from the U.S. Congress, says it has decided to stop funding a Kyrgyz NGO called Civil Society Against Corruption because of its pronounced opposition bent. The Civil Society, which in 2003 received a $25,000 NED grant, is headed by Tolekan Ismailova, a veteran Kyrgyz human-rights campaigner and opposition activist. Earlier this month, she organized the local translation and distribution of a 1993 revolutionary manual used in Serbia, Ukraine and Georgia. The manual, "From Dictatorship to Democracy," was written by Gene Sharp, a political scientist and senior scholar at the Albert Einstein Institution in Boston. It includes tips on nonviolent resistance -- such as 'display of flags and symbolic colors' -- and civil disobedience."
Ripple Effect: In Putin's Backyard, Democracy Stirs -- With U.S. Help --- Before Kyrgyzstan Elections, Western-Backed Groups Offer Aid to Opposition
--- Mike Stone's Printing Press
http//www.iri.org/pdfs/2-25-05InPutinsBackyard.pdf
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Otpor Home page http://www.otpor.com/
Otpor
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Otpor! (Cyrillic: ОТПОР!, in English: Resistance!) was a pro-democracy youth movement in Serbia which has been widely credited for leading the eventually successful struggle to overthrow Slobodan Milošević in 2000.
It was formed on October 10, 1998 in response to repressive university and media laws introduced earlier that year. In the beginning, Otpor's activities were limited to University of Belgrade.
In the aftermath of NATO airstrikes against Yugoslavia and the Kosovo War, Otpor started a political campaign against the Yugoslav president Slobodan Milošević. This resulted in nationwide police repression against Otpor activists, during which almost 2000 of them were arrested and some of them beaten. During the presidential campaign in September 2000, Otpor launched its "Gotov je" (He's finished) campaign that galvanized Serbian discontent with Milošević and eventually resulted in his defeat. Some students who led Otpor (whose name means "Resistance" in the Serbian language) used Serb translations of Gene Sharp's writings on nonviolent action as a theoretical basis for their campaign.
Otpor became one of the defining symbols of anti-Milosevic struggle and his subsequent overthrow. The easily recognizable clenched fist logo had an empowering visual effect, but it was their youthful exuberance and brave stand in face of persecution that won the most hearts and minds. By aiming their activities at the pool of youth abstinents and other disillusioned voters, Otpor contributed to one of the biggest turnouts ever for the September 24, 2000 federal presidential elections.
Getting the traditional, old-school electorate to abandon Milosevic was another one of the areas where the smear-proof Otpor played a key role. It was one thing for Milosevic's propaganda machine to drag opposition leaders through the mud by calling them spies and traitors, but quite another when they tried the same with young Otpor activists. The tactic backfired, and all the brutal beatings and imprisonments during the summer of 2000 only further cemented the decision to vote against the regime in many voters' minds.
Post-Milošević
In the immediate months following October 5, Otpor members were the darlings of Serbia and international community. The clenched fist logo became the instant seal of approval, popping up just about anywhere imaginable. From people in the public eye (politicians, music performers, actors...) seeking positive attention by wearing Otpor t-shirts over to Partizan basketball club painting Otpor logo in the center circle for their FIBA Suproleague game - the clenched fist was omnipresent. This wide spread popularity inspired some truly bizarre episodes of opportunism as variety of individuals tied to Milosevic's regime sought to now ingratiate themselves with new DOS authorities by praising Otpor and its activities.
Even MTV took notice, handing them a Free Your Mind award at the 2000 MTV Europe Music Awards in Stockholm.
In the midst of all the praise, the movement promised to keep on and monitor corruption. Several new anti-corruption campaigns were started ('Samo vas gledamo', 'Bez anestezije', etc.) but it was clear Otpor experienced problems staying relevant on the transformed political scene of Serbia.
It further didn't help when few prominent activists all but abandoned the movement in pursuit of political and diplomatic careers, substituting black washed-out shirts with designer suits. For example, Srdja Popovic, a man who jokingly referred to himself as Otpor's 'political commissar' was named as DOS MP after December 2000 parliamentary elections, as well as environmental advisor in the Serbian government led by Zoran Djindjic - posts seen by many to be Popovic's revolutionary reward.
Additionally, information started to appear during this time about substantial outside help, both in funds and logistics, that Otpor received leading up to the revolution. A group of junior activists made one trip to Budapest in neighbouring Hungary in June 2000 to attend a lecture by retired US Army Col. Robert Helvey, a colleague of Sharp, who was later portrayed as the creator of Otpor, although the movement had already reached its peak when the lecture took place. Otpor was also recipient of substantial funds from U.S. government affiliated organizations like National Endowment for Democracy (NED), International Republican Institute (IRI), and US Agency for International Development (USAID).
In a November 2000 piece for New York Times Magazine, American journalist Roger Cohen talked to various officials from the above organizations about the extent of American assistance received by Otpor. Paul B. McCarthy from the Washington-based NED said Otpor received the majority of US$3 million spent by NED in Serbia from September 1998 until October 2000. At the same time, McCarthy himself held a series of meetings with Otpor's leaders in Podgorica, as well as Szeged and Budapest.[1]
How much out of the US$25 million, appropriated in the year 2000 by USAID for the purposes of bringing down Milosevic, went to Otpor isn't clear. Donald L. Pressley, the assistant administrator at USAID says several hundred thousand dollars were given to Otpor directly for "demonstration-support material, like T-shirts and stickers".[2] Otpor leaders intimated they also received a lot of covert aid -- a subject on which there was no comment in Washington.
Daniel Calingaert, official with IRI, said Otpor received some of the US$1.8 million his institute spent in Serbia throughout 2000. He also said he met Otpor leaders "7 to 10 times" in Montenegro and Hungary, beginning in October 1999.[3]
All this didn't resonate well with Serbian public. It eroded the widely held view of Otpor as spontaneous, grass-roots people's movement. Suddenly, in public mind, the once unblemished youthful organization had all kinds of asterisks.
Still, the biggest reason for Otpor's lack of success in the post-Milosevic years was their failure to formulate a coherent political program. Railing against Milosevic got them wide praise, but when it came time to channel all that popular support into a clear ideological position - a definite disconnect occurred. In short, it was always clear what Otpor was against, but most of the public had trouble understanding what this movement stood for now that Milosevic was gone.
In late 2003, ahead of the parliamentary elections, Otpor finally transformed into a political party, but the writing had been on the wall for quite some time already. The candidate list of "Otpor—Freedom, Solidarity and Justice" led by Čedomir Čupić did poorly, with only 62,116 votes (1.6% of total vote) in the Serbian parliamentary election, 2003, which left it out of the parliament (census required a minimum of 5%).
It finally merged into the Democratic Party of Boris Tadić in September 2004.
In addition to greatly contributing to Slobodan Milošević's overthrow, Otpor will be remembered for emboldening other similar youth movements around Eastern Europe. This led some observers to label them "revolution exporters".
Lasting legacy
Otpor members were instrumental in inspiring and providing hands-on training to several other civic youth organizations in Eastern Europe and elsewhere, including Kmara in the Republic of Georgia (itself partly responsible for the downfall of Eduard Shevardnadze), Pora in Ukraine (which was part of the Orange Revolution), Zubr in Belarus (opposing the president Alexander Lukashenko), MJAFT! in Albania, Oborona in Russia (opposing the president Vladimir Putin), KelKel in Kyrgyzstan (active in the revolution that brought down the president Askar Akayev), Bolga in Uzbekistan (opposing Islom Karimov), Pulse of Freedom in Lebanon, and Gong in Croatia.
from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Otpor
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Otpor: the youths who booted Milosevic
Christophe Chiclet, French journalist and historian, author of The Macedonian Republic (1999), and Kosovo: the trap (2000), both published in French by L'Harmattan, Paris
It took a generation of 20 year-olds without a manifesto or leader to shake Serbia out of its lethargy. Armed only with slogans and spray paint, they dealt a fatal blow to the dictatorship
Slobo, save Serbia: kill yourself," chanted a band of youth in the streets of Belgrade, Yugoslavia's capital city. Defeated in the presidential election on September 24, 2000, Slobodan Milosevic-Slobo for short-kept clinging to power. On October 5, the dictator fell.
Opposition parties, international pressure and mass demonstrations contributed to Milosevic's doomsday. So did Otpor ("Resistance" in Serb), whose story is unique in the annals of eastern European protest movements. Without leaders or a clear cut political ideology, the group played a decisive role: like a termite colony, Otpor gnawed away at the regime's foundations before the top realized that the whole edifice was rocking.
Founded by a handful of libertarians in October 1998, Otpor counted 4,000 members by the end of 1999, a number that has swelled to 100,000 today. The overwhelming majority can't even remember when the movement was born.
Vague memories of the war's early days
All it takes to meet them is a visit to 49 Knez Mihajlova Street, Belgrade's most stylish pedestrian thoroughfare, where anti-NATO demonstrators sacked the French, British, German and American cultural centres during the March 1999 bombing campaign. Otpor squatted an old, run-down Belgrade university annex there. In this tiny beehive of activity, covered with stencils of the resistance movement's famous black fist and jam-packed with files, leaflets and posters, initiatives were hatched that brought a 13-year-old mafia-ridden political system to its knees.
Sofia, Ana, Milos and Mihaďlo are between 17 and 24 years old. When a western journalist arrives, many of their friends in the office join in the discussion, held in a small, narrow room. Soon the tiny desk is cluttered with cups of Turkish coffee. Everyone serves each other and trades cigarettes in a good-natured atmosphere. The first observation is that all those present come from the same social background. Like most Serbs, their parents get by on $40 to $80 a month, working occasional odd jobs. Their grandparents, who still live in the countryside, send a little food to help out.
It doesn't take long for the conversation to switch to recent history. In 1989, nationalism of all stripes was tearing the Yugoslav federation apart. In June 1991, war broke out in Slovenia, spreading like wildfire to Croatia and, in spring 1992, to Bosnia. The Yugoslav army was made up of draftees, and an entire age group was mobilized. By the end of 1991, Belgrade's youth were in the streets, and the police brutally cracked down on the protests. Otpor's young activists only have vague memories of these events. Barely 10 years old at the time, they were living in a climate of war, deprivation and impoverishment.
On November 17, 1996, Slobodan Milosevic lost the municipal elections and annulled them. Tens of thousands of Serbs took to the streets in Belgrade and other cities. Students, who spearheaded the protests, demanded that the results be recognized. Eventually, after three months, Milosevic made concessions and the movement ran out of steam.
Recruiting the disenchanted
Sofia Jarkovic, 17, is in her penultimate year at a Belgrade high school. She took part in these demonstrations alongside her parents. Their failure made a lasting impression on her, and on March 20, 2000 she joined Otpor, whose sole aim was Milosevic's overthrow. Ana Vuksanovic, 24, who is working on her master's degree in French literature, participated in every day of the 1996-97 protest marches . "The problem was, we had set our sights too low," she says. "We were demanding recognition of the voting results, when in fact we should have been demonstrating for new municipal, legislative and presidential elections, under the supervision of international observers. Like many people, I took this failure hard. That's why I joined Otpor as soon as it was founded two years later."
The movement got off to a quiet start outside Serbia's mainstream opposition. Milosevic had managed to corrupt several opposition municipalities while students had become disgruntled with politicking and established parties. The leaders of the 1996-97 movement went into exile, as many deserters and draft dodgers had done during the 1991-1995 wars. Soon, they were joined by deserters from the Kosovo war (March-June 1999). In less than ten years, several hundred thousand Serbs became expatriates. And most of them were the elite of pro-democratic youth.
The next generation found itself isolated. They had to come up with their own methods of struggle, forge their own experience, and above all, avoid selling out. These teenagers had political acumen, but more than anything else, intuition. And they wanted to stop a regime that was stealing the fire of their youth.
Armed with their impetuousness, they managed to shake their parents and grandparents out of lethargy. Adults started feeling ashamed of their apathy. Rather than stir up revolt in army barracks and corridors, they preferred to convince the people around them. Police manuals had no chapters on how to stifle the awakening of civil society. Meanwhile, Milosevic, shut up in his ivory tower, was incapable of sensing the agitation that was about to sweep him off the stage.
One of Otpor's greatest strengths lay in its absence of hierarchy, a rule of thumb for a movement grounded in joyous anarchy. It's a free-wheeling, anything-goes protest movement. "I showed up at their headquarters on March 20, 2000," recalls Sofia Jarkovic. "I was a little scared. I opened the door and said, 'Hi, my name is Sofia and I want to be an activist.' They handed me a membership form. I filled it out and left. Two weeks later, they called me up, gave me an appointment and I joined." Milos Stankovic, 17, is in his penultimate year at a Belgrade high school and has belonged to Otpor since February, 2000. "I joined Otpor because it was against political parties," he says. "I wanted to help change things, because I couldn't stand seeing people dealing with so many problems in their day-to-day lives anymore." Ana Vuksanovic adds, "What got me excited was that there weren't any leaders, so there was no risk of being betrayed."
Within a year, the movement took root in four Belgrade universities, mostly with first and second-year students. The hard core consisted of three small groups: Democratic Students, the Students' Union and the Students' Federation. Otpor forged relationships with Nezavisnost (Independence), Serbia's only free trade union, as well as with the defence workers' union and the pensioners' organization. There were no ulterior political motives for these choices. It was just that the kids had parents in these organizations. That's vintage Otpor.
Sowing revolt in the family
Milosevic took a harder line after losing Kosovo in June 1999, but graffiti calling for "Resistance until Victory" began flourishing on walls. Slogans were increasingly disrespectful and, therefore, incomprehensible for rank-and-file militiamen and their leaders (see box). Some 100,000 copies of the newsletter Serb Resistance were secretly circulating. During school vacations, university students, joined by many high school and even junior high school students, sowed the seeds of revolt in their families, neighbourhoods and villages. Otpor infiltrated the provinces. The democratic termites were at work.
They scored a major success when they went after the sacrosanct Yugoslav army. Activists held demonstrations in front of military tribunals every time a deserter went on trial. Adults, who had lost so many children on the Croatian and Bosnian fronts, could only be deeply moved. Otpor was changing mentalities. The teens struck a painful nerve, without ever resorting to violence. The police were baffled by this type of protest movement. In one year, they arrested 60 people for spraying graffiti or wearing badges with the black fist, but balked at beating up the kids, who were the same age as their own children.
Sofia took part in her first street demonstrations in April 2000: "One day, a policeman tore off my badge. But he didn't dare arrest me." Ana and her boyfriend, Branko, were expelled from their university dorm rooms for protesting, and her parents were summoned to the police station.
"What got me excited was that there weren't any leaders, so there was no risk of being betrayed."
In July 2000, Milosevic laid the groundwork for a constitutional coup d'état and announced a presidential election for September 24. The divided opposition managed to cobble together an 18-party coalition, the DOS (Democratic Opposition of Serbia). At the first meeting, Otpor representatives solemnly offered their black flag with a white fist. They were not joining, but warning: Otpor will keep an eye on you until the final victory. No more wheeling and dealing.
The Otpor wave had risen. "I wasn't old enough to vote on September 24," says Sofia. "My parents were against Milosevic. My mother, Mira, wanted to vote for the DOS, but my father, Dragan, thought of abstaining. I talked him into voting."
The defeated dictator annulled the election results. The wave swelled, covering the whole country with the same graffiti: "He's finished" and "Slobo, save Serbia: kill yourself!" Provincial opposition municipalities, the DOS, trade unionists and veterans started talking to Otpor.
On October 5, all of them were ready. "That day, I dragged my father to the parliament building at 2:30 in the afternoon," recalls Milos. "I joined Otpor in front of the philosophy department at the university," says Sofia. "We stayed there until three o'clock before converging on the parliament. I was always afraid of the crowd the whole time." Ana adds, "With four boys, I was part of an Otpor group in touch with the DOS. Our job was to call on Belgrade's citizens to come out into the streets. We were among the first wave of protesters who occupied the B92 radio station, which the government had taken over. I couldn't sleep several nights in a row. I was afraid the government would launch a counter-attack."
Otpor could have disbanded on October 6, but, mistrustful of politicians, the movement decided to stay alert and uncompromising until democracy is firmly established. Mihajlo Cvekic, 18, is in his last year at Belgrade's vocational school, where his major is tourism. He became a member of Otpor on October 8 "because of their decisive role on October 5," he explains. "Before then, I didn't dare join because I was afraid of retaliation, but also because of my parents and grandparents, who were hard-core Milosevic supporters. Today, they feel ashamed." The teenagers have quietly instilled democratic aspirations into the minds of family members corrupted by nationalism.
"I'm as mobilized as ever," asserts Sofia. "I don't want to join a party. There's still a need for Otpor. I don't have a sense that any meaningful changes have taken place in everyday life." Ana adds, "I'm not afraid anymore. I've found an apartment, I feel relieved and free. I'm optimistic, but we have to be patient. Anyway, I want to spend my life in Serbia." "So do I," Milos chimes in. "Even though I know there won't be a brighter future for a long time to come."
from http://www.unesco.org/courier/2001_03/uk/droits.htm
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The Kids Who Confronted Milosevic
Pro-democracy protesters have seized Belgrade -- and students from Serbia's Otpor opposition group are leading the charge. Here again is our exclusive multimedia introduction to the kids rocking the regime, which originally ran just before the Serbian presidential election that sparked the revolt.
By Joe Rubin
September 22, 2000
After Yugoslav riot police carted an aging computer, stacks of posters, and every last scrap of paper from the motley Belgrade offices of the country's leading student movement earlier this month, only scattered espresso grounds and a few overflowing ashtrays remained.
Even for Serbia's notorious security forces, the raid seemed excessive. But with national elections just days away, government officials are jittery.
Under normal circumstances, the election results might seem a forgone conclusion. These elections, after all, are being held on the terms of Serbia's poker-faced dictator, Slobodan Milosevic. With a divided opposition, control of the airwaves, a muzzled independent press, and a disillusioned and desperate public living on wages averaging fewer than US$40 per month, Milosevic might appear to be in the catbird seat.
But this time around, Milosevic has a new opponent he can't seem to master: an irreverent, nonviolent, student-led movement called "Otpor" or "Resistance," which prides itself on a leaderless structure and a singular aim of getting rid of a dictator that has spoiled their youth. Otpor has emerged from obscurity to become a powerful national movement with 25,000 activists and 120 chapters across the country. And on the eve of elections that once seemed predestined, Milosevic finds his hold on power may be in genuine peril.
The raid on Otpor's headquarters was just the latest chapter in a widespread government crackdown on opposition groups since April that has included well over a thousand arrests, beatings, restrictions on media, and an unrelenting smear campaign against anti-Milosevic leaders.
A few months ago, election prospects for Milosevic's opponents seemed bleak. After years of low-intensity conflict with Serbia's independent press, Milosevic declared full-scale war on his media foes. On May 3, security forces stormed the two beacons of independent broadcast in Serbia, pulling the plug permanently on Radio B292 and opposition television Studio B. This left Milosevic with complete domination of the airwaves to plead his xenophobic case to the electorate.
Even the façade of an open society has disappeared, according to Duska Anastijevic, a reporter for the Serbian journal of political analysis Vreme. "Milosevic has always wielded repression at home, but in a nuanced way. But we're at the dawn of a naked Latin American-style dictatorship."
Meanwhile opposition parties, as they have done for years in Serbia, seemed to be playing right into Milosevic's hands by bickering and fielding multiple candidates to oppose Milosevic.
None of this has deterred Otpor activists. "Otpor is a new kind of opposition force, and [its] huge popularity in Serbia applied a kind of pressure on the opposition to close ranks," said Saska Rankovic, who covers opposition politics in Belgrade for the independent news service BETA.
"Otpor has a remarkable energy, and most importantly they've stood up to Milosevic in a way that the established opposition never has," Rankovic said. "People on the streets think they're brave. And the opposition is absolutely dependent on them as foot soldiers, especially with independent media being silenced."
Otpor is gearing up for the elections with a get-out-the-vote campaign centered around the mantra: "He's finished! It's time for him to go!"
"We don't tell people who to vote for, just that their vote counts and that we all have to do our part to get rid of this nightmare called Milosevic," says 24-year-old Otpor activist Veckey Petkovic. "Milosevic controls the media, and he has 20 percent of the people in his pocket. The rest of the country hates his guts and knows he is an evil tyrant. It's our job to motivate those 80 percent."
Birth of a movement
How did Otpor evolve from a loose group of fed-up college students to a political force strong enough to make an indicted war criminal nervous?
It was just over a year ago that a handful of students founded Otpor to protest draconian academic laws that were turning Belgrade University into a rubber stamp for the Milosevic way. The group quickly picked up steam on campus and made the leap to national politics.
When I wandered into Otpor's Belgrade headquarters last winter, Otpor had yet to make much of a splash. They were obviously having a hell of a good time mounting a campaign to nonviolently oust Milosevic. And it was a campaign that was gaining momentum. Nearly every inch of wall space was taken up with some form of the group's trademark clenched fist, with which they were blanketing Serbia. More than 10 million fists have been hung, spray-painted, or pasted in public spaces across the country.
On another wall hung life-sized head-to-toe portraits of Milosevic and his powerful and equally despised wife, Mira Marcovic. On the poster, Milosevic's face was obscured with the Otpor fist; his wife was framed in a marksman's target.
A giant homemade wall-sized calendar revealed a growing list of meetings, concerts, and actions in the Serbian hinterlands. Actions often amounted to outlandish political theater. Most skewered Milosevic, and some even took aim at the apathetic citizenry. In one such action, activists took to downtown Belgrade dressed as research scientists. Mockingly, they took to their hands and knees with oversized magnifying glasses in search of microscopic signs of civic engagement among the population.
Sveta Matic, an Otpor member, lives in exile in Budapest since he deserted his Yugoslavian Army unit rather than fight in Kosovo. He explained that humor has played a part in Otpor's fight from the beginning. "Milosevic is many things, but he is definitely not a funny guy. He's stuck in 1386, in a field of black birds with Czar Lazur losing gloriously to the Turks."
"We're a generation that likes to play jokes, to laugh all the time, and that is our secret weapon. We're sick of being defined by a glorious loser. We want to join the rest of the world," Matic said.
For Milosevic's 59th birthday last month, Otpor plastered a blistering card in town squares throughout Serbia. The greeting: "Thank you for the childhood you have taken from us, for the unforgettable war scenes you have given us, for all the crimes you have committed in the name of Serbs, for all the lost battles. ... Thank you for the unforgettable convoys of our brothers, for the sound of air raid sirens, for all the lives lost in vain .... Happy birthday, Mr. President, may you celebrate the next one with your nearest and dearest on a deserved holiday in the Hague," seat of the International war crimes tribunal for the Balkans, which has indicted Milosevic.
Perhaps the most notable incident in Otpor's campaign came when Serbia's most famous actor, Voya Brovic, took a curtain call while wearing an Otpor T-shirt. With his eyes dramatically clenched shut, Brovic raised his fist to the sky. Brovic's initially startled fellow actors followed suit and raised their fists, joining him in an Otpor salute. The audience reportedly gave a 15 minute standing ovation. The following day the Serbian Ministry of Culture abruptly canceled the play, and Brovic has been blacklisted since.
Milosevic cracks down
The government attempted to ignore Otpor for months. Serbia's Minister of Information, Goran Matic, makes a daily habit of denouncing opponents of the regime as spies, terrorists, and enemies of the state. Yet when I interviewed him last winter, Matic made a point of refusing to even mention Otpor's name.
"They may ignore us now, but as we become stronger, they will become more nervous and I think we will have a serious crackdown," said Ivan Marovic, one of Otpor's most colorful young leaders.
Marovic's statement proved prophetic. By January, the regime had dropped its unstated policy of ignoring Otpor and launched a full-scale crackdown in April. Marovic himself has now been arrested six times.
A report on an Otpor demonstration led off a state-sponsored newscast on New Year's Eve. This time, Matic blasted Otpor, calling it a "fascist" and "terrorist organization" funded by the CIA and British and French intelligence. Otpor had gone from a nonentity to public enemy number one.
"Calling the Otpor activists terrorists is of course absurd," said Bogdan Ivanisevic, who tracks human rights violations in the former Yugoslavia for Human Rights Watch. "Otpor has shown no signs of being anything but a homegrown, nonviolent movement. But that kind of rhetoric laid the ground for legal pretext to crack down on Otpor's political activities. Serb authorities essentially made Otpor illegal."
The simple act of wearing an Otpor logo has become risky, with dozens of Otpor supporters arrested for displaying the now-famous fist. Most arrested activists are released after a few hours of fruitless interrogation aimed at cracking Otpor's leaderless structure. But Human Rights Watch reports increasing accounts of beatings, and several activists are languishing in prison on bogus but serious charges, including attempted murder.
If anything, Milosevic's rough treatment of Otpor has elevated the group to folk hero status in Serbia. Opposition politicians clamor to don Otpor T-shirts. There are now several chapters of "Mothers and Grandmothers for Otpor." At least a dozen Otpor moms have been arrested alongside their kids.
'Tense situation'
Even with some clear momentum for the opposition, and a solid lead in the polls, an orderly transition to democracy in Serbia is not likely. Serbian elections are, after all, being held behind a kind of iron curtain with few international election monitors or journalists present.
"It's a tense situation," says Human Rights Watch's Bogdanavic. "Milosevic is extremely unpopular within Serbia. But the trouble is he can't afford to go. The Hague has indicted him for international crimes. So, unfortunately, at this point anything is possible."
For its part, Otpor promises to lead massive street demonstrations if Milosevic tries to steal the elections. But some activists express worry that Milosevic will become even more dangerous as he clings to the edge.
"I talk with many of my friends about what Milosevic will do," Otpor's Petkovic said. "A lot of us worry that after all this ethnic cleansing, he's preparing the ground for 'youth cleansing.' But of course we rarely think like that. We remain the most optimistic people in Serbia."
from link to www.motherjones.com
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homepage: http://www.hermanos.org/nonviolence/dictodem.html
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