Muslims For Kucinich

Kucinich's article

In my Congressional office, I read the latest reports concerning a recent Executive Order that hands the CIA a black bag in the Balkans for engineering a military coup in Serbia, for interrupting communications, for tampering with bank accounts, freezing assets abroad, and training the Kosovo Liberation Army (KLA) in terrorist tactics, such as how to blow up buildings.

How this is intended to help establish a democracy in Serbia or Kosovo hasn't yet been explained. Nor has the failure to substantially disarm and demilitarize the KLA been explained. Nor has the reverse ethnic cleansing taking place in Kosovo by the KLA while NATO rules the provinces been explained.

But the extracurricular activity is consistent with NATO's policy of the ends justifying the means, of might makes right, of collective guilt, of retribution upon a civilian population.

It was hard to keep up with the war in the Balkans. The sheer velocity of events made analysis or commentary difficult. What was most objectionable one moment was quickly submerged into something else even more objectionable. Headlines became Haiku: Massacres. Ethnic Cleansing. Masses Missing. Peace Agreements. Bombs Dropping. Missiles Flying. Masses of Refugees.

It became like a military sports event with tallies of sorties, bombs dropped, targets hit, damage estimates, casualties running up on a scoreboard where the fourth quarter or the last inning was not in sight.

Once a war begins, individual members of Congress are ill-equipped to manage the pace of events. Congress, like the public, is vulnerable to manipulation by war managers. Part of the story of this war is how the Administration and NATO used events and sentiment to suppress criticism of the war and shroud the multitude of violations of international law.

As the undeclared war moved forward, I wanted to slow things down, like a film editor inspecting the dailies frame by frame, to find where the shoot was going awry, and to do something to make it right. But the time sequences kept changing, a three day war became a seventy-eight day war.

Each new report of Serb attacks on Kosovo tugged at my heart and caused an anger to rise within me. I imagined how I'd feel if it was my family being attacked, my children routed from their homes, my brothers and sisters led to slaughter.

I sent letters and made a series of late night calls from my Washington office and from my home in Cleveland to the State Department and to the White House to ask for action to head off a wider catastrophe.

On January 19, I arrived in the chamber of the House of Representatives, hours before the State of the Union address, to get an aisle seat, hoping to have a chance to say a few words to the President about Kosovo before his speech. In the split second he passed by I urged him not to forget Kosovo. "I won't," he replied, "I am going to say something tonight." In a single sentence he did speak of ending repression, bringing responsible parties to justice, and establishing self-government for the province. On January 30, the North Atlantic Council permitted NATO Secretary General Javier Solana to authorize air strikes against Yugoslavia.

On February 6, talks began in Rambouillet, France. The Administration billed the talks as a promise to arrive at a peaceful resolution. Details that emerged weeks later about Appendix "B" to the agreement--which gave NATO the right to go anywhere in Yugoslavia--mark Rambouillet as the start of the war, not the beginning of a peace. Madeleine Albright issued a series of nonnegotiable demands to ensure that the only solution was to be bombing.

I did not anticipate that the U.S. and NATO, in the name of a humanitarian cause, would undertake the bombing of Serbia and thereby violate the U.N. Charter, the NATO Charter, the Congressional intent in approving the North Atlantic Treaty, the U.S. Constitution, and the War Powers Act. The U.N. Security Council was the proper forum for debating such offensive action. In the 1949 Senate debate on the founding of NATO, Senator Forrest C. Donnell, Republican of Missouri, worried that such an organization could supersede the War Power of the U.S. Congress. Now, U.S. planes were dropping U.S. bombs on Serbia in the name of my country, in the name of NATO, but without the approval of the U.S. Congress.

Suddenly, the United States had a clever new spokesperson, Jamie Shea, from England, who talked cheerfully of damage done, of punishment being meted out, of NATO power and NATO air superiority. When a few members of Congress observed that such action was a violation of the Constitution, Article I, Section 8, we were told our objection was academic, pedantic, and, worse, insensitive to the plight of the Kosovar Albanians.

On my first weekend home after NATO began bombing Serbia, I received a 5:30 a.m. call from an old friend who warned that the bombing could precipitate a wider war. He reminded me that World War I began in the Balkans.

"You've got to listen to me," he insisted. "You've got to understand what we are getting into here."

Yes, I knew, I sleepily replied.

Last year, I stood at the site in Sarajevo where Archduke Ferdinand was assassinated. I rode with SFOR (the International Stabilization Force in Bosnia) through Sarajevo's infamous sniper alley, its shattered bullet-riddled residential areas. I met with Muslim clerical leaders who told me the Dayton Accords were a farce and that future war was inevitable as long as people could not go home and war criminals roamed the region.

In a helicopter ride from Tuzla to Brcko, I saw village after village that had been burned down and blown up by Serb forces. I met with survivors who told stories of disinformation, misinformation, and terror tactics that turned neighbor against neighbor. I listened to the widows, the sisters of the missing and dead of Srebrenica, whose plight I had discussed in debate in the House.

I knew about the region, I said. Last Christmas, I visited Croatia and hoped to see the home in which my grandfather, John Kucinic, was born, in the eastern Slavonian village of Botnoga, not too far from Vukovar, where in 1991 Krajina Serbs herded several hundred wounded soldiers out of a hospital, executed them, and put them in a mass grave. "Gone," said my would-be tour guide. "There is nothing to see. The Serbs destroyed everything in the war. You've got to be careful where you go. There are still a lot of mines."

In Cleveland, I knew Croatian Americans who mortgaged their homes to support the war effort. Some of their family members had been killed.

I knew about the region, I told my friend.

Still, he insisted, "you've got to do something here."

When I finally put down the phone, the urgency in his voice haunted me, stirring my thoughts. A breathtaking image from a Kurosawa movie of a blood-dimmed tide came to mind. My heart began, literally, to hurt. I called my doctor. I went to a specialist, had a cardiogram. My heart still hurt. It hurt until I sat down and began to write about the war, about the illegal bombing, about the risk to innocent civilians, about the danger to world peace.

I strongly objected to the attacks on the Kosovar Albanians. But I believed it was possible to be opposed to Milosevic and also opposed to the bombing. Yet all around me, I could feel the dense illogic of war beginning to grip Washington. It was becoming the Capital of Dichotomized Thinking, split consciousness. Republicans versus Democrats, left versus right thinking, which is the stuff of which wars are made. Of U.S. versus Them: Serbia; of NATO versus Yugoslavia, of NATO interests versus Russian interests. This type of thinking is what makes it possible to defend the human rights of some while depriving others of theirs.

The bombs continued to drop on Serbia and Kosovo, killing innocent civilians and ruining the infrastructure from which must arise a civil society--the only entity that can generate political change.

In those early days of April, as I watched news accounts of the bombing, the flight of refugees, the ongoing atrocities, I knew I had to speak out for peace--not just the absence of war, but peace through mediation, peace through negotiation, peace through thoughtful, reflective thinking.

It required a great degree of concentration. But more than that, it required that I rethink and reinterpret my experience as an American, as a Croatian, as a citizen of the world.

It required the use of spiritual principles described in hymns with lyrics like, "Let there be peace on Earth and let it begin with me," and the prayer of St. Francis: "Make me a channel of your peace."

I knew I had to think peace, speak peace, and act peacefully in my statements about the war. In my desire for the truth, I had to let go of self-righteous judgment and blame-casting. I knew I had to avoid creating war-like debates about the war. This meant avoiding war-like language, avoiding being deliberately provocative so as to defeat dialogue about the war. I also knew I could not look to my left or to my right to see if anyone else was speaking out.

NATO assigned more targets and dropped more bombs. Each new day the words "intensive" seemed to come to dominate reportage of the air attacks. The Orwellian construction of humanitarian bombing gave way to collateral damage, which gave way to accidental NATO bombings.

As the death toll began to mount, I thought of times when I rode trains in Europe and wondered what it would be like to be traveling to work or to visit relatives while, 15,000 feet above, a sophisticated targeting system was locking into the approaching bridge, and suddenly it is as if dozens of people never even existed. And who was taking responsibility for all of this? What was the purpose of any of it? Why did civilians in Serbia and Kosovo have to die in air attacks? Who made that decision?

I thought NATO was a defensive organization. At least that's what its charter said. ?But NATO's war moved along like a giant unconscious force. Soon NATO was prepared to blockade Russian ships in Montenegro's harbor, prompting Vladimir Lukin of the Yabloko party to warn that such an action was "a direct path to nuclear escalation." He didn't have to say it. There were numerous quiet discussions taking place around Washington and across the country of people who were beginning to sense that NATO was out of control. They understood that NATO was moving into that fuzzy circumference of high violence where the possibility of nuclear war, on purpose or by accident, was beginning to be real.

Despite the uncertainties expressed by the Italian and Greek governments and the German Green Party, NATO was clearly out of reach of the democratic process. NATO was not a person, but an "it," a law unto itself. I couldn't call NATO on the phone and object to its policies. I couldn't write NATO a letter and expect a response. I couldn't vote NATO out in the next election. With no accountability, peace was not in sight, only the deepening and widening of the war.

The war ended almost as quickly and crazily as it began. How close we were to the brink of nuclear disaster we'll never know. But I believed then and I still believe that everything was hanging in the balance.

Several factors contributed to the cease-fire: 1) After a heated fight, my colleagues in the House of Representatives voted not to authorize a wider war; 2) the instability of the European Alliance made the governments of several nations politically vulnerable; 3) Milosevic decided it was in his interest to negotiate an end to the war, while his troops still had the capacity to fight. In fact, the solution on the ground in Kosovo was not much different from what Milosevic was willing to give voluntarily in March--autonomy for Kosovo, the withdrawal of all troops (who kept their guns), and the occupation of Kosovo by an international force including Russian troops; 4) the approaching Presidential campaign season meant the war would have been an unwelcome factor in party primaries.

I worked with several members of Congress, building opposition to giving the President war powers authority. The decisive moment was April 28. On that day, the House of Representatives voted, in a test of the War Powers Act, not to give the Administration full authority in the war, including the ability to use ground troops. This single vote may well have been the turning point of the war. The White House and Democratic leaders held a relentless series of meetings to lobby for the war, including small focus groups with members of Congress, caucus meetings, and whip meetings to organize floor counts and check and recheck the vote. They were stunned when the vote ended in a tie, defeating the measure and forcing the Administration to look toward diplomatic channels to end the conflict.

NATO's unbridled escalation of the air war, with its risk of World War III, caused an unlikely coalition of eleven Congressional Representatives, six Republicans, four Democrats (including myself), and one Independent to travel to Vienna, Austria, to meet with leaders of the Russian Duma to try to create a framework for a peace agreement. That Russia was essentially dealt out of a Balkan resolution was made obvious by the U.S. refusal to submit the Kosovo crisis to the U.N. Security Council. As NATO strove to keep its distance from Russia, it became clear that Russia, through its Slavic cultural ties, its Orthodox religious traditions, and its economic relationship, presented a possible opening toward peace.

In Vienna, with State Department representatives in attendance, we met with Vladimir Ryzkov, a leader of the "Nas Dom" party, Vladimir Lukin of Yabloko, and Alexander Shabanov of the Communist Party. While most of the discussions had a respectful tone, we had an exchange about the possibilities of a nuclear confrontation between Russia and the United States.

Lukin, a former Russian ambassador to the United States, was quite direct: "First you spit on us, now you want our help. NATO says it is not at war. But it is bombing Serbia. What if your country brought on a nuclear attack? Your country would disappear. But you would not be at war."

Over two days, we fashioned articles for peace that included stopping the bombing, the withdrawal of Serb forces from Kosovo, the cessation of the military activities of the KLA, the return of all refugees, and an international armed force to administer Kosovo. A business associate of Milosevic was an observer at the talks. He communicated what was going on to Milosevic in a series of phone calls and said that Milosevic was ready to deal. In the report of the meeting, the Russians agreed that ethnic cleansing was, in fact, occurring, despite denials by Milosevic. While the State Department and some Democratic members of Congress condemned the trip as being meddlesome or traitorous, the principles of the Vienna talks found their way into the final peace plan.

Was NATO's bombing of Serbia and Kosovo an appropriate response to the suffering of the Albanians, or did it, in fact, add to their suffering? The bombing didn't stop the Serb atrocities against the Kosovar Albanians. It may have accelerated attacks once the bombing was under way. Worse, the bombing fed into the cycle of vengeance of Serb versus Kosovar versus Serb, which continues today.

The mass graves and other evidence of atrocities against the Kosovars cry out for justice, not retribution. NATO's humanitarian bombing was a compounding violence. The only thing that can keep NATO from being a global vigilante is international law. NATO violated that law in Yugoslavia. Pacifists were right to oppose the atrocities, oppose the bombing, and support the resolution of deadly conflict through the U.N. Security Council.

No one disputes that the massive flight of the refugees was precipitated by the bombing. The bombing didn't cause Serbia to concede. The bombing didn't impose the conditions of Rambouillet.

One of the myths of this war is that it was won by air power. Peace activists ought to demand that Congress appropriate money for a strategic bombing survey. This survey, conducted by an independent, non-defense-related organization, should examine where the bombs fell, as distinct from their intended targets. It would analyze the purpose of the specific bombing campaigns and whether the purpose was accomplished. For instance, NATO bombing was supposed to cripple the Serbian military. A strategic bombing survey would show that nothing of the sort happened.

A classic maneuver for politicians caught in a foreign policy morass is to declare victory and get out. In Kosovo, the President and Secretary of State have declared a NATO victory and are staying. Troops will be there to ensure the KLA has a shot at independence--circumstances that will only bring the people of Kosovo more violence. What did we win? We won more war.

NATO's victory talk only sets the stage for the next war, creates a false sense of security about its power, puts faith in arms instead of negotiation, and covers up the endless series of blunders in the execution of the war.

NATO's adoption of a new strategic concept that would let it go anywhere weakens the United Nations at a time when the U.N. needs to reclaim its role as an international force for peace. We cannot accept such a worldwide NATO strategy as a framework for future peace. Given NATO's account in the Balkans, it is quite likely such policies will induce future wars.

One lesson I learned is that Congress must reclaim its authority to declare war, through legislative action or lawsuit.

Another lesson is that the peace movement must reassert itself. We must build an international network of peace seekers who will provide an effective counterweight to armed interventionism.

Bombing for peace in Kosovo has raised questions about the way our society puts faith in technological fixes as opposed to the human interaction of negotiation and mediation. The more reliant we become on the technology of war, the more we become dehumanized. The United States cannot create understanding between peoples by bombing them into tolerance.

It is said that all Milosevic understands is force. But what we ought to ask is whether force is all we understand. The question is not so much whether or not we intervene to help relieve the suffering of others. The question is whether we can visualize a just and lasting peace through a bomb sight.