Professional Documents
Culture Documents
PERRITT
eastern european history / political science
T
of the Kosovo Liberation Army. His book is sure to be the he military intervention by NATO in Kosovo
from war to peace.
definitive source on the KLA and its role for researchers was portrayed in American media as a neces-
and policy makers.” sary step to prevent the Serbian armed forces
—Michael Peters, President, St. John’s College, Santa Fe from repeating the ethnic cleansing that had so
deeply damaged the former Yugoslavia. Serbia
Henry H. Perritt Jr. is a professor of law and trained its military on Kosovo because of an on-
director of the graduate program in financial going armed struggle by ethnic Albanians to wrest
services law at the Chicago-Kent College of Law. independence from Serbia. Warfare in the Balkans
He is the author of numerous law review articles seemed to threaten the stability of Europe, as well
and books on international relations and law, as the peace and security of Kosovars, and yet
university of illinois press
of an insurgency
the inside story
technology and law, and employment law. armed resistance seemed to offer the only pos-
Urbana and Chicago sibility of future stability. Leading the struggle
www.press.uillinois.edu against Serbia was the Kosovo Liberation Army,
also known as the KLA.
ILLINOIS
Henry H. Perritt Jr.
kosovo
liberation army
Kosovo
Liberation Army
Acknowledgments ix
Introduction 1
6. Financing 88
7. Training 100
8. Supplying 110
Notes 195
Bibliography 207
Index 211
S E R B I A
Podujevë
Mitrovica
MONTENEGRO
LLAP
DRENIC A Prishtina
Peja
Decani KO S O V O
D U K AG I N I
Junik Malisheva
Prizren
Kukes
Tetovo Skopje
HUNGARY
SLOVENIA
ROMANIA
ALBANIA CROATIA VOJVODINA
Belgrade
BOSNIA
MACEDONIA SERBIA
MONT.
BULG.
0 10 20 mi
ˆ
0 10 20 30 km ITALY Area of
main map F.Y.R.O.M.
0 30 60 mi ALB.
0 50 100 km GREECE
The first time I was in Kosovo, during the cease fire in De-
cember 1998—or more accurately, as the cease fire was breaking down—I
asked our UN High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) hosts if they
could take me to see the Kosovo Liberation Army. After some hemming
and hawing, the mission chief of the UNHCR in Prishtina requisitioned
a bulletproof SUV and persuaded a driver to take us to Malisheva. Ev-
erywhere we went, on paved roads and on dirt roads so rutted they were
almost impassable, we saw burned out police stations and houses that
had been shelled by Serb armor. It was a wasteland. Once or twice, we
saw clusters of men in civilian clothes, with pieces of uniform among
them, manning checkpoints. Only once did we see a true civilian, an
old man walking slowly out from his house through the mud, carrying
a rusted and dented bucket. Where were all the other people? They were
somewhere, out of sight, watching and waiting. Our driver was nervous
as a cat, eager to get back to Prishtina. I wanted to stay longer.
The Kosovo Liberation Army (KLA; Albanian, UÇK) was one of the
most successful insurgencies of the post–cold war period, although it
engaged in a relatively short period of widespread armed conflict. It il-
lustrated the twentieth-century apogee of “Fourth Generation War” or
“4GW,” a term that signifies the integration of political and military
aspects of warfare. Guerrilla attacks are a means not only of holding ter-
ritory or destroying foreign forces, but of moving the hearts and minds
of those among whom the guerrillas operate, within the populations of
foreign states whose policies could make or break the resistance, and of
the fighters themselves.
In many respects, the development of the KLA followed the pattern
of other insurgencies around the world. It flourished only when it had
broad popular support, while its activities helped to build that support.
It recruited fighters and less-active supporters in proportion to grow-
ing oppression by the regime it opposed, repression stimulated by KLA
tactics. Continued existence of the KLA depended on the execution of a
sophisticated public relations strategy aimed not only at the local popu-
lation but also at the international community. It depended on financial
support from outside, and on a reliable flow of appropriate arms.
Unlike other insurgencies, however, the KLA made relatively little
use of terrorist attacks on civilian targets. It also won relatively few
battles against opposing military forces. Its evolution into a full-fledged
guerrilla force engaged in a war of attrition was interrupted by its suc-
cess in the political arena. Although the KLA insurgency took place in
a region where the population was predominantly Muslim, it rebuffed
offers of aid from Islamic fundamentalists.
This book tells the story of the KLA mostly through the voices of
those who organized, led, and fought in it, and through the voices of its
critics. It then positions elements of this story on a template shaped by
theoretical and empirical knowledge about other insurgencies, concluding
that the KLA experience illuminates general characteristics of insurgen-
cies. The KLA was an exemplar of 4GW concepts, and its story reinforces
well-understood precepts about insurgency developed in the late twen-
tieth and early twenty-first centuries. Insurgencies flourish only when
they have support from the civilian population in which they operate;
they are most often fueled by nationalism—a product of the nineteenth
century; and they are most successful when they oppose regimes that
can be characterized as foreign occupiers. They can effectively oppose
The war ended for most of Europe in June 1945 but went on in the
Balkans for another three years until the Communist forces, led by Jo-
sip Broz (Tito) and Enver Hoxha, came out on top. Tito consolidated his
territories into a state called “Yugoslavia,” “the union of the southern
Slavs,” while Hoxha kept the state of Albania. Tito divided Yugoslavia
into six separate republics: Slovenia, Croatia, Bosnia, Serbia, Montene-
gro, and Macedonia. Serbia, by far the largest, was further divided into
three parts: a central region and two provinces. These two provinces
were geographically and ethnically distinct from each other and from the
central region. Vojvodina, the northern and larger province, was made
up of a mixture of Serbs, Hungarians, and other ethnic groups while Ko-
sovo, to the south, was populated mostly by ethnic Albanians but had a
significant Serb minority. As a province within a republic, Kosovo had
less autonomy than if it had been a republic on its own.
The Kosovar Albanians, already feeling betrayed by Kosovo’s incorpo-
ration into Serbia rather than Albania after the collapse of the Ottoman
Empire, had tasted the flavor of a unified Albanian “state” during the
wartime Italian occupation. Now they had been betrayed again, despite
Tito’s promise toward the end of the war that they could decide through a
referendum whether they wanted to be part of Albania or Yugoslavia. The
very name “Yugoslavia” caused Kosovar Albanians to bristle. As noted
above, “Yugoslavia” translates roughly as “union of the southern Slavs.”
The dominant populations of the six Yugoslav republics were Slavs—Slo-
venes, Croats, most Macedonians, Bosniaks, and Serbs, all of whom could
point to Slavic ancestors and spoke Slavic languages at home. Albanians
were not Slavs, and those in Kosovo saw no reason they should be forced
to be part of Yugoslavia rather than of the independent state of Albania
next door. Moreover, they spoke Albanian—a completely different lan-
guage from the Serbo-Croatian used in most of the rest of Yugoslavia.
The KLA story can be told chronologically or thematically. The fol-
lowing paragraphs provide a chronological summary. The rest of the book
takes a thematic approach. Five time periods bracket the major develop-
ments.
troops suppressed a revolt by the same young Albanian fighters who had
helped the Partisans drive Axis forces from Kosovo. In February 1945,
Tito declared martial law in Kosovo. Thereafter, Serb authorities pro-
hibited the display of Albanian flags and other nationalist symbols, and
treated teaching of Albanian history and literature as a deviation from
Communist doctrine. Serbs held all of the main Communist Party and
government offices in Kosovo. Hoxha’s alignment with Stalin against
Tito only fueled Serb suspicions that Albanians in Kosovo were a secu-
rity threat. From 1947 to his downfall in 1966, Serbian Minister of the
Interior Aleksandar Rankovic oversaw ruthless Serb security forces in
Kosovo, confiscated Albanian weapons, and pressed Albanians to emi-
grate. Both Rankovic’s removal from office in 1966 and Tito’s 1968 offer
of more opportunities to Kosovar Albanians gave breathing space at last
to Albanian nationalism, which, paradoxically, led to widespread riots
in 1968 supporting incorporation of Kosovo and Albanian areas of Mace-
donia either into Albania or into a new Albanian republic in Yugoslavia.
Tito responded with half a loaf: establishment of an Albanian-language
university in Prishtina in 1969 and greater political autonomy to Koso-
vars under a new constitution adopted in 1974. Things were calm on
the surface, but Kosovo continued to slip behind the rest of Yugoslavia
economically, and Serb-Albanian tensions grew as Kosovar Albanians
demanded greater political opportunity and Kosovar Serbs resisted it.
In 1981, a few months after Tito’s death, massive demonstrations
started at the University of Prishtina and rapidly spread throughout Ko-
sovo. Order was restored, but scores of Albanians were killed and thou-
sands more were arrested, often for little more than passing out literature.
Others, predominantly young men who managed to avoid arrest, fled
mostly to Switzerland or Germany to escape repression and seek better
lives. As the numbers of exiles grew throughout the 1980s, leaders of
several clandestine organizations worked to reawaken and intensify their
sense of Albanian nationalism.
13
demographic phenomena beyond the control of the KLA that shaped both
attitudes within Kosovo and attitudes of the world toward Kosovo.
Two of these phenomena—Great-Power geopolitical adjustment and
Albanian nationalism—were at work long before 1995. Three others—
the dissolution of the Warsaw Pact, international sensitivity to Slobo-
dan Milosevic’s human rights violations, and an astutely led, awakened
youth—intersected in the late 1980s and early 1990s to set the stage for
an armed revolt in Kosovo. The KLA might have been successful anyway,
but it would have taken ten or twenty years, and Kosovo might have had
an experience similar to that suffered by Northern Ireland or Lebanon. Its
quick success was fortuitous. The phenomena making early success pos-
sible were not simple in their composition, and their interaction surely
was not. Some of the phenomena had been at work for centuries or de-
cades; some were like shooting stars.
the flame for so long. But the images of Rugova also are the images of a
slight, enigmatic man, with his strange silk scarf, standing outside the
fence at Dayton Air Force base, looking in and largely ignored by Rich-
ard Holbrooke and Slobodan Milosevic as they negotiated an end to the
war in Bosnia and turned a blind eye to Kosovo. They include images of
Rugova pleading with student leaders to call off student demonstrations
lest they annoy the Serbs.
One image depicts Rugova sitting in a booth in a coffee shop during
a break at the Fifth Anniversary of the Dayton Accords, talking to the
author of this book in quiet, courteous English, smoking cigarettes, drink-
ing coffee, and arguing against any political initiatives until independence
had been achieved for Kosovo, and explaining how Kosovo needed only
one political party—his.
These images of Rugova wore thin after Dayton. It is very difficult
for many Kosovars to forget arguments broadcast and printed by Rugova’s
media and press outlets denying the existence of the KLA and describing
its members as a motley collection of bandits and archaic Marxists. When
KLA activity could no longer be dismissed so easily, Rugova insisted that
the KLA fighters and martyrs were Serb secret police and collaborators
in disguise, trying to draw innocent Kosovar Albanians into a trap that
would be sprung, extinguishing all that he had worked for. He ultimately
organized a competing army—the Armed Forces of the Republic of Ko-
sovo (FARK).
The other prominent face of the Peaceful Path Institutionalists was
Bujar Bukoshi. A urologist by training, he served as prime minister of the
Kosovar Albanian Government in Exile, operating initially from Croa-
tia and then from Germany. Charismatic in a more conventional way
than Rugova, his sparkling blue eyes, physical energy, and shock of well-
groomed white hair quickly charm new acquaintances. As talk begins, he
impresses them with his brilliant intelligence and penetrating analysis.
He has an infectious sense of humor, with which he can skewer oppo-
nents through memorable turns of phrase. Far less passive than Rugova,
Bukoshi recognized early that some form of armed resistance to the Serb
presence in Kosovo would be necessary to attract the attention of the
international community and keep pressure on diplomacy. Even before
the KLA was formed, he collaborated with the Planners in Exile and the
Defenders at Home to implement a guerrilla training program in camps in
Albania. Indeed, after Dayton, Bukoshi publicly broke with Rugova over
Rugova’s passivity. Rugova and Bukoshi understood the peaceful path
differently. There was merit in passive resistance, Bukoshi thought, but
there had to be some resistance, and it could not be merely passive.
theless, they understood that they could not win the fight alone. They
needed the Planners in Exile—Thaçi and Haliti—to get money and arms,
and to build support in the international community.
Ramush Haradinaj and Rrustem Mustafa (Commander Remi) exem-
plify the Defenders at Home, though both came to prominence as leaders
of the group relatively late, only after others had fallen to Serb annihilation
efforts. Haradinaj looks like a tough street fighter but has charisma of the
Bill Clinton variety. He charms everyone—important or not, young and
old—with his friendly acceptance and genuine interest in whomever he
is talking to. Right after the war, young Kosovar Afrim Ademi, who went
to meet Ramush, found himself much in awe. Haradinaj “bounded down
the stairs, dressed in blue jeans, his arms full of folders and papers. When
he saw me, he stopped. ‘I am Ramush Haradinaj,’ he said. He was much,
much smaller than I expected. I had thought he must be a giant. Within
a few days of working for him, I decided that I would give him my life.”
Quick to answer, quick to make a joke, and quick to understand,
Haradinaj is more a man of action than a man of reflection, plans, and
strategy. When asked about the connection between grand strategy and
the KLA’s early initiatives, he says repeatedly, “We had no choice. It
would be good if we had international intervention in our favor, but we
were not going to wait for anyone else. We had to answer [the Serb forces
attacking our homesteads].” The Haradinaj family had long opposed the
Serb domination in Kosovo: Ramush’s uncle had known and worked
with Jusuf Gërvalla in the 1970s and early 1980s, and Ramush and his
brothers recognized that only force could make Kosovo independent.
As the commander of the KLA’s Dukagjini Zone, Haradinaj concen-
trated on military activities, while grudgingly respecting political leader-
ship by Thaçi and others. He washed dishes, dug latrines, fired weapons,
and commanded his troops in more traditional ways. He embraced his
young fighters, making them feel important and helping them shape their
roles in the fight. After the war, Haradinaj accepted the prime minister’s
post in a coalition government with the LDK, even though his party held
only eight seats out of 120 in the assembly. Haradinaj was indicted by
the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia (ICTY)
in 2005, and immediately resigned the prime minister’s office and sur-
rendered to the ICTY.
Rrustem Mustafa, usually known as “Commander Remi,” is smaller
than one might expect for the commander of the Llap Valley Zone of the
KLA. He stands about five-foot-nine and weighs 160 to 170 pounds. His
face more lined than that of most forty-year-olds, Commander Remi has
piercing, intelligent eyes, and a big smile that he flashes with increasing
frequency as he warms up to a new acquaintance. Remi’s charisma is
manifest, though he is quieter in movement and speech than Ramush.
He fixes your gaze in his blue eyes and stops smiling while you are talk-
ing to him, pulling meaning out of you quickly. Otherwise relaxed and
affectionate, his smile and pat on the back make you feel that you and
he are buddies, though it is hard to ignore the intense seriousness that
comes when he is listening. His short stature is soon forgotten, as one
is drawn in to his careful assessment of how best to organize and deploy
outgunned and outnumbered but committed fighting forces. Remi learned
military tactics by watching American movies about the Marine Corps
and worked secretly with early resistance fighter Zahir Pajaziti north
of Prishtina, even while he was head of the LDK youth group in Podu-
jevë and, thus, nominally part of the Peaceful Path Institutionalists. In
2003, international judges in Kosovo sentenced him to seventeen years
in prison for activities conducted by forces in his area before and after
the war. His conviction was reversed on appeal in 2005 by another panel
of international judges in Kosovo.
Where Haradinaj was impulsive, Remi was deliberate. Alone among
the major figures in the KLA, Remi had administrative experience. He
thought and functioned as a good military manager should, delegating
pursuant to clear policies, and organizing a training academy and fi-
nancial networks of his own. Haradinaj’s methods enabled him to start
fighting sooner—indeed, the Serb focus on his location near the arms
smuggling routes near the Albanian border forced him to fight sooner.
Remi’s emphasis on preparation delayed hostilities and sometimes frus-
trated Ramush. But Remi was more willing than were any of the other
commanders both to recruit skilled, experienced subordinates and to
delegate responsibility to them. His was no do-it-yourself operation,
though Remi himself led groups of thirty to forty soldiers, walking to
Albania and back to fetch weapons.
The affection between Remi and his soldiers is still tangible. Six years
after the end of the war, one young soldier who worships Remi accom-
panied the author of this book to visit him in the Dubrava prison. Both
at the beginning and, more extensively, at the end of the meeting, Remi
leaned through the opening in the barrier, grasped the young soldier’s
neck with one hand and affectionately slapped his face, all the while
smiling and expressing his gratitude in seeing him. The young soldier
was aglow for an hour afterward.
the Ottoman Empire. Skenderbeg died in 1468, some thirty years before
Christopher Columbus “discovered” America.
Folk music fueled nationalism. After the Second World War, illit-
eracy was the norm in Kosovo, especially in the villages. Deprived of
formal education in their own language for generations, Albanians used
music. At weddings and at celebrations of the end of the harvest and
when someone slaughtered a cow or a sheep during the winter, half the
village would gather. As Besim Beqaj explained, each gathering started
with music.
Each village had two or three men who could play the Çiftelia (a two-
string plucked instrument) a Lahuta (a single-stringed instrument, played
with a bow) or Sharkia (a six-string instrument resembling a mandolin)
or, in the mountains, a short flute with six holes. Others could play the
drums—the kind you beat with sticks on both ends—or the bagpipes,
or a 14–inch tambourine. They were the village music-makers. They
couldn’t read music; they just had a talent. They could hear a song and
then it would go into their heads, and they could play it and sing.
This tradition continued into the 1990s. As people gathered, some-
one would say, “Play us a song about Adem Jashari,” or “Play us a song
about Luan Haradinaj,” and they would make it up on the spot, with
lyrics that awakened our dreams of winning our freedom and becoming
a nation once again. When they started playing, all talking stopped, and
everyone was lost in the music. Usually, there would be a guest or two
from another village who liked a song. He would say, “Can you come
play for me next month?” And thus the music and its dreams spread
through the people.
This had been going on for hundreds of years. The Rilindja period in Al-
banian literature, which began in the 1870s and was led by poet Naim
Frashëri, urged ethnic Albanians to overcome religious differences in
the interest of fostering a “national” consciousness. Many of Frashëri’s
poems were sung as folk songs.4 Folk “minstrels” are the protagonists
in Albanian writer Ismail Kadare’s famous novels Elegy for Kosovo and
File on H, which link traditional Albanian folk music of the fourteenth
century to modern events. Rugova, Bukoshi, Thaçi, Haliti, Haradinaj, and
Remi grew up with this music and these nationalist yearnings.
And nationalism had breathing space in Kosovo for a time. Following
a particularly vicious repression of Kosovar Albanians by Serb governor
and Tito intimate Aleksandar Rankovic, after which Rankovic was de-
posed in a 1966 power struggle with Tito, Tito made an effort to address
Kosovar Albanian grievances and rewrote the Yugoslav constitution in
1974, granting the province of Kosovo autonomy similar to that enjoyed
25
Mobilizing Ideology
An insurgency’s political leadership must articulate a cause or ideology in
terms that attract sympathy from enough different groups to constitute
a successful coalition.5 An ideological appeal avoids the need for leaders
of an insurgency to articulate a precise program. Ideological commit-
ment increases the spirit of defiance and the value of agency. Ideological
motivations for supporting insurgency are unaffected by the probabil-
ity of success or failure. The KLA had three ideologies with which to
work: Marxism-Leninism, Albanian nationalism, and Islam. Nationalism
eclipsed the other two.
The Peaceful Path Institutionalists, the Planners in Exile, and the
Defenders at Home all had roots in Marxism-Leninism. Both Yugoslavia
and Albania were, after all, socialist states until the end of the 1980s. The
Planners in Exile emerged from the Popular League for the Republic of
Kosovo (LPRK), which changed its name to Popular League for Kosovo
(LPK) in the early 1990s, associated with a handful of Marxist-Leninist
Albanian nationalists in Germany and Switzerland. The Peaceful Path
Institutionalists were anchored by the Democratic League of Kosovo
(LDK), Kosovo’s dominant political party, which had emerged as Kosovar
Albanians seceded from the Communist Party of Yugoslavia in 1991.
The Defenders at Home were more eclectic: some tilted toward the LPK;
others left the LDK in frustration at its passivity. But they also had been
brought up as communists.
The Planners in Exile understood that they needed to shed the Marx-
ist-Leninist label associated with the LPRK/LPK. What once had appeared
to be an empowering ideology was now an embarrassment. The early
identification of the LPRK with Hoxha and Marxism-Leninism limited
popular support for the militants among Kosovar Albanians, especially
after 1989. The iron curtain had fallen. The Soviet Union had collapsed.
Tito was dead. Everyone in eastern Europe was rushing to embrace mar-
ket economics. Marxist-Leninist leanings seemed quaint, for “as Serb
response to student demonstrations became more brutal in the 1980s, the
general reaction was, ‘Those are only Enver Hoxha’s kids getting killed,
barking for Communism.’ The association of those advocating militant
resistance with Hoxha’s brand of Marxism-Leninism represented a sig-
nificant barrier to broad popular support.”6 By the mid-1990s, no Koso-
var in his right mind thought Marxism-Leninism would be an effective
ideological pillar of resistance in Kosovo. An important motivation for
establishing the KLA as an organization separate from the LPK, and with
a different name, was to avoid the Marxist-Leninist label.
Religion, of course, is a powerful ideology in many contexts.7 But it
played little role in building popular support for the KLA. Islamic funda-
mentalism had played a significant, albeit not a dominant, role in mobiliz-
ing Bosniaks (Bosnian Muslims). Indeed Alia Izebegovic, the president of
Bosnia, wrote a number of Islamic-oriented tracts while in prison. Obvi-
ously, in Afghanistan and elsewhere, Islamic fundamentalism has been a
powerful ideological theme for Muslim insurgents. But this did not happen
in Kosovo. Islam had less psychological pull in Kosovo than Catholicism
did in Ireland. Kosovar Albanians were Albanian before they were Muslim.
To the Irish, being Irish and being Catholic were inseparable.
Kosovar Albanians have historically been quite secular, for they nour-
ished nationalist aspirations against fellow Muslims in the Ottoman Em-
pire. Ten to 20 percent of Kosovar Albanians are Catholic. The Albanian
cultural identity is sufficiently strong that the apparently foreign ideas
of Islamic fundamentalists from Saudi Arabia and elsewhere achieved
little resonance when they came to Kosovo in relatively small numbers
to infiltrate the KLA and its predecessors. Moreover, the organizers of
the KLA understood that embrace of Islam would seriously undercut
international support for the insurgency in Kosovo.
The ideology of the KLA was almost exclusively the ideology of
Albanian nationalism: Emphasis on Albanian ethnicity, culture, and na-
The greatest challenge for organizers of the KLA and its predecessors was
to create a “consciousness of potentiality.” This is what Ramush Haradi-
naj meant in saying, “We had to show that it was possible to answer.”
The KLA had to persuade the population that armed revolt would
not simply be crushed, thus achieving little and exposing not only the
actual fighters but also the civilian population to an increased risk of
repression. Before the Yugoslav Army withdrew from Slovenia in 1991,
thus allowing Slovenia to become independent, Yugoslav forces were
generally viewed as almost invincible even against Western or Soviet
military force. Though the withdrawal from Slovenia may have seeded
doubt about that proposition, the long and brutal course of the war in
Croatia and Bosnia gave no reason to believe that a small and poorly or-
ganized Kosovar Albanian force could achieve success against Serb forces
without enormous bloodshed.
The KLA organizers not only had to overcome the perception that de-
feat was certain. They also had to persuade the mass of Kosovar Albanians
that the KLA was the right agency to lead rebellion, that the potential for
the KLA and its predecessors was greater than that for Ibrahim Rugova’s
passive resistance. Such an effort to change public opinion among Koso-
var Albanians manifestly did not succeed in the first half of the 1990s.
One reason was that the KLA was nearly invisible. As the author was
told confidentially, “KLA was very clandestine. It was not necessary to
be ‘public’ in the way that term came to mean later. KLA very carefully
targeted particular uniformed police military and Serb security agents.
Everyone knew who these were. When they were eliminated, the people
applauded and began to understand that successful armed resistance was
possible.” The Planners in Exile and the Defenders at Home believed that
actual armed resistance was the most potent symbol of potential suc-
cess. The 1997 collapse of the Albanian government after mass protest
strengthened the argument and helped energize the Kosovar Albanians.
They thought, “If they can do it, so can we.” The collapse of the Albanian
regime also relieved constraints on the KLA’s ability to demonstrate po-
tentiality through action, because it made arms more readily available.
to separate the Albanian political class from Rugova; it also had to sepa-
rate the people from Rugova’s elite. The LDK engaged in no atrocities
that would repel these elites. Yet it was possible to persuade increasing
numbers of these elites that continued pursuit of the Rugova policy of
passive resistance was hopeless.
Initially, Rugova’s LDK was better at public relations than the KLA.
Rugova sustained a barrage of announcements broadcasting invitations
from foreign states for Rugova to participate in international conferences.
If the international community was so receptive to Rugova, surely inter-
vention on behalf of the Kosovar Albanians was just around the corner.
But others, some within Rugova’s own party, were not so sanguine. Jakup
Krasniqi was an example. He helped connect the KLA with mainstream
Kosovar politics. A tough, smart, articulate schoolteacher and regional
leader of Rugova’s party in the Glocovac (Drenas) municipality, Kras-
niqi became a senior strategist and spokesperson for the KLA. He began
working with the KLA clandestinely in the early 1990s. He served as the
KLA spokesman beginning in 1998 and is now the general secretary of
the PDK. Krasniqi recalls that his was a “voice in the wilderness,” as he
worked hard in the early 1990s going into the community to persuade
people that Serbs were running a repressive police state and that the
Kosovar Albanians should resist.
Every step of the way, the majority of Rugova’s LDK Peaceful Path In-
stitutionalists undercut this message. The hardest public education task
for the KLA was to persuade enough ordinary Kosovars that alternative
pathways represented by the LDK would not bear fruit. KLA communi-
qués issued during 1996 and 1997 consistently cajoled and threatened
the Albanian political class to stop propaganda against the KLA,10 and to
avoid bargaining away Albanian territories.11 A 1997 communiqué called
upon Albanians “wherever they are” to support the KLA both financially
and by “joining its lines.”12
In the early nineties, the KLA was still a tiny, fragmented, mostly
rural organization whose existence was denied by the Peaceful Path In-
stitutionalists. The outcome of the struggle for the hearts and minds
of Kosovar Albanians remained very much in doubt. The crucial event
that turned the tide in favor of the KLA was the signing of the Dayton
Accords at the end of 1995. The agreement was a bombshell to the Ko-
sovars. Rugova’s strategy of passive resistance was bankrupt. The inter-
nationals had intervened in Yugoslavia, but Kosovo had been forgotten.
The results of the Dayton Accords afforded the KLA instant credibility.
KLA supporters consistently argued that the international community
only responded to violence. Increasingly people began to listen.
one from the United States. Adem Demaçi’s concept of leadership was
to sacrifice himself to Serb abuse to build courage in the Albanian com-
munity. Further, his tough rhetoric helped provide cover for compromise
that made the NATO intervention possible. Before the Jashari Massacre,
Demaçi was the most visible contemporary symbol of Albanian resis-
tance to the Serb occupation. As a long-term political prisoner, he was
the Kosovar Albanian Nelson Mandela, and his courage in prison was the
fire that kept the colors of Albanian hope vivid in the early days. Demaçi
helped organize one of the first underground movements for Kosovo’s
liberation from Yugoslavia in the 1960s: The Revolutionary Movement
for Albanian Unity.15 As a result of that and other causes, he would serve
several lengthy prison sentences during his lifetime, being released from
prison for the last time on April 18, 1990.
Now in his seventies, Adem Demaçi leans across the table. His strik-
ing blue eyes, magnified through his thick glasses, sparkle as they pull
you into his argument. He envelops you with the force of his personality.
His English and Albanian are rhythmic and filled with vivid metaphors
as he tells you,
Everyone has his own time. Some people, they take up weapons. They
fight. That was not my style. For example, I am your uncle. And you are
going to fight. Albanian blood relations, they are pretty strong. And I tell
you that I know that you are fighting against oppression and you are fight-
ing for our independence. I chose my own style. I would speak out. And
the Serbian Army and police would come for me. I would die for Kosovo.
My life is only for Kosovo, and I would give my life for Kosovo.
Demaçi became the political spokesman for the KLA in August 1998. His
embrace of the KLA lent enormous respect to the organization, because
he was the uncompromising symbol of Kosovar Albanian militancy. And
U.S. Ambassador Richard Holbrooke’s meeting with KLA soldiers at Ju-
nik in the late summer of 1998 cemented KLA respectability because it
suggested endorsement by the United States.
The insurgency in Kosovo relied on charisma—not only that of liv-
ing individuals, but often also the charisma of the dead “martyrs,” as
the Kosovars refer to almost every KLA casualty. Zahir Pajaziti’s statue
sits across the street from the main hotel in Prishtina. Adem Jashari’s
picture adorns many walls. The statue was not there before the Serb
forces withdrew in 1999, however, and most people were afraid to display
Jashari’s picture where the Serbs could see it. The charisma of Pajaziti’s
and Jashari’s martyrdoms was felt and heard widely but clandestinely.
Although the KLA had managed by 1998 to peel away key members of
the Kosovar Albanian political elite, significant loyalties to the Peaceful
Path Institutionalists remained. The KLA leaders and martyrs were not
charismatic for everyone. As one leading Peaceful Path Institutionalist
told the author on condition of anonymity,
The characteristics of the KLA nomenclatura were ominous. And they
were murky. Thaçi tended to be out in front because he was glamorous.
Others, like Haliti, Selimi, and Krasniqi had as much influence and
power as Thaçi, but they kept themselves more in the background. All
of them thirsted for power. Haradinaj was second-string. He was brave,
but he did not know what he was doing. Remi was looking after his own
interests. He knew nothing. And Adem Jashari was not a “legendary
commander.” He commanded no one. He was a rural ruffian who was
killed in a botched attempt to arrest him.
Even as support for the KLA grew, popular opinion in Kosovo re-
mained divided. Opinion polls conducted by the U.S. State Department
during the NATO bombing campaign showed Rugova commanding more
popular support than KLA leaders. And, after the war, Rugova’s party con-
sistently led the KLA parties at the ballot box. These LDK loyalists were
willing to bite their tongues as long as the KLA achieved success on the
battlefield, but they remained ready to criticize the KLA’s ineffectiveness
and recklessness when it encountered reverses. These internal tensions
produced conflict between the KLA and Bukoshi’s FARK (discussed in
chapter five). The underlying divisions also threatened to wreck the KLA’s
success at Rambouillet. But Thaçi came out on top, as described in later
chapters. In order to raise the consciousness of potentiality, the KLA had
to start fighting. It needed fighters to do that.
Fahri Rama, slim and well built, looks taller than his 5'11".
He now works as a waiter in the Hotel Victory in Prishtina, where his
boyish smile breaks through his shyness whenever he greets a guest. (The
hotel caters to internationals.) Fahri joined the KLA when he was twenty,
in the village where he grew up. His father had worked for the railway,
but was fired because he was Albanian, when Slobodan Milosevic came
to power.
Fahri’s sentiments and bravery exemplify the hostility to continued
Serb repression felt by thousands of others in his age group. But hostility
to a regime by a large portion of a population is not an insurgency. Hope
that other states will intervene to change the status quo is not an insur-
gency. An insurgency exists only when individuals are willing to fight.
Moreover, the KLA’s local hearts-and-minds strategy was to build popular
support by showing that it was possible to fight. That meant recruiting
fighters and motivating them to put their lives at risk. Kosovo is a place
where action against oppressors is deeply embedded in the culture. It also
36
It took far less time than the twenty years envisioned by some of the
early Planners in Exile for isolated pockets of armed resistance among
the Defenders at Home to grow into a tidal wave of youth seeking to
demonstrate their courage and finding both excitement and camaraderie
under charismatic commanders. Eventually, the KLA was in the posi-
tion—“forced,” one influential leader put it—to seek skill, expertise,
and organization as well as passion. But that came later. At first, the
KLA was all heart.
A long-standing “culture of resistance” in Kosovar Albanian society
created moral dilemmas for those who chose not to fight, and helped
induce a critical mass of individuals to embrace violence. The earliest
KLA fighters were members of families who had been targeted as threats
to its security by the Yugoslav/Serb regime. They were members of the
Defenders at Home. In a sense, the Milosevic regime “recruited” the first
fighters and the first leaders of a guerrilla insurgency.
Defiance also motivated a number who were not in immediate danger
of attack by regime forces. Exile resentment at their treatment by the
regime simmered, and a longing to go home to see their families preoc-
cupied them. It did not take much to stir them up. Because of how they
ended up in exile, this group was knowledgeable about the politics of re-
sistance. The majority of them—or at least the leaders among them—had
become targets precisely because they were thinking and talking about
Albanian national aspirations and about resisting efforts to undermine
Albanian autonomy in Kosovo. Many had led large demonstrations and
had written or spoken against the regime. They actively sought to learn
about insurgency. Already schooled in the political dynamics of antico-
lonial movements during the Communist era, they read avidly about
other insurgencies, particularly the IRA, the ETA, and the PLO.
By the early nineties, members of an entire generation of Kosovar
Albanians in Germany were saying to themselves and to each other, “We
have to fight; we’re ready to die.” They were vague on how they would
fight and how they would die, but they were ready. “I’m very proud to be
part of this generation, who actually fought for their country,” said Gani
Demaj, who “kept going” by remembering that “I fought so my cousins
and friends did not die for nothing. What made me brave was hearing my
cousin say, ‘I’m happy that I’m dying from a bullet of my enemy. I am
immortal for my country.’” “It was an honor to be killed for my country,
for my friend who stays with me,” said KLA commander Ajet Potera.
“The Serbs were afraid to die for Kosovo,” he added. “We were not.”
The largest group of potential recruits, however, was on the fence. The
KLA had to convert them, mainly by raising their consciousness of po-
tentiality. Its examples of early armed resistance weakened fear of the
regime’s police and the Yugoslav security service, thus emboldening
more to fight. As armed attacks against the regime grew in number and
prominence, it became easier to recruit still more people because of
a growing consciousness of potentiality—this time resistance actually
might succeed, and the KLA already was succeeding in taking the fight
to the regime. A growing number of known oppressors within the police
and the Serb secret police (SDB) were victims of organized gunfire, and
Albanians were on the trigger end of the guns.
The Jashari Massacre and similar attacks by Serb forces on other
prominent resistance families in March 1998 caused thousands of fence-
sitters to abandon caution and join the insurgency. In part, the victim-
ization of noncombatant members of the Jashari family demonstrated
that one’s own family would not be safe if the status quo were allowed
to continue; it turned fence-sitters into Defenders at Home. In part, it
increased consciousness of potentiality because the Jashari resistance
was so powerful and effective that it had scared off the regime for seven
years, and now it took a small army to overcome it.
As soon as the KLA had overcome the barriers to broad public support
for armed resistance, and events had discredited the Rugova alternative,
a culture of resistance, deeply embedded in Albanian society, ensured
a supply of individuals who actually would take up arms. Multigenera-
tional “cultures of resistance” provide better breeding grounds for revolu-
tion and guerrilla insurgencies than cultures within which children are
taught the virtues of political participation and accommodation.1 When
young men have been brought up in an environment in which they hear
from their fathers and grandfathers stories of aggressive, violent resis-
tance to oppression, they are more likely to engage in violent resistance
themselves and to be open to recruitment by guerrilla groups and other
revolutionary agents.2 Outsiders lacking sympathy with the Albanian
population in Kosovo often emphasized “banditry” as a trait inextricably
intertwined with traditional Albanian culture. “Banditry” to the Otto-
mans or to the Serbs was, of course, “resistance to oppression” to the
Albanians. KLA soldier Luftar Braha laughed when asked when he had
first heard about someone fighting the Serbs. “It’s in our blood,” he said.
“I was six years old when the Serbs first arrested my father. My brother
was four-and-a-half at the time and used to point his tiny hand towards
passing police officers and call out with a child’s falsetto, ‘I want to kill
him. I want to kill him to free my father.’”
The manner of Adem Jashari’s death, in which Serb tanks and gunships
demolished his house and killed his family and friends, exemplifies both a
defiant spirit and the Albanian culture of resistance. He can be imagined
as saying to his Serb attackers, “Go ahead. Try to destroy me. I don’t care.
I defy you. You may kill me, but there will be thousands more after me.
Kosovo will be free,” and turning up the volume on his Albanian folk mu-
sic as the tank rounds punched holes in the stone walls of his house. But
the Jashari Massacre made clear that no Albanian was safe from Milosevic.
He would kill not only resistance fighters but also grandfathers, mothers,
and children. After the massacre, young men from all over Kosovo, from
Europe, and from the United States swarmed to make contact with the
KLA, seeking to enlist in the fight to defend their families.
Once public opinion, parental attitudes, and peer pressure turned the
corner, excitement was in the air. It would trivialize the KLA experience
to suggest that KLA fighters did what they did just for the thrill of it. Still,
the role of excitement and camaraderie should not be ignored in under-
standing any high-risk activity by young men in which unit cohesion is
important. Jessica Stern, in her exhaustive research on suicide bombers,
found that a number of recruits to insurgencies are drawn mainly by a
desire for adventure or to be part of a friendship or social network. In
some cases, the desire to be with friends is more important, over time,
than the desire to achieve any particular goal. One operative told Stern
about the appeal of living outside normal society under extreme condi-
tions, on a kind of permanent “Outward Bound.”3 The young men who
took up arms in the KLA regularly describe how they signed up with
their friends or cousins, and thus experienced a common adolescent and
early adult male desire to affiliate with other males embracing risk and
working together to achieve a common goal. “The widespread Diaspora
put many young Kosovars in contact with other nationals,” Ramush Ha-
radinaj said. “When a young Kosovar would leave school to come fight
in the war, his Swedish, or German, or British roommate often would
say, ‘I am coming too.’”
Moreover, opportunity costs for volunteering were low. Recruitment
was more likely if someone felt that life offered him little outside the
insurgency. Young men in Kosovo had few opportunities. Their parents
had been pushed from their jobs as professionals; how could their children
expect more from the regime that had so mistreated their parents? Worse,
the economy in Kosovo was in a tailspin. There were chances for making
money by smuggling, or individuals could go abroad, get jobs, and send
money home. And, of course, young men could sit in urban coffee shops
and drink and talk with their friends. But these opportunities paled in
comparison with fighting to realize the Albanian national dream and to
expel Serb occupiers from the homeland.
It was not as though potential KLA recruits were being asked to drop
out of Harvard or to give up jobs on Wall Street to join a movement with
which they sympathized only mildly. Most were being asked to give up
jobs as waiters to help their homeland deal with a once-in-a-lifetime
threat and to take advantage of a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. They
had already been helping by sending money home, but now they wanted
to do more. “After I first saw the KLA soldiers, I was terribly conflicted,”
said Afrim Ademi, who describes the inner conflict he felt about whether
he should join the KLA as “the worst time of my life.” I turned down an
opportunity to go the London School of Economics for two years on a
scholarship,” he said. “I was going to stay and fight. All my friends said,
‘You must stay here; if you go, it will be the biggest mistake in your life.’”
Few had opportunities that competed with the culture of resistance.
Undermining Deterrence
Early recruitment for armed resistance in Kosovo was stunted by the de-
terrent effect of vigilant Serb antiresistance efforts, backed by an efficient
secret police—the Yugoslav UDB and, later, the Serb SDB. But the KLA
gradually undermined fear of Milosevic’s sanctions. Among the Planners
in Exile and Defenders at Home, the numbers of those who found that
they could tolerate prison and could escape future arrest were growing
rapidly as the regime imprisoned more and more protesters. The very
methods the regime used to increase deterrence undermined it. In the
early 1990s, the KLA leadership consciously used attacks on police sta-
tions and other targets as a way not only of increasing the consciousness
of potentiality but also of diminishing deterrence. The majority of at-
tackers did not get caught. One leader and strategist said, “We modified
Marxist theory. Mao said to build popular support first, before engaging
in operations. We did operations first, to build popular support.” Part of
the effect was to prove that one could fight the Serb oppressors and not
get killed or imprisoned. Early KLA attacks showed that the feared re-
sponse was not forthcoming. Indeed, the typical response in the first few
years of the insurgency was for the police simply to withdraw from areas
where they were likely to come in contact with KLA. The result was a
growing number of Kosovar Albanians who thought to themselves, “If
these KLA fighters can get away with it, maybe I can too.”
KLA soldiers were volunteers. They came on their own; they could
leave on their own—and many did. They were bound to the movement
Florin Krasniqi added, “Too many did not really want to fight. They just
wanted to put on a uniform, have some pictures taken which they could
show to their mothers and girlfriends.”
In many instances, KLA soldiers lost their will, for Milosevic’s forces
nearly annihilated the KLA time after time. For some it was the terror of
seeing the turret on a tank turning toward them. They simply ran away.
Few were battle-hardened. In other cases, the line between desertion and
tactical retreat was blurred. Guerrillas, after all, are supposed to “hit”
and then to “run.” In addition, Milosevic’s accelerating ethnic cleans-
ing campaign, though it touched world opinion and made international
intervention on the side of the KLA possible, undermined morale within
the KLA. The KLA was not numerous enough to protect 850,000 refugees
and displaced persons, although it altered its positions and changed its
tactics to do its best. Soldiers in KLA units were forced to watch help-
lessly as crowds of thousands of civilians, which they knew included their
sisters and mothers, were driven from their homes into the mountains.
Many of the soldiers simply decided to go to their sisters and mothers
to be of whatever aid they could.
cular young man. His hair tousled, he holds an automatic rifle and wears
a pistol and stares into the distance, watchful. At any time of the day
or night, bunches of fresh flowers adorn the base of the statute, which
reads, “Zahir Pajaziti, 1962–1997.”
Pajaziti was a veteran of the Serbian police academy and the VJ. He
was one of the first young Kosovars to organize armed attacks against Serb
police units north of Prishtina, in the Llap Valley, in the 1980s and early
1990s. His actions won trust. “Trust in him was bigger than a mountain.
He first began concrete action in 1995,” Remi says. Serb intelligence
forces assassinated him and two other KLA leaders in a highway attack
in January 1997, between Prishtina and Mitrovica.
Today, symbols of the power of other early leaders abound. About
an hour south of Prishtina, near the village of Prekaz, are the ruins of a
stone house riddled with holes from artillery shells, the family compound
of the Jashari family. An enormous banner with a photograph of Adem
Jashari hangs over the walkway to the ruins. He wears a green camouflage
uniform, a military hat, a cape, and a full black beard. He has a pistol
in his belt and carries a large, three-barreled weapon in his right hand.
Sixty kilometers away in the middle of Prishtina, Hashim Thaçi, a Jashari
protégé and major political power, shows a visitor a picture of himself
with Jashari. Thaçi, then in his early twenties, wears a military hat and
sits on a couch beside Jashari, holding a rifle. “He was the father of the
KLA,” Thaçi says. “He had traveled widely. He encouraged us, helped us
understand what we had to do.” In the oda (traditional receiving room)
of the Haradinaj home in Glogjan, in the Dukagjini region, a huge red
and gold “UCK” hangs on the long wall, bracketed by large photographs
of Ramush Haradinaj’s two brothers who died during the war while or-
ganizing the Dukagjini resistance.
An insurgency, like any political movement, requires not only eager,
resourceful, and courageous foot soldiers. It requires organizers and com-
manders who know something about the technical aspects of resistance
and warfare; it requires leaders who understand the political context
and can manipulate it through propaganda to build and maintain public
support; it requires operatives who can organize finance and logistics; it
requires training in weapons, strategy, and tactics. Pajaziti, Jashari, and
the Haradinaj brothers were such leaders, and the Serbs killed them.
But the Serbs were never able to kill them all. Commander Remi
filled in the hole left by Pajaziti’s death. Thaçi and the Planners in Exile
took up the Jashari banner. Ramush Haradinaj seized the baton his broth-
ers had been carrying. Others, like Sami Lushtaku and Fatmir Limaj, re-
46
Slobodan Milosevic did more for the KLA than anyone else. Though the
KLA militarily had to avoid his efforts to annihilate it, his tactics only
advanced its political objectives. The KLA confronted both one of the
most powerful armies in the world and a brutally efficient secret police
apparatus. Alone among a historical succession of Kosovar Albanian re-
sistance groups, it not only survived but eventually prevailed in achiev-
ing its strategic political objectives. Evaluating its success requires an
assessment of Serb efforts, which were formidable, to annihilate it.
Milosevic and his backers were well schooled in a variety of tech-
niques for suppressing insurgency. They knew how to penetrate resistance
organizations. They knew how to decapitate a resistance movement by
imprisoning or killing its leaders. They thought they knew how to drain
the swamp feeding an insurgency by removing the population. In the end,
however, Serbia failed to annihilate the KLA because it never quite got
all the leaders, because its military population-removal tactics backfired,
and because the civilian population was tougher than Milosevic had an-
ticipated.
The Milosevic regime had the overriding strategic goal of maintain-
ing control over Kosovo and, if possible, altering the demographic bal-
ance there by expelling the Albanian population. To achieve this goal,
Milosevic needed to:
1. Annihilate the KLA, by decapitating its leadership and intimidating
or dispersing its fighters;
2. Starve the KLA by blocking the border with Albania, the only fea-
sible route over which the KLA could get arms;
3. Keep Serb supply routes open through the Llap region;
4. Maintain and, if possible, increase support by the civilian popula-
tion in Kosovo for the Peaceful Path Institutionalists;
5. Convince the international community that his efforts to annihi-
late the KLA were internal police matters within his sovereign pre-
rogative, and thus stave off international intervention that would
reduce or eliminate his control of Kosovo.
The first three strategic objectives conflicted with the fourth and fifth.
The more forcefully Milosevic pursued the first three, the greater the
likelihood he would build popular support for the KLA. As the KLA grew,
from the early 1990s, and intensified its armed attacks, Milosevic shifted
his emphasis from the first objective to the second and third, and also
focused more strongly on altering the demography of Kosovo by expel-
ling the Albanian population. In doing so, he ultimately drove not only
a critical mass of the Albanian population but also the international
community into the KLA’s arms.
David Grange, the former commander of U.S. Army forces who were
ready to invade Kosovo if the NATO bombing campaign failed, recalls:
The Serbs relied heavily on special police. They’re pretty tough—like
Gestapo in many ways, as in Bosnia. The Serbs were very good at using
special police. They were all over Kosovo, some in plainclothes, many
in uniform.
But the KLA got the better of them—the same way insurgents were
tough antagonists for our guys in Iraq—the best army in the world.
In guerrilla warfare, the guerrillas have the advantage. They hit when
they want. The KLA had popular support, so they also hid when they
wanted.
There are only two ways to defeat insurgents: You’ve either got to re-
move the insurgents from the population or remove the population from
the insurgents. You can only remove them from the population if the
population is not on their side—and the opposite was true in Kosovo. So
that left Milosevic with only one alternative, once he and his strategists
focused on the problem: he had to expel the population.
Anti-Insurgency Theory
Any insurgency can be stamped out by the simple brutal expedient of
exterminating the entire population that supports it.1 In countering in-
surgencies, “brutality pays”—in the short run. Indiscriminately killing
civilians requires relatively little military skill and produces long-lasting
results.2 What begins as a narrowly targeted anti-insurgency campaign,
however, focused on leaders of an insurgency, or on isolating insurgent
fighters from the population, easily degenerates into a slaughter of civil-
ians. It is easier that way. Brutality against civilians, however, facilitates
recruitment for the insurgents.
Milosevic’s Tactics
Initially, Milosevic relied on Interior Ministry (MUP) police to eradi-
cate the KLA, introducing regular army troops only in the spring and
summer of 1998. By the end of the 1998 Summer Offensive, more than
eleven thousand MUP and twelve thousand VJ forces were in Kosovo.3
Just before the bombing campaign in the spring of 1999, Milosevic had
up to sixteen thousand MUP and twenty thousand VJ forces in Kosovo,
supported by 350 tanks, 450 armored combat vehicles, and 750 artillery
Interdiction of Infrastructure
Regimes almost always seek to disrupt aspects of the logistical network,
without which no insurgency can succeed. The regime can interrupt
financial networks and block the supply of arms, food, clothing, and
footwear, but interdiction efforts combined with decapitation easily be-
come indistinguishable from ethnic cleansing. A singularly effective
interdiction technique is to remove the civilian population supporting
the insurgents. Milosevic was no exception. The Jashari Massacre was
an effort to implement decapitation and interdiction strategies. Instead,
it spawned a tidal wave in the KLA’s favor.
A logistic-interdiction strategy can succeed only in direct proportion
to the quality of the intelligence possessed by the regime. As popular
support for an insurgency grows, the likelihood is greater that logistical
support for the insurgents comes from elements of the population and
from foreign sources that resist penetration by regime intelligence ser-
vices. Even uninhibited efforts to annihilate insurgencies often fail in
the regime has no capacity to deliver what the people want. Milosevic
made it easier for the KLA to do that. In Kosovo, the condition of rela-
tive deprivation was easily satisfied. Regardless of whether Albanian
aspirations were strong enough to support an insurgency before the late
1980s, developments then and later stimulated and increased a sense
of relative deprivation on the part of the majority Albanian population.
In this regard, the collapse of the Warsaw Pact was as important as the
loss of autonomy and economic opportunity occasioned by Milosevic’s
repression. Things were getting better in Poland and Hungary. Why not
in Kosovo?
One of the strongest sources of relative deprivation arises when re-
gimes alternate between opening up opportunities and repressing them.
This kind of policy vacillation surely operated in Kosovo. After Yugo-
slavia was created, constant tensions among the Albanian population in
Kosovo, the majority Serb population in Serbia proper, and the Yugoslav
government gave rise to cycles of opening up opportunities for Albanians,
followed by crackdowns on the Albanians after Tito’s death. Opening
up was symbolized especially by the establishment of the University of
Prishtina as the first Albanian-language institution of higher learning in
Kosovo and only the second Albanian university in the world (the Uni-
versity of Tirana opened in 1957). Some demonstrations through the late
1980s and into the 1990s were brutally suppressed, while other demon-
strations were allowed to go forward virtually without interference by
the Serb authorities. Revocation of Kosovar autonomy by the Milosevic
regime, which began in 1989 and was followed by the expulsion of most
Albanian elites from their jobs, provided an especially stark contrast be-
tween what Albanians had enjoyed in the 1970s and early 1980s, when
it was reasonable for them to hope to realize their aspirations within the
Yugoslav state, and the period after that, when their hopes were thwarted
based simply on their ethnicity. Also, it was easy for almost every Alba-
nian to compare the opportunities afforded Serbs who had displaced the
Albanians from their jobs with the more modest possibilities available
for the now-unemployed Albanians. The Dayton Accords exposed the
difference between Western support for those in the former Yugoslavia
who fought and support for those who did not.
Not only must the population have a sense of relative deprivation,
it also must believe there is no hope for redress through the existing
regime, or through peaceful alternatives.11 Milosevic never pursued con-
crete reform energetically enough to give credibility to Rugova’s prom-
ise that the Serbs would eventually create opportunities for Albanians.
As Robert Taber writes, an insurgency “cannot logically come until all
Ethnic Cleansing
“Ethnic cleansing,” a strategy pursued often at the end of the twentieth
and the beginning of the twenty-first centuries, can be an effective anni-
hilation and interdiction strategy, but it has an explosive effect on hearts
and minds. The more brutal form of ethnic cleansing simply kills mem-
bers of the disfavored ethnic group supporting—or likely to support—an
insurgency. A less brutal form seeks not to kill all the members of the
group but rather to remove them to another geographic area. This milder
form of ethnic cleansing was pursued throughout Bosnia, although there
were more brutal forms pursued in such spots as Srebrenica. In Kosovo,
what began as a law-enforcement and secret-police effort to eradicate
militants who organized the KLA (decapitation and interdiction) dete-
riorated into a massive ethnic cleansing campaign that far exceeded the
scale experienced in Bosnia. In its early stages, the campaign of attacks
on population centers was retaliation for KLA attacks. The Serb forces
could not find the KLA, so they attacked the nearby civilian population.
Their strategy was a form of collective punishment that sought to inhibit
further KLA aggressiveness and bog the KLA down in frontal warfare to
try to protect civilians. The shift from counterinsurgency tactics to ethnic
cleansing also reduced the likelihood of Serb casualties.
Milosevic’s 1998 replacement of the leaders of both MUP and the VJ
with hard-liners reinforced the emphasis on ethnic cleansing. His most
aggressive push occurred late in the NATO bombing campaign when Serb
forces managed to drive the majority of Kosovo’s Albanian population
out of their homes and nearly half entirely out of the country, even as
Serb forces had failed in other forms of counterinsurgency and had lost
the battle for international public opinion.
Human Rights Watch reported 3,453 executions in Kosovo by Serb
forces or those allied with them during the conflict.14 The most com-
mon human rights violation was “separation” of the victim from fam-
ily (5,122 instances), followed by forced displacement (4,485 instances),
detention (3,478 instances), executions, beatings (2,439 instances), and
indiscriminant shelling (1,987 instances).15 The patterns of the killings
showed “sprees” concentrated in particular municipalities over short
periods—suggesting a strategy of terrorizing the civilian population.16
Data collected by Human Rights Watch and by the American Academy
of Sciences supports the inference that a “centrally devised and imple-
mented strategy” existed to force Kosovar Albanians from their homes,
and that executions occurred to expedite the expulsions.17 After the with-
drawal of international monitors in March 1999, “[t]hree months of terror
followed [in Drenica] as Serbian police and paramilitaries backed by the
army attacked and cleared of its civilian population village after village
in its efforts to destroy both the KLA and its base of support. Adult males
were detained en masse and hundreds were executed. . . . [W]omen and
children from the families of persons linked to the KLA were also killed.
. . . Abuses in the Drenica region were so widespread that a comprehen-
sive description is beyond the scope of this report.”18
Missed Opportunities
The Serbs came very near to wiping out the KLA on four separate occa-
sions. The ethnic cleansing campaign in 1999 was Milosevic’s fifth and
final strike in a decade-long pattern of escalation. His first time at bat was
in 1993. About one hundred Kosovar militants, including Adem Jashari,
had received training in Albania. When they returned to Kosovo at least
half of them were immediately arrested, and the other half—except for
Jashari—felt so threatened that they left Kosovo almost immediately
for Germany and Switzerland. The second time was in January 1997,
when Serb security forces assassinated Zahir Pajaziti and arrested more
than one hundred other Kosovar militants. This was a body blow to the
then-maturing insurgency that was deprived of its most prominent and
effective leader in the Llap region and decimated the ranks of those in
more junior positions who would have been natural candidates to re-
place the top leadership. The third was in March 1998, when Serb forces
stormed the Jashari compound in Prekaz and killed Adem Jashari—the
most prominent of the crystallizing KLA leadership and probably its best
strategist and fighter. At more or less the same time as the Jashari Mas-
sacre, Serb forces killed another twenty-four, including ten members of
the Ahmeti family and rounded up other suspected KLA leaders from
around the country, once again decimating the leadership ranks.
The fourth high-water mark for the Serb annihilation strategy fol-
lowed the 1998 Summer Offensive by the KLA.20 Whether or not the Serbs
had lured the KLA into such a position intentionally, the KLA’s efforts
to create free zones and to demonstrate its capacity to conduct frontal
warfare like a regular army, aimed at defending civilians and increasing
its credibility with the Kosovar population and with Western powers,
put it in a position that allowed the Serb forces to use their superior
military power more easily. The free zone strategy made the battlefield
more symmetric, while the quantity of forces and fire power were still
as asymmetric as they had been from the beginning. Indeed, forces were
more starkly asymmetric because Milosevic now had introduced more
experienced army units with heavier firepower and armor. Now by mili-
tary rather than police-state means, the KLA was nearly wiped out. Ra-
mush Haradinaj was down to not more than sixty soldiers in the entire
Dukagjini region. Remi was told that he had more soldiers under his
command in the Llap Zone than any other zone commander elsewhere
in Kosovo had, and that was still fewer than one hundred. The Drenica
Valley was under a pervasive state of siege, and remaining KLA soldiers
and commanders were preoccupied with helping their families survive
rather than organizing effective fights against the Serbs.
But then, the cease fire of October 1998 gave the KLA time to recover.
Fighting resumed in early December 1998, and it was clear that the KLA
had not been wiped out. The KLA did not always win, but neither did the
Serb forces. The Battle of Kaçanoll Mountain in the Llap Zone is a good
example. Fresh, untrained recruits, not sufficiently entrenched, badly out-
numbered, completely outgunned by Serb armor, and hampered by civil-
ians fleeing Serb forces, were forced to retreat after a vicious and bloody
three-day battle. But KLA activity and harassment on Serb flanks and
rear caused the Serbs in turn to withdraw after three days. It is no wonder
that, when asked, “Was there a time when you thought, ‘This is going to
work. We may prevail?’” Commander Remi responded, “Yes. Christmas
of 1998,” referring to the Kaçanoll engagement and related battles.
Some of Milosevic’s near misses were the result of his strategic mis-
calculation; some were the result of the geopolitical stars aligning against
him; some were the result of simple bad luck. His assassinations and
arrests of 1997 and early 1998 might have succeeded had he eliminated
those ultimately taking command: Thaçi, Krasniqi, all of the Haradinaj
brothers, the Selimis, Azem Syla, and Remi. The Jashari Massacre and
onslaught in Drenica in March of 1998 could have had the effect of para-
lyzing Kosovar activists in the population instead of galvanizing thou-
sands of young men to volunteer to fight with the KLA. The October 1998
Holbrooke-Milosevic ceasefire agreement might never have been put in
place, either because Richard Holbrooke was not available to negotiate
it or because Milosevic refused to agree to it. Some of these facts were
more a matter of bad luck for Milosevic than a failure to arrange matters
under his control.
Further, Milosevic might have agreed at Rambouillet (the story is
told in greater detail in chapter nine, including an explanation of why
the proffered agreement was unacceptable to Milosevic), or the KLA
might have followed Demaçi’s advice and torpedoed any agreement. Serb
isolated from each other and were smaller than the KLA free zones of
1998. Regime forces moved freely throughout most of Kosovo.
If the NATO military intervention had stopped before Serb forces
were withdrawn from Kosovo, Milosevic would hugely have improved
his position vis-à-vis the Kosovar insurgency. He would have established
a Kosovo in which the Albanian population was a minority, thereby
extinguishing the popular infrastructure on which the KLA, like any
insurgent force, relied. He would have maintained and enhanced over-
whelming military superiority over the KLA even if it had increased its
effectiveness and numbers during the bombing campaign. In addition, he
would have acquired more intelligent leadership in his forces, knowing
better how to disable the insurgency, and he would have been free from
the overhanging threat of military intervention. If NATO had intervened
militarily and then terminated the intervention without a fundamental
surrender by Milosevic, he would hardly have been cowed by threats of
Western military intervention in the future.
Bujar Bukoshi
Ramush Haradinaj
Ajet Potera
Azem Syla
Florin Krasniqi
Rexhep Selimi
Dritan Gjonbalaj
Luftar Braha
Xhavid Loshaj
61
Political Strategy
Some KLA leaders worked to define a long-term strategy; others thought
it was a waste of time. Xhavit Haliti, the older Planner in Exile profiled
in the first chapter, explains how strategy evolved. From 1991 to 1992
the LPK/KLA hoped to open a second front against Serbia by cooperating
with Croatia, with which it was then at war.4 An Albanian brigade then
fighting in Croatia would return to Kosovo. Armed conflict in Kosovo
would pull in international support—or, at least, interest—that was al-
ready beginning to emerge with respect to Croatia and Bosnia. It was
clear by 1995, however, that the Kosovar Albanians would have to go it
alone. There would be no help from Croatia or from the internationals, no
assistance from Albania, and only opposition from the Rugova “govern-
ment.” The Planners in Exile would have to integrate the Defenders at
Home into their plans. The strategic concept was a guerrilla war lasting
twenty years, though the Planners in Exile thought they might, eventu-
ally, attract international support.
A number of the Defenders at Home thought strategy should take
a backseat, even as they embraced the central strategic goal of building
popular support inside the Albanian community. Ramush Haradinaj re-
ports one meeting with the Planners in Exile in Tirana: “I thought they
were a bunch of chatterboxes, and I said to them, ‘We will see each other
in Kosovo if you want to come; if you don’t, stay here because it will
be very difficult for you.’ I threatened them.”5 As Haradinaj later told
the author, strategy was not helpful because “We were on our own. The
international community might never intervene, but we didn’t have a
choice. We didn’t start fighting just because someone might stand with
us . . . we just wanted to convince individuals that it’s possible to fight
the Serb regime and Serb forces [and that] [e]ven if we are killed, it’s pos-
sible to answer. We have an expression: ‘When someone gets married,
there will be money for the wedding.’ That was our position as well. If
we started, support would come somehow.”
Young, slight, and baby-faced, piano and guitar player, but tough,
Rexhep Selimi helped bridge the gap. He imparted strategic and tactical
guidance to fighters inside Kosovo and operational information to the
exile group as he moved fluidly between the groups. He describes the
goals of the KLA as “damag[ing] the enemy, embolden[ing] ourselves,
arous[ing] international sympathy, sow[ing] confusion among the Serbs,
and ‘slap[ping] them in the face’ with impunity.” Though the KLA’s slaps
got harder and more frequent, there was a problem: The international
community was beginning to show interest, but the KLA was invisible,
and it was easy for diplomats, reporters, and Kosovar Albanians to believe
that it was not real. Beginning in 1998 the need to increase visibility,
even at the cost of inducing greater Serb repression, greatly influenced
tactics. As another senior KLA leader told the author, “We modified
Marxist guerrilla warfare doctrine. Mao said that popular support had
to come first. KLA proved that armed resistance could come first—as a
way of building popular support.”
centrate his forces and, therefore, can provide the superiority of numbers
necessary to a particular engagement. It also has a psychological effect
and tends to lower the enemy’s morale.10 Guerrilla warfare is a way of
enhancing these advantages, diminishing the importance of the superi-
ority of numbers.
These principles of Clausewitz’s schema illuminate the one clear
advantage from which the Kosovo Liberation Army benefited: the KLA
fighters were ready to die for their cause. The skills of many command-
ers may have been limited—at least in terms of their skill in organiz-
ing conflict according to received doctrine. The majority of the soldiers
had no military experience and only the most rudimentary training. But
they had courage and “patriotic spirit.” One soldier said, “I didn’t want
to get killed, but it was worth it to contribute to the cause my cousins
and brothers had died for.” Another, older observer agreed, but was con-
cerned:
The soldiers were enthusiastic and courageous, but completely unpre-
pared. They had childhood enthusiasm. They were heroic. Dozens of
young Kosovar Albanians, and their friends from elsewhere in the world,
would discover that the Serbs had mined the paths they used to bring
arms into Kosovo yesterday. So they opened new paths. The Serbs killed
almost all of them. They were courageous and heroic, regardless of how
effective they were. (Bujar Bukoshi)
Though they “had no idea at all” about what was necessary “to fight
successfully,” Bukoshi added, the “brave and very noble” young volun-
teers “showed great courage” in this way: “They embraced the morality
of being willing to die for your country.”
The Serb forces, though enjoying substantial numerical superiority,
were fighting either for purely professional reasons or out of an abstract
notion of Serbian history. Alcohol abuse and corruption were rampant in
Serb ranks, even at the beginning of the KLA insurgency. As frustration
grew with their inability to annihilate the KLA insurgents, who rose again
and again from the ashes of Serb scorched-earth tactics, Serb morale and
commitment plummeted further. As one experienced KLA fighter said
to his scared cousin, “Niti, you will get used to this. The Serbs are more
scared than you are. You know why you have a weapon. They don’t.”
A brigade commander later observed, “The Serbs were afraid to die for
Kosovo. The KLA soldiers were not.”
Guerrilla tactics supplement Clausewitz’s basic principles.11 Insur-
gencies in their guerrilla phase employ tactics that permit them suc-
cessfully to oppose an enemy that has superior numbers and firepower.12
As the KLA grew, its tactics changed from pure guerrilla engage-
ments to positional conflict, adapted to take into account the KLA’s
inferior numbers and weaponry. This shift occurred for three reasons:
opportunity, necessity, and public relations. Events in later 1997 and
early 1998 created an opportunity for the KLA to become an organized
armed force. A flood of arms after the collapse of the Albanian state in
1997 was followed by a flood of volunteers after the Jashari Massacre in
1998. Both tempted the KLA to become an actual army rather than a col-
lection of guerrilla bands. The result was the KLA’s Summer Offensive
of 1998, the high-water mark of the KLA’s use of conventional tactics.
By mid-June, the KLA had closed the Peja-Gjakova road, and the Serbs
had lost control of the Prishtina-Peja and Mitrovica-Peja roads. Only the
Prishtina-Prizren road remained open. On June 24, the KLA seized the
Bardh coal mine near Prishtina. It controlled towns throughout Drenica
and Dukagjini, and for one brief period, Ferizaj, well outside the territory
in which the KLA had traditionally been strong. At the end of June, the
KLA was reported to control 40 percent of the territory in Kosovo.
The KLA discovered, however, that success as an army requires more
than recruits and weapons. The Summer Offensive of 1998 was a military
disaster. The Serbs had overwhelming superiority of numbers, especially
after they introduced the VJ. The Serbs not only lured the KLA into am-
bushes along the arms routes, they also suckered the KLA into overcon-
fidence. “Let them get confident. Let them have their ‘free zones,’” the
Serbs reasoned. “Then they will be out into the open where the VJ can
annihilate them.” That is what they basically did in the summer of 1998.
In the KLA’s defense, its commanders argue that the shift to conventional
tactics was necessary to preserve supply routes and to protect the civil-
ian population, which was increasingly targeted by the Serbs. Moreover,
even during the Summer Offensive, the KLA engaged in conventional
or positional warfare in a limited sense. It did not march (or ride jeeps)
toward the Serb forces with trumpets blaring and banners flying, seeking
to destroy them. Rather, it launched guerrilla attacks on its objectives—
for example, the roads or the coal mine—and then engaged in positional
warfare to defend its gains. It dug in and sought to prevent Serb forces
from entering its territory. Clausewitz recognized that defensive forces
have important advantages over offensive forces: terrain, surprise, support
of the people, and moral strength. Only absolute superiority of numbers
provides an advantage to offensive forces.24
Public relations needs subordinated military tactics to political strat-
egy. The need to build credibility and to overcome accusations of terror-
ism made it desirable for the KLA to seem to be an army rather than a
up the arms flow, that not much time, energy, or manpower was left for
planning or establishing new organizational structures.
Targets
Targeting is at the heart of insurgency strategy and tactics. Picking a tar-
get represents a decision about when and where to fight. The KLA used a
model that had been developed eighty years earlier in Ireland. After the
1916 “Easter Rising,” Irish nationalists realized they could not defeat
the British using conventional military tactics. Michael Collins was the
“supreme architect of the hit and run ambush technique [with] which
[the Irish Republican Army (IRA)] effectively countered [British] superi-
ority.”27 He did so in an environment in which transatlantic politics was
crucial, and concentrated on eliminating British intelligence agents and
their collaborators through special assassination squads.28
Before mid-1998, the KLA, like the IRA, used classic guerrilla war-
fare tactics, attacking police stations and assassinating particular police,
military, intelligence, and—occasionally—public officials associated with
the regime. It used light weapons—AK-47s, crew-served machine guns,
sniper rifles, hand grenades, and an occasional antitank weapon. Once
the KLA shifted its tactics and began engaging in positional warfare, tar-
gets were self-defined: Serb military units. Almost no attacks occurred
on general civilian targets, in either phase. A Serb-sympathetic Web site
offering extensive information on 153 “criminals” from the Kosovo con-
flict, while describing every violent attack as a “terrorist” one, in fact
describes only attacks on police and army facilities and units, and assas-
sinations of Serbs and ethnic Albanians supportive of Serb intelligence
services.29 Western press reports of violence in Kosovo described attacks
on police stations and police and army convoys and, with the exception
of a few early attacks on Serb refugee housing complexes, reported no
attacks on purely civilian targets.30
Throughout the war, KLA targets often included ethnic Albanians be-
lieved to be informers for the Serb intelligence sources (this is consistent
with Che Guevara’s advice to be “absolutely inflexible” with informers
and with Michael Collins’s practice). Virtually every KLA communiqué
issued during 1996 and 1997 reported at least one attack against an Al-
banian collaborator of the Serb “occupiers.”31 Although the assassina-
tions and confinement of suspected ethnic Albanian sympathizers with
the Serb regime later gave rise to war-crimes prosecutions against KLA
soldiers and leaders, a distinction nevertheless must be drawn between
Battle Plans
Tactical concepts must be translated into operational plans, and the
plans must be carried out. This section offers examples of specific guer-
rilla attacks and preparations for conventional engagements with Serb
forces. Here is what U.S. Army doctrine says about guerrilla attacks on
convoys:
Conceptually, the commander of the attacking force has to do three
things: (1) establish a kill zone; (2) keep the target inside the kill zone for
as long as possible; and (3) direct sufficient firepower into the kill zone.
It’s not so much a matter of aiming well; it’s a matter of directing suf-
ficient fire into the kill zone to increase the chances that anyone inside
it will get hit. (General William Nash)
That is exactly what the KLA did, time after time. The dominant con-
sideration in organizing attacks was to ensure that KLA forces could es-
cape. “Success requires retreating with no casualties,” said Ajet Potera.
“If there were thirty Serb soldiers, and I only killed three but retreated
without casualties on my side, that would be success.”32
180 degrees and the other clip plugged in the weapon. It was customary
to fire the first clip on automatic, quickly, and hold the ammunition
in the second clip in reserve for single-shot firing. In every action, our
squads had at least one M84 belt-fed machine gun. (Ajet Potera)
with smaller numbers in Brigade 152. After the rebuilding that occurred
during the October 1998 cease fire, total KLA forces along the ridgeline
numbered about 1,700. The forces were equipped with AK-47s for each
man in uniform, several heavy machine guns, a 75–mm artillery piece,
and a few 12.7–mm antiaircraft weapons.
The entrenchment had two purposes: to defend the KLA-held ter-
ritory in the mountains behind the trenches, where training camps and
supply depots were located, and to provide a base for launching guerrilla-
style attacks on Serb highway movements. KLA forces in the south of the
ridgeline were essentially defensive. Any KLA attack would be launched
farther north, where the hills are higher. The plan was to send the main
KLA force directly down the slope in jeeps and trucks against the main
Serb force massed near Podujevë. On September 15, 1998, Serb forces,
apparently with the benefit of intelligence from Albanian informers, at-
tacked the smaller KLA force of Brigade 152 at Bajgora, and gained three
advantages: They faced a smaller opposing force, they got behind the
stronger Brigade 151, and they were able to link directly with their lines of
supply at Mitrovica. Brigade 151 had to retreat to reinforce Brigade 152 on
the ridge just south of Llapashticë. More-experienced Brigade 151 forces
under Remi’s and Potera’s command relieved less-experienced Brigade
152 troops who had held off an attack by vastly superior Serb forces for
three days. The relief forces included specialty units skilled at making
flank attacks to create the illusion that Serb forces were surrounded.
After the September engagements, armed but nonuniformed civilians
operating under the same command as the regular KLA forces augmented
the 1,700 regulars. As the October cease fire was breaking down, espe-
cially from December 24, 1998, to March 24, 1999, KLA forces operated in
the valley with a mixture of guerrilla and more conventional attacks. The
mountain of Kaçanoll, overlooking Podujevë, was the scene of two fierce
positional battles, the one on September 15 and another in December
1998, after the Holbrooke-Milosevic cease fire broke down. The terrain
at Kaçanoll resembles that of West Virginia. Three adjacent mountain
peaks, separated by a few hundred yards, frame a winding, rutted, narrow
dirt road leading from the Podujevë Valley into the mountainous terrain
that was the haven for the Llap Zone KLA.
After pounding KLA positions with artillery, Serb armor and infantry
moved up the road to the KLA positions. The heaviest fighting occurred
on Christmas Eve 1998. The Serb forces had more tanks than the KLA had
men. The KLA forces had one 12.7–mm RPG antitank weapon. Otherwise
they were armed only with AK-47s, sniper rifles, a couple of crew-served
machine guns, and some grenades and mines. They could not mine the
road because civilians were streaming up it, fleeing the Serb attackers
just ahead of the Serb tanks. The defenders initially thought that the road
would be impassable for tanks, but they were wrong. The Serbs advanced
through the village of Dobratin, destroyed it, and came up the road, led
by their armor. Eventually, the KLA fighters had to withdraw from the
mountaintop not only because they were so badly outnumbered and
outgunned but also because they were inexperienced. They had not dug
trenches except in a few places, and were thus in the open, exposed to
Serb fire. After the KLA forces withdrew, the KLA continued harassing
actions against the Serb flanks and Serb supply lines. The harassment
was sufficient to cause the Serbs to withdraw again after three days.
Elsewhere, there was less opportunity to plan. The battle for control
of the roads in Drenica was fierce. On May 29, 1998, the KLA blocked the
Prishtina-Peja road near Lapushnik. On June 18, Serbs lost control of the
Prishtina-Peja and Mitrovica-Peja roads; only the Prishtina-Prizren road
remained open. On June 15, the KLA closed the Peja-Gjakova road. On
July 27, Serbs retook the Prishtina-Peja road, and reportedly had regained
control of all the main roads in Drenica. Two days later, the Serbs reas-
serted control over the Mitrovica-Peja road. But the KLA bounced back.
In a three-day battle from July 28 to 31, it had again closed the Prishtina-
Peja road with nighttime attacks involving automatic weapons, machine
guns, and mortars.
Fighting in Drenica was ferocious, as this transcript of Ruzhdi Kar-
puzi’s testimony in the ICTY Limaj Trial indicates.
There were over 400 Serb vehicles. In the evening of Friday when we saw
them coming from Prishtina road, all the soldiers took up positions. . . .
It was about midnight. . . .
They started shelling early in the morning, but from a distance. They
used all possible means at their disposal against us. . . .
In the evening we withdrew from that position because the Serb forces
came very near, maybe 50, 60 meters away from us. The tanks started
to fire at us. They played music. They were celebrating. We didn’t have
heavy vehicles to fight back at them, heavy armaments.
While they stopped firing for a while to see whether anyone was still
alive, I attempted to fire a mortar at them; it was about 120, 30 meters
from the position I was in. The first three shells did—were not activated.
The fourth one hit it. I saw two bodies flying up in the air because of the
explosion.
A second tank shelled us. And we all flew up in the air. When we fell
on the ground—I had an injury. So I told my comrades to withdraw.33
During the same time period, KLA forces in the Dukagjini Zone concen-
trated on keeping weapons supply routes open and on protecting larger
population centers from siege by Serb forces. Strategy was confined to
“giving everyone a gun.” A more decentralized approach in Dukagjini
did not mean the absence of frontal warfare. As the weapons distribution
program penetrated one village, the residents of that village would begin
to resist the Serbs. The Serbs would surround the village, intending to do
a house-to-house search to seize weapons. The KLA would undertake to
defend the village. The boundary between surrounding Serb forces and
defending KLA forces would become a front. In Deçan itself, the KLA
had constructed a series of meter-and-a-half-deep trenches to serve as a
defensive measure, thus allowing KLA soldiers to retreat in safety from
guerrilla forays toward the Serb lines in the hills.
As it mobilized to become an army, the KLA discovered that it was
much easier to fight the police and special police forces, as it had done
through mid-1998, than the regular VJ forces that began to be introduced
in Kosovo in late 1998. By June 1998, Ramush Haradinaj had some eight
to ten thousand people available to him in Dukagjini, including not only
regulars under his direct command but all those under arms and wear-
ing uniforms. Some of them operated autonomously as “islands.” By
September, forces available to Haradinaj in Dukagjini had melted away
from the initial number to only fifty-six people, the majority of them
relatives and elderly or young neighbors.34
All the others had left, going mostly to refuge in Albania. A large
unit comprising several thousand fighters and their weapons had been
deliberately removed by its FARK (Forces of the Army of the Republic
of Kosovo; see below) commander. Of the soldiers who had withdrawn,
Haradinaj thought two thousand had hidden in the mountains with their
weapons and another thousand were in Albania with access to weapons.
These troops might return if conditions got better. Others hid with fami-
lies in the cities and towns. Still, Haradinaj’s position was desperate, and
the Planners in Exile and the Drenica command sent several hundred
soldiers to relieve him. But despite fear and doubts, the fighters had
not given up. They had proven to themselves that they could resist. “It
wasn’t a real army [but] a guerrilla organization, made of volunteers,”
said Haradinaj. “It was the right of everyone to agree to fight and it was
the right of everyone to leave. They were inexperienced and they were
scared. When they saw that a battle was not going so well or saw two or
three of their friends killed or wounded, they just sought the safest pos-
sible place. They would run for a half-day until they got there.”
By February 1999, the weapons flow to fighters in the Llap Zone had
dried up, though the commanders there hoped that Operation Arrow
would open up new arms routes near Pastrik Mountain in Dukagjini.35
The worst time was April 1999, when KLA command-and-control was
broken. Serb forces could do pretty much whatever they wanted in the
Podujevë Valley. The NATO bombing was of no help. The Serb forces ap-
parently knew exactly when NATO attacks would occur, and the absence
of low-altitude NATO bombings meant that targets were limited to those
in the targeting databases. By being mobile and concealing themselves
only slightly, the Serb forces were able to avoid effective attack. They
expelled the Kosovar population from the villages and towns and drove
them into the mountain range to the east, and continued to drive them to-
ward Prishtina. KLA soldiers still in position on the ridgeline were forced
to watch, more or less helplessly, as crowds of civilians, which likely
contained their mothers and sisters, were expelled from their homes and
driven into the rugged, mountainous terrain.36 This demoralized them.
The new KLA Llap Zone strategy focused on saving soldiers so they
could fight later.37 Brigades 151 and 152 were withdrawn from the moun-
tains and joined Brigade 153 in the south. If the Serb forces attacked the
mountains, they would find them empty. If they attacked in the south,
the KLA forces could be moved back to the mountains. The best soldiers
were removed from the brigades and reassigned to a special elite unit
commanded by Ajet Potera. The idea was that the depleted units would
be able to protect themselves; they were not expected to attack. The
elite unit would be better prepared to engage in guerrilla attacks on Serb
forces over the entire zone. Serb removal of the population facilitated
KLA engagement in uninhibited guerrilla warfare. They no longer had
to fear, as they had earlier, that a guerrilla attack would be rewarded by
Serb reprisals on a nearby Albanian population center.
The elite unit established a base in the mountains south of Batllava
Lake, not far from Dyz. The area is sparsely populated, without much
vegetation. The unit comprised about sixty men who improvised tents
out of nylon sheeting. The Serbs controlled every house but had more
trouble controlling the open spaces. Every morning units of six to eight
men would go to the north near the Serbian border and attack Serb forces.
Every twenty-four hours, a unit representative would go to higher terrain
and broadcast a radio message advising the zone command that they were
intact. Otherwise no one, not even in the zone command, knew where
they were.
On June 9 Remi began moving his forces from Llap toward Prishtina,
a movement that continued until June 12, when they stopped for the
night, just outside Prishtina. A few days later, Remi and his forces en-
tered the city of Prishtina and were able to move around freely, arriving
just before the vanguard of the NATO troops. Smaller KLA intelligence
units were in Prishtina before that.
Rexhep Selimi, and Nait Hasani would work inside Kosovo, forging link-
ages with the fragmented Defenders at Home. In the meantime, the Plan-
ners in Exile would launch a public relations campaign aimed at making
the KLA seem more coherent than it actually was at the time. The first
KLA communiqué, numbered “13,” was issued after a series of KLA ac-
tions in June 1995. That was the first time the name “Kosovo Liberation
Army” was communicated to the public.
From 1996 to 1998, Selimi, Thaçi, and Hasani worked hard to forge
bonds both among the Defenders at Home and between the Defenders and
the Planners in Exile. “Snake” Thaçi was the communication channel
between the Planners in Exile and the Defenders at Home, and crossed
the border with Albania dozens of times with stealthy ease. Selimi trav-
eled sometimes by car but more often by bus or on farm equipment so he
would be less likely stopped by the Serb police. Never using documents
during the early days, he communicated orally. He was always armed.
Adem Jashari relied on them. He could not go far away from home for
fear of arrest. Zahir Pajaziti was acting independently in the Llap region,
and only linked up in August 1996 when he contacted Rexhep Selimi.
Pajaziti told Selimi, “I know Adem Jashari but he doesn’t know me.” Se-
limi was arranging a meeting between Jashari and Pajaziti when Pajaziti
was killed, in January 1997.
Despite these efforts to connect pockets of resistance “horizontally”
on the ground in Kosovo, it was easier to connect them vertically with
the growing political leadership of the Planners in Exile in Albania, Swit-
zerland, and Germany. Horizontal connections on the ground inside Ko-
sovo were too dangerous; the SDB would find them. But everyone in
Switzerland and Germany, it seemed, had a cousin or two involved in
armed resistance in one of the pockets in Kosovo, and the cousins found
ways to stay in touch with each other. The many individuals who were
prepared to fight immediately, and who had actually begun fighting, were
prepared to accept help from whatever organization offered it. The clan-
destine Planners in Exile were eager to attach themselves to someone
who actually might fight, and were prepared to make any of them the
“chief” of some part of the Defenders at Home. Thus did early military
organization emerge.
Extremely small operational units of two or three men, called
“points,” skulked around watching the Serbs, digging trenches at night,
going where they heard something interesting was going on. To the extent
they received orders at all, they were told to shoot at Serbs when they got
a chance and to attack police stations, soft targets almost always in the
middle of population centers. As fighting spread, points and other small
units would sometimes come to one another’s aid, but not because they
were ordered to. Individuals identifying themselves as KLA would hear
the sound of gunfire, or would hear about battles. They would assemble
some of their friends and move toward the sound of the fighting to see if
they could help. This remained standard operating practice in Drenica
even in the early summer of 1998. And Drenica was better organized
than the other zones.
The collapse of the Albanian state in the spring of 1997 opened access
to weapons, and the Jashari Massacre in March 1998 stimulated a flood of
volunteers for the KLA both inside Kosovo and from the Diaspora. These
opportunities “forced” the KLA to become an army some years before it
had planned to do so. “KLA appeared as a meteor,” one former insurgent
said. “It was enough to say that we were members of KLA [and] we were
referred to as saviors . . . the hope, the solution.” Having once struggled
to gain visibility, the KLA now became an inspiration: “Everyone joined
each other around the flag [even though the KLA had] no infrastructure
on these occasions [and] [e]verything was done on a voluntary basis at
that time.”38
The KLA was getting massive, but it still was not an effective mili-
tary organization, even after its 1998 Summer Offensive. The KLA oper-
ated in units in different villages. It was enough for ten people to carry
weapons, and one of them to be elected commander. That election was
turned into an appointment by the Planners in Exile’s self-styled general
headquarters. “In May [1998] we were only seven. At the place which
I led, in the municipality of Malisheva, which has 53,000 inhabitants,
there were 35 soldiers, approximately. In three months, the number of
the armed soldiers in that municipality exceeded 2,000, whereas 5,000 or
6,000 others were expecting to get weapons.”39 By August 1998, the Plan-
ners in Exile became more assertive. Having already reconstituted their
executive committee at first as the “General Headquarters” and then the
“General Staff,” they began to issue instructions and orders to members
of the Defenders at Home, usually passed orally by Hashim Thaçi, Kadri
Veseli, or Rexhep Selimi.40 The General Staff defined operational zones
and appointed zone commanders, inevitably ratifying the identity of those
who had already emerged as regional insurgency leaders. It instructed
zone commanders to reorganize their forces into brigades and battalions,
and to appoint commanders of each subordinate unit. The Defenders at
Home gradually fell into line, though at varying rates. “The “battalions”
were platoon size—ninety to one hundred men each, Haradinaj recalls,
and “some would run; some would fight.” Among the battalions, “little
real command and coordination” existed: “The smartest guy would say,
‘You go here; you go there; here’s what we will do’; he knew the power
of surprise and would pick the targets. Sometimes I would hear about
it days later.”
The Defenders at Home were divided into seven operational zones,
each with its own commander. The most famous commanders were from
the Llap Zone (Remi), the Drenica Zone (Sami Lushtaku), the Pastrik
Zone (Shukri Buja), and the Dukagjini Zone (Haradinaj). Azem Syla was
the designated commander in chief. Zone commanders had a horizontal
relationship, and they occasionally helped each other with arms, troops,
and logistics. Yet they did not coordinate operations in any meaningful
way. Rather, they communicated with each other via cell phone or face-
to-face, and all shared a similar experience: They simultaneously planned
the war in their zone, participated in actual fighting, and controlled the
soldiers under their command. Yet tensions remained.
Ali Ahmeti, a member of the General Staff from Macedonia, is cred-
ited by some KLA commanders as being particularly influential on strat-
egy. Others say that he had to be marginalized because of his desire to
extend the conflict to Albanian areas of Macedonia, and for failing to
prevent Pajaziti’s assassination by telling him about arrests of KLA and
LKÇK activists a few days prior. Although the zone commanders uni-
versally respected the General Staff’s contribution to the war, they often
resented the orders that came from “above.” Thaçi put himself at risk
running messages from the General Staff to the commanders, and he
had personally participated in some of the earliest attacks in Drenica;
the majority of the General Staff members were not, however, as some
fighters grumbled, on the front line trading shots with the Serbs each
day. Haliti and Syla were never on the ground.
The level of tension depended largely on the personal characteristics
of the commanders. Ramush Haradinaj and Remi tended to follow their
own instincts, often disregarding General Staff orders. For a time, both
were in a position to do that. The Dukagjini Zone was flush with arms
that had been brought in through Haradinaj’s contacts, as well as those of
the General Staff who used the Dukagjini’s proximity to Albania as base
for its operations. Remi developed his own arms supply routes through
Serbia and had his own finance connections in Prishtina. Haradinaj, how-
ever, was chastened by his experience in late 1998, when FARK leader
Tahir Zemaj deserted with most of his troops and weapons. Then Hara-
dinaj badly needed help from the General Staff, which responded quickly
with several hundred fighters, just in time to mitigate Serb attempts to
completely wipe out Haradinaj and his remaining resisters. He had new
respect for the Planners in Exile: “I was very happy. I was happier than
anyone else, because I was in real trouble. Some of the others had an
easier time by comparison. They fight one morning and then for three
weeks, they didn’t see action. That was not my case.”
But not all of the relationships among the leadership went so smoothly.
In February 1999, twenty-nine-year-old Sylejman Selimi (alias “Sultan”),
the Drenica Zone commander, was named chief of staff—the KLA’s top
military commander. A couple of months later, after the Rambouillet
Conference, Agim Çeku succeeded Selimi. He and Thaçi said to each
other, “We have to get ready for a real war.” Çeku had been a brigadier
general in the Croatian armed forces, and had developed a close relation-
ship with U.S. Army General Richard Griffiths, who, as head of MPRI
(a private defense contractor), had administered the “Equip and Train”
program in Croatia.41 Jakup Krasniqi, widely credited with smoothing
relations among the commanders and between the commanders and the
General Staff, insisted in late 1998 that the commanders become mem-
bers of the General Staff. A number of the military leaders, however,
bristled when he announced that he was “the deputy commander” at
a meeting attended by several military commanders. Haradinaj called
Krasniqi “stupid,” and stalked out of the meeting.
One close U.S. observer says that the KLA leaders “were always
disorganized, putting their energies into jockeying for position after the
war. You would go to a meeting of the General Staff, and they would
be arguing, shouting at each other, plotting against each other. It was
completely disorganized and riven with conflicts.”42 Acknowledging the
tensions within the KLA, Haradinaj admits that some of the KLA’s devia-
tions from pure guerrilla tactical doctrine owed to lack of knowledge.
“We needed to be sneakier, to draw them into fights on our own terms,”
he said. “We should have tried to avoid having the civilian population
tie the guerrilla force down [and instead] made sure that our officers did
not act without regard to the impact on others.” But, “one day’s experi-
ence in the field, being shot at, is worth three days of studying military
doctrine,” he added. “It really concentrates your attention on what works
and what doesn’t.”
“We were lucky,” Haradinaj concludes. Others agreed: “The KLA
fighting the way they did . . . that’s not the way to liberate yourselves,
though it may be a good way to attract attention. They weren’t incom-
petent, just overmatched. Imagine a high-school football team playing
the Chicago Bears,” said a Chicago supporter and fund raiser. “They had
so many things breaking for them—it was like they won the lottery.”
and informally encouraging those like Haliti to go ahead with their plans
for military action.
But Bukoshi also was focused on institutionalization, and sought to
recruit people who were both sympathetic to the Albanian cause and had
significant military knowledge and experience. These individuals warned
him about the magnitude of the tasks involved in organizing an army.
As the head of the official, albeit unrecognized, government for Kosovo,
Bukoshi was naturally inclined to prefer an official institutional approach,
and the advice he was getting said that it would take a long time to get
ready to fight—maybe five to ten years. On the other side, the Defenders
at Home and many of the Planners in Exile thought that the key was to
start fighting immediately and to develop the logistics and the popular
support later. “We’ll fight now and see what happens.” By the time Bu-
koshi came around in the later part of the war and was willing to provide
money through Haliti essentially on the KLA’s terms, it was too late to
mend relations or to forge any genuinely common effort.
88
The Message
The KLA convinced potential contributors to support the insurgency
through appeals to Albanian nationalism that presented compelling sto-
ries of the young men and women who were putting their lives on the
line against overwhelming odds. “You have the chance to fuel the Alba-
nian national dream, which few generations before you have had,” was
the persistent, heartfelt message. Myzafer (“Freddie”) Mehmeti and Kurt
Bexheti, the organizers of fund raising in Chicago, still weep when they
remember the hardship their families and friends faced while the KLA
resistance was still in gestation.
Luigj Gjokaj’s speech at the launch of the Michigan chapter of Home-
land Calls (see epigraph at the beginning of this chapter) is an example of
the KLA’s message. “People wanted to support bravery; they didn’t care
how the KLA would win or how long it would take,” he says. People had
a hard time, however, believing at first that the KLA actually existed. To
prove that the KLA was real, Luigj sent individuals to take pictures of peo-
ple organizing and training in the mountains. He invited “real soldiers—
fighters” to speak. On one occasion, Florin Krasniqi got Commander Remi
(Rrustem Mustafa) on the phone and patched him into a broadcast from
the New York–area LDK radio station, which electrified support for the
KLA among those who were otherwise stuck in Bukoshi’s orbit.
In Chicago, the most effective fund raising was face-to-face solici-
tation, reinforced by occasional large gatherings. As Freddie Mehmeti
recalls,
I would meet face to face with donors and say, “A thousand dollars now
will take us a million miles. A million dollars later may do nothing.”
I didn’t ask everyone for $1,000. Rather, I said, “You can help in many
ways. You can contribute money. You can agree to visit other families,
and ask them for support. You can help with publicity, or you can donate.
I remember visiting one man, who greeted me by saying, “You’re against
Mr. Rugova.” I said, “No. We’re all on the same side.”
KLA Contributors
The KLA was financed predominantly by private contributions, most
of which came from members of the Albanian Diaspora in Europe and
America. Many of these Albanian contributors had roots in Montenegro,
Dirty Money?
Though some commentators on insurgency—and some analysts of the
KLA—expressed horror at the possibility that an insurgency might engage
in illicit activities to raise money, such a reaction is naive. An insurgency
is, by definition, illegal in the state within which it occurs. Moreover,
most of the methods an insurgency must use to acquire arms are illegal
in a multiplicity of states, and many of its fund-raising techniques—at
least with respect to moving, if not to raising money—are likely to be
illegal as well. It is not illogical for an insurgency leader to reason, “I am
already a criminal; why shouldn’t I raise money through other criminal
activities?” On the other hand, an insurgency may undermine its repu-
tation in the international community, and possibly within the local
population, by becoming associated with types of illegal activity—like
prostitution and narcotics trafficking—to which significant social op-
probrium attaches.
All available evidence refutes the proposition aggressively advanced
by the Milosevic regime that the KLA was mainly financed by drug and
prostitution money. The author has himself identified $50 million in
contributions from individuals and businessmen engaged in legitimate,
aboveboard economic activities. Though the possibility exists that some
money, perhaps a substantial amount, came indirectly from illicit pro-
ceeds (it is widely believed by many Swiss citizens that elements of the
Albanian community in Switzerland controlled the local narcotics trade)
this possibility is a distraction from the facts. Little evidence exists that
the KLA raised money through extortion or criminal activities engaged
in by the KLA itself.
Krasniqi was willing to “dedicate his life to the KLA” after his cousin
Adrian, a close associate of Ramush Haradinaj, was killed in KLA skir-
mishes with Serb forces in late 1997.6 After Adrian’s death, Krasniqi de-
cided that the existing support structure was inadequate. Krasniqi made
contact with Xhavit Haliti in Albania, even though he “couldn’t stand”
him, and paid the KLA General Staff in Zurich a visit that only reinforced
his “disdain” for what he saw as inept leadership.7 Thus, Krasniqi’s links
to the KLA were primarily with individual commanders, especially Ha-
radinaj and Remi, rather than through Haliti. Krasniqi made phone calls
to all Albanians he could identify in the United States and organized
fund-raising events at restaurants, to which he would bring KLA fight-
ers or survivors of Serb attacks, whose personal stories would move his
contributors to generosity.8 Among the people Florin Krasniqi reached
out to were Freddie Mehmeti in Chicago and Luigj Gjokaj in Detroit.
Luigj Gjokaj raised $1.2 million overall in Detroit. Born in 1961 in
Dushiq, Tuz, Montenegro, Gjokaj began study with the University of
Prishtina Law Faculty in 1978, but was arrested for his participation in
the 1981 demonstrations. After his release from jail but before his trial,
he escaped from Montenegro and went first to Mexico, and then to New
York, where he worked for twelve years before coming to Detroit. There
he followed the lead of his father-in-law, Gjok Martini, who encouraged
Detroit’s Albanian community to reconnect with its Albanian national
heritage and to become more active in Balkan politics.
In Chicago, Freddie Mehmeti and Kurt Bexheti, who had helped Gër-
valla and Zeka to organize the LPRK in Germany, focused on the LPK
and Homeland Calls for their first solicitations in February 1997. Initial
efforts at raising money through fund-raising dinners in Chicagoland did
not work. A significant problem was that the Chicago fund raisers had
to prevail on two fronts: against the Serbs, and against adherents of the
LDK. Further, some potential contributors were suspicious of any fund-
raising effort run from New York. Mehmeti and Bexheti concluded that
they would have to make a face-to-face appeal. They began with some
355 restaurant owners in Chicagoland. Putting many miles on their cars,
they traveled to Albanian neighborhoods in small towns and villages
throughout northeastern Illinois of which they had never before heard.
Thus for the KLA, as for most insurgencies, the money raised had to
be moved to where it needed to be spent—and in this case, the money
had to be moved across national boundaries. A variety of methods were
available. The most straightforward method was what KLA supporters
did most of the time: simply carry cash from where it was raised from
multiple donors in the necessary quantities, to the place at which it was
needed for a particular purchase. Fund raisers found the Swiss banking
system useful because of its integrity and code of secrecy. But money to
be spent in Albania or in Kosovo and on large quantities of arms could
not be handled entirely through the banking system. The banking sys-
tem in Albania was unreliable and corrupt. Moreover, cutting a check
for several hundred thousand dollars to purchase arms was problematic
regardless of where the drawee bank was located, because either the bank
would raise questions or the arms supplier would find the idea of taking
a check to be ludicrous. Cash was used to purchase arms or supplies (for
example, the radio system for Llap) outside Kosovo, in Germany, Bosnia,
or Serbia, and was often smuggled into Kosovo.
Kosovar business owners provided channels for money from exter-
nal sources to reach designated beneficiaries—KLA units and families of
fighters—within Kosovo. They also contributed from their own resources,
hiding funds intended for the KLA in their regular business activities to
avoid detection and interdiction by the Milosevic regime. Their busi-
ness activities were already “informal” because of Milosevic’s exclu-
sion of Albanians from most of the regular legal mechanisms in Kosovo.
Their financial transactions were therefore less transparent to the regime
than they would have been in a state in which most businesses operate
aboveboard. These funds appeared to the commanders as intra-Kosovo
contributions from businesses even though some of the funds originated
as outside contributions.
Bukoshi developed a formal system for getting Three-Percent Fund
money where it needed to be spent. He established an Albanian bank, the
Dardania Bank, and transferred money out of German accounts and into
accounts there. Then he found a businessman in Kosovo—a printer, for
example. Bukoshi would say to the businessman, “Take your revenues
and do not send them out of the country. Keep them in Kosovo. We will
use our funds in Dardania Bank to pay your suppliers and otherwise pay
to your order. You, then, will use your revenues in Kosovo to buy arms
and otherwise pay to our order.” Therefore, much of the flow of Three-
Percent Fund money, like the flow of KLA money, appeared in the form
of contributions by local businesses in Kosovo, even though it was raised
abroad.
occasion, someone had been at the big public meeting where we said we
were taking it, and he reported us. The Customs agents made us spread
it out on the table and count it, delaying our flight while they figured
out what to do with us. When they counted the money, they found only
$383,000, because we had already spent some $17,000 on arms and other
supplies. That complicated things, because the agents thought that we
had stolen some of the money. The younger agents told us we were go-
ing to be arrested because we had not called in advance to report the
amount of cash we had. Then an older, more senior, agent came out and
we told him what we were doing, emphasizing humanitarian relief. He
eventually said, “Go ahead. Good luck.” Then, when we got to Tirana,
we had this nearly $400,000 with us in a suitcase. I kept it under my
bed in the hotel—a fleabag hotel, named “Minera” close to the center.
We were not armed. I don’t know what we were thinking.
100
Models
KLA training can be compared to a variety of models. The models share
with each other and with the several variants of KLA training the same
goals and also share most of the same subject matter. The KLA training
curricula cut some corners, but they were appropriate corners to cut. All
of the training models include obedience and military discipline, tactics,
weapons, communications, physical conditioning and agility, and mili-
tary and international law. All further promote leadership, principles of
Tactics
In U.S. Army basic training, tactical training begins in the classroom
and then is integrated with physical training and military discipline
in exercises such as Victory Forge. Serious tactical training of the KLA
developed slowly. “The early training in Albania was not focused on
any coherent strategy for insurrection in Kosovo,” said Bukoshi. “The
would-be fighters were enthusiastic. That’s all. They were preoccupied
with army uniforms and weapons. They wanted to—and did—send pho-
tographs of themselves in uniform, holding a weapon, to their families
in Kosovo, which, of course, made detection and proof by the Serbian
forces easy.”
After mid-1998, all formal KLA training programs included a tactical
component that built upon the experience of Tito’s Yugoslav Partisans,
the doctrine of the Yugoslav Army, and Marxist-Leninist doctrine for
guerrilla warfare that was drawn in large part from the writings of Mao
Tse-Tung and Che Guevara. Instruction in tactics for conventional warfare
depended largely on VJ and Albanian Army doctrine and NATO materials
with which instructors were familiar. Brigade 113, in Drenica, practiced
tactical maneuvers such as how to escape a knife and pistol attack, and
how to organize a guerrilla attack. Dukagjini soldiers practiced digging
in, movement in risky terrain, and offensive and defensive grenade ma-
neuvers. But, as Ramush Haradinaj put it, “one week’s experience was
worth more than three years of training.” In Llap, recruits studied and
practiced unit security; enemy offensive tactics; attacking different kinds
of objects: houses, police stations, checkpoints, and military emplace-
ments; trenching; sleeping and eating security; confronting mines; un-
dercover movements; camouflage clothes and camouflaging faces; night
movements; orienteering in unfamiliar terrain; and map reading. “Tactical
training included the NATO curriculum, short hit-and-run attacks, and
so on,” said Driton Gashi. “We trained in three-man units, for hit-and-
run attacks. Later, seven- to ten-man units trained for engagements of
fifteen or twenty minutes in length. We trained for guerrilla operations (no
established base) and partisan operations (an established base).” Trainees
in Albania had printed materials on tactics, battle positions, and with-
drawal. Some of these were Albanian government materials on partisan
tactics—coming from the woods to attack, falling back into the woods,
and staking positions to attack villages and Serb military units.
Weapons Training
U.S. Army recruits train on the M16A2—the army’s standard-issue
weapon. Before recruits fire a single round, they learn and rehearse breath-
ing, stance, and mechanics.3 When recruits begin firing the weapons, they
begin with “shot grouping.” Each recruit must place three rounds within
a four-centimeter circle at twenty-five meters. Field firing exercises in-
clude single-target engagements at distances of seventy-five, one hundred
seventy-five, and three hundred yards. Each recruit engages two or more
fleeting combat-type, pop-up silhouettes that appear at the same time,
forcing the recruit to decide upon the order of engagement.
The KLA emphasized weapons training. The four- to six-week train-
ing for Brigade 113 in Drenica comprised four hours of weapons training
per day, and included two or three days each on AK-47s, sniper rifles, and
mines. Recruits who picked up their own weapons in Albania typically
had basic instruction on weapons operation and maintenance and engaged
in limited target practice. At the Bajgora school in Llap, all recruits were
trained on the AK-47 or equivalent personal automatic weapons, and the
M48, a single-shot, bolt-action, .30 caliber (7.9 mm) repeating sniper rifle
effective at four hundred to eight hundred meters. They received more
limited training, better characterized as “familiarization,” with heavier
weapons: crew-served machine guns, mortars, RPG antitank weapons,
and .50 caliber (12.7 mm) antiaircraft weapons, which were useful against
ground targets as well. They also trained with 75–millimeter cannons, of
which the entire zone had seven. These required a six- to ten-man crew,
and were moved with Land Rovers and tractors.
Weapons training occurred with old ammunition. Some trainees
had the opportunity for two live-fire exercises; others had only one such
opportunity. But everyone had some opportunity to fire the basic weap-
ons. KLA recruits fired at most five rounds from M48 sniper rifles, and
ten rounds from AK-47s. For heavier weapons, live fire was more of an
illustration than a hands-on exercise. Mortars would be fired once or
twice per unit, and RPG antitank weapons once per unit. Special units
received more intensive training in specialized weapons.
and only to target police and army personnel. They were instructed not
to attack military personnel who had surrendered. The instruction was
oral only; soldiers do not recall any printed materials, but it was clear
to them that the limitations on targets were emphasized by their com-
manders. “We were told that we could shoot at someone only during the
actual fighting.” In Dukagjini, said Luftar Braha, “There were two kinds
of groups. We—the real KLA—trained on the Geneva Convention, quite
seriously. But peasants trying to defend their families had never heard of
the Geneva Convention. And after the war, when people came home and
found their mother, or brothers killed, they went completely berserk, got
completely out of control. They were not KLA.” Later in the war, after the
KLA created specialized “military police” units, recruits were instructed
on treatment of prisoners, where to send them, and who was responsible
for dealing with prisoners. Capture, however, was relatively rare.
pared, and go home. Potera always asked each recruit if he wanted to stay.
“About 30 to 40 percent of what we taught stuck,” he says. “Courage
was more important than knowledge; we wanted ‘Rambo.’”
General Agim Çeku, former Croatian Army general officer and chief
of staff of the KLA from May 1999 to the end of the war (and later, prime
minister), was disdainful of much of the KLA training. Too much of it
was dominated by old-style Eastern Bloc thinking instead of modern,
Western, “mission-oriented” doctrine. “Tell me what you want me to
accomplish, not how to do it,” Çeku said. He detached some of his most
able officers and sent them to Albania to conduct training, believing that
the procedure needed the additional credibility that it would get from
being conducted by people who actually were in the middle of the fight-
ing. It is important to remember, however, that Çeku took command of
the KLA only in May 1999, a month before the war was over. His ideas
had very little time to take root.
110
Arms
The story of arms supplies for the KLA begins with an assessment of re-
quirements, identifies sources of arms, and explains how arms could be
transported from where they were obtained to where they were needed.
It necessarily considers legal impediments to purchase and transport
of arms.
Requirements
Arms requirements are determined by the size and human capabilities of
the fighting force, and the size and armaments of its opposition. Human
Rights Watch reports a total KLA force size of about twenty-six thousand,
while suggesting that the figure is inflated.2 Jakup Krasniqi admits that
the KLA consistently inflated the size of its fighting forces, and hints that
the figure of thirty thousand, used in KLA public statements late in the
war, may have been double an actual number of about fifteen thousand.
Counting KLA numbers is complicated by difficulty in distinguishing
regular soldiers, who operated in organized units, from the irregular home
guard that had weapons and some training but functioned only to defend
its own villages, and was sometimes pressed into auxiliary service with
regular units. In addition, the KLA had every incentive to exaggerate its
numbers and military capability.
Remi says that, at the beginning of 1999, he had about two thousand
effective regular fighters in Llap organized into his three brigades, another
fifteen hundred partially trained soldiers, and another fifteen hundred vil-
lage defense forces, for a total of five thousand. Haradinaj estimates seven
to nine thousand people, including villagers, under arms in Dukagjini.
Estimates for Drenica range from forty-seven hundred to ten thousand.
Drenica Zone Commander Sami Lushtaku says he had forty-seven hun-
dred effective fighters at the end of 1998. These bottom-up estimates are
consistent with a total force size of twelve to twenty thousand. Thaçi
estimates total force size as twenty thousand at the end of 1998, 20 to 30
percent of which came from the Diaspora. Valon Murati gives much lower
estimates: five to seven thousand throughout Kosovo at the end of 1998.
A senior officer of OSCE’s KVM, British General John Drewienkiewitcz,
gave the lowest estimate in December 2006 testimony before the ICTY:
fewer than a thousand at the beginning of 1999, rigorously distinguish-
ing between fighters willing to fight anywhere and those only willing to
defend their own villages.3
KLA arms requirements depended not only upon the number of KLA
fighters but also upon the forces the KLA was opposing. Che Guevara
suggested an arms kit for a guerrilla band of twenty-five men comprised
of ten to fifteen semiautomatic rifles, ten automatic weapons such as
AK-47s, and some hand-carried machine guns, preferably nine-millime-
ter guns, whose ammunition is easy to carry in quantities.4 Guevara’s
list is appropriate for hit-and-run guerrilla attacks against lightly armed
targets—ordinary police, or isolated infantry units, for example. But re-
quirements ultimately depend both upon the kinds of weapon the regime
uses against the insurgents and upon the tactics the insurgents intend to
use to avoid being killed or driven off by those weapons. In addition, it
is desirable to use the same kinds of weapons as the enemy so that cap-
tured arms and ammunition are readily usable by the insurgents. Small
arms like AK-47s are effective against personnel, but only at a short range
up to about two hundred yards. They are ineffective against armor and
artillery for two reasons: because their bullets cannot penetrate armor
and because the range is too great. AK-47s and simple hand-held and
home-manufactured weapons like hand grenades and Molotov cocktails
are better-suited for guerrilla forces focused on assassination and small-
scale property destruction.
A regime threatened with guerrillas possessing automatic rifles usu-
ally increases the manpower deployed against guerrillas first, and then
begins to use both armored personnel carriers to transport fighters and
some kind of armored weapons (often tanks) as a way of bringing heavier
firepower to bear on the insurgents without exposing regime personnel
to small arms. As a regime escalates its technological response, an insur-
gency equipped with small arms needs to escalate its own technology,
first with crew-served machine guns in order to confront larger regime
units, and then with antitank weapons like rocket-propelled grenades
(RPG) or sniper rifles with armor-piercing ammunition to confront ar-
mor and artillery. Large guns are cumbersome and can interfere with
the mobility that is at the heart of guerrilla tactics. Insurgents may also
need effective antiaircraft weapons if the regime uses airpower to attack
insurgents or merely for reconnaissance and spotting for artillery. This
abstract framework fits the situation of the KLA well. In the early days—
before the Serb counteroffensive in the summer of 1998, AK-47s, a few
crew-served machine guns, and hand grenades were sufficient for KLA
attacks on police stations and police convoys. They were not enough,
however, when Milosevic began to turn the war over to the VJ.
The minimum requirement for the KLA was an adequate number
of small arms: AK-47s, sniper rifles, and grenades were the small arms
of choice for the KLA. An AK-47 is an automatic assault rifle that fires
a 5.45–millimeter cartridge and has a magazine capacity of up to thirty
cartridges. Its loaded weight is 3.6–4.9 kilograms, and it has a practical
range of about two hundred meters and a practical rate of fire of about
one hundred rounds per minute in bursts. It can be fired in either single-
shot or automatic mode, in the latter of which the weapon continues to
cycle cartridges from the magazine into the chamber until the magazine
is exhausted. It is the most popular light infantry weapon in the world.
Sniper rifles are low-rate-of-fire weapons—bolt action or semiauto-
matic—designed with special precision to ensure accuracy over ranges of
up to fifteen hundred meters.5 They typically are equipped with telescopic
sights and range in caliber from .30 to .50 (12.7 mm). The larger-caliber
versions can fire armor-piercing ammunition, which is effective against
the light armor of some tanks, at ranges of up to two thousand meters.
Grenades are hand-held fragmentation bombs, which are thrown by
foot soldiers after releasing a trigger. Grenades are less lethal than com-
monly believed. They usually can be thrown between ten and twenty
meters, and injure about half of those within six meters of the explosion
(only 10 percent of whom die).6 But they are less useful in night attacks
or fights in cluttered areas such as forests and buildings.7 Their range can
be increased to one hundred or even three hundred meters by grenade
launchers attached to rifles.
To equip a KLA of fifteen thousand soldiers for a purely guerrilla
conflict would have required fifteen thousand AK-47s, 150,000 grenades,
and three thousand sniper rifles. This assumes an operational-unit size
of about ten, with small arms and ten grenades for each soldier, and one
sniper rifle per unit. But “[t]he real killing is done with heavier weap-
ons,” writes James Dunnigan in How to Make War.8 Heavier infantry
weapons, sometimes referred to as “crew-served” weapons, include mor-
tars, machine guns, antitank weapons, and antiaircraft missiles. Usually,
proficiency with these weapons requires specialized training and combat
experience.
Mortars deliver fragmentation and concussion munitions at high
angles, making them useful against dug-in enemy troops and other targets
protected by terrain or barricades from direct fire. Their range is limited
to a couple of kilometers. They are unlikely to be effective against tanks
or other armored vehicles. Their weapon- and ammunition-weight of
two hundred pounds requires several men. Medium and heavy machine
guns fire .264– to .50–caliber (6.5 mm to 14 mm) ammunition, weigh
from twenty-five to 125 pounds with fifty rounds of ammunition, and
are served by a crew of two to four to fire the weapon, to feed the am-
munition, and to carry it. They are effective at ranges up to one to two
thousand meters.
Tanks present a special problem for insurgent forces because they
are invulnerable to ordinary small-arms and machine-gun fire. But tanks
are vulnerable. Their tracks can fall off, and their engines are under
stress and can easily break down. Tank-mounted weapons require regu-
lar maintenance, and they are ineffective without trained crews. Tanks
also are vulnerable to a variety of weapons. Antitank guided missiles
(ATGM) can disable a tank and kill its crew, but they suffer from a vari-
ety of disadvantages including back blasts, and limited time to aim and
fire. Nevertheless, they are light enough for small infantry units to carry
and operate. Antitank weapons range from World War II–era Bazookas
to more modern RPGs. Both are shoulder-fired tubes that launch small
rockets designed to penetrate armor. Simpler and lower-cost versions are
unguided, which must be fired from relatively close to the target. They
generate flashes visible to the enemy, which attracts defensive fire. The
RPG-7, designed by the Soviet Union, is the most popular version. More
sophisticated and more expensive derivatives employ guidance systems
to improve accuracy and increase range. Though hard to estimate with
any precision, prices range from about $1,000 for older designs to several
million dollars each for current American or Soviet-era designs.
The Serbs typically attacked KLA and civilian positions with artillery
and tanks before moving infantry personnel in. They would often shell
KLA positions or nearby population centers for three or four days before
moving to the next stage of attack. Some KLA units had RPGs, 12.7–caliber
machine guns, mortars, antitank guns, and 75–millimeter crew-served can-
nons. Most units did not have any artillery and many units had only light
weapons, a few grenades, and maybe one mortar launcher. Ammunition
supply always was a problem. As a consequence, KLA units often were
in no position to attack Serb forces and simply had to hunker down and
wait for the Serbs to attack them. This style of warfare let the Serbs fight
on their own terms, and let them take advantage of their superior military
technology. In order to reduce this advantage, the KLA needed a greater
number of more effective antitank weapons. It is unlikely that the KLA
destroyed more than a half-dozen Serb tanks throughout the entire war.
The KLA had less need for antiaircraft weapons because the Serbs did not
use aircraft much in carrying out operations. They did use helicopters for
reconnaissance and spotting, but few KLA soldiers report helicopters or
fixed-wing aircraft being used to drop ordnance or transport Serb troops.
For a force of fifteen thousand, the KLA needed three thousand crew-
served machine guns, maybe six hundred antitank rocket launchers and
ammunition, assuming one machine gun for each unit of ten soldiers,
more antitank weapons than the Serbs had armored vehicles, and sev-
eral antitank weapons for each hundred KLA soldiers. The KLA suffered
chronic ammunition shortages throughout the conflict, as already noted
in this and earlier chapters. Ammunition shortages limited weapons
training. Most soldiers, even those who received two weeks or more of
training, had never fired more than ten rounds before facing the enemy.
When KLA soldiers brought weapons back from Albania, they typically
brought no more than five hundred to one thousand rounds for each
AK-47. Each AK-47 clip holds ten rounds. (Some hold more, up to thirty
rounds.) According to discussions about the “battle of the bridge” ambush
hypothetical by KLA commanders and fighters (summarized in chapter
five), a typical hit-and-run attack would employ between three and seven
fighters, each of whom would expend two clips of ammunition for his
personal weapon and no more, because tactics dictated keeping the ex-
posure of the KLA attackers to Serb forces and possible reinforcements
brief. Those assumptions produce an estimate of sixty to 120 rounds for
each guerrilla attack. If each AK-47 came with five hundred rounds of
ammunition, each fighter would be able to participate in only twenty-
five guerrilla attacks before he ran out of ammunition. And, of course,
the frontal conflicts with Serb forces expended ammunition at a much
higher rate.
KLA Arsenal
The KLA never had anything approaching the suggested “requirements”
developed in the preceding section. Remi remembers that, when he first
met Adem Jashari in late 1997, and Jashari urged him to revitalize the
KLA in the Llap region, “I was thinking. I want to do what he says, but
I can’t count more than twelve weapons available to us in all of Llap.”
This was after Zahir Pajaziti’s organization in Llap had been disrupted
by his assassination and associated arrests, which scattered all but about
four known fighters, including Remi. (Considerably more than twelve
weapons had been available in Llap before the Pajaziti assassination and
the arrests.)
Regularly, young men would volunteer to fight with the KLA only
to be told there were no weapons for them. Arxhient Bajraktari joined
Brigade 113 in Drenica on June 16, 1998. “I didn’t have a weapon when I
joined,” he said, though “I had a nice knife. It was my father’s knife. At
first, he wouldn’t tell me where it was. I went home one day and finally
found it, after about two hours.” Many soldiers’ first acts were to walk to
Cost
Fifty percent or more of the funds raised for the KLA was used to buy
weapons, say the fund raisers, although it is hard to square this assertion
with the estimates of weapons needs developed in this chapter. One can
assume the following average per-item prices for each type of weapon:
AK-47, $100; grenade, $10; sniper rifle, $750; machine gun, $1,000; an-
titank weapon, $2,500. Multiplying those prices by the estimated num-
bers of each type of weapon available to the KLA, one arrives at a total
of approximately $10 million for the weapons themselves. If one doubles
that figure to account for ammunition, and includes another $100,000
for uniforms and boots and another $2 million for communications and
night-vision equipment, the total cost of supplying the KLA was about
$25 million. If one uses the low figure developed in chapter six for total
funds raised—$50 million—the 50 percent assertion is about right. If one
uses the higher figure for funds raised—$100 million—there is a substan-
tial gap between money available and money expended on weapons and
other supplies and equipment—thus reinforcing Ramush Haradinaj’s ob-
servation that the KLA had plenty of money but encountered difficulty
in spending it on an adequate supply of weapons.
Sources
The sources of KLA weapons were almost entirely outside Kosovo. The
KLA captured few arms from the enemy. It did, however, buy them from
corrupt members of the enemy’s forces, especially in the Llap Zone. The
international arms market was the principal source for the KLA. State-
supplied weapons were a KLA dream and one of its greatest disappoint-
ments. No state stepped forward to supply weapons.
The KLA grew at a good time for weapons customers, however. The
end of the cold war in 1989 meant that enormous stockpiles of weapons
from the Eastern Bloc suddenly became surplus. These weapons flooded
the black markets, and one cannot exclude the possibility that the new,
noncommunist governments of these states actively supported the gen-
eration of foreign exchange through weapons sales to anyone who wanted
the weapons. Then, of course, the winding down of the conflicts in Croa-
tia and Bosnia made weapons amassed by the anti-Serb forces in those
areas available for sale, including machine guns, hand-held antitank and
antiaircraft missiles, such as the latest Russian RPG-22 antitank missile,
and the Igla (Needle) antiaircraft missile.11 The collapse of the govern-
ment in Albania after the 1997 pyramid-scheme crisis was a godsend for
the KLA not only because Albania was a source of light weapons from
unguarded Albanian army depots but also because Albania provided a
transit area for an otherwise geographically isolated Kosovo.
By late 1998, KLA zone commanders could “place orders” for weap-
ons. “Ramush or the headquarters would say, ‘We need ten more sniper
rifles’ or whatever else they needed,” said Luigj Gjokaj. “We would pick
up the arms from storage and then take them to the airport.” The most
important sources of arms were the United States, Bosnia, Croatia, Swit-
zerland, and Germany. Four channels for weapons predominated:
1. Albania provided the bulk of AK-47s and grenades.
2. Sniper rifles were available from the United States and Switzerland,
where the quality was good and they could be purchased legally.
Good sniper rifles came from the United States, mostly bought at
“hunting shops” and gun shows.
3. Most of the other good small arms came from Slovenia, Croatia,
and Bosnia.
4. Heavier weapons, especially crew-served machine guns and anti-
tank rockets, were available from and through Germany. Shoulder-
fired antitank weapons came from Swiss and German manufactur-
ers through those countries, but they were very expensive.
The arms from the Albanian Army depots were mostly Chinese AK-
47s, which earned the reputation within the KLA of jamming after ten
rounds were fired. More and better arms from Europe flowed through
Albania to the KLA. The ministers of Fatos Nano’s Socialist govern-
ment in power after the spring 1997 collapse and general officers in the
Albanian Army did the bare minimum to enforce Albanian law against
weapons transfers because their sympathies lay so strongly with their
fellow ethnic Albanians.
In Switzerland, purchasers would prepare documentation and ID
cards for weapons purchases in the name of someone deceased or no
longer in Switzerland, although supporters sometimes purchased am-
munition in their own names. The documentation generally required
only the identity of the purchaser, and not disclosure of the destination.
Usually the ID and money were enough; merchants asked few questions.
Ammunition was generally easier to get in Switzerland than were weap-
ers bringing weapons north to the Kosovo border were often stopped by
the police, who confiscated their weapons. Sometime late in 1998, the
U.S. government, the British government, and others gave a green light
to the Albanian government, and the police arrests were stopped. Gen-
eral Kulusi Lama, commander of logistics for the Albanian Army and
commander of Albanian forces in the Kukes region in 1997–99, made it
clear (without saying so explicitly) in a January 13, 2005, interview that
he provided encouragement and assistance to KLA forces infiltrating
supplies and personnel into Kosovo, and often made sure the police did
not stop their convoys.
The Sigurimi (the Albanian intelligence service) also organized a
system based on trucks with Albanian Army markings and drivers in
Albanian Army uniforms. The police would not stop them. Every night,
five or six trucks would move from Durres, loaded with arms. The trucks
were bad-order trucks from Switzerland, but they functioned well enough
for this mission. The KLA paid for the fuel. The KLA had plenty of money;
that was not a problem.
As the arms supply lines filled, crates of weapons “sets” still packed
in lubricant were delivered to supply depots in northern Albania, where
they were distributed to KLA soldiers who had walked across the moun-
tains to get them. But distributing weapons was chaotic until late 1998.
Everyone who wanted to fight went to Albania to get his own weapons.
Someone would ask his friends, “Where did you go?” and would set out
with a few of his friends to find a few AK-47s. It was not until after the
Holbrooke-Milosevic cease fire that things were better organized.
Typically, a group of twenty to thirty KLA soldiers would cross the
border into Albania and make contact with someone identified in advance.
Often, weapons were moved from the transfer point into the border by
mules and donkeys because the terrain in that part of Albania is virtually
impassable by motorized vehicle, even on the roads. Once they reached
the immediate area of the border, KLA soldiers usually took the weapons
across on their backs. Each man in an ordinary weapons-supply opera-
tion could carry three weapons, one for himself and two for others. Bigger
men could carry almost twice as many. Often each soldier made two or
three trips across the border to get all the weapons across. Of course, they
tried to avoid regular border crossing points on the main roads because
those were tightly controlled by Serb forces. Nevertheless, these weapons
transporters often were surprised by Serb forces and killed.
Serb control of the Junik and Deçan Valleys in Dukagjini often made
it necessary to shift arms supply activities closer to the Montenegrin bor-
der, although the routes near Montenegro were the toughest, taking about
line and to follow the same route. I barked orders like I was in charge.
They thought I was, and it worked.
Later (in 1999) the KLA had night-vision binoculars, which greatly facili-
tated not only night movements but also keeping track of Serb forces.
When there was less fighting, Dukagjini commanders would dispatch
groups of the biggest men, those in the strongest physical condition, to
go to Albania for ammunition and for two or three weapons each for
the troops in the Dukagjini Zone and three or four for troops from other
zones, thus relieving the troops less familiar with the territory from hav-
ing to go over the mountains to get their own. When groups of KLA came
down the mountain toward the settled areas in Deçan and Junik, other
KLA forces would block the road and launch attacks on the Serb forces
to clear a way for the weapons to cross the roads into the settlements,
where the weapons could be dispersed and hidden until they could be
distributed in Dukagjini or other zones. Once the weapons were across
the border they were moved, usually at night, by caravans of a handful
of soldiers and a couple of vehicles holding the weapons. These caravans
avoided engaging the Serbs they observed because they understood that
their mission was to deliver the weapons, not to use them on the way.
By moving at night, they worked their way through KLA free-zones to
the destination. Dealing only with people they knew, the weapons trans-
porters moved substantial amounts of weapons this way.
Inside Kosovo, weapons could be hidden in multiple houses of sympa-
thetic civilians. If they were destined for places other than the Dukagjini
Zone, the group of soldiers who had crossed the border would move them
through KLA-safe areas, usually in tractors or trucks made available by
local villagers. Local civilian guides in each geographic area would di-
rect the soldiers: “Go this way, not that way; see this villager; you can
stay with him for the night; someone else will make his tractor and cart
available to you.” Had the KLA not already won the hearts and minds of
the local population, it would have been impossible to distribute arms.
One can calculate the theoretical throughput of this Albania-based
logistics system. A round-trip arms supply expedition to Albania typi-
cally took about two weeks: roughly a day to cross into Albania, a day or
two to recover, a week or more waiting for the arms or distributing them
from stockpiles already there, and another day to return to Kosovo. When
donkeys and horses were available, fifty men could carry three hundred
weapons. When pack animals were not available, each man carried three
weapons. Assuming that pack animals were available for only one-third
of the expeditions, delivering two weapons would have required one
General Staff used its control over the flow as a source of leverage over
the zone commanders. But after the Albanian government collapsed in
1997 and KLA numbers mushroomed, multiple supply lines developed,
many of them controlled by Dukagjini Zone commander Haradinaj,
whose forces were astride the border, and whose people had the best lo-
cal knowledge. In 1999, after the operational zones were reorganized to
make them more responsive to direction from the General Staff, central-
ized control increased.
The KLA’s lines of communication were dispersed, thus making it
difficult for the Serb forces to interdict them. Every kullë was a poten-
tial arms depot.14 Every gap in the trees along the dirt roads crisscrossing
the mountains was a potential goat trail on which guns could be carried.
Every tractor, horse cart, truck, and bus might be carrying weapons,
clothing, or equipment. The only way to interrupt the KLA supply lines
was to kill every man, woman, and child and destroy every vehicle,
structure, and farm animal. The best the Serbs could do was concentrate
their forces in the Dukagjini Zone to make it more difficult to move
arms from Albania—and, eventually, to drive almost the entire civilian
population out of their homes and villages. That they did, but that was
not enough, because the other borders were too porous, and state con-
trol and regime loyalty were so weak in Serbia proper that arms could
be smuggled through territory the Serbs unquestionably controlled in a
military sense.
Legal Impediments
Because the KLA was never officially designated a terrorist organization
by states with the most rigorous arms-control regulations, legal restric-
tions were no more of an impediment for the KLA than for anyone else
who wants lots of guns. But arms controls on heavier weapons were a
significant consideration, and often required concealment of purchases
and shipments or falsification of destinations and intended use. The
arms-control regime in the United States is representative of the types
of regulations generally employed in Europe, recognizing that European
cultures embrace wide availability of firearms less than certain parts of
the United States.
In the United States, the Arms Export Control Act15 establishes a
regulatory regime under which the president may control the export
of defense articles and defense services.16 Items designated for control
constitute the “United States Munitions List.”17 Decisions on whether
to grant export licenses must take into account whether the requested
Other Supplies
Equipment other than arms was necessary to allow KLA units to coor-
dinate with each other and with higher authority. Vehicles were not a
particular problem. KLA tactics were well executed in many cases by
conducting operations on foot. When motorized transport was necessary,
the civilian population usually provided an adequate supply of ordinary
automobiles and trucks and farm equipment to supplement vehicles
owned by KLA fighters and commanders or their families.
Radio equipment came mostly from Sweden, and European cell
phones and American satellite phones were readily available early in
the conflict. Users of these communications systems were acutely aware
of Serb eavesdropping capability, and used pseudonyms and code words,
and kept communications brief to reduce the risk of interception.
Until the fall of 1998, KLA communications were primitive. Many
lower-level units did not have radio communication with other units or
with higher-level commanders. Messengers traveling on foot had to pass
intelligence and requests for reinforcement or heavier arms. After that,
Radio Shack hand-held devices were common. These could communicate
over ranges much greater than the one or two miles advertised when us-
ers were on top of hills. Further, beginning in October of that year, more
sophisticated communications systems were available. Luigj Gjokaj, the
Detroit fund raiser, reports, “Our guy, Agim Ziba, who was a cameraman
and also our technical expert, determined the specs for radio sets. We pur-
chased ten or fifteen radio sets, at forty to fifty thousand dollars each.”
Sympathetic businessmen made resources available for Commander Remi
to have $200,000 worth of VHF hand-held radios in the Llap Zone, and a
$700,000 base and repeater system for zonewide communications. Other
zones, including Dukagjini, never had central systems.
Night-vision binoculars and scopes were crucial for tracking and
attacking enemy movements, especially on the trails from Albania into
Dukagjini. These binoculars and scopes came mainly from Russia and
the United States. Night-vision equipment was becoming available in
June 1998, but supplies were not adequate until May or June 1999, near
the end of the war. The Michigan group supplied probably fifty sets of
night-vision binoculars (though two were seized at the airport).
Food and water were not a major problem. The KLA operated only
in areas where it enjoyed broad popular support, avoiding areas with
significant concentrations of Serb civilians. Accordingly, the civilian
population readily provided food, clothing, and shelter, and also helped
KLA fighters conceal themselves from Serb forces seeking to root them
out. After the civilian population was expelled, the KLA often had to
go through enemy lines to bring food in. They would not take food be-
longing to the civilian population; rather, they set up cooking facilities
about five hundred yards away from enemy lines, presumably to lessen
the distance the food had to be brought. Only after the massive ethnic
cleansing activities in 1999 did the KLA have to concern itself with food
and water supplies.
Getting appropriate clothing to KLA fighters was a prime necessity.
“When I walked to Albania for the first time, I was wearing sports clothes
and Nike athletic shoes,” said Safet Krasniqi. “When we got up into the
mountains, it started to sleet, even though it was June. I’d never been so
cold—but they say it’s better to be cold if you get shot or step on a mine.
By the time we crossed the border and headed down, my Nikes were in
shreds. When we went back after two days, I was wearing a uniform and
boots.” Supplying uniforms and boots was not a problem once logistics
were better organized. KLA uniforms were not really “uniform” for ev-
eryone. Fatigue-style clothing, available virtually anywhere in the world,
was relatively cheap. A KLA soldier could dress in fatigues, sew a KLA
arm patch on the sleeve, and he was in the proper uniform. Significant
supplies of uniforms and boots came from the United States. Few of the
soldiers or commanders interviewed for this book reported any significant
difficulty with supplies other than arms. The broad popular support for
the KLA by the time it numbered more than a few hundred apparently
made it relatively easy for fighters to get fed and to receive clothing from
the ordinary population.
Medical Care
Kosovar Albanian health care professionals began to organize health ser-
vices for the KLA as early as December 1996. “War requires good officers
and good surgeons,” says Bajram Rexhepi, a Mitrovica practitioner who
soldiers first. The KLA had a double obligation—to fight effectively and
to evacuate and protect civilians. “The KLA did the best it could to care
for civilians. Sometimes the Serbs used civilians as shields, forcing the
KLA to terminate attacks. It was impossible,” said Rexhepi. Supplies for
the KLA, especially of weapons, depended on a sympathetic international
community. If European states and the United States had tried seriously
to interdict KLA arms flows, it would have been a much less effective
fighting force.
130
to prove that Albania was a reliable member of the family of nations and
respected international law institutions.
In any event, the LDK was a more attractive client for Berisha than
was the KLA. Rugova, Bukoshi, and the LDK Diaspora—the Peaceful
Path Institutionalists—had supported Berisha’s rise to power through
his Democratic Party, while the KLA’s predecessors were associated with
Hoxha and his Socialist Party successors. Thaçi, Jashari, and Haliti all
were arrested by the Berisha government at one time or another. Berisha’s
control over the Albanian Army and intelligence services was shaky,
however. His purge of the top leadership helped the KLA by enabling
dismissed military and intelligence leaders to freelance and help the KLA
get its act together, and to begin winning its “intelligence war” against
the Serbs.
Fatos Nano’s Socialist government returned to power in mid-1997
through elections secured by international peacekeepers after the collapse
of a massive pyramid scheme linked to Berisha. Despite Nano’s sympathy
for the KLA, most of the instruments of government—and therefore, possi-
ble state sponsorship for the KLA—in Albania had fallen away into a state
of pervasive anarchy. Support from the West for rebuilding the Albanian
state became a higher priority than furthering Albanian nationalism in
Kosovo. Even though certain elements within the Albanian Army and the
leadership of the Sigurimi—including its head, Fatos Klosi—affirmatively
supported the KLA, they were forced to do so clandestinely, confronted
with opposition by other elements of the fragmented state apparatus.
People in the Albanian ministries were afraid. “What if Berisha comes
back?” they thought. They feared Berisha’s support of Rugova, the LDK,
and Bukoshi. The intelligence service could not convince the Ministry
of Defense to help, so Nano said to Klosi, “You help.”
On October 2, 1998, the Socialist Party replaced Nano with Pandeli
Majko. Majko had no communications with the intelligence service, so
it continued to operate without permission. Then a KLA arms shipment
through Italy went badly awry in November, three weeks after the party
conference. The Italian authorities called the Albanian authorities and
said, “Some arms for the KLA are on their way to Tirana. Watch for them
in the baggage claim area of the Tirana (Mother Theresa) Airport and you
can catch the smugglers.” The Albanian intelligence service intercepted
the weapons between the aircraft and the baggage claim machinery, so
there was nothing to find in the baggage claim area. The Italians publi-
cized the incident, forcing Majko to take further action.
Majko called Klosi and asked, “Where are the weapons?” “In my of-
fice,” was the answer. The police found a warehouse where the intelli-
gence service stored more weapons. They also caught one of Klosi’s trucks
ferrying weapons to the KLA. Majko ordered Klosi’s arrest, accusing him
of trafficking arms. Klosi said, “Trafficking is a criminal activity; we are
not trafficking; we are supplying arms for a war by our brother Alba-
nians.” Majko said that the intelligence service was profiting personally
and that any effort to support the Kosovars should be transferred from
the intelligence service to the Albanian military. Later in 1999, when it
was too late to make a difference, Majko made a big show of supporting
the KLA. But the blowup forced a shutdown of the arms flow to the KLA
in late 1998 and early 1999, which provoked a real crisis.
Public as well as governmental sympathy within Albania for the
KLA was modest at first. Albanians living in Albania were interested
in moving closer to the West, and it was not clear that support for the
KLA would help them do that. Public sentiment in favor of the KLA was
strongest in the north of Albania. Kosovars are Ghegs, and the Ghegs
lived in the north. A different ethnic subgroup, the Tosks, lived in the
south and traditionally had dominated the politics of the Albanian state.
The northern border was always porous. Albanian nationals and Koso-
var nationals interacted when they pastured their livestock on common
pastures in the mountains. Extended families lived astride the border,
some on one side and some on the other.
200
180
160
Congressional Record References
140
120
100
80
60
40
20
0
1986 1989 1992 1995 1998
Figure 1. References to Kosovo in Congress, 1986 to 1998.
when he took office.9 But there had been no mention of Kosovo in the
1992 presidential campaign debates. After taking office, President Clinton
referred to Kosovo during two news conferences: each time he warned
Milosevic not to broaden the Bosnian conflict to Kosovo. Otherwise,
Clinton’s public papers, including his speeches as well as official dec-
larations, make no mention of Kosovo until 1998, when he made fifty
references.
Presidential reticence was occasioned by sharp political conflict in
the United States over Kosovo. By the end of 1989, expressions of support
for Kosovar Albanians were beginning to run into opposition. An amend-
ment condemning human rights abuses against the Albanian population
of Kosovo was added to the Foreign Relations Authorization Act, but
was modified after Senate debate to make it more “even handed,” and
less focused on Serb abuses of Albanians.10 Lobbying efforts by Kosovar
Albanians failed to turn the political tide. In 1996 the sentiment of the
Congress was that the crisis in the Balkans had been averted by the Day-
ton Accords and that American foreign-policy makers could turn their
attention elsewhere. But the KLA made sure that this mood did not last.
As the KLA became more active, interest in Kosovo intensified dramati-
cally, concentrating initially on KLA use of “terrorism.”11 Influential
Democrats in the Congress, like Representative Lee Hamilton, were
cautious. “[T]he Administration should not blame Milosevic alone for
the current crisis in Kosovo. . . . [T]o be an effective intermediary, we
must also highlight the unacceptable use of violence by armed ethnic-
Albanian separatist groups, which is part of the reason for Serbia’s recent
crack-down in the first place.”12
President Clinton, in the middle of a growing clamor for his impeach-
ment and removal from office based on the sexual scandal involving
Monica Lewinsky, was caught in the political crossfire. Further, American
intelligence about the dynamics of the Kosovo conflict never was good.
“I didn’t want to believe how bad U.S. intelligence was,” says Florin
Krasniqi. “‘My God!’ I said, ‘how could they be so clueless?’ There were
some very effective agents, but most of them just wanted to collect their
paychecks and to retire without controversy. They did not want to take
any risks of getting in trouble, and you cannot collect intelligence if
those are your motivations.” Reinforcing this conclusion is the author’s
conversation with then-U.S. ambassador to Macedonia Christopher Hill,
who later served as the U.S. troubleshooter in Kosovo. In the spring of
1997, Ambassador Hill explained to the author and several students why
he believed that the collapse of the government in Albania would have
little effect on the insurgency in Kosovo.
Rumors that the United States provided clandestine support for train-
ing early KLA cadres in the late 1980s and early 1990s, however, are not
supported by any evidence.
Once it became clear to American policy makers that forceful action
against Milosevic was necessary in Kosovo, the United States still had to
bring the Europeans on board—a difficult challenge. Eventually, desires
to repent for failures of nerve in Bosnia, commitments to maintain soli-
darity within NATO, public revulsion with Milosevic’s ethnic cleansing,
and a determination not to see it repeated in Kosovo, caused Europeans
to make common cause with the United States in intervening.
An important facilitating development was the election of Tony
Blair’s Labour Party to govern Great Britain in 1997. From the begin-
ning of his tenure, Blair’s foreign secretary, Robin Cook, worked with
Albright to push the rest of Europe to take a tough stand on Kosovo,
and sought to defuse Russian support for Milosevic. With a major Eu-
ropean power behind her, Albright induced Russian Foreign Minister
Ivanov to acquiesce privately and informally to the threat of air strikes,
while Russia maintained its formal position that it would veto any UN
Security Council resolution approving the use of force against Serbia.16
The result was the Milosevic-Holbrooke agreement of October 1998,
providing for a cease fire and the withdrawal of Serb heavy forces. Then
in January 1999, the Reçak Massacre—the killing of forty-five civilians
in the Kosovo village of Reçak—occurred, which Ambassador William
Walker exposed to the world press as the work of the Serb police. Walker’s
distinguished reputation enhanced the impact of his public statement.
Public reaction to the Reçak Massacre was shaped further by Hague Tri-
bunal Prosecutor Arbour’s persistent public efforts to obtain access to
the massacre site, efforts that were rebuffed by Serb authorities in front
of the international press.17
able to put the fire out. Moreover, the KLA proved itself tough enough to
resist international pressure to stop its fighting. Though it generally was
cooperative with internationally brokered cease fires and other efforts
to limit the scale of the conflict, the KLA demonstrated that it would
not sit on the bench while Milosevic reentered the field. It would resist
Milosevic with arms, no matter how much the international commu-
nity wished it would not. As a result, it sent a clear signal to the inter-
national community: You will not solve this conflict until we get what
we want—removal of Milosevic’s repressive forces from Kosovo and the
establishment of a viable path to independence.
As it fought, the KLA built international support by exploiting grow-
ing Serb repression. There is no evidence of any KLA operation motivated
primarily by the goal of provoking Serb reaction: Indeed, many com-
manders altered their tactics or their targets for fear of bringing down
Serb retribution on civilian populations. Nevertheless, the KLA knew
that one of the results of its continued fighting would be intensified Serb
repression of the innocent, and it grew more sophisticated in its ability
to make sure the outside world knew of the reaction each time.
The KLA was not alone in publicizing repression; the Peaceful Path
Institutionalists had been attempting to do this throughout the nine-
ties, with Rugova’s press conferences in Prishtina displaying the latest
evidence of Serb atrocities. But Rugova missed opportunities to shape
events as well as information. He always sought to cool things down—
discouraging student demonstrations as well as armed attacks on Serb
authority. The KLA understood that it must heat things up.
One of the most remarkable achievements of the KLA was its dis-
cipline in making sure it did nothing to undercut growing international
support. It avoided terrorist attacks on civilian targets. It steered clear
of militant Islamic influences. It kept the fight inside Kosovo. It raised
money in other countries openly. As a result, it blunted attempts by
Milosevic and Milosevic sympathizers in other countries to portray it
as a terrorist organization and a vanguard of militant Islam. All available
evidence shows that the KLA, unlike Bosniak forces in Bosnia, shunned
Islamic fundamentalists. As Bukoshi said,
We knew that accepting help from Iran or Saudi Arabia would be the
death knell of our effort to engage the West. I had an offer from Iran when
things were so desperate that “we were seeking help from Eskimos and
penguins.” I refused, because I knew it was a trap . . .
Serbia was rubbing its hands in anticipation that fundamentalists
would become involved in the Kosovo struggle. From the beginning,
Serbia had always argued to the West, “We protect you from the Muslim
Florin Krasniqi took teams of journalists to refugee camps and KLA train-
ing camps in Albania, and made videotapes for others. He used his cell
turned out to be a good idea that KLA commanders and fighters kept
out of the limelight. Their militancy might have undercut their image
in the West. Far better was to have refugees on television. Some young
KLA supporters made sure that happened.
About three thousand of us were in a kind of camp towards the south-
west. I wanted to do something to protect my family, friends, and neigh-
bors, but there really wasn’t anything I could do. I couldn’t join the KLA
as a fighter because the KLA had disappeared.
Then I realized: I could use my English and my cell phone. I was able
to make contact with international journalists, and two of them came
to our encampment. Over time, I established regular contact with about
seven journalists and some NGOs. Journalists passed my cell phone
number around to others. They were, of course, delighted to have some
way of finding out what actually was happening on the ground. Journal-
ists would come in and out, and NGOs occasionally would bring aid. I
was the coordinator of all this.
Later, I became part of the team that produced Koha Ditore Times, the
only source of news from the Albanian resistance published in English.
We [Koha Ditore] also had a Web site—Arta—available in English. We
would e-mail the stories to a server located outside Kosovo. The news-
paper and the Web site broke the news blackout maintained by Rugova
and the LDK. Otherwise journalists would have viewed the war through
an LDK lens. The LDK could hardly deny the existence of the KLA by
this time, but they still were trying to minimize its significance and to
reinforce the idea that the KLA was just a handful of extremists.
We had pictures and stories right away because Veton Surroi [the pub-
lisher of Koha Ditore] was a genius. He sent his reporters right along
with the international reporters. It was a good deal for both sides: the
international reporters had people with them who knew the territory.
The Koha Ditore reporters had company that tended to protect them
from arrest and harassment by the Serbs.
I didn’t ever take up a gun. I thank God I had learned English. This and
my cell phone were my weapons—and I used them. (Lirim Greiçevci)
By the time the last diplomatic conference over prewar Kosovo was
over, the KLA had driven the last nail in the coffin of Milosevic’s repu-
tation. The February-March 1999 peace conference in Rambouillet was
a watershed for the Albanian nationalists. It was, they perceived, the
first time the international community had been aligned on the side of
the Albanians and against the Serbs. Under Albright’s tutelage, Thaçi
glimpsed what was the most important opportunity: The KLA must
seem to be avoiding war while making Milosevic seem to be embracing
it. Thaçi saw that he must insist on retaining the possibility of eventual
independence and on keeping but transforming the KLA—the two most
152
the forces of the TMK for seven years, and became prime minister in
2006. Ramush Haradinaj was deputy commander of TMK before he, too,
entered politics and became prime minister (earlier than Çeku).
Veton Surroi, the highly respected publisher of the main Kosovar
Albanian newspaper, Koha Ditore, which had provided the first public
relations outlet from the KLA to the outside world, was a favorite of the
internationals, and interpreted local events for them. Many thought that
Surroi—given his elegance, confidence, and articulate sophistication—
could emerge as the only capable and trustworthy leader of postwar
Kosovo. In any event, his views were greatly respected by the interna-
tional community. But his international support was stronger than his
local support, and he did not start his own political party until 2004. In
December 1999, Surroi provided the author with an interpretation of
early postwar political developments in Kosovo. Rugova offered no “in-
terim government” ministers or institutions at first, Surroi said, because
Rugova knew that no one could do anything then. Whoever tried would
get blamed for everything that happened. No one would blame UNMIK
for murders of Serbs and Albanian opponents; they would blame Thaçi,
who held himself out as the head of local government. Rugova and the
LDK would be the beneficiaries.
For the internationals, the goals were peace and a multiethnic gov-
ernment, no matter how much that slowed economic development and
the emergence of local institutions. Toward that goal, Rugova was a
better bet than anyone from the KLA. The impulse to choose Rugova
over action-oriented Thaçi and to make the formation of a multiethnic
government a priority resulted in a stalemate. On December 15, 1999,
UNMIK formed a “Provisional Administrative Council of Kosovo” that
ended Thaçi’s interim government and substituted a structure that was
to include both the PDK and the LDK. The LDK boycotted this at first.
Then UNMIK established a “Joint Interim Administrative Structure”
in February 2000.2 This apparatus lurched along until elections could be
held in October.
The organization of the elections was driven by fear that the KLA
parties would win. Both locals and internationals had been afraid of the
organization during the conflict. Rugova realized he could take advantage
of these fears to make a political comeback that would be backed by the
only real political party in Kosovo—his. Resentment toward the KLA
simmered among those who thought they themselves deserved the places
and leadership positions now occupied by the former fighters. Returning
refugees and expatriates—many of whom had run factories, schools, and
town halls before 1989—expected to resume their places and provide po-
litical and economic leadership for the New Kosovo. Although they were
ten years older, most had not fought, and the day seemed to belong to the
young men of the KLA. Rugova tapped into the popular perception that
the majority of the former KLA leaders and fighters lacked experience
in anything except fighting, and that many had only basic schooling.
Haradinaj left the TMK in April 2000 and formed his own political
party, the Alliance for the Future of Kosovo (AAK). Rooted in the Du-
kagjini wing of the KLA, but reaching out to other, non-KLA political
parties and movements, the AAK was a formal alliance of six parties (this
was later reduced to four). Haradinaj’s motives for entering politics are
unclear but have been the subject of vivid speculation: He was induced
to enter politics, some say, by a Western desire to split the KLA vote;
encouraged, others say, by dismay about Thaçi’s exclusion of non-KLA
elements; and inspired, still others say paradoxically, by Thaçi’s inclu-
siveness. Whatever the motives of those encouraging him, Haradinaj
emphasized effective government from the beginning. “Say that the AAK
works more than other parties, that AAK members wake up earlier than
members of other parties and that they will do more for you than the
others,” he declared in one campaign speech. “I can say that personally
I work more than Thaçi and Rugova.”3
The Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE)
organized the first postwar elections for members of municipal assem-
blies in October 2000. Going into this first round of elections, the former
leaders of the KLA appeared to be in the driver’s seat. Their success in
leading the fighting enabled them to enter politics; Thaçi and Haradinaj
certainly had not been part of the Kosovar Albanian political elite before
1998. But their association with the KLA also got in the way. Many were
surprised by the election results in 2000, however. The PDK—or the PDK
and the AAK together—were expected to sweep the field because of their
KLA identity, and Rugova and the LDK were expected to fade from the
scene. In the election, however, the LDK polled 58 percent, and the PDK
polled only in the low 30s. Haradinaj’s AAK polled about 8 percent.
Reassured that Thaçi’s party, the one most strongly identified with the
KLA, was unlikely to sweep national elections, UNMIK, with the acqui-
escence of the three parties, promulgated a “constitutional framework” in
May 2001 that called for the election of a national assembly, a president,
and a prime minister, thus constituting “Provisional Institutions of Self
Government,” or PISG. UNMIK reserved the power to nullify PISG’s deci-
sions. UNMIK also scheduled national elections for November 2001.
In the 2001 elections, the results were similar to those in the mu-
nicipal elections a year earlier: the LDK won about 46.3 percent of the
vote, the PDK took 25.5 percent, and the AAK 7.8 percent. Turnout in
2001 was about 64 percent, well down from the nearly 80 percent turn-
out in 2000.
The results reflected two realities of Kosovar politics. First, even well-
educated young people voted as the head of their family suggested they
vote. Second, many urban people and others were never entirely sympa-
thetic to the KLA. As Blerim Shala, publisher of the second largest Kosovar
Albanian newspaper, Zëri, told the author, “The LDK would have won an
election [even] if it had been held during the middle of the war.”
A protracted postelection struggle ensued over formation of the gov-
ernment. Thaçi wanted to be prime minister, but Rugova would not ac-
cept that possibility. Eventually a national unity government was formed
on March 4, 2002, with representatives of all three major parties included:
the LDK’s Rugova became president, the PDK picked the prime minis-
ter, and the AAK was along for the ride. Thaçi picked as prime minister
Bajram Rexhepi, a respected physician who had organized health care
for the KLA during the war, but who did not have a political base in the
conventional sense. Nexhat Daci became speaker of the assembly. He
had been a long-time member the LDK and a professor of chemistry at
the University of Prishtina. In a public interview given soon after he was
selected as speaker of the assembly, Daci reached out to former KLA
fighters in the PDK and AAK.
The coalition governed for almost four years, passed legislation, put
together annual budgets, and upgraded public services. Its tendency to
produce tepid compromise government policy, however, prevented any
major policy initiatives, especially in the economic sphere. This strength-
ened the hands of the individual ministers. Each minister could afford
to be more partisan and more proactive than the prime minister because
each minister had his or her power base only in one political party. In
some cases, they used the opportunity corruptly.
The basic ratio of votes did not change after the 2001 elections—LDK
continued to poll twice as many votes as PDK (with percentages in the
high 40s and 50s), PDK polled twice as many as the AAK (high 20s to
low 30s), and the AAK remained steady with just less than 10 percent.
As a rough measure of party activity, the LDK reported to the OSCE that
it spent about €650,000 in 2003, while the PDK spent about €420,000
and the AAK just over €100,000.4 Thaçi and Haradinaj struggled to intro-
duce modern politics to Kosovo: Each sought advice from European and
American political experts, including the author. Thaçi and Haradinaj
privately expressed respect for the other and a determination to work
together against the LDK. Lines between these two war parties and the
Krasniqi, the secretary general of the party, said, “You are just a techni-
cian. You didn’t fight in the war.” Thaçi depended on the “old wolves”
because the other PDK factions had no power base of their own. Though
there was talk in January 2004 that the PDK might split, others thought
that unlikely. Everyone in the PDK understood that the party needed
Thaçi as its face. His attractiveness and moderation were necessary to
overcome the PDK’s greatest liability: a perception of thuggishness and
incompetence. No one who was in the wings could compete with Thaçi
in overcoming this perception.
The AAK was less a political party than a platform for Haradinaj.
Everyone was intrigued by its potential and by Haradinaj’s charisma and
leadership. But most observers believed that the AAK would cease to
exist as a party without Haradinaj. In the AAK, Ramush Haradinaj was
the old wolf, and so it was easier for him to move to the middle without
being threatened from the right in his own party. But real electoral suc-
cess eluded him. Haradinaj ran in 2000 as a moderate with good program
ideas, and he received only 8 percent of the vote. Then he moved to the
right and got 9 percent. Popular wisdom held that the AAK initially had
appealed to young professionals because Haradinaj, more than Thaçi, had
cozied up to internationals and to the NGO community. He was, as one
PDK staffer said, “the darling of the internationals and NGOs, probably
because they saw him as a reliably KLA yet nonmilitant alternative to
Thaçi.” For some adherents of the LDK, Haradinaj’s AAK was a way of
splitting the KLA vote and ensuring continued LDK dominance. Others
within the LDK sought to interdict the AAK’s early success in drawing in-
tellectuals and young professionals by portraying Haradinaj as a thug.
A 2003 effort to form a new political movement oriented toward
youth and young professionals fizzled. Senior members of the move-
ment, including Surroi and Bukoshi, advised the young organizers to
back away from direct political challenges and concentrate instead on
Surroi’s new “Forum 2015.” Young people were not willing to take the
risks of getting into politics, however, because the elections were a long
way off (municipal elections would not be held until 2006—and were
eventually postponed so as not to interfere with final status negotiations),
and because they depended on their good international and NGO jobs,
which would be jeopardized if they jumped into politics with both feet.
Moreover, political alienation was growing, especially among the young.
On the Serb side the “Return” Party, led by Milan Ivanovic, was obstruc-
tionist and took orders from Belgrade. Momcilo Trajkovic, a former ex-
tremist, led a competing Serb movement announcing that “we have to
work with Albanians directly on matters that concern us concretely in
the short term, and we should stop depending on Belgrade to protect our
interests.” Despite considerable international pressure, Kosovar Serbs,
having participated very little in earlier elections and taking their direc-
tion from Belgrade, did not participate in the 2004 elections. All of those
factors posed obstacles to the start of a viable fourth party.
Both UNMIK’s veto power over important decisions and its sluggish-
ness in achieving results, combined with the absence of any discernible
progress or commitment toward determining Kosovo’s final status and
with political jockeying by Kosovar leaders, fueled a public resentment
and alienation that were already high because of massive unemployment.
On March 17–18, 2004, riots broke out all over Kosovo and overwhelmed
UNMIK and NATO attempts to restore order. This was initially disas-
trous for Kosovo’s image because the rioters targeted Serb enclaves and
religious sites. Over time, however, the riots proved to be the wakeup call
the international community needed to address final status for Kosovo,
and focused local political attention on finally achieving the popular goal
of independence.
A debate continues over how the riots started and spread. It is clear
that the precipitating events were blockage of the Prishtina-Skopje road
by Serb demonstrators from a nearby enclave, Qakllavici, and the rumored
drowning of some Albanian children near Mitrovica after they had been
chased by Serbs. The Serb intelligence service claimed that it had known,
weeks before, that the riots had been planned by the Albanians. But the
Serbs did perform one of the riot’s precipitating events by blocking the
Prishtina-Skopje road. The Albanians claimed a Serb conspiracy, and
pointed out a pattern of Serb demonstrations more or less along the line
of partition preferred by the Serbs. But that hypothesis is questionable as
well, because the Serbs took no initiative in any demonstrations except
for the blocking of the road at Qakllavici.
The weather was nice, and electricity was in the air. The war vet-
erans’ organization led protests against war crimes prosecutions of KLA
commanders on March 16. The Kosovo trade union was planning to bus
members into Prishtina from all over Kosovo on March 17 to protest the
halt in privatization. But the blockage of the road and the widely reported
drownings were the immediate triggers of the violence. The author, in
Kosovo during the riots, observed the riots’ early stages when students
poured out of the University of Prishtina as word of the drownings spread.
The author watched NATO tanks, clouded with tear gas, struggle to con-
trol a crowd of college students trying to move up the Prishtina-Skopje
road leading out of the city and toward the Serb road blockage at the
top of the hill. On the second day, he drove past the Serb enclave on the
outskirts of Prishtina where a school had been burned the night before.
He was in the center of Prishtina as night fell, and watched high-school-
age teenagers burn UNMIK vehicles and mass in a disorganized way to
march on UNMIK headquarters. He was confronted on the evening of
the second day by heavily armed and aggressive riot police protecting
international facilities from an anticipated assault. He drove through
smaller towns in western Kosovo and saw orderly protest parades moving
through the town centers. When the author quizzed young participants
in the violence near Prishtina on how they knew where to go and what
to do, they said, “You talk to your friends and figure out what to do; it’s
not very complicated.” Streams of students headed up Mother Teresa
Street to the scene of the road blockage on Wednesday evening. Seeing
the crowds, young Albanians ran up and said, “Where are you going?”
and were told, “Up the hill, to break the roadblock. Come on!” Thus the
crowd grew. The targeting of Serbs and Serb churches was more consis-
tent with this hypothesis than with any carefully orchestrated strategy.
What conceivable Kosovar Albanian purpose could have been served by
two days of violence directed against Serbs?
Frustration against the UN had been high, and grew even more. The
prosecution of KLA commanders and the abrupt and unexplained halt of
privatization by a senior EU official just posted to UNMIK were concrete
additional “insults” to Kosovar Albanian hopes. The rumored drowning
of the children and the Serb roadblock were simply triggers. A huge and
growing young population that did not fight in the KLA wished it had,
and wanted to prove itself. The property destruction was widespread,
especially in Serb enclaves and in Prizren, where major sections of the
city were burned and dozens of fatalities resulted. No trivialization of the
riots is appropriate. Yet for many of the actual participants, it was like a
celebration in a college town of a football victory that got out of hand.
Prime Minister Rexhepi distinguished himself by visiting the site of
some of the most intense violence near Prishtina—at some physical risk
to himself—and successfully urging the crowds to disperse. Haradinaj
and Thaçi issued calls for calm. Thaçi, in the United States, interrupted
his activities to tape Voice of America broadcasts in both Albanian and
English calling for order, and flew back to Kosovo immediately after leav-
ing the VOA studios. His interview on Serbian Voice of America was his
first formal presentation in English. The riots sputtered out as these and
other local political leaders called for calm and NATO flew in additional
troops to complement KFOR.
Everyone, inside and outside Kosovo, was stunned. Was this a return
to the disorganized violence of 1998? Would it shift international opinion
LDK and AAK formed a coalition, thus freezing out the PDK and ORA,
and selected Haradinaj as prime minister. Most people credit Daci with
putting the coalition together, based on his pragmatic realization that
he needed a partnership with a KLA figure, and that, conversely, he had
to split the KLA vote and drive a wedge between Thaçi and Haradinaj. It
worked. Thaçi felt betrayed by Haradinaj, while Haradinaj’s motivation
was murky. Many say that he sought to forestall his widely rumored
imminent indictment by the ICTY. More benign hypotheses are more
plausible: Haradinaj cared deeply about his country and was embarrassed
by the ineffectiveness of the previous broad coalition. Rugova would pass
from the scene eventually, and Haradinaj knew that there was no heir
apparent within the LDK. Perhaps Haradinaj (assuming he could dodge
the ICTY bullet) could take over the LDK and merge it with the AAK.
Then he would come out on top, thus besting Thaçi for good.
Adverse international reaction to Haradinaj’s selection was intense
because of widespread rumors that he was about to be indicted for war
crimes. But SRSG Søren Jessen-Petersen, appointed in June 2004 as part
of the international community’s post-riots determination to reengage
in Kosovo in a more purposeful manner, and by far the best UNMIK top
administrator since 1999, deflected the criticism by saying that the demo-
cratic process in Kosovo should be allowed to make decisions unmolested.
In his hundred days as prime minister, Haradinaj accomplished much. He
was results-oriented and was tough with his ministers, who were scared
of him in various ways that were not all political. He grasped the nettle
of decentralization and interethnic harmony in ways that other Kosovar
leaders had been unwilling to do. Haradinaj appeared likely to be more
effective than Thaçi’s Bajram Rexhepi who, though very able, sophisti-
cated, and charismatic, was thwarted both by the necessity of obtaining
approval for every move from a divided PDK presidency and by the ever-
present possibility of an LDK or AAK veto. Thaçi initially floundered in
his unexpected role as leader of the parliamentary opposition.
But then Haradinaj was indicted by the ICTY in March 2005 and re-
signed, earning wide local and international acclaim for the grace with
which he did so. SRSG Jessen-Petersen lamented his departure and called
Haradinaj “my friend.” Haradinaj designated Bajram Kosumi to replace
him. Kosumi had supported the KLA but so insignificantly that he once
implored Remi to allow him to be photographed with Remi’s troops in
order to boost his credibility. (Remi borrowed a uniform for Kosumi to
wear.) Now the only prominent leader with a KLA background who was
not tainted by war crimes accusations, Thaçi gradually became more
sure-footed, but his path to political dominance remained blocked. When
Haradinaj was let out of jail on provisional release in June 2005, he be-
came a behind-the-scenes kingmaker, though he was hampered both by
the restrictions of his provisional release and by the hatred of some KLA
adherents who saw him as a turncoat for cooperating with Rugova, and
beholden to the internationals who persuaded the ICTY to release him.
Yet even before the ICTY relaxed the conditions of his provisional release
on March 10, 2006, Ramush Haradinaj was the puppet master of politics
in Kosovo. He could not dominate publicly, but he could operate at the
margins that determined the outcome.
Ibrahim Rugova was diagnosed with lung cancer in September 2005
and died the following January. His death opened both a political vacuum
and the possibility that the LDK would fragment around three or four
power centers. Rugova’s death also opened the opportunity for a funda-
mental restructuring of the government, a goal shared by the interna-
tional community and the PDK after Haradinaj’s resignation. Assembly
Speaker Daci’s stubbornness and Prime Minister Kosumi’s political weak-
ness and insensitivity to appearances of conflicts of interest reinforced
the desire for change. A shakeup in February and March was procured by
the internationals, facilitated significantly by Haradinaj, and acquiesced
to by Thaçi. Having selected Kosumi as a placeholder in the prime minis-
ter’s office, Haradinaj dumped him not only because he was incompetent
but also because he was disloyal to the AAK. Haradinaj recruited former
KLA chief of staff Agim Çeku to be prime minister, in part because he
respected his capacity but also because he was aware that this would
split the KLA vote further between the AAK and Thaçi’s PDK.
Fatmir Sejdiu replaced Rugova as president. This was a surprise to
many. He was the LDK’s general secretary but was friendly to the PDK
leadership, a respected law professor, not publicly political. He got off
to a great start and was far more active than Rugova had been in years,
and Thaçi did not seem to resist his selection or his early initiatives.
The LDK forced Assembly Speaker Daci out under pressure from the
international community.
Though all of the KLA leaders now in politics were on their best be-
havior after the March 2006 reshuffling of the government, signs abounded
that they were preparing for a political showdown after independence.
Thaçi and Haradinaj, formerly political allies, were both circling their
wagons and taking potshots at each other, mostly through staff and other
party members. Young staffers in the Haradinaj camp were freezing out
those who were known to be friendly with Thaçi, while those in the Thaçi
camp were encouraging their interlocutors to write off Haradinaj because
of his “defection” to the LDK, his ICTY indictment, and his dependence
their wartime leadership, but they were disappointed by the lack of policy
initiatives and lack of results on day-to-day problems such as employ-
ment and electricity supply. Increasingly, they were willing to say that
nothing would change until current political leaders left the scene.
Postconflict politics in Kosovo were driven by attitudes and lead-
ers that emerged from the KLA. Prominent KLA leaders were those in
the best position to provide real political leadership because they were
proven risk takers, and because they had more political capital because
of their hero status with the domestic publics. Already intense because
of the insurgency, tensions between the Peaceful Path Institutionalists
and the former KLA leaders frequently paralyzed postwar policy mak-
ing. Tensions between the Planners in Exile and the Defenders at Home,
largely submerged during the war, cropped up again in 2004, as competi-
tion between Thaçi and Haradinaj heated up.
Prosecution by international war crimes courts of prominent KLA
leaders unsettled politics throughout the period between the end of ac-
tive fighting and final status negotiations. Leaders’ popularity was gener-
ally enhanced by the prosecutions, but they were often snatched away
from the political stage to stand trial. The following chapter considers
the impact of these prosecutions and the implications for the evolution
of the international law of armed conflict. Postindependence politics in
Kosovo will be driven for a long time to come by the tripartite tensions
among the Peaceful Path Institutionalists, the Planners in Exile, and the
Defenders at Home. Thaçi and Haradinaj were not likely to mend their
breach; each would compete for the allegiance of the remaining Peace-
ful Path Institutionalists, as would those acquitted of war crimes. The
relatively civil political behavior during the final status negotiations is a
poor predictor of how politics in Kosovo will evolve after independence.
After independence, the gloves will come off and competition among
the factions will intensify. Then the international community will be
a relatively less important constituency because the Kosovar political
leaders, now having what they want from the internationals, will be able
to focus more on domestic constituencies. The central question is this:
would Kosovo’s political leaders be results-oriented and, if they were,
would they be able to maintain popular support? Would the courage and
resourcefulness that marked their leadership of the KLA reemerge, or
would the temptations of holding on to power cause complacency and
policy stagnation as long as no one threatened their positions and hold
on patronage?
167
Serbs but thought that its own fighters were justified in defending both
themselves and the Albanian population against Milosevic.
The prosecutions also raised questions about the fairness and utility
of the international enthusiasm for war crimes trials. Always subjected
to pressure to be “even-handed” in its justice, the ICTY indicted the KLA
leaders for mistreating Serbs, Roma, and Albanians suspected (the KLA
defendants allege) of spying or collaborating with the regime during the
insurgency. The facts are in sharp controversy, but a comparison of the
indictments of the KLA leaders with those of the leaders of the Milosevic
regime show that KLA leaders were accused of international humanitar-
ian law violations on a much smaller scale than the violations alleged
against Milosevic and his forces. In the early KLA cases, international
courts began to recognize this. In acquitting Limaj, the ICTY found no
systematic ethnic cleansing by the KLA, and rebuffed efforts to crimi-
nalize the entire organization. It further held that the ICTY might not
even have had jurisdiction over early KLA attacks. A number of lawyers
doubted that the traditional law of armed conflict was suited for applica-
tion to guerrilla insurgencies, either for the insurgents or for the regimes
opposing insurgencies. The prosecutions exposed some serious difficul-
ties in molding international criminal law (ICL) to fit the circumstances
of a guerrilla insurgency. Developed out of the conventional wars of the
nineteenth century, ICL fits the circumstances of modern guerrilla war
poorly and, therefore, threatens to widen the breach between legal theo-
ries and the realities of nationalist insurgencies.
Prosecution of individuals for war crimes was a new feature of in-
ternational law that grew out of the Yugoslav conflicts. Before the ICTY
was established in 1993, war crimes were the purview of national courts,
which almost never prosecuted their own political leaders, generals, and
soldiers. The ICTY was established to apply international humanitarian
law codified by the UN Security Council in Security Council Resolution
1244 and in the ICTY Statute3 that had been drawn from Hague Regula-
tions,4 the 1949 Geneva Conventions,5 the two Protocols to the Geneva
Conventions adopted in 1977,6 and various human rights conventions.7
KLA leaders and fighters could be sent to jail for “violations of the laws
or customs of war” (colloquially, “war crimes” or, more formally, “vio-
lations of the law of armed conflict”) or for “crimes against humanity.”
Unlike Slobodan Milosevic, none was accused of genocide. The core ob-
ligations of KLA fighters under these sources of law, collectively known
as International Criminal Law (ICL) were the same as the obligations
of the Serb forces opposing the KLA: the duty to discriminate between
individuals criminally liable for their own acts violating ICL; they are
liable for the acts of others if they had “command responsibility” or were
participants in a Joint Criminal Enterprise (JCE). Command responsibil-
ity obliges commanders to prevent or punish violations of ICL by those
operating under their authority. JCE is akin to conspiracy, which allows
all those taking part in a common scheme to be punished for violations
of ICL, even those who only planned or aided the direct perpetrators.
Both doctrines of vicarious liability are problematic in the insurgency
context. For example, when commanders of guerrilla insurgencies like
the KLA are prosecuted for violating ICL, the elements of command re-
sponsibility may be difficult to establish. Most insurgencies, including
the KLA, are not as well organized as conventional armies. Some sol-
diers obey orders; some do not. Everyone is a volunteer, and comes and
goes, moving between combatant and noncombatant status. Command
and control often are weak or lacking altogether. Also, the territories for
which insurgents are responsible or have effective control usually are ill
defined and change as the relative fortunes of the insurgents shift during
the conflict. This creates difficulties in defining the boundaries of the
command-responsibility theory.
Confronted with proof problems of this sort with respect to the KLA,
the ICTY prosecutor shifted to JCE for the high-profile prosecutions of
KLA leaders. JCE made it easier to send KLA fighters to jail for the acts of
others. The shift occurred in midstream in the Limaj case,10 and was the
keystone of the Haradinaj prosecution. Under JCE the prosecutor need
not prove authority, effective command and control, or even knowledge
of the conduct by another. Instead the prosecutor need only prove a com-
mon criminal plan, define its membership, prove participation by the
defendant,11 specify the act directly violating ICL, and prove that it both
was done by a member and was either within the purpose of the plan or
a foreseeable consequence. JCE bears strong resemblance to the crime of
conspiracy under federal law in the United States. Under both theories,
a defendant may be convicted either for acts of coconspirators that were
consistent with the purpose and design of the conspiracy-criminal enter-
prise or for conduct that was merely foreseeable.12 The ICTY prosecutor
alleged JCE as though the entire KLA was a “criminal enterprise.” Under
this theory, mere participation in the KLA would be a war crime.
For example, the first part of the Haradinaj indictment, alleging that
the purpose of the JCE was the “consolidation of total control” over
Dukagjini,13 involved a military objective and not a criminal objective,
unless one believes that the KLA was per se illegal. The prosecution
favors such breadth because only such a JCE theory would permit it to
Due Process
Many accusations against KLA fighters involved detention. International
criminal law does not prohibit detention unless persecution is involved;
it only requires that persons detained be the subject of reasonable suspi-
cion, be afforded some sort of due process, and be free from cruel treat-
ment and torture. What process is due depends on whether the detainee
is accused of a crime against municipal or martial law, or whether he
is accused simply of being a threat to the insurgency because he is a
collaborator with the other side. Further, the Geneva Conventions pro-
hibit the passing of sentences on prisoners, once detained, without first
granting them a trial held by a legitimate court. This is an obligation
impracticable for an insurgent group that, likely, is lacking the expertise
to set up judicial institutions. On the other hand, simplified procedures
for adjudicating claims that one detained is a combatant or is not in fact
a combatant, because of mistaken identity or other reasons, should be
feasible in any circumstance when the insurgents have even the rudi-
ments of a military organization. Similarly, most insurgencies have the
capacity to make some kind of formal determination about whether a
detainee has violated municipal or martial law. For example, the Limaj
court found that the KLA in the Drenica Zone had some mechanism for
distinguishing individuals it identified as collaborators, because it let
some detainees go.19
Targets
The most difficult reform challenge involves defining legitimate tar-
gets in an armed conflict involving insurgency. The core problem is
distinguishing “participants” in an armed conflict (legitimate targets)
from “persons taking no active part in the hostilities” (not legitimate
targets). The most fundamental obligation imposed by ICL is the duty to
discriminate (sometimes called the principle of distinction): the duty to
target only participants (combatants) and not to target nonparticipants
(noncombatants or civilians). Closely associated with this obligation is
the obligation to use only proportional force against participants so as to
minimize harm to nonparticipants. This is the duty of proportionality.
Traditional ICL doctrines limited the class of participant to three basic
subclasses: members of the opposing armed forces; members of mili-
tias and volunteer resistance movements, but only so long as they are
subject to formal command, use a fixed distinctive sign such as flags or
uniforms, carry arms openly, and are capable of operating in accordance
with the law of armed conflict; and those who, while incapable of forming
regular armed units, spontaneously take up arms, “provided they carry
arms openly and respect the laws and customs of war.”20 Guerrillas not
engaged in actual fighting, the population sheltering and supplying guer-
rillas, regime police and intelligence operatives, and regime collabora-
tors all fall outside this definition. Literal application of this definition
of legitimate targets is at odds with standard anti-insurgency practice
and fails entirely to accommodate the tactics universally embraced by
guerrilla insurgents.
When the law is turned against insurgents, it should draw sharper
and more useful distinctions between narrowly focused guerrilla tactics
incident to an insurgency and indiscriminate terrorist attacks on civil-
ians, especially those occurring outside the territory of the regime the
insurgency opposes. Additional steps must be taken to interpret custom-
ary international law, according to relevant “state” practice both by states
opposing insurgencies and by guerrillas, instead of looking only at state
on Terrorism and ICL will lose credibility. Moreover, when law matches
reality in most respects, it is likely to have more effect in regulating be-
havior. If it is illegal to give out leaflets, a dissident may as well give out
AK-47s. If a guerrilla soldier has committed a war crime the first time he
shoots at a special police commando, he does not increase his liability
much by pursuing his tactical instincts entirely without regard to ICL.
If the rules are out of line with reality, they do not qualify as rules in the
first place and will, in any event, have little effect.28 The same thing is
true with respect to the application of ICL to counterinsurgency forces. A
major effort to explore alternative formulations of ICL in the insurgency
context for both sides to such conflicts is appropriate.
181
Liberation Army’s art was believing against all odds that armed resistance
could succeed in Kosovo. Its science was commencing armed resistance
to build public support instead of the other way around, and persever-
ing even when its strategy was inchoate by probing for opportunities as
events unfolded.
The conflicts and tensions engendered by the buildup of an insur-
gency do not disappear after a conflict is over. The most influential and
effective leaders in postconflict politics will usually be the leaders of the
armed conflict who went before, as was the case in Kosovo. International
reluctance to embrace them as the architects of a new political order ex-
acerbates preexisting internal tensions that are certain to be associated
with any insurgency, as the counterparts of the Peaceful Path Institu-
tionalists, the Planners in Exile, and the Defenders at Home discovered
in their struggles to chart the path of nationalist resistance. The leaders
of a recent insurgency will not fade away, and refusal to deal with them
stymies political, economic, and legal progress, even if it does not cause
armed conflict to break out again. In the case of Kosovo the international
community was wise to incorporate major parts of the KLA into such
new institutions as the Kosovo Police Service and the Kosovo Protection
Corps. UNMIK’s ambivalence about dealing with Thaçi’s PDK rather
than Rugova’s LDK, however, deprived it of an opportunity to demon-
strate early success in nation building, and undermined international
legitimacy with the local population.
International criminal law makes little difference during a conflict,
and makes postwar nation building more difficult. International law
did not make much difference in the KLA’s evolution or in Milosevic’s
response. It did not nip the KLA in the bud, it did not provide useful
guidance for international intervention, it did not restrain Milosevic
from ethnic cleansing and other depredations aimed at the civilian popu-
lation. It did not determine KLA strategies. Prosecution of KLA leaders
after the war, even as major architects of much greater Serb depredations
escaped apprehension, undercut popular support for international ef-
forts to build democracy and a rule of law in Kosovo. The prosecutions
removed, at least temporarily, much-needed political leadership and, in
the world press and in some diplomatic circles, continued to undermine
the credibility of a number of the most effective postwar political lead-
ers. International law probably will not have much more effect in the
future unless it is fundamentally reformed to match reality. The content
of international criminal law needs to be rethought if it is to have any
legitimacy in shaping—or preventing—future armed conflict associated
with insurgencies.
185
189
Introduction
195
a loved one to the armed forces or a death squad); ibid., 268 (explaining interac-
tion).
4. Ibid., 269 (setting forth equation and providing graphical portrayal).
5. O’Neill, Insurgency and Terrorism, 76–77 (noting importance of appeals to
theology and other ideologies as important factors in gaining popular support);
Gurr, Why Men Rebel, 353 (ideological appeals offer the best means to mobilize
insurgency “to the extent that their content is designed to justify new aspirations
and specify means toward their attainment”).
6. Kurt Bexheti interview.
7. Pape, Dying to Win, 87 (explaining that religious differences are powerful in
helping insurgents distinguish their constituents from occupiers).
8. The term “consciousness of potentiality” is derived from Taber, War of the
Flea, who writes that popular will supporting a guerrilla struggle expresses “a
newly awakened consciousness, not of ‘causes’ but of potentiality.” Ibid., 5. Later,
he writes that a “reasonable expectation of success” is “perhaps the most power-
ful of motives.” Ibid., 23.
9. Jerry M. Tinker, The Political Power of Non-Violent Resistance: The Gan-
dhian Technique, 21 Western Political Q. 775–76 (1971) (analyzing Gandhi’s
philosophy); Kurzman, The Unthinkable Revolution in Iran, 114–16 (noting that
military was in serious danger of disintegrating and each use of force increased
this danger, stimulated in part by ideological and religious appeals to ordinary sol-
diers by insurgents and also because of exposure to demonstrators who sometimes
“put a flower in the end of a rifle barrel” causing soldiers’ morale to disappear);
see also DeFronzo, Revolutions and Revolutionary Movements, 38 (noting how
in early stages of the Russian Revolution of 1917, soldiers and sailors no longer
automatically obeyed their officers).
10. KLA communiqués Nr. 27 (27 Oct. 1996) (“we will knock on your doors and
will deliver the appropriate punishment”); 30 (3 Feb. 1997); 32 (27 Mar. 1997); 33
(18 May 1997); 36 (19 Oct. 1997).
11. KLA communiqués Nr. 18 (14 Feb. 1996); 21 (14 July 1996); 24 (30 Aug.
1996); 28 (12 Jan. 1997).
12. KLA communiqués Nr. 30 (3 Feb. 1997); 33 (“we are your sons and daugh-
ters and we need your material and moral support for the liberation of our terri-
tories”); 35 (12 Aug. 1997) (“we need your funds”); 36 (15 Sept. 1997); 38 (7 Nov.
1997) (“call upon Albanians who are in emigration to help the fund established
for the liberation of Kosovo”); 39 (22 Nov. 1997).
13. Clark, Civil Resistance in Kosovo, 124.
14. See ibid., 118–19 (reporting splits in LDK and criticism of Rugova in
1994).
15. Malcolm, Short History, 322.
NATO bombing in Serbia threatened his hold on power and because he thought he
could sell the Kumanova Agreement better than the Rambouillet Agreement.
1. In frontal warfare, armies fight each other from static positions.
2. Guerrilla warfare involves hit-and-run attacks.
3. See generally Hosmer, Why Milosevic Decided to Settle, 87–88 (reporting
that KLA forces had dwindled from twenty-four thousand to as few as three thou-
sand by May 1999, necessitating a return to guerrilla tactics carried out by small
groups).
4. This phase had actually begun in 1985.
5. Hamzaj, Narrative About War and Freedom, 73.
6. Clausewitz, On War, 194.
7. Ibid., 186.
8. Ibid., 190–92.
9. Ibid., 193.
10. Ibid., 198–99.
11. Guevara, Guerrilla Warfare, 9: “War responds to a certain series of scientific
laws; whoever ignores them will go down to defeat. Guerrilla warfare as a phase
of war must be ruled by all of these; but besides, because of its special aspects, a
series of corollary laws also must be recognized.”
12. Mao envisioned three phases of guerrilla warfare. In Phase I, insurgents con-
centrate on building public support, limiting military action to selected attacks
on particular targets that serve mostly as a way to build popular support. In Phase
II, insurgents gain strength and consolidate control of “base areas,” conducting
military operations to capture arms and wear down government forces. In Phase
III, the insurgents commit regular forces, which they have been building and
protecting over time to prevail in a final offensive against the regime. Hammes,
Sling and Stone, 52 (summarizing Mao’s three phases). See also Guevara, Guer-
rilla Warfare, 13: “Triumph will always be the product of a regular army, even
though its origins are in a guerrilla army.”
13. Taber, War of the Flea, 110.
14. Hammes, Sling and Stone, 2.
15. Ibid., 2.
16. Ibid., 51.
17. Clausewitz, On War, 87: “the political object is the goal, war is the means
of reaching it, and means can never be considered an isolation from their pur-
pose.”
18. Ibid., 253–55 (explaining the effect of victories and defeats on public opin-
ion).
19. Hammes, Sling and Stone, 56.
20. Ibid., 76.
21. Ibid., 79–86.
22. Ibid., 86.
23. International Crisis Group, Kosovo After Haradinaj, 9, note 66 (quoting
document from Albanian State Archives, and noting consistency of KLA policy
with traditional prohibition).
Chapter 6: Financing
1. Bujar Bukoshi’s Fund was based on a 3 percent tax on all Kosovars in exile.
The formal name of this “Three-Percent Fund” was the Republic of Kosovo Fund
(RFK). The RFK was a registered charitable organization in each country where
Chapter 7: Training
1. http://www.todaysmilitary.com/wil/t5_wil_training_basic.php [visited 5
Aug. 2005].
2. In the U.S. Army, instructors in basic training are referred to as “drill ser-
geants.” In the U.S. Marine Corps, they are referred to as “drill instructors.” This
chapter uses the “drill instructor” term.
3. http://www.goarmy.com/life/basic/index.jsp (syllabus for U.S. Army basic
training).
4. Interview with Driton Gashi.
Chapter 8: Supplying
8. Ibid., 44.
9. Daalder, Winning Ugly, 178.
10. Wade Boese, Belgrade, KLA Move Forward on Arms Control, Disarma-
ment (Sept./Oct. 1999), available on http://www.armscontrol.org/act/1999_09-10/
yugso99.asp [visited 27 Aug. 2005].
11. Christopher Bellamy, “Flight From Croatia: How the Croats armed and
trained for victory; weapons,” The Independent (London), Aug. 8, 1995, reprinted
in http://www.fortunecity.com/meltingpot/greenside/761/168krajina95.html [vis-
ited 22 July 2005].
12. Daalder, Winning Ugly, 135.
13. Ibid., 135.
14. A kullë is a traditional Albanian housing compound, with one or more
three-storey stone or brick houses, surrounded by a ten- to twelve-foot-high stone
wall.
15. Arms Export Control Act, Pub.L. 90-629, Oct. 22, 1968, 82 Stat. 1320, as
amended, codified at 22 U.S.C. §§ 2771–81.
16. 22 U.S.C. § 2778.
17. Id. § 2778(a)(1). The Munitions List is part of the International Traffic in
Arms Regulations (ITAR), 22 CFR pt. 121.
18. Ibid., § 2778(a)(2).
1. See generally Daalder, Winning Ugly, 136–41, 239 (arguing that NATO was
losing the war until it unleashed airpower on strategic infrastructure targets in
Serbia proper).
2. Human Rights Watch, Under Orders, 29.
3. “How Germany’s Independent Line Paved the Way to the Kosovo War” (Apr.
16, 2000) (anti-NATO essay) (summary of Matthias Küntzel, Der Weg in den Krieg.
Deutschland, die Nato und das Kosovo, Elefanten Press, Berlin, 2000), http://
www.espresso-verlag.de/kuentzelfr.htm.
4. See generally Murphy, United States and the Rule of Law (analyzing alterna-
tive scenarios for future U.S. attitudes toward multilateral institutions, including
the International Criminal Court).
5. [1986] I.C.J. Rep. 14 (judgment).
6. UNSCR 1160 31 March 1998; UNSCR 1199 23 September 1998.
7. Id. paras. 2–3.
8. UNSCR 1203.
9. Human Rights Watch Under Orders, 29.
10. After the modifications, it was adopted, 135 Cong. Rec. S8107-03 (July 18,
1989), but then dropped in conference committee. Mr. Dingell, 135 Cong. Rec.
H8698 (Nov. 15, 1989) (commending conferees on Foreign Relations Authoriza-
tion Act for not including Senate wording criticizing repression of Albanians in
Kosovo, which could have harmed U.S.–Yugoslav relations). On June 19, 1991,
the House voted 289–127 to remove language calling for autonomy for Kosovo
and free and fair elections of a Kosovo assembly. 137 Cong. Rec. H4653 (sec.
866, expressing sense of Congress that autonomy should be retained for Kosovo
and that free and fair elections in Kosovo should select assembly); Id. at H4690
(recorded vote to remove language).
11. Mr. Hamilton, U.S. Policy on Kosovo, 144 Cong. Rec. E825-01 (May 12,
1998) (endorsing National Security Adviser Berger’s view that the United States
must make it clear that Kosovo cannot become independent and that Albanians
must refrain from violence); Sen. Nickles, 144 Cong. Rec. S2221-01 (Mar. 18, 1998)
(Senate resolution condemning Serb human rights violations and also condemn-
ing “terrorist actions by any group or individual in Kosovo”).
12. 144 Cong. Rec. E825-02, E826 (May 12, 1998) (reprinting Mar. 31, 1998,
letter from Representative Hamilton to National Security Adviser Berger).
13. Albright, Madam Secretary, 383.
14. See http://www.heritage.org/Research/Europe/BG1280.cfm.
15. Confidential interview.
16. Albright, Madam Secretary, 389–90.
17. Hazan, Justice in a Time of War, 125 (2004) (describing Louise Arbour’s con-
frontation at Kosovo border, accompanied by foreign journalists, in the context
of the broader exposure by Walker and the foreign press of the Reçak Massacre);
Hagan, Justice in the Balkans, 114–18 (describing how Arbour’s border confronta-
tion over Reçak led to New York Times coverage and influenced public opinion
in favor of intervening against Milosevic).
18. See KLA communiqués Nr. 19 (25 Apr. 1996) (“broadening of the conflict
in the Balkan region”); 27 (27 Oct. 1996) (“fire of war will spread to Balkans and
wider”); 33 (18 May 1997) (“stability in Balkans will be a valueless idea”); 35 (12
Aug. 1997) (“bloodshed will be bigger than Bosnia . . . after guerrilla war has in-
cluded all of the Balkans”); 38 (7 Nov. 1997) (“peace and stability in the Balkans
will not exist”).
19. Mr. Smith, 140 Cong. Rec. E515-02 (Mar. 22, 1994).
20. Paid advertisement, Detroit Free Press, Mar. 12, 1986.
21. See, e.g., communiqués Nr. 19 (25 Apr. 1996); 21 (13 July 1996); 26 (30 Sept.
1996).
22. Interview with Florin Krasniqi, 12 Jan. 2006.
23. See Campbell, Road to Kosovo. In 1999 Campbell took a follow-up trip to
Kosovo, in the company of several Chicago-Kent students and staff, participating
in the law school’s “Operation Kosovo.”
24. Loyd, My War Gone By (describing experiences as a reporter covering the
Bosnian war).
25. Pettifer, Kosova Express.
26. Confidential interview with author.
27. http://www.alb-net.com/mailman/listinfo/kan-info [visited 21 July 2005].
28. Republic of Kosovo Web site: http://web.eunet.ch/government/.
29. www.alb-net.com (summary description of KCC) [visited 23 June 2005]. For
other Albanian sites, see http://mprofaca.cro.net/kosovo.html [visited 23 June
2005].
30. See http://www.alb-net.com/kcc/fbi-report.htm (describing discovery of
children thrown down well) [visited 23 June 2005]; http://www.alb-net.com/
warcrimes-img/prekaz.htm (photographs of victims of Jashari Massacre) [visited
4 Dec. 2006].
31. See http://www.kohaditore.com/ARTA/drenica_ChildrenAndWomen.htm
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AAK: along for the ride, 156; associa- KLA from, 95, 145; paradise for
tion with PDK, 161; Çeku’s nomi- Albanians, 22; popular support for
nal membership, 164; coalition KLA, 134; PR for KLA from, 147;
with LDK, 162; election results refugees’ effect on public opinion,
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155; establishment, 155; Kosumi 91; spillover of Kosovo conflict,
insufficiently loyal to, 163; orga- 138; state of, 4; support for KLA,
nizational weakness, 158; postwar 7, 45, 94, 121, 130, 132–33, 135;
election results, 156; reason for traditional stories, 20; training
electoral disappointment, 157; 2004 camps, 15, 42, 43, 56, 103, 105, 109;
campaign, 161; veto of grand coali- weapons through, 92, 106, 115–16,
tion decisions, 162 118–27
Ademi, Afrim, 40; loyalty to Haradi- Albanian Army: training materials,
naj, 18 107; training models, 100–102, 105
adolescents: and risk, 40 Albanian intelligence service. See
agency benefits, 27 Sigurimi
Ahmeti, Ali, 84; responsibilities of, 81 Albanian literature, 7
AK-47: ammunition for, 115; as basic Albright, Madeleine: leadership, 141;
KLA weapon, 73; Chinese, 118; cost referendum on independence, 151;
of, 117; description of, 113; require- warning to Milosevic, 58
ments, 113; total supply, 116; train- Algeria, 7
ing, 100, 103, 106; use of clips, 75 Alia, Ramiz, 132
AlbaNews, 148 ammunition: civilians handled, 71;
Albania: arms, quality, 118; arms purchases in Switzerland, 118;
through, 47, 51, 95, 110; borders, requirements, 112; reserving for
20, 72; collapse of government, single-shot, 76; for training, 106
8, 9, 118, 132, 140; creation of, 5; annihilation as counterinsurgency
Diaspora from, 94; Enver Hoxha strategy, 3, 9, 11, 47, 51, 56, 131;
and, 6; Greater, 22; journalist visits avoidance of, 33, 45, 64; completion
to, 147; KLA infiltration from, 82, of, 59; ethnic cleansing as means of,
84; KLA oversight from, 82; KLA 53; failure in closely knit societ-
recruits from, 42; KLA withdrawal ies, 50; failure of Serbian, 47; fear
to, 79, 86; Kosovars left out of, 6, 7; in KLA soldiers, 43; frustration, 65;
little support for KLA, 63; manuals KLA defense, 62; luring KLA into,
as source of training for KLA, 45; 70; Milosevic’s use, 47; near suc-
money through, 89, 96, 97; origin cess, 143; Serb efforts, 181
of contributors, 91; oversight of antiaircraft weapons: from Bosnia,
211
118; need for, 114; requirements, assassination: and ICL, 177; IRA, 73
112; training, 106 autonomous province, 6
anti-insurgency theory, 48; decapita- autonomy, 185; goal of Rugova, 143;
tion, 49; ethnic cleansing, 53; inter- loss of, 52; revocation of, 8, 52; un-
diction, 50; reform, 51 der 1974 constitution, 21
antitank weapons, 114; from Bosnia,
118; at Kaqinoll, 77; KLA use of, Bajgora: attack at, 77; leadership,
114; need for, 114; requirements, 108; physical fitness training, 107;
114; supply in Dukagjini, 116; total training on law of armed conflict,
supply, 116; training, 103, 106 107; training school, 102; weapons
Arkan, 55 training, 106
armed conflicts: international law, Bajraktari, Arxhient, 102, 115
170; Thaçi participation in, 16 Bajraktari, Harry, 130; lobbying, 146
Armed Forces of the Republic of Ko- Balkan Wars, 20, 185
sovo. See FARK banking system, 96; Swiss, 97
armored personnel carriers, 112 Bardh coal mine, 70
arms: acquiescence by other states, Bardosh, 50
132, 135, 141, 142; Albania as Basque model for separatists, 7
transit point, 8, 31, 47, 80, 120, Bassiouni, Cherif, 178
121; capture of, 117; coordination Batllava Lake, 80
of supply, 94; defense against, 112, Battle of the Bridge, 74; Potera reac-
114; distribution through local tion, 75
population, 123, 125; Dukagjini battle plans, 74
flush with, 84; KLA reliance on, bazookas, 114
62; Kosovar civilians and, 72; for Beqaj, Besim, 21, 157
Kosovar Serbs, 55; injuries from, Berisha, Kole, 165
128; interdiction, Serb ambushes, Berisha, Sali, 66, 132; arrests of KLA
70; interdiction of, 50, 51, 129, 133, leaders, 133; fear of, 133; and LDK,
134; logistics system for, 123, 124; 133; pyramid scheme, 133
mines on goal trails, 65; money Bexheti, Kurt, 33, 89; and Chicago
spent on, 92, 95, 96, 98; mutual as- fundraising, 95
sistance among zones, 84; need for, Blair, Tony, 142
2, 3, 110; open during NATO bomb- Bonior, David, 146
ing, 59; opportunity for KLA, 70; boots: donated, 91; spending on, 92
poor quality of those from Albania, borders, changing, 135
118; Remi and, 191; requirements, Bosnia: arms from, 95, 124; brutality
111, 112, 113; for Serb forces, 71; of war, 31; competition for interna-
Serbia as source of, 53, 119; shop- tional attention, 8; effect on press
ping lists, 119; sources of, 8, 118; and media, 138; end of war, 8, 135;
training, 103; U.S. as source of, 118 ethnic cleansing in, 54; failures in,
arms control, 93, 125. See also legal 142; international interest in, 63;
restrictions on weapons and Islam, 144; Kosovo unlike, 59;
Arta, 150; source of news about KLA, lessons learned, 139; mistakes in,
148 137; as precedent for intervention,
artillery: attack on Kaçanoll, 77; 13; precursor to Kosovo, 3; violence
casualties, 128; near Podujeve, 76; brought international intervention,
Serb use of, 114; use in summer of- 143; weapons stockpiles, 118; why
fensive, 48 Serbia lost, 142; Yugoslav republic,
Asanaj, Dino, 146 5, 6
Braha, Luftar, 39, 46, 108, 130 membership in AAK, 164; popular-
brutality: and insurgent recruitment, ity, 164; prime minister, 45, 163;
48 training, 109; weakness as prime
Bukoshi, Bujar, 98; charisma, 16; co- minister, 164
ordination with Planners in Exile, cell phones, 50, 150
16; criticism of KLA, 98, 105; criti- charisma: of Bukoshi, 15, 16; of dead
cism of Rugova, 143; discouraging martyrs, 34; Haradinaj, 18, 158;
advice from experts, 110; emphasis KLA leadership, 27, 33, 37; Remi,
on institutionalizing resistance, 19; Rexhepi, 162
87; and fundraising, 88, 90; on Chicago: center of fundraising, 94;
KLA unpreparedness, 65; lobbying chief fundraisers, 95; fundraising
in Washington, 146; ministry of methods, 90; movement of funds,
defense, 86; nationalist upbringing, 97; total amounts raised, 92
21; opposition to funding KLA, 33; Chicago-Kent College of Law, 4
opposition to Muslim extremists, Christmas warning, 134, 139; weak-
144; outlook for insurgency, 67; ening of, 141
pleased with emergence of KLA, CIA: advice to KLA, 141; warning to
143; postwar political role, 158; KLA, 3
praise for KLA soldiers, 65; prime Çiftelia, 21
minister of government in exile, 15; civilians: attack on, 170; CIA warning
recognized need for armed resis- against targeting, 142; decoys, 75;
tance, 86; on Rugova, 33; support evacuating, 129; as KLA auxiliary,
for Berisha, 133; system for moving 77; KLA defense, 62; KLA inability
money, 96; Three Percent Fund, 89; to defend, 56; as KLA supporters,
visibility, 33 123; massacre of, 142; media atten-
bus transportation, 82; of weapons, tion, 147; Serb armed by Belgrade,
124, 125 55; support for insurgency, 26; sup-
Bush administration, 139 port for the KLA, 56, 71, 127; vic-
tims of Serb repression, 62; victims
Campbell, Greg, 147, 148; arrival of ethnic cleansing, 43, 54, 57, 78,
in Pristhina, 149; in Bosnia, 148; 80, 136; wounded and sick, 128
information black hole, 149; looked clan: reliance on, 53; tradition of vio-
for KLA, 149; at site of Jashari mas- lence, 143
sacre, 149; struggle to get into the clan-based law, 20
field, 149; threats to, 149 clandestine: international support,
cash: and Customs, 97; movement of, 131; nationalist organizations, 7;
96; for weapons, 92 nature of KLA, 31; nature of Plan-
Catholicism, 3, 29 ners in Exile, 82; reaction to Serb
ceasefire: and arms distribution, 121; police state tactics, 49
effect on KLA, 77; Llap force levels, Clark, Wesley, 141
77; negotiation of, 142; October Clausewitz, Carl von, 64, 65; defend-
1998, 9, 57; reasons for collapse, ers’ advantage, 70; KLA adherence
120; and Resolution 1203, 136 to, 69, 76; political nature of war,
Çeku, Agim, 109; commander in chief 67; public opinion, 67; relation to
of KLA, 85; credibility regarding guerrilla tactics, 65
final status, 165; governing capac- Clinton, Bill: Christmas warning,
ity, 165; head of TMK, 153; military 139; evolution of attitude, 141; po-
background, 45; need for interna- litical crossfire over Kosovo, 140
tional intervention, 131; nominal clothing: difficult to target, 51; inter-
diction of, 50; need for, 127; sup- criminal enterprise: KLA as, 171;
plied by civilians, 127; supplied by scope of, 172
population, 26 Croatia: Albanians as soldiers in, 45;
Cold War: effect on Kosovo, 22; weap- brutality of war, 31; Bukoshi base,
ons stockpiles, 117 15; end of war, 8; as precedent for
collaborators, 178; due process, 175; intervention, 13; second front, 63;
early KLA targets, 8; KLA labeled source of arms, 118; U.S. “Equip
as, 15; KLA targeting of, 176; risk to and Train” program, 85; violence
insurgents, 176; targets of IRA, 73; brought international intervention,
targets of KLA, 62 143; weapons stockpiles, 118; Yugo-
collective action, 28 slav republic, 5, 6
Collins, Michael, 73 CSCE. See OSCE
command and control, 81; relation to culture of resistance, 181; Albanian
war crimes liability, 171 culture, part of, 37; effect of, 39; en-
command responsibility, 171, 172 couragement for participation, 10
Commander Leka, 108 custom, 20
Commander Remi: emergency funds Customs Service: compliance, 97
for, 98; exemplar of Defenders at Czechoslovakia, 22; Soviet interven-
Home, 18; optimism, 57; personal- tion in, 132
ity, 18; physical fitness emphasis,
107; radio equipment, 126; replaced Daci, Nexhep: accused of corruption,
Pajaziti, 44; tactics, 71; telephone 161; architect of LDK-AAK coali-
appeal for money, 90; training tion, 161; forced out, 163; influence
school, 102. See also Remi in LDK, 157; international opposi-
communications, 126 tion to, 163; outreach to KLA veter-
communiqué. See KLA communiqués ans, 156; role in framing LDK-AAK
Communist, 132, 152, 185; intoler- coalition, 162; speaker of assembly,
ance for Albanian culture, 7; origins 156
of LDK, 28; Tito’s forces, 6 Dardania Bank: and Bukoshi, 96; and
concentration of forces, 65 Homeland Calls, 97
Congress, United States, 139 Dayton Accords, 15; discredited
consciousness of potentiality, 24; Rugova approach, 8; effect on Alba-
building, 28; creating, 27; effect nian attitudes, 32; fragility of, 138;
of guerrilla attacks, 66; effect of impact of NATO bombing, 59; and
Jashari massacre, 38; efforts to international complacency, 9, 140;
build, 10; fighting to increase, 35; reward for those who fought, 52;
KLA’s goal, 31; raising, 38 Rugova locked out of, 15
conventional warfare: requirements, Deçan, 79, 121, 123
64; training for, 105 decapitation: avoidance of, 49; as
Cook, Robin, 142 counterinsurgency strategy, 49;
corruption: benefit, 53; in Serb forces, early anti-KLA strategy, 54; Jashari,
65 50
counterinsurgency, 49, 54; decapita- defeat: advantages of, 71; perception
tion as stragegy, 49; focus on arms, of likely, 31; utility of, 76
51; fuels insurgency, 11; incompe- Defenders at Home, 7, 14, 23; at-
tence of Serbs, 68 tractiveness to Planners in Exile,
crimes against humanity: definition, 82; Bukoshi collaboration with, 15;
169; widespread and systematic at- conflict with Peaceful Path Insti-
tack, 170 tutionalists, 16; coordination, 81;
direct ties to donors, 89; disdained Drenica, 30, 57, 85; aid to Haradinaj,
strategy, 63; impatience to start 79; battle report, 78; battles for
fight, 87; impulsiveness of, 17; control of roads, 78; coordination
integration with Planners in Exile, through friends, 83; discouraged
63; Jashari as leader of, 9; links to religion, 102; force size, 111; guer-
Planners in Exile, 82; members, rilla tactics, 72; Homeland Calls,
37; orders from General Staff, 83; 94; KLA control of, 70; leadership,
organization, 84; ranks increased 45; less forthcoming to media,
by Jashari massacre, 38; Remi and 148; physical fitness training, 107;
Haradinaj exemplify, 18; roots in rumors of KLA, Serb attacks in, 69;
Marxism, 28; spirit of defiance, 28; state of siege, 57; tactical training,
strategy, lack of, 69; Thaçi as am- 105; tactics, 71; terror in, 54; Thaçi
bassador to, 17; Thaqi and Selimi participation in attacks, 84; total
links to, 82 arms, 116; training, 100, 104; train-
defiance: individual trait, 38; spirit of, ing, law of armed conflict train-
as motivation, 37 ing, 107; training instructors, 108;
Demaçi, Adem, 33–34, 130; advice to training organization, 102; weapons
avoid Rambouillet, 57 training, 106; Zone, 84
Demaj, Gani, 38, 122 drug money, 141
Democratic League of Kosovo: reac- Dubrava prison: Remi incarcerated
tion to Milosevic, 8; Rugova as in, 19
president of, 14. See LDK due process, 172
democratization: complication by Dukagjini, 104; arms supply, 116;
KLA experience, 12; reduces appeal border crossing points, 121; com-
of insurgency, 53; tension with rule manded by Ramush Haradinaj,
of law, 152 18; concentration of Serb forces,
detention, 54; and ICL, 177; ineffec- 125; control of weapons flow, 125;
tiveness of in Palestine, 66; under defensive spirit, 72; direct contribu-
international criminal law, 174 tions, 92; FARK and KLA conflict,
deterrence, 41 86; focus on weapons supply, 79;
Detroit, 95, 146; Customs stop, 97; force size, 111; KLA control of, 70;
fundraising, 94; total amounts management of arms movement,
raised, 92, 95 123; maximum force strength, 79;
Diaspora: contributors, 90; early KLA 1919 uprising, 68; Pastrik transit
invisibility, 8; flood of volunteers point, 80; physical fitness training,
from, 83; fundraising, 94; KLA 107; radio equipment, 126; roots
fundraising message to, 90; KLA of AAK, 155; Serb attacks in, 69;
reliance on, 3; physical fitness, 107; source of independence, 84; spend-
sources of recruits, 41; support for ing totals, 92; Swiss contributions,
armed resistance, 10; training for, 91; tactical training, 105; tactics,
103; volunteers, 111 71; terrain, 66; training, 100, 103;
Dioguardi, Joseph, 146 weapons purchased, 92; Zone, 84
dirty money, 93 Durres: arms movement through,
disarming and disbanding, 153 121; arms transit point, 120
disorganization: of KLA, 85; of leader- duty of proportionality, 175, 177
ship of KLA, 86 duty to discriminate, 169, 175, 177
Dole, Robert, 146
drain the swamp, 47; through ethnic ECMM, 134
cleansing, 56 elections: postwar, 155; 2000 results,
155; 2001 results, 155; 2004 results, tion of, 50; supplied by civilians,
161 127; supplied by population, 26;
elites: exclusion after 1989, 52; sepa- supplies, 127; Three Percent Fund
rating from regime, 31; success of support, 89
Albanian, 22; support for regime, foreign occupation: incentive for ter-
27; weak support for KLA, 26 rorism, 67; motivation for insur-
ETA, 37; KLA rejected tactics, 145 gency, 2
ethnic cleansing, 53, 54, 55, 127; Fourth Generation War (4GW), 67;
blurred with interdiction, 50; com- definition, 2; paradigm for KLA, 13,
pletion of, 59; counterinsurgency 143
strategy, 49; defense against, 72; France, 135
effect of NATO bombing, 131, 138; Frashëri, Naim, 21
effect on public opinion, 138; en- frontal warfare: defensive, 79; forced
larged sense of repression, 55; evi- into, 72; KLA attempts at, 56, 62,
dence of, 4; fifth strategy in Kosovo, 69; need for training, 101; Remi use
56; killing targets, 53; by KLA, 169; of, 72; risks to KLA, 54
Milosevic goal, 47; morale, effect fundraising in Chicago, 89
on KLA, 43; pubic revulsion with, funds, use of, 117
142; risk of international interven-
tion, 49 Gandhi, 31
European Union: early involvement, Gashi, Driton, 102, 105, 110
134 General Staff, 81; commanders as
excitement: after Jashari massacre, members, 85; control of weapons
40; magnet for youth, 37; role in supplies, 124–25; criticism of, 33;
recruiting, 42; role of, 23 disorganized meetings, 85; establish-
expertise: lack of, 45 ment, 62, 83; Krasniqi visit to, 95;
limited influence on Haradinaj and
family structure, 20 Remi, 84; reinstated Haradinaj, 86
FARK, 15, 81, 86; accommodation Geneva Conventions, 169; and pris-
with KLA, 86; conflict with KLA, oners, 174; training on, 107–8
35; origins of, 86; retreat, 79; train- geopolitical factors, 183; Albania, 132
ing, 108; unwilling to fight, 86; German intelligence services, 135
withdrew Haradinaj’s troops, 84 Germany: breeding ground for KLA,
FBI: flip flops, 141; interest in fund- 23; Bukoshi base, 15; clandes-
raising, 99 tine activities, 7; contributions in
fear: of death, 65; Serbian less than kind, 91; Disapora during NATO
Albanian, 38 bombing, 4; early fundraising, 94;
Ferizaj: KLA control of, 70; weak sup- effectiveness of LDK interference
port for KLA, 26 with KLA fundraising, 90; favored
financing: businesses as conduits, 97; Albanians, 135; as haven for politi-
contributors, 90; dirty money, 93; cal activists, 7; Homeland Calls
message, 89; moving the money, 95; chapters, 93; KLA links through,
organization, 93; protecting against 82; LPRK in, 28; no attacks in, 145;
interdiction, 98; total amounts, 92; recognition of independence, 165;
total contributions, 88 resistance attitudes, 37; source of
first aid training, 103. See also medi- arms, 118; total contributions, 92;
cal care total funds, 91
folk music, 20 Gërvalla: and Bexheti, 95; influence
food: difficult to target, 51; interdic- German government, 145
gence, 50; early anti-KLA strategy, Ivanov, Russian Foreign Minister, 142
54 Ivanovic, Milan, 158
interim government, 153; Rugova Izebegovic, Alia, 29
rejection of, 153
Interior Ministry, 48 jails, 23
International Criminal Court for the Jashari, Adem, 28, 57; arrest, 133;
former Yugoslavia. See ICTY charisma, 34; criticism of, 35;
international criminal law. See ICL death, 56; decapitation, 50; effect of
international intervention, 47; Alba- massacre of, 182; effect of massacre
nia, 132; aspects other than NATO on international community, 136;
bombing, 131; borders, changing, effect on consciousness of poten-
135; dependent on U.S. leadership, tiality, 38; effect on international
138; evolution, 134; goal of KLA, public opinion, 138; effect on KLA,
48; human rights justification, 137; 34; escaped capture in 1993, 56;
and international law, 136, 166; flood of volunteers, 83; manner of
KLA efforts to shape, 142; lobbying, death, 39; massacre, 56; massacre,
145; necessity, 130, 131; prompted effect of, 38; meeting with Remi,
by ethnic cleansing, 49; public 50; memorial, 44; mentor of Thaçi,
relations, 145; significance of, 132; 44; 1998 attack on, 9; picture on
strategy to procure, 62; and terror- walls, 34; relationship with Thaçi,
ism, 145 17; reliance on Thaçi and Selimi,
international law: backseat to politi- 82; Remi, instructions to, 115; re-
cal factors, 138; and intervention, placed by Thaçi and Planners in Ex-
137; role, 135; state practice, 175; ile, 44; reporter access to, 149; role
training, 101; war crimes prosecu- model, 103; stimulated volunteer
tion new feature of, 169 flow, 100; target of Serb attacks, 69;
international sympathy, 63, 64 training in Albania, 56; volunteers,
IRA, 37; hit-and-run tactics, 73; KLA assassination of induced, 70; and
rejected tactics, 145; KLA similar Zahir Pajaziti, 82
to, 73 JCE, 171, 172; foreseeability, 173;
Iraq: insurgents, toughness of, 48; theory of Haradinaj liability, 171;
similarities, 12 tightening of, 173; vague allega-
Ireland: Catholic identity in, 29; tions, 172
model for Albanian separatists, 7; Jerliu, Naim, 157
protracted struggle, 14; sources of Jessen-Petersen, Soren, 162, 167
KLA targeting strategy, 73 Joint Criminal Enterprise. See JCE
Iron Curtain: fall of, 22, 29; raising Joint Interim Administrative Struc-
of, 8 ture, 154
Islam: accusations by Milosevic, Junik, 121, 123; site of Holbrooke
144; ideology available to KLA, 28; meeting with KLA, 34
threat to international support, 29 just war, 136, 177
Islamic extremists, 3
Islamic fundamentalism, 119; role in Kaçanoll, 50: battle of, 57, 77; north-
Bosnia, 29; threat from, 3 ern limit of KLA line, 76; terrain, 77
Israel, 66 Kadare, Ismail, 21
Italian occupation, 6 KCC, 148
Italy: arms interdiction, 133; obsta- KDOM, 136; convoyed reporters, 149
cles to arms supply, 119; World War Kelmendi, Ibrahim: early fundrais-
II administration of Kosovo, 5 ing, 94
KFOR: confiscation of KLA weap- did not fight, 158; early support for
ons, 116; poor performance in 2004 KLA, 32; inflated estimates, 111;
riots, 161; reinforcements for 2004 influence, 35; smoothed relations
riots, 160 with commanders, 85; survived, 57;
kill zone, 74 visibility, 33
KLA arsenal. See weapons: require- Krasniqi, Safet, 127
ments Krasniqi, Selim, 168
KLA communications, 126 Kukes, 120
KLA communiqués, 32; emphasis on Kuqi, Hajredin, 157
foreign occupation, 146; first, 82; Kurti, Albin, 164
fundraising theme, 90; manipulated KVM, 136; force size estimates, 111
Western fears, 145
Klosi, Fatos: accused by Majko, 133; lack of knowledge, 85
arrest, 134; support for KLA, 133; Ladifi, Liridon, 26, 30
weapons for KLA, 133 Lahuta, 21
Koha Ditore, 150; English language Lama, General Kulusi, 121
news, 149; role in getting the story Lapushnik, 78
out of Kosovo, 148; Veton Surroi, law of war, 107; adapting to guerrilla
150 insurgencies, 170; training, 107
Kosovar Serbs, 159; non-participation LDK, 8; after the war, 154; anchor for
in elections, 159; opposition to Peaceful Path Institutionalists, 28;
greater autonomy, 7 barrier to independence, 53; and
Kosovo Action Network, 148 Berisha, 133; certain to win, 156;
Kosovo Police Service: absorption of coalition with AAK, 162; Commu-
KLA personnel, 151; KLA veterans nist heritage, 157; control of stories
in, 9, 152 about KLA, 25; controlled presi-
Kosovo Protection Corps: absorption dency, 156; dominance of fundrais-
of KLA personnel, 151; KLA veter- ing events, 88; election results
ans in, 9, 152 2004, 161; electoral expectations,
Kosovo 2015, 158 155; hostility to KLA continued
Kosumi, Bajram: loyalty to Haradinaj after war, 152; leadership contend-
insufficient, 163; missteps as prime ers, 164; message consistency, 146;
minister, 163; as prime minister, news blackout on KLA, 150; op-
162; thin links with KLA, 162 position in Chicago, 95; opposition
Krasniqi, Ahmet, 86 to KLA fundraising, 88; political
Krasniqi, Florin, 43; congressional vacuum after Rugova’s death, 163;
trip to KLA camps, 146; criticism postwar election results, 155; radio
of U.S. intelligence, 140; and Haliti, station used for fundraising, 90;
95, 97; in-kind contributions, 91; reasons for electoral success, 157;
journalist trips, 147; leadership, 95; Sejdiu as general secretary of, 163;
lynchpin of fundraising, 94; links skill at public relations, 32; spin for
to Haradinaj, 95; links to individual media, 148; support for KLA, 35;
commanders, 95; lobbying, 146; undermining KLA message, 32; use
public relations advice to com- of AAK to split KLA vote, 158; veto
manders, 146; recruited other fund- of grand coalition decisions, 162
raisers, 95; speakers for fundraising League of Prizren, 20
events, 90 Lebanon, 14
Krasniqi, Jakup, 157; criticized by Ha- legal restrictions on weapons, 125
radinaj, 85; disdain for those who legal treatment, 175; recruitment, 68;
Serb description of KLA, 73; Serb mander of Drenica Zone, 84; esti-
media releases, 149; U.S. legisla- mate of arms supply, 116
tion, 99
legitimacy: challenges to Thaçi’s in- Macedonia: Albanian parties, 4; Al-
terim government, 153; corruption banian population, 5; contributors,
undermines, 53; KLA increased by 94; extension of conflict to, 84; no
Rambouillet, 58; KLA reinforced by attacks in, 145; origin of contribu-
Serb attacks, 138; KLA’s, 33 tors, 91; recruits from, 42; refugee
Limaj, Fatmir, 44, 157, 164 camps, 9; refugee camps effect on
lines of communication, 120; disper- public opinion, 138; refugees, 4;
sal of, 125; Haradinaj defense of, 72; spillover of Kosovo conflict, 138;
Llap goal, 71 Yugoslav republic, 5, 6
literature (Albanian), 21 machine guns: Battle of the Bridge,
LKÇK: Murati’s role in, 25; strategy, 75; description, 113; Kaçanoll, 77;
26 KLA use of, 73; Lapushnik, 78;
Llap, 47; direct contributions, 92; drill requirements, 112, 114; supply in
instructors, 102; effect of Pajaziti Dukaghini, 116; total supply, 116;
assassination, 56; emergency funds training, 103, 106
for, 98; force size, 111; goals, 71; Majko, Pandeli, 133–34
haven in mountains, 77; indepen- Major, John, 135
dent from other regions, 82; Jashari Malisheva: Campbell, Greg, in, 149;
plans for, 115; KLA strategy in, 62; center of KLA activity, 1; force lev-
Pajaziti in, 44; preparations, 76; pre- els in, 83
serving forces, 80; radio equipment, Mao Tse-Tung, 26; foundation of
126; radio system, 96; Remi as 4GW, 67; military strategy, 105;
commander of, 18; Serb attacks in, phase I, 49; political nature of war,
69; Serb supply lines, 120; spending 67; popular support, 64; third phase,
totals, 92; Swiss contributions, 91; 71
tactical training, 105; tactics, 71; Marine Corps: See U.S. Marine Corps
terrain, 66; total arms, 116; train- Martini, Gjok: early Detroit activi-
ing, 100, 104; training instructors, ties, 95; newspaper advertisements,
108; training on law of armed con- 146
flict, 107; training well organized, martyrs, 34
102; villagers, 104; weapons flow Marxism-Leninism, 29
dried up, 80; weapons training, 106; Marxist: guerrilla doctrine, 105; ideol-
Zone, 84 ogy available to KLA, 22, 28; KLA
local knowledge, 122, 125; guerrilla labeled as, 15, 25; modification of
advantage, 66; of KLA recruits, 42; doctrine, 64
KLA reliance on, 69 media: access to KLA, 71; Bosnia, ef-
Loshaj, Xhavid, 71, 122 fect of, 138; essentiality, 137; inter-
Loyd, Anthony, 147 est in KLA, 137, 147; KLA reliance
LPK, 7; early hopes for second front, on, 147; reaction to Racak massa-
63; formerly LPRK, 28; and Home- cre, 142; Rugova attacks on KLA,
land Calls, 94; membership dues, 15; Serb media center, 149; way to
91 fight the war, 147; young Kosovars
LPRK, 7; Bexheti and, 95; change of worked on, 147
name, 8, 28; and Homeland Calls, medical care, 127
94; membership dues, 91 Mehmeti, Myzafer (“Freddie”), 89,
Lushtaku, Sami, 44, 45, 111; com- 90, 93, 119; Chicago fundraising,
95; compliance with Customs, 97; mines: detecting, 122; disarming, 103;
face-to-face solicitation, 95; re: on goat trails, 122; infeasibility at
secrecy, 50 Kaçanoll, 77; KLA target, 70
message: fundraising, 89–90. See also Mitrovica: drowned children, rumors
public relations of, 159; KLA positions east of, 76;
M48, 106 Serb supply lines in, 77; weak sup-
Military Advisory Committee, 110 port for KLA, 26
military discipline: training, 101, 104; Mitrovica-Peja road, 70
and war crimes liability, 174 money: from Bukoshi, 87; from busi-
military police, 108 nessmen, 91; channeled through
military theory, 64: anti-insurgency, businesses, 96; contribution re-
48; classical, 64; Fourth Generation quested, 90; drug and prostitution,
War, 67; guerrilla war, 65; suicide 93; Haliti responsibility, 81; illicit
terrorism, 67 activities, 93; invisible trail, 98;
Milosevic, Slobodan: abandoned KLA desire for Bukoshi’s, 86; Swiss
reform, 52; accusations against contributors directly to command-
KLA, 144; alternatives, 48; arms ers, 91; for terrorists, 99; under the
for Kosovo Serbs, 55; assumptions bed, 97; versus in-kind, 91; and vis-
about ethnic cleansing, 58; assump- ibility, 97
tions about refugees, 59; bad media money for the wedding, 64
image, 147; capitulation reasons, money laundering: U.S. legislation, 99
59; Christmas warning to, 139; Montenegro: Albanian population, 5;
claims of dirty money, 93; conflict arms through, 121; contributors,
with Albanian political elites, 8; 94; experiences in, 93; origin of
disdain for Albanian values, 4; ef- contributors, 90; Yugoslav republic,
fect of agreement in Rambouillet, 5, 6
57; election, 22; facilitated for- mortars: description, 113; training,
eign characterization, 30; ignored 106
Kosovo, 14; influence on popular mules and donkeys, 121
attitudes, 27; international hostility MUP, 48; supply lines, 120; training
to, 14; international opprobrium, models, 100
135; KLA recruiter, 37; KLA threat Murati, Valon: force size estimates,
to, 71; lack of public confidence, 111; political activities, 25; strat-
52; near misses, 57; near success egy, 26; visibility, 33
against KLA, 143; 1998 agreement music: Albanian folk, 21; Serb use
with Rugova, 136; original target of of, 78
war crimes judicial machinery, 167; Muslim: character of Kosovo, 2; little
public hostility to, 138; reaction to role in training, 102; propensity for
NATO failure, 60; rejection of key fundamentalism, 3
terms at Rambouillet, 151; replaced
army leadership, 54; revocation of naiveté: of Planners in Exile, 16
autonomy for Kosovo, 52; sporadic Nano, Fatos, 118, 133
reform efforts, 51; strategic goal and National Movement for the Libera-
objectives, 47; strengthened Alba- tion of Kosovo. See LKÇK
nian self-sufficiency, 51; support national unity government, 156
for Rugova approach, 53; threat to nationalism, 6, 169: breathing space
families, 39; understood risk of in- under Tito, 21; fundraising ap-
ternational intervention, 49; upper peals to, 89; future insurgencies,
hand over KLA, 57 11; ideology available to KLA, 28;
KLA was, 20; long history of, 14; opportunity costs: for KLA volun-
motivation for insurgency, 2; power teers, 40
of, 181; primary KLA ideology, 29; oppression, foreign, 27
product of isolation, 20; stimulus ORA: frozen out of 2004 coalition,
for conflict, 10; strengthening, 10; 162; organization, 161
terrorists, motivation, 67; Thaçi as, Order of Battle: KLA, 59
17; Yugoslav, 5 OSCE, 156; first elections, 155; force
nationalist symbols under Tito, 7 size estimates, 111; missions in Ko-
NATO, 54, 98; arms routes, 92; ar- sovo, 136; observer missions, 134
rival in Prishtina, 81; authoriza- Ottoman Empire: collapse of, 6; divi-
tion of force, 136; in Bosnia, 137; sion of Albanian population, 5;
Bosnia bombing, 59; confiscation Leage of Prizren resistence to, 20;
of KLA weapons, 116; disorganized Skenderbeg revolt against, 21
response to 2004 riots, 160; effect overconfidence, 70
of bombing on KLA, 59; effect of
failure, 60; effect of fiftieth an- Pajaziti, Zahir, 30, 115, 120; assas-
niversary, 141; effect on ethnic sination, 56; assassination, effect
cleansing, 138; effect on KLA, 131; of, 115; background, 44; charisma,
effect on Milosevic position, 58; 34; demonstrate armed resistance
effects on KLA, 59; end of bombing as possibility, 72; failure to protect,
campaign, 153; forced KLA back 84; independence from other KLA
to guerrilla tactics, 62; fragility of, groups, 82; influence on Remi, 72;
58; human rights justification, 136; Remi worked with, 19; replaced by
inevitability after Rambouillet, Remi, 44; and Rexhep Selimi, 82;
151; insistence on at Rambouillet, statue of, 44; statute, 34; target of
151; little help to KLA, 80; onset of Serb attacks, 69
bombing campaign, 9; poor perfor- Pape, Robert, 67
mance in 2004 riots, 161; reinforce- paramilitary forces, 49
ments for 2004 riots, 160; reliance partisans: military strategy, 105;
on KLA, 59; response to 2004 riots, Tito’s forces, 7
159; training model, 105; training patriotic spirit: KLA, 65; military ad-
models, 102; U.S. leadership, 138; vantage of, 64
U.S. military assets essential to, PDK, 156; approval for Rexhepi deci-
138 sions, 162; association with AAK,
New York, 90; Kosovars in, 94; suspi- 161; controlled prime minister post,
cions of, 95; total amounts raised, 156; creation by Thaçi, 153; elec-
92 tion results of 2004, 161; electoral
NGOs: enthusiasm for Haradinaj, 158 expectations, 155; factions, 157;
1974 constitution, 22 frozen out of 2004 coalition, 162;
night vision binoculars, 126–27: sup- Krasniqi in, 32; leadership conten-
ply of, 123 tion, 164; old wolves, 157, 158; as
non-participants, 170 opposition party after 2004 elec-
tions, 161; postwar election results,
occupation, 30; breeder of resistance, 156; reasons for electoral disap-
181; British in Palestine, 66; Serb pointment, 157; Sejdiu friendly to,
control of Kosovo as, 13; Serb forces 163
as, 63 Peaceful Path Institutionalists, 47;
Operation Arrow, 80 army, 81; and Berisha, 133; Bukoshi
opinion polls, 35 as leader of, 15; conflict with KLA,
10, 16; criticisms of fundraising, Remi’s early activities in, 19; Serb
98; denial of KLA, 32; discredited forces near, 76, 77; Serb free hand,
by Dayton Accords, 8; interference 80; Serb supply lines, 120; source of
with KLA fundraising, 90; intro- recruits, 50
duction of term, 8; introduction to, points: unit of KLA, 82
14; joint lobbying effort with KLA, points of refuge, 66
146; leadership competition re final police: harassment, 27; Lehi, target of,
status, 165; postwar tensions with 66; targets of KLA, 61; vulnerable
former KLA leaders, 166; public- in Palestine, 66
ity to repression, 144; reassurance political elite. See elites
of international community, 143; political parties, 156
roots in Marxism, 28; Rugova as popular support, 127; building, how
leader of, 14; splintered fundraising, to, 27; building through operations,
88; strategy, 26; undermining KLA 41; civilian attacks undermine, 68;
message, 32 effect of police state techniques,
Peja, 145 49; essential for revolution, 26;
Peja-Gjakova road, 70 essentiality for insurgency, 2; fight-
pessimism: embedded in Albanian ing to build, 36; goal of Defenders
culture, 37; role in insurgency orga- at Home, 63; KLA goal, 64; KLA
nization, 28 reliance on, 69; lack of, 26; makes
Pettifer, James, 147, 148 counterinsurgency impossible, 181;
physical fitness: emphasis on, 107; makes interdiction harder, 50; Mao
guerrillas and, 100; KLA recruits, emphasis on, 64; need for critical
41, 106; screening for, 102; training, mass of, 3; need not be universal,
104, 106 26; for postwar leaders, 166; result-
Planners in Exile, 7, 14, 23; aid to ing from Milosevic policies, 47; role
Haradinaj, 79; Albania, Republic of, of Islam in building, 29; for Rugova,
support, 92; appointment of com- 35; stimulated by fighting, 87; and
manders, 83; Bukoshi collaboration terrorism, 145; undermining Yugo-
with, 15; characterized as children, slav myth, 30
16; critical of Krasniqi, 94; divi- positional warfare: defensive, 70; KLA
sion of duties, 81; early fundraising, movement toward, 70; targets self-
88; Haliti as leader of, 17; Hara- defined, 73; terrain advantages, 66
dinaj respect for, 85; impatience postwar politics, 152; Albin Kurti,
to start fight, 87; integration with 164; effect of war crimes prosecu-
Defenders at Home, 63; need for, tions, 166; elections, 155; KLA
81; opposition to assimilation, 22; experience defined, 152, 166; KLA
outlook for insurgency, 67; overlap popularity, 153; LDK-AAK coali-
with Homeland Calls, 89; postwar tion, 161
tensions with Defenders at Home, Potera, Ajet, 38, 74, 76, 80, 103; as-
166; replaced Jashari, 44; return to sessment of training effectiveness,
Kosovo, 9; roots in Marxism, 28; 108; training leadership, 108
shedding Marxist label, 29; Thaçi Prekaz: Jashari massacre, 56; Jashari
and Selimi outreach to Defenders memorial, 44
at Home, 82; Thaçi bridge with, 17; Preshevo Valley: arms source, 119;
threats by Haradinaj, 63; vertical connection to Llap, 71; origin of
links for Defenders at Home, 82 contributors, 91; weapons through,
PLO, 37; KLA rejected tactics, 145 124
Podujevë: Kacinoll overlooks, 77; press. See media
Prime Minister, 152; Çeku, 45, 154; recklessness: Bukoshi’s fear of, 16;
Haradinaj, 162; postwar weakness, KLA, 35; KLA recruits, 41; of Plan-
156; Thaçi as interim, 16; under ners in Exile, 16
constitutional framework, 155 recruiting, 36: culture of resistance,
principle of distinction, 175 effect of, 39; deterrence by Serbs,
Prishtina: center of political elites, 31; 41; facilitated by brutal regime, 48;
contributions, 92; herds of report- suicide attackers, 68
ers, 149; KLA marches into, 9; KLA relative deprivation, 52; causes, 51;
positions north of, 76; Operation vacillation, 52
Kosovo activities, 4; Remi connec- religion: avoidance of, 146; limited
tions in, 84; trade union demonstra- role in Albanian culture, 5; power
tion, 159; 2004 riots in, 159; weak of, 181; weak motivator, 3
support for KLA, 26 Remi, 57, 164; accusations by LDK,
Prishtina-Peja road, 70 157; affection with soldiers, 19;
Prishtina-Prizren road, 70 arms sources, 119; arms supply,
prisoners: due process, 174; treatment 119; commander of Llap Zone, 84;
of, 107 criticism of, 35; direct contribution,
privatization: blockage of, 159; frus- 91; discouraged religion, 102; early
tration with, 160 recruiting efforts, 50; effective with
Prizren: 2004 riots, 160; weak support media, 148; end of war, 80; estimate
for KLA, 26 of arms supply, 116; fundraising,
profile of typical KLA soldier, 41 94; independence from General
Protocol of Florence, 20 Staff, 84; links to Krasniqi, 95;
Provisional Administrative Council movies, watching, 45; nationalist
of Kosovo: establishment, 154 upbringing, 21; prosecution for war
public relations: core of KLA strat- crimes, 168; subordinates, reliance
egy, 2; effect of early attacks, 30; on, 71. See also Commander Remi
influence on tactics, 70; launch repression: effect of increased, 69;
of campaign, 82; LDK skill at, 32; KLA exploitation of, 10, 55; KLA
message, consistency of, 146; mes- use of, 144; publicized by Peaceful
sage in 1981, 24; Rugova’s message, Path Institutionalists, 144; risks
143; Serb attacks in 1998, 137 of, 64; stimulus for insurgency, 2;
pyramid scheme, 133 vacillation, 51
Republika Srpska, 119
Qakllavici, 159 returning refugees and expatriates:
entitlement to positions, 154
Raçak: effect of, 142; media attention, Revolutionary Movement for Alba-
147 nian Unity, 34
radio equipment, 126 Rexhepi, Bajram, 127, 128; influence
Radio Shack radios, 126 in PDK, 157; as prime minister,
Rama, Fahri, 27, 36 156, 162; 2004 riots, 160
Rambouillet, 9, 85, 150, 152; Alba- Rilindja, 21
nian divisions at, 35; effect of Serb riots of 1968, 7, 159
agreement, 57; Thaçi as star of, 16; riots of 2004, 159; author witnessed,
Thaçi visibility at, 33 159; debate over origins, 159; politi-
Ramer, Jacob A., 173 cal solidarity after, 161; serious-
Ramush. See Haradinaj, Ramush ness, 160; Thaçi’s role, 160; wakeup
Rankovic, Alexandr: repression of call, 159
Kosovo, 7, 21 risk, 40
tagetting, 73; training, 101; vis- tion leader, 162; less popular with
ibility, 64 internationals than Haradinaj, 158;
tanks: attack on Jashari, 39; attack limited postwar control, 153; link
on Kaqinoll, 77; attack on KLA, 78; between Planners in Exile and De-
impotence of in Palestine, 66; near fenders at Home, 81; modern poli-
Podujeve, 76; Serb use of, 114; use tics, 156; nationalist upbringing,
of in 1981, 23; use of in 2004 riots, 21; need for old wolves, 158; politi-
159; use in summer offensive, 48; cal opposition after 2004 elections,
vulnerability of, 114 161; postwar political leadership,
targets, 177; Albanian informers, 73; 153; Prime Minister, desire to be,
Battle of the Bridge, 74; Bosnia, 59; 156; protégé of Jashari, 44; put self
chosen to undermine deterrence, at risk, 84; recruitment of Çeku, 85;
41; CIA warning, 142; civilian, 2; referendum on independence, 151;
civilian, KLA, 68, 73; expansion relationship with Adem Jashari, 17;
of NATO, 58; foreign capitals as, relationship with Haliti, 17; rela-
11; insurgency strategy, 73; IRA, tionship with Limaj, 164; replaced
similar to, 73; keeping in kill zone, Jashari, 44; responsibility, 81; rises
74; KLA selection of, 144; military to top, 35; security emphasis, 72;
units, 73; NATO, 80; permissible, survived, 57; tension with Haradi-
108; police as, 176; reinforcements, naj, 162; tensions with Haradinaj,
74; selection, 84; Serb protection of, 163; transmitted orders from Gen-
68; small, 76; soft, 82; training on eral Staff, 83; and 2004 riots, 160
permissible, 107 Three Percent Fund: Bukoshi and, 16;
terrain: defender advantage, 70; flat definition, 89; denial to KLA, 33;
and open, 75; guerrilla advantage, interference with KLA fundraising,
66; Kaqinoll, 77; KLA reliance on, 90; total amounts raised, 89
69; radio communication, 80; selec- Tirana: banks, 97; confrontation
tion of, 101; tactical training, 105 between Haradinaj and Planners
terrorism, 125: accusations of, 70, in Exile, 63; PR for KLA from, 147;
98, 130; accusations of KLA, 140; refugee crisis, 4; safeguarding cash
characterization of KLA, 9; CIA in, 98
warning, 141; KLA avoidance of, 2, Tito: conflict with Hoxha, 132; con-
68, 144–46; not necessary for KLA, trast with Milosevic, 30; death, 7,
68; resort to, 68; theory, 64, 67 23; effect of death, 29; fear of Soviet
Thaçi, 152; acquiescence in Sejdiu’s Union, 22; military strategy, 105;
selection, 163; action-oriented, 154; promise of referendum on accession
arrest, 133; blamed for postwar to Albania, 6; reforms, 51; vacil-
unrest, 154; bonding Defenders at lated regarding Albanian national-
Home with Planners in Exile, 82; ism, 6; victory after World War II, 6
charisma, 33; competition with tractors: arms movement, 123; weap-
Haradianj, 166; credibility regarding ons transport, 125
final status, 165; early background, training: Albania camps, 103; Çeku
16; early mistrust of, 16; estimates disdain for, 109; decentralized, 102;
of force size, 111; exclusion of early, 100; early camps in Albania,
non-KLA elements from PDK, 155; 8; effectiveness, 108; guerrillas
filled power vacuum, 153; frozen don’t need, 100; Jashari, Adem, 56;
out, 161; glamor, 35; glimpsed journalist visits, 147; law of armed
opportunity at Rambouillet, 150; conflict, 107; limited KLA, 65; little
growing confidence as opposi- needed, 3; materials, 100; military
discipline, 104; models, 101; need, Battle of the Bridge, 74; ties to
101; old ammunition, 106; physi- Çeku, 85; training models, 102;
cal conditioning, 106; pictures for weapons training, 106
fundraising, 90; protection of camp, U.S. intelligence community, 141
77; Remi’s emphasis on, 72; tactics, U.S. Marine Corps: movies as training
105; teachers, 108; terrain, 66; U.S. for KLA, 45; reaction to Battle of
Army, 104; of villagers, 104; weap- the Bridge, 74
ons, 106 U.S. support, opposition to Kosovo
training models, 101, 102; adaptation intervention, 140
of, 102; NATO, 102 University of Prishtina: attack on rec-
training school, 102 tor, 145; crucible for nationalists,
Trajkovic, Momchala, 158 23; effect on relative deprivation,
Treaties of London and Bucharest, 5 52; establishment, 7; 1981 demon-
Trepça, 23 strations, 7; 1981 protest, 23; open-
Tropoja: arms depot, 120, 122; con- ing of, 22; students in 2004 riot,
gressional trip to, 146 159; Thaçi as student vice-rector, 17
Turkey: source of arms, 119; spillover UNMIK: constitutional framework,
of Kosovo conflict, 138 155; control of Haradinaj, 164; es-
tyranny of boys, 23 tablishment, 153; Jessen-Petersen
as head, 162; provisional adminis-
UNHCR: database for refugee relief, trative council, 154; rioters burned
4; 1998 visit to, 1 vehicles, 160; unprepared, 153; veto
uniforms: contributed in-kind, 91; power, 159
introduction of, 62; preoccupation
with, 105; spending on, 92; supply Veseli, Kadri, 81
of, 127; utility of, 71 Viet Cong, 67
United Nations, 134 Vietnam, 56; model for Albanian
United States, 119; Albanian popula- separatists, 7
tion, 10; approved Albanian arms visibility: of armed resistance neces-
supply, 121; arms dealers, 119; sary, 86; even from defeat, 76; KLA
Arms Export Control Act, 125; arms need for, 69; of larger arms, 51; re-
regulations, 125; Christmas warn- duced by clandestine nature, 49
ing, 134; contributions higher than VJ, 48; arms used in Kosovo, 48;
in Germany, 90; early attention to desertion of Albanians from, 45;
Kosovo, 139; and Europe, 142; exist- introduction of, 70; KLA leader ser-
ing borders, commitment to, 145; vice in, 45; military strategy, 105;
fundraising, 91; fundraising leaders, more formidable than special po-
95; fundraising organization, 94; lice, 79; perception of invincibility,
Homeland Calls chapters, 93; lead- 31; sealing the border, 124; supply
ership, 138; legality of fundraising, lines, 120; targets of KLA, 72; train-
99; no financial support, 92; preoc- ing models, 100, 102, 105
cupation with Bosnia, 134; recogni- Vojvodina: autonomous republic of
tion of independence, 165; source of Serbia, 6; OSCE in, 134
night vision binoculars, 127; source volunteers, 42; courageous, 65; after
of uniforms and boots, 127; spend- Jashari massacre, 9, 70, 83, 100;
ing in, 97; target of Viet Cong, 67 limitations of, 79; in villages, 104
U.S. Army, 48; basic training, 104–5;
guerrilla attack doctrine, 74; physi- Walker, William G., 136, 142, 147;
cal conditioning, 106; reaction to statement to media about Racak, 142
war crimes: accusations against Hara- weapons on their backs, 107, 121
dinaj, 162; charges based on targets, White House, 120
73; database, 4; effect on postwar windows of opportunity, 14, 183
politics, 166; fairness of prosecu- Wood, Elizabeth Jean, 27
tions, 169; prosecution of individu-
als, 169; prosecution of KLA lead- youth, 40, 50, 57, 152, 164; adequate
ers, 167; protests over prosecutions, for insurgency, 3; casualties, 65;
159; Remi charged with, 19; threats disappointment in professors at
to prosecute KLA leaders, 152 university, 23; drawn by excite-
war veterans, 159 ment, 40; expectations in 1980s,
Warsaw Pact: collapse, 10, 52; disso- 24; nationalism, 68; newly awak-
lution of as factor, 14; effect of col- ened, 14; no military service, 108;
lapse, 24; weapons stockpiles, 117 older generation resentment of,
weapons: from Albania, 92; Albanian 155; political alienation, 165; post-
collapse, 83; capture, 66; cellphone adolescent pride and aggressive-
was my weapon, 150; concealment, ness, 11; postwar voting patterns,
123; confiscation of, 7; control of 156; recruitment, 10; restless with
supply by General Staff, 124; cost elders, 24; restlessness of, 10; San-
of, 117; distribution of, 121; early dinista, 67; support for as fundrais-
KLA, 73; flow to Llap, 80; from ing theme, 89; tend to lead revolu-
enemy, 75; Haliti responsibility, 81; tions, 23; Thaçi, 17; 2004 riots, 160;
influenced selection of commander, of volunteers, 65
83; in-kind contributions, 91; insuf- Yugoslavia, myth of, 30; 1974 Consti-
ficient supply, 115; at Lapushnik, tution, 7
78; legal control of heavier, 125;
logistics throughput, 123; from Zeka, Arianit, 28, 30
Middle East, 119; money for, 94; Zeka, Kadri, 23; assassination, 24;
mules and donkeys, 121; need for and Bexheti, 95; influence German
heavier, 71; orders, 118; purchased, government, 145
92; removal to Albania, 86; require- Zemaj, Tahir: insistent on separate
ments, 112–13; scarcity of, 110; command, 86; retreated with Duk-
searches for, 51; sources, 117; from agjini troops, 84
Serbia, 119; surrender to NATO, Ziba, Agim, 126
116; targets, 75; training, 101, 104, zones, 71
106; training, no need for, 100; Zurich: in-kind contribution, 91;
training in Albania, 103; transport money processing, 97
by individuals, 124; trips to Albania
for, 19; use of heavier, 113
PERRITT
eastern european history / political science
T
of the Kosovo Liberation Army. His book is sure to be the he military intervention by NATO in Kosovo
from war to peace.
definitive source on the KLA and its role for researchers was portrayed in American media as a neces-
and policy makers.” sary step to prevent the Serbian armed forces
—Michael Peters, President, St. John’s College, Santa Fe from repeating the ethnic cleansing that had so
deeply damaged the former Yugoslavia. Serbia
Henry H. Perritt Jr. is a professor of law and trained its military on Kosovo because of an on-
director of the graduate program in financial going armed struggle by ethnic Albanians to wrest
services law at the Chicago-Kent College of Law. independence from Serbia. Warfare in the Balkans
He is the author of numerous law review articles seemed to threaten the stability of Europe, as well
and books on international relations and law, as the peace and security of Kosovars, and yet
university of illinois press
of an insurgency
the inside story
technology and law, and employment law. armed resistance seemed to offer the only pos-
Urbana and Chicago sibility of future stability. Leading the struggle
www.press.uillinois.edu against Serbia was the Kosovo Liberation Army,
also known as the KLA.
ILLINOIS
Henry H. Perritt Jr.