The convoluted plot twists and bravura posturing might seem reminiscent of a comic opera. Certainly the so-called Dniester Republic (pop. 600,000) is among the miniest of ministates, proclaimed by ethnic Russians and Ukrainians seceding from a secession. Its citizens refused to stay in the new nation of Moldova (pop. 4.4 million), a former Soviet republic that broke away from Moscow last August, because the majority ethnic Romanians were making noises about uniting with their brethren across the border.
But in little more than a week the story has turned into a blood-soaked tragedy with ominous international implications. As many as 500 people have been killed in savage fighting between Moldova's Romanians and Slavs, and tens of thousands of refugees have fled across the border into Ukraine. Worse, Russian-controlled units of the former Soviet army have been caught up in the battle. Russian President Boris Yeltsin has warned that Moscow may intervene to protect its soldiers and ethnics. That could set a precedent for further interventions on behalf of 25 million Russians living in the Baltic states, the Central Asian republics and other parts of the old Soviet Union, as some of Yeltsin's nationalist opponents are already demanding. At week's end an international conference in Istanbul arranged a cease-fire, but there is serious doubt it will hold.
What is happening in Moldova is of global concern for another reason too. It is a not at all untypical example of one of the two main trends vying to shape the post-cold war world. One is the move toward uniting once jealous sovereignties in economic groupings that also have political ties, like the 12-nation European Community. The contrasting trend is toward splitting up existing states into smaller ethnic nations, some of which then go on to divide amoeba-like into ever smaller pieces. Moldova conceivably might split in three: the Gagauz, a 150,000-member clan of Turkish Muslims, have proclaimed autonomy and appealed to Turkey for protection.
Of the two trends, the one toward what is usually called self-determination might now be the stronger. All over the world, ethnic movements are demanding and frequently getting their own turf, sometimes though not always complete with flag, army, currency and United Nations seat. The secessionist groups range in size from the 50 million citizens of Ukraine to 30,000 Ainu, descendants of the aboriginal inhabitants of northern Japan. They demand "exclusive possession" of two or three small islands in the southern Kuriles -- also claimed by Moscow and Tokyo -- where they can cluster and preserve their culture.
Not even long-established multiethnic states seem to be immune from breakup. For 74 years Czechoslovakia achieved a mostly peaceful accommodation between Slovaks and Czechs. As recently as 1989 they were solidly united in the "velvet revolution" against communist rule. But now, driven by discontent with their economic lag, the Slovaks have won Czech agreement to effect a "velvet divorce," splitting up peacefully by Sept. 30 into two countries. Both sides are having second thoughts and talking about forming some sort of confederation. But ethnic separatism may be a genie difficult to cram back into the bottle. Says Slovak leader Vladimir Meciar: "We probably will not be able to prevent a breakup."