Workers and revolution in Serbia: From Tito to Miloševic and beyond

By Martin Upchurch and Darko Marinkovic

This book offers a refreshing new analysis of the role of workers both in Tito’s Yugoslavia and in the subsequent Serbian revolution against Miloševic in October 2000. The authors argue that Tito and the Communist leadership of Yugoslavia saw self-management as a modernising project to compete with the West, and as a disciplining tool for workers in the enterprise. The socialist ideals of self-management were subsequently corrupted by Yugoslavia’s turn to the market. The authors then move on to examining the central role of ordinary workers in overthrowing the nationalist regime of Miloševic and present an account which runs contrary to many descriptions of 'labour weakness' in post-Communist states. Organised labour should be studied as a movement in and of itself rather than as a passive object of external forces. Two labour movement waves have emerged under post-Communism, the first an expression of desire for democracy, the second as a collaboration and clientelism. A third wave, against the ravages of neoliberalism, is only just emerging.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Manchester University Press
• Release date: May 16, 2016
• ISBN: 9781526112507

Martin Upchurch

Martin Upchurch is Professor of International Employment Relations at Middlesex University, London

Book preview

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Introduction

Our purpose in writing this book is to record the centrality of the workers’ movement in shaping the past, present and future of Serbia. It was not until 1987 that Slobodan Milošević came to prominence within the Yugoslavian political elite. During that year, Milošević was sent by the League of Communists to help quell rebellious Serbs in Kosovo, but rather than decry any nationalist feelings, he sought to present himself as ‘defender of the Serbs’ in a move calculated to generate a pro-nationalist image for himself within Serbia, and in doing so rose to the pinnacle of power within the League of Communists within Serbia. The path to nationalist war and the break-up of Yugoslavia had begun. However, within this Yugoslav tragedy, we are interested in Serbia in particular for three specific reasons. First, under Tito, Yugoslavia was celebrated by many as something special within the Communist sphere. This special nature derived from its programme of self-management of enterprises developed within the country in the aftermath of the Tito–Stalin split of 1948. Many on the left heralded the experiment as true socialism in the making, a distinct alternative to the authoritarian and bureaucratic nature of the Soviet system. We are therefore interested in reviewing the reality of self-management from the perspective of ordinary workers and assessing the legacy, if any, that it has provided. Second, Serbia was central to the nationalist wars of the 1990s. It suffered the indignity of sanctions and NATO bombardment. How did this then affect the consciousness of the mass of workers? What was the capacity of nationalist ideology in deflecting workers from a focus on combating the employers in everyday class struggle? We find such questions of extreme importance, given that for many of the pre-war years, Yugoslavia had experienced a general upturn in worker combativity, later effectively destroyed by Milošević’s appeal to nationalism, which returned again to dog the regime in the late 1990s. Third, we hope to show that workers’ power, expressed through strikes, demonstrations and blockades, was central to the overthrow of the despised Milošević regime in October 2000. The Revolution of 5 October, as all revolutions do, created its own legends of resistance and triumph. Most notable in the case of Serbia was the charge of the wheel loader on parliament, symbolically giving rise to the tag of the ‘Bulldozer Revolution’. It is this centrality of workers’ resistance, led by the striking miners of Kolubara, that also makes Serbia a worthy case study of transformation. More so than any of the revolutions and uprisings in 1989 against Communism, we find in Serbia that the workers’ movement and collective action was central to events. This leads us to our final question, how have the hopes and aspirations of ordinary people been met within the new Serbia?

The curtain opens

We have to go further back for two decades to begin to understand the struggles which eventually exploded in the Communist world. The central role of ordinary people in expressing their opposition to Communist authority is the key to our understanding. The rise of organised workers and their revolt against the system began with the birth of Polish Solidarnoşc in the early 1980s. The struggle of Solidarnoşc heralded a process of fundamental change, as the Soviet Union and the ‘People’s Democracies’ struggled to find their place in the global economy. Economic struggles combined with political demands. The process of globalisation of the world economy, beginning as a response to declining Western capital profitability in the late 1960s, was inevitably associated with a reformation and restructuring of the international division of labour. Where were the former command economies to situate themselves within this new order? How would the power of Western multinational capital, simultaneously expressed through the international financial institutions (IFIs) and trade organisations, manifest itself within these new market arenas? For Yugoslavia, would a full-scale entry into the global economic order mean a strategy built on capital- or labour-intensive production? Such uncertainties were bound to create instabilities and conflict, which, some decades on, have continued inexplorably not only through the upheavals in Yugoslavia in the 1990s and new millenium but also to the hitherto unpredicted stage of North Africa and the Middle East as the ‘Arab Spring’ began to unfold. The uncertainties are compounded by increases in income inequality, persistence of poverty and, in the aftermath of the 2008 financial crash, a new era of austerity. Such conflict that has arisen, rather than signify the ‘end of history’, might better be described as the ‘revenge of history’ as the repressed and oppressed fight back against their oppressors (Callinicos, 1991). In Serbia, as in both Tunisia and Egypt, as Alexander (2010) graphically illustrates, we find the revolution was also part of a longer process, set within a rising tide of workers’ organisation and disputes. One central feature, of course, in all the upheaval is the common desire of ordinary people for freedom of expression, political democracy, personal liberation and a better future. Yet, in Serbia, we find the October 2000 Revolution has disintegrated into an orgy of private rent-seeking, combined with immiseration of workers’ living standards and an expansion of crime, corruption and the informal economy. In this book, we place much of the blame for these outcomes firmly in the hands of those neo-liberal ‘reformers’ who sought to convince us that their particular path of ‘doing business’ was the best for all. We discern no ‘trickle down’ of wealth, no redistributive impetus for the benefit of society and no sense of societal solidarity. Things have got worse not better for the majority of ordinary people. How then can we learn lessons from this? How can we prevent the spirit, energy and bravery of the people against the tyrants and dictators from being wasted? Last but not least, are such political revolutions for freedom and democracy a mere precursor of more fundamental societal change?

5 October 2000, Belgrade

On 5 October 2000 in Belgrade, the people of Serbia rose up against the rule of Slobodan Milošević and his Socialist Party regime. The parliament building in the centre of the city was stormed by the crowd. Demands for democracy were fuelled by the government’s unwillingness to recognise its defeat in the 24 September presidential election. Hundreds of thousands of people demonstrated in the capital that day, with convoys of trucks and lorries travelling from major towns and cities across Serbia. The largest convoy of 200 lorries, 40 buses and other heavy vehicles came from Čačak and was 20 km long. The convoy was led by its mayor, Velimir Ilić, and smashed through police barricades to reach the centre of Belgrade. When it arrived, the convoy’s members played a leading role in the storming of the federal parliament. The crisis began on 27 September, when the Federal Electoral Commission, against all available evidence, declared that the main opposition candidate, Vojislav Koštunica, had failed to gain 50 per cent of the vote. A second round of elections was called, and in response the Democratic Party called for a general strike on 2 October in protest. Secondary school pupils and students from Otpor! (Resistance) were the first to head for the streets, and momentum soon gathered in their path. ¹ Formed by students in Belgrade University in autumn 1998, Otpor! had undoubtedly shaped the political debate within Serbia, creating, as Gamson (1990: 15) postulates in social movement theory, an ‘injustice frame’ from which mobilisation and resistance could move forward. Their actions included signing petitions, distributing leaflets and organising rallies and workshops, as well as street performance, which were often used to ridicule the regime (Nedadic and Belcevic, 2006). But while Otpor! could mobilise ordinary citizens onto the streets and in the universities, it was clear that the mood for change was also driven from below by ordinary people and workers. Indeed, we argue here that it was the power of workers in halting production and closing down power supplies that was the most crucial element of the revolution’s success. On 29 September, a general strike of 7,500 workers from the Kolubara mine complex began, coal from which produced the majority of Serbia’s energy needs. This was to be a loaded weapon in the hands of the masses.

The workers’ demands were both economic and political, with a call for full recognition of the general election results. The state’s ‘official’ union condemned the strike, but other, newly independent unions agitated in their support. The ruling regime responded by intimidation through court procedures and by sending to the head of the Yugoslav army, General Pavković, to Kolubara to threaten conscription of the striking miners. The miners continued to resist, and workers across the country turned the Kolubara strike into a beacon from which to launch a more fundamental protest. They were soon joined by workers at the oil refinery in Pancevo, while copper workers at Sevojno drew up plans for further strike action. A killer blow was the decision of the 4,500 miners at the Kostolac pit, nearby to Kolubara, who decided to join the strike in solidarity. The regime was thus faced with a spreading general strike, which threatened very quickly to close down Serbia’s power supplies. The crisis peaked on 5 October when Zoran Djindjić of the Democratic Party was emboldened to call for a mass demonstration in Belgrade and for Milošević to step down by 3 pm that day. One poignant moment of this ‘Bulldozer Revolution’ was the charge that day by a construction worker with his wheel loader at the state-owned television building. The building was set on fire and three floors were gutted, while some of the despised journalists and editors were beaten up and thrown out into the street. During the reign of Milošević, the media had remained loyal to the mendacity of the state elite, and the worker’s individual protest symbolised the desire of ordinary people to transform their country after years of war, sanctions, NATO bombing, economic austerity and authoritarian politics. The dramatic nature of the storming of parliament together with the wheel loader charge marked a high point of workers’ frustration. There had been many anti-government demonstrations before, but nothing seemed to change. As the driver of the wheel loader, an unemployed construction worker named Ljubisav (‘Jo’) Djokić explained in a post-revolution interview ‘I have been protesting for ten years. I used to go to all the rallies. I would get beaten, swallow lots of teargas and then come back home without achieving anything… . I thought hard this time and decided that I would be more successful if I took my bulldozer with me… . The police fired bullets at me, I protected myself by raising my bucket. In the end, my bulldozer forced open the door of the state television building and I shouted to the protesters that the TV is free and everyone rushed in’. ² Popular protest against the government had been transformed into a revolution with the aim of regime change and hope for a better future. The mass of working people in Serbia felt that the regime was at its end and were prepared to take the risk of one great push against Milošević without fear of the consequences of failure. The protestors could no longer be ignored or beaten back into submission. When the radio and TV station fell to the masses, pro-democracy journalists and broadcasters took centre stage, while leading officials of the ruling Socialist Party resigned from their position. On 6 October, Milošević appeared on television to admit defeat, and on the following day he resigned. The revolution had succeeded, and a new coalition government was formed under the presidency of Vojislav Koštunica.

What sort of revolution?

The build-up to a revolutionary upheaval is often only evident in hindsight, and the spark which sets off the revolution is unpredictable and more often than not begins as a defensive reaction to a sense of betrayal or aggression by the ruling elite. It is also, as Lenin observed, most likely when the ruling elite are divided amongst themselves over future strategy, in a state of paralysis over what to do next. These ingredients, with the necessary knowledge of hindsight, were certainly evident in the case of Serbia during the year 2000. In July 2000, Milošević amended the Constitution of Yugoslavia to give him six more years as president. In the aftermath of the failure of the civil wars, NATO sanctions and bombardment, this was a test of loyalty from the masses that he assumed he would have no trouble passing. The renewed Constitution included a clause that the president of Yugoslavia, now only Serbia and Montenegro, would be elected directly by the people rather than be appointed by consent from federal units as before. Milošević had carefully secured the support of the Socialist Party and its allies in Serbia and Montenegro for the change and anticipated standing that summer for election to the presidency without effective opposition. Elections were called by Milošević on 27 July, for the Yugoslav Parliament, the local government and the presidency itself. It appeared that he was certain to win; the opposition was weak and he began to step up the pressure on the members of Otpor! by a steady campaign of police harassment and beatings. This was perhaps his first mistake, as he did not anticipate the negative public reaction to the oppression, which, as Bujosević and Radovanović (2003: 3) express, was encapsulated in the phrase ‘If he’s beating children, he must be powerless’. The media was also suppressed as he took over the municipal television and radio operator, Studio B, and prevented the opposition from having access to electronic media. His old Stalinist instincts remained strong, but they clashed with the new everyday expectations of a people emerging from the ravages of nationalist war and anxious for a better future.

The doubts over the honesty and integrity of the ruling regime allowed some political opportunity for the opposition parties to regroup. They were aided and abetted by the Otpor! campaign which had given expression to dissatisfaction with mass leafleting, paint spraying and slogans sung at Red Star Belgrade football matches such as ‘Slobodan kill yourself and save Serbia’ (Bujosević and Radovanović, 2003: 4). In doing so, the campaign developed some ‘cognitive liberation’, which, as McAdam (1982) has argued, is a necessary prerequisite for social mobilisation. The eighteen parties of the Democratic Opposition of Serbia (DOS) rallied around Vojislav Koštunica as presidential candidate, and for the first time, the prospect of defeat for Milošević was apparent. When the election took place on 24 September, the impending deluge of condemnation against Milošević could still not have been predicted. The storm started just three hours after the closure of polling booths when the district court magistrate in Niš handed in his resignation, suspicious that some ballot papers were hidden and that Milošević was about to rig the results. Aware that he had been defeated in the polls, Milošević pulled a last trick, arguing that there was no clear winner and that a run-off was necessary. This was a trick tried once before in 1996, and the mass of people clearly remembered the trickery but this time had developed the confidence to say No! That evening, 20,000 demonstrated in Terazije Square in Belgrade, and the dice had begun to tumble. The centre of the vote rigging appeared to be in Kosovo, where 100,000 extra votes had appeared, with 145,000 being counted contrary to reports from within the Socialist Party that only 45,000 had voted in the province. Of course, the 100,000 were declared for Milošević and his party. In the light of these revelations, and fuelled by demonstrations of public discontent, Koštunica declared that he would not enter a new election, that he had won and that Milošević should resign. Zoran Djindjić, of the Democratic Party, called for a general strike on the following Monday, and the miners of Kolubara were the first to respond to the call.

The ensuing revolutionary uprising was not a spontaneous affair. It was assumed that the main provincial cities of Novi Sad, Čačak and Niš would go over to Kostunica and his allies. The problem would be Belgrade and the seat of real power. Detailed planning went into the construction of a road map which would end with a showdown at the federal parliament on the appointed day of 5 October. The DOS, led by Djindjić and his allies with the support of General Perisić, the former chief of staff of the Yugoslav army and then head of the Movement for a Democratic Serbia, began preparations to mobilise the mass of people in a demonstration outside the federal buildings, while local activists and members of Otpor! gathered their comrades in towns and cities and prepared transport to ferry their supporters for the big day in Belgrade. This would consist of a series of converging convoys designed to scatter police operations and weaken their ability to contain the forces physically. Once the centre of Belgrade was occupied, the second stage of the plan was to defend the occupation from outside attack, and then to complete the final move to enter the parliament buildings, force Milošević to resign and declare a Koštunica-led new government. The convoy plan seemed to work well; the police appeared overstretched in their ability to prevent the large convoys entering Belgrade at its outskirts, and more often than not, with just minor altercation, the convoys swept through the road barriers and on to the city centre.

However, while the DOS and Otpor! succeeded in mobilising the mass of people, the fate of the Kolubara strike was less certain. Milošević clearly understood that while he might be able to withstand a mass demonstration, he could not simultaneously cope with a general strike that had the capacity to switch off the electric lights across the country. What happened at Kolubara, therefore, might well decide his fate. Aware of the danger, Milošević first passed a decree ordering the Serbian power utilities to maintain levels of production necessary to ensure power supplies. Somewhat bizarrely, considering the need of Milošević to keep the miners actually working, police were then sent and dissident miners were thrown out of the pit, and a strike of all miners immediately followed. Supporters then flooded to the pits, including Kostunica, to offer solidarity.