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For bone-weary Serbs, though, it was enough that he was gone now. The euphoria of freedom swept across the country. The Serbs had surprised themselves with their own empowerment, earning an exhilaration so strong that no fears about the future could quench it. They filled up the capital again Saturday to see their democratically chosen leader sworn in. In Washington and the capitals of Europe, NATO's leaders rejoiced that their campaign to unhorse the Serb autocrat had been won, promising the new President aid and an end to economic sanctions--even if the fugitive indicted by an international tribunal had yet to be brought to justice. And they put off until tomorrow any worries that Yugoslavia's new leader might prove a distinctly prickly partner.
What happened last week looked inevitable as it unfolded live on TV. But it didn't even look possible two weeks ago. Milosevic unwittingly set his fate in motion last summer when he tampered with the constitution and called an election nine months early to buff up his democratic veneer. Voters didn't like that, but when Serbs went to the polls Sept. 24, even they suspected the country would cement his presidency in place for another four years. And when the opposition declared a runaway victory on Sept. 25, claiming Kostunica had got 52.4%, compared with Milosevic's 38%, the Serb autocrat still looked strong, albeit shaken. He set about rectifying the decision in his usual way, urging the cronies who packed the Federal Election Commission to rig the count. But the tally was so lopsided that even he could not plausibly claim victory outright. He had to concede he had come in second, but he settled for a second round of voting to buy time to cook better results for the runoff.
Imagine the Serbian leader's surprise when the opposition didn't just fold. He had counted on its usual spineless disunity. He didn't realize the uncharismatic Kostunica was the critical ingredient that let Serbs imagine an alternative future. He didn't know how bitterly Serbs blamed him for their blighted lives. The accumulated woes of $45-a-month salaries or no employment at all, four lost wars and untold thousands of lost Yugoslav lives, the NATO bombing that dashed an impoverished economy into visible ruins, the bitter years of sanctions and international opprobrium. Domestic repression and self-serving propaganda had reached critical mass, draining away the last vestiges of his once genuine popularity. "The underlying discontent, up till now only flickering, burst out," says Milan Milosevic, a political analyst at the independent Belgrade weekly Vreme. "Everything needed to make the change possible was suddenly there."
Still, Serbs had been there before. In 1991 they staged massive protests against Milosevic in Belgrade. In 1996 they had voted against his party in municipal elections and went out in the streets to make their choice stick. Milosevic finally conceded but hung on himself until their demonstrations fizzled and their leaders surrendered to his political and financial blandishments. He had always divided and ruled. Why, he blithely wondered, should it be different this time around?