When the government of Yugoslav leader Slobodan Milosevic recently moved to take over Borba, the country’s only independent opposition newspaper, the paper’s editors and reporters took matters into their own hands.
The result on the street was two Borbas: “their Borba,” the government’s ersatz version of the paper, and “our Borba,” an underground edition put out by the defiant staff.
The urge to stifle press criticism seems almost endemic to politicians from the former communist bloc who have at their disposal an array of weapons ranging from censorship laws to state ownership of newsprint supplies.
Even in those countries that have done the most to distance themselves from the repressive tactics of the past, obstructing the press has turned out to be a hard habit to kick.
The Czech Republic, for example, recently renewed a communist-era law that prohibits attacks on government officials and institutions-the very law that landed the current president, playwright Vaclav Havel, in prison 15 years ago.
And Poland’s media, arguably the liveliest and most unfettered in the region, was nearly harnessed with an onerous state secrets act that would have sent journalists to jail for publishing virtually anything politicians wanted to keep secret.
The Polish bill currently is in parliamentary limbo after loud protests by journalists prompted President Lech Walesa to threaten a veto. But last week in a separate ruling, Poland’s highest court said journalists must disclose their sources whenever requested to do so by a prosecutor or court.
That Milosevic, an ex-communist turned hardline Serb nationalist, would attempt to suppress one of the few voices of moderation in what’s left of Yugoslavia is no great surprise. What is surprising is the feisty fight put up by the staff of Borba (which means “struggle”).
Milosevic made his move Dec. 23 when his minister of information, Dragutin Brcin, appointed himself the paper’s new editor in chief. The timing-on the eve of the Christmas holidays and a big international soccer game televised in Yugoslavia-helped minimize domestic and international criticism.
The official reason given for the takeover was the government’s desire to rectify alleged financial irregularities that occurred when the paper was privatized in 1990.
The real reason, according to ousted Editor Gordana Logar, was that “Borba was for democracy and against nationalism, war and ethnic cleansing.”
Another reason suggested by diplomats in Belgrade was that Borba crossed an invisible line when it criticized Milosevic’s wife, Mirjana Markovic, an academic and political activist who is his closest adviser.
Rebellion in the newsroom
Borba was founded in 1922 as the official organ of the Communist Party. It became editorially independent in 1986, and was privatized four years later when industrialist Dusan Mijic bought a 36 percent share in the publishing company. The government retains a 17 percent share.
At its peak, Borba’s circulation reached 60,000, but it had dwindled to about 30,000 of late, mainly because soaring printing costs-a direct result of the economic sanctions against Yugoslavia-forced it to sell for triple the newsstand price of state-subsidized papers. It remained influential, however, with readership surveys indicating that each copy was passed around among seven readers.
Most of Borba’s 120 or so editors and reporters reacted to the government takeover by staging a takeover of their own. They took over the newsroom and took home the computer equipment needed to put out their own newspaper. Within two days, there were two Borbas on the street.
The journalists maintained a two-week, round-the-clock vigil in the newsroom to keep the new management from moving in. But for now the government seems satisfied to put out its version of the paper from a state-owned printing house while allowing the old staff to use an expensive commercial printer. (The reporters and editors put the paper together at home and in the office.)
Our Borba, as readers refer to the real item, has been having a daily press run of 10,000 that sells out quickly, but because the government controls paper and printing supplies, it has missed a few issues. The journalists hawk it on streetcorners themselves because newsstand owners have been warned by the government to sell only the government’s Borba.
The government’s Borba is a bland affair, filled with stories from the state-run wire service, Tanjug, that reflect the government’s point of view. This Borba also carries extensive excerpts from the latest writings of Milosevic’s wife.
`We were an unwanted witness’
One weekday afternoon in mid-January, Borba’s newsroom was packed with excited, chain-smoking reporters and editors, but strangely devoid of computers, typewriters and telephones.
Strands of Christmas tinsel still hung from the ceiling; the only other decorative touch was a politically incorrect montage of racy pinups on one wall. A long shelf at the entrance was lined with at least 50 bottles of plum brandy, all empty.
“The government’s goal is to destroy the paper,” said journalist Velimir Ilic. “We were an unwanted witness, not only to what Milosevic is doing here, but to what is happening in the rest of former Yugoslavia.”
He noted that only 15 of Borba’s journalists had gone to work for the government’s publication.
Borba is not alone on the government’s media hit list. Belgrade’s only independent TV station, Studio B, is in the midst of fending off a government takeover.
Nor is the situation much better in other parts of the former Yugoslavia. Last December in Croatia, the respected and independent editor of the government-controlled daily Vjesnik was replaced by a party man. Officials admitted the change was made for political reasons. A few weeks before that, the head of state-run TV was ousted in favor of a 30-year-old sports reporter.
“There is less diversity of opinion now than there was under the communists,” said one diplomat monitoring the media in the former Yugoslavia.
The U.S. State Department and the European Union have condemned the Borba takeover. Several European press organizations have helped the embattled paper with donations of cash and equipment-a technical violation of United Nations sanctions against Yugoslavia.
The Washington-based International Media Fund tried to help with a cash contribution, but was blocked by the Clinton Administration’s adherence to the strict letter of the law on Yugoslav sanctions.
For Borba, the future is uncertain. Because the government appears determined to keep publishing its version, journalists and shareholders from the old paper are trying to start a new company and a new paper, called Nasa Borba, or Our Struggle.
But Gordana Susa, one of the paper’s best-known journalists, is pessimistic.
“It’s easy to kill a newspaper, and Milosevic has a lot more weapons than we do,” she said. “Come visit us next year. Maybe we’ll all be in prison. I doubt if any of us will be working as journalists in Yugoslavia.”
