WORKERS OF ALL COUNTRIES, UNITE!

Role Kovač

WITH US,
VLADO
DAPČEVIĆ
 Publisher’s Note
This edition of With Us, Vlado Dapčević,
was translated from the Serbo-Croatian ori-
ginal with the permission of Partija Rada
(Party of Labour).

THE NOVEMBER 8TH PUBLISHING HOUSE

TORONTO 2024
 CONTENTS
Introduction.................................................. 1
The Black Spot.............................................. 3
The Table in Solitude...................................10
The Party for the First Time....................... 24
The Communist Party of Yugoslavia.......... 30
Vlado at the Helm of the KPJ......................37
Conflicts...................................................... 40
Upheaval, War in Slovenia and Croatia.......47
The Rally in Titograd.................................. 56
The Party of Labour.....................................61
Vlado’s Workday..........................................73
Bosnia, Bosnia............................................ 80
Interviews, Tribunes and Schools............... 86
Vlado and His Family................................. 90
The Strike.................................................... 97
The Congress of the Party of Labour.........101
Comrades...................................................106
Two-Line Struggle...................................... 110
For a Sovereign Montenegro...................... 116
The Cubans................................................122
Kosova........................................................126
NATO Bombardment.................................133
The Fall of Milošević................................. 141
The Circle is Closed...................................149
Epilogue.....................................................153
Memories...................................................157
 INTRODUCTION
This work is an autobiographical account.
Its goal is to describe the last eleven years of
Vlado Dapčević’s life, covering the period
from 1990 to 2001. It utilizes documentary ma-
terial from numerous interviews Vlado gave
to newspapers and television, as well as his
specific political work (especially in founding
the Party of Labour and his activities within
the organization), which is much less known
to the public. And finally, it includes my mem-
ories of our joint companionship and work
with him, though there is a risk of a subjective
approach that may lead to a biased judgement.
The author of the book Cominformist is
the journalist Slavko Ćuruvija. The book was
published in 1990. In it, Vlado’s story of life is
recorded shortly after his release from prison,
following many years of imprisonment. That
book ends with Vlado’s remark that, for him,
everything was over, that he was tired of it
all, in poor health and had a family to whom
he wanted to dedicate the rest of his life. He
felt he could only be frustrated by everything
happening in Yugoslavia. However, that was
not the end for Vlado, as he soon returned to
Yugoslavia.
He stated: “Returning after 33 years was an
immense joy for me, because I am connected to
this country with every drop of my blood. Perhaps
because I have struggled so much here. And, to put
it a bit poetically — this is a land that I literally
soaked with sweat, blood and tears. And precisely
because of that, I love it immensely. When I saw

1
the rise of nationalist madness, which was affect-
ing all the peoples of Yugoslavia to varying de-
grees, knowing the consequences it posed for this
country, I felt it was my duty to return once again
to the stage of political battle.”
Vlado simply followed his life maxim,
which he realized very early on and consistent-
ly adhered to throughout his tumultuous life:
“A revolutionary is a person who has come to a
certain ideo-political understanding and can no
longer be a person without being a revolutionary...
Revolutionaries fight until death. And as long as
my tired heart beats, there will be no rest for me,
and I will contribute as much as I can to the great-
est and most beautiful ideal — the realization of
communist ideas.”
This work is also my view of a time whose
consequences we still feel and live with, and
it seems to me that they will never disappear
from the Balkan region.

The Author

2
 THE BLACK SPOT
Vrbas is a small town in Vojvodina, found-
ed in the 16th century as a small settlement
of Slavs. Later, Swabians (Germans) settled
there and gradually urbanized the town, par-
ticularly through industrialization at the be-
ginning of the 20th century. The town was
home to Serbs, Germans, Hungarians, Rusy-
ns, Ukrainians, Jews and others. The Ger-
mans, Jews and a few wealthier Hungarians
owned factories — oil mills, sugar refineries,
slaughterhouses, hemp mills and textile fac-
tories. They contributed the most to the de-
velopment of culture, sports and overall social
life. There were few wealthy Serbs, only a few
traders or landowners. Most were peasants,
labourers, workers and the poor, as were the
Rusyns, Ukrainians and others.
After the First World War, a few Monte-
negrins settled through colonization. At the
end of the Second World War, most of the
Germans fled with their army before the liber-
ators arrived. Those who remained were Ger-
mans who hadn’t supported Hitler. At that
time, through mass colonization, a significant
number of Montenegrin families, along with
some Bosnian families, settled in the area. The
Montenegrins settled the entire municipality,
divided by their clans. Each clan received a
village in the municipality, while in Vrbas,
several clans were given separate streets with
abandoned Swabian houses. This concentra-
tion of partisans became the new ruling class,
which led the native Serbs to withdraw and

3
mind their own business. The Hungarians
joined them because they had been occupiers
and had to adapt to the new reality. It took
the liberators a long time to overcome cultur-
al differences, primitive behaviour and clan
divisions and to adjust to the new conditions
of life on the plains.
However, the unprecedented enthusiasm
for building new relationships and a better,
more just life, which was infectious in its opti-
mism, didn’t last long. The year 1948 came,
along with the Cominform Resolution — the
so-called Tito-Stalin split. The Monteneg-
rins were ideologically divided. The split was
sharp, not only in political alignment but also
tearing apart family, clan and friendship ties.
These divisions left a deep mark on interper-
sonal relations and remained for decades. In
the end, the Titoites won, arresting and im-
prisoning many on Goli Otok, while an even
larger number were expelled from the party.
Under the growing wave of repression, some
tried to hide. A few individuals went rogue;
one even fled to Romania. Most of the ar-
rested and imprisoned endured unimagin-
able torture and humiliation, and many were
forced to formally renounce their ideological
beliefs. Others were co-opted by the regime.
The rest remained silent, constantly under
surveillance, never speaking about politics.
I come from a partisan and Cominform-
ist family, as all supporters of the Cominform
Resolution and Stalin were called. My uncle,
after whom I was named, died in the Battle
of Batina, and my maternal uncle was killed

4
by the Chetniks. Both my mother and father
were expelled from the party, so I grew up in a
family marked with the stigma of Cominform-
ists. However, I believe this was secondary in
my ideological development, with the core be-
ing that I came from a working-class family,
where my father was the only one in a large
family who worked. Our mouths were always
hungry, and that’s when I developed complex-
es and felt ashamed of our poverty.
My family wasn’t the only one “isolat-
ed.” In the street where I lived, among fifty
Montenegrin houses, six people had been on
Goli Otok, two had been arrested and later re-
leased, and seventeen had been expelled from
the party, nine of whom were women. Nearly
three decades later, a state security inspector
named Apro Rihard, a German from Vrbas
who was interrogating me, told me, “For us,
Vrbas has always been a black spot on the map
of enemy activities,” while boasting over the
phone to someone that he had just received a
watch from the president for successfully sup-
pressing enemy elements — this was during
the time of the arrest of an entire Cominform-
ist group, and me as some isolated and inci-
dental case.
Tito’s death shook and frightened every-
one. Many sincerely mourned and cried. A
senseless tradition was introduced, whereby
on the anniversary of his death, at precise-
ly three o’clock and five minutes, everyone
would stand still, no matter where they were,
to honour him. This was not only a tribute but
also a sign of the regime’s desire to continue

5
along the same path under the slogan, “After
Tito, Tito.”
In the town, I had a group of friends with
whom I met daily. From that period, which
was essentially a bourgeois way of life, a
few events stood out to me as small signs of
the coming “inevitable and great” shift, and
based on which I tried to predict or project the
societal process. I gave special significance to
these small signs.
The first sign was when I read a brief news
item, almost a footnote, about Albanian stu-
dents in the cafeteria in Prishtina staging a so-
cial revolt with political slogans. At the time,
this act of rebellion seemed significant to me,
following the nearly forgotten events like the
1968 student protests and the incursion of a
group of Ustaše into Yugoslavia, as well as my
fresh memories of imprisonment. At that mo-
ment, a familiar excitement washed over me.
In Vrbas, the Yugoslav Youth Poetry Fes-
tival was held. Typically, most Yugoslav poets
would gather, from Desanka Maksimović,
Gustav Krklec, Oskar Davičo, Mika Antić, to
a number of newly established young poets.
These were generally pleasant and interest-
ing days, as it always is with poets. At the
festival’s opening, a party official gave the
obligatory speech on behalf of the author-
ities, which was usually standard and bor-
ing. At that moment, two poets, Novica Tadić
and Dugo Krivokapić, entered the hall, with
Krivokapić notably drunk. Tadić said, “Eat
your fat demagogic ass!” The shock was palp-
able. The poets were arrested, and a big fuss

6
was made over it.
Not long after, Tanasije Jakić, a bank
clerk, was arrested for Cominformist activ-
ities. The entire operation was executed spec-
tacularly, as if they were capturing some im-
portant terrorists, with the town being locked
down by the police.
All these seemingly small signs hint-
ed that the political situation in society was
changing and that contradictions would only
deepen. Not to mention the appearance of
articles in Književne novine that we regularly
read and commented on in which the stench
of nationalism was becoming increasingly no-
ticeable. The economic crisis was deepening,
becoming more political, with national party
bureaucracies unable to resolve it.
A friend from the street, with whom I grew
up, initiated a proposal from the youth work
brigade to posthumously award Tito another
medal and make him a four-time national
hero. However, someone smart — or for other
reasons — stopped the initiative. Soon after,
Vrbas managed to change its name to Titov
Vrbas. At that time, each republic and prov-
ince in Yugoslavia had one town named after
Tito. My friends were almost all Titoites, but
they were against this action, and I jokingly
told them, “We might be against it when they
remove that name.” This indeed happened a
decade later, when most of those officials cow-
ardly accepted the dictate of the new national-
ist government to remove Tito’s name.
At the entrance to Vrbas’s town centre
stand two monuments. One monument fea-

7
tures a large cross, and the other a red star.
The one with the cross was hastily erected re-
cently, with no aesthetic appeal. The second
is also relatively new, and I would say a bit
more thoughtful. It features a red star and was
erected on the former pedestal of the Russian
monument commemorating two Red Army
soldiers who died liberating Vrbas — one Rus-
sian and one Ukrainian.
On the poorly constructed monument is
the name of my relative, Bata, who, along with
dozens of citizens, was the first to attack mem-
bers of the Chetnik organization who, bear-
ing their symbols, attempted to hold a rally
in town in the late 1980s. The Chetniks, who
didn’t know what hit them, were beaten as if
in a pogrom. But this wasn’t just a spontan-
eous outburst of public dissatisfaction; it was
an organized resistance, still under the Titoite
Vojvodina police, against the growing influ-
ence of Great-Serb nationalism and unitarism
from Belgrade. My relative later ended up in
Vukovar “fighting against the Ustaše” with
volunteers who had heard “there’s good loot-
ing there.” He was found killed by a sniper’s
bullet. The same monument bears the names
of policemen who died in Kosova during
actions enforcing apartheid against the Al-
banian people.
The Soviets long ago took the remains
of the fallen Red Army soldiers from their
monument, and one colonist later took part of
the monument and brought it to his mother’s
grave in Montenegro — following the saying
“mother is mother.” The monument was re-

8
stored at the beginning of the 21st century. At
that time, I think it was the only monument
with a red star erected in Europe. Representa-
tives from the Russian and Ukrainian embas-
sies visited it on Vrbas’ Liberation Day, with
the assistance of the local nationalist govern-
ment. That tradition was interrupted when the
Ukrainians refused to continue during more
recent times, when “Russian and Ukrainian
brothers” were at war. Only my comrade Fe-
liks and I continued for several years to make
an improvised red star, which we would re-
place on the monument every time the fascists
destroyed it.

9
 THE TABLE IN SOLITUDE
In the central garden of the Vrbas hotel,
there was a so-called “elitist table,” a common
sight wherever people gather to discuss grand
topics, as the genocidal poet Matija Bećković
wrote: “Because of the grand thoughts that
one thinks, everyone thinks they are great!”
Similarly, at our table, we daily dissected café
politics as if the fate of the world depended on
us, as if we had the power to influence polit-
ical events and knew in which direction they
would unfold. There were about ten of us, and
the “entry ticket” to the table was high. In
truth, many had no desire to even approach it.
One of the regulars was Mečo, as we
called him, one of the Perović brothers, a
bored military pensioner who retired at barely
twenty-something years old, and the military
was happy to be rid of him due to his unruly
nature. He, standing almost two metres tall
and weighing over one hundred kilograms,
did nothing but tirelessly roam antique shops
and buy books. At night, he studied history
and lectured us on the uniqueness of Monte-
negrins, including the three new letters they
allegedly had, and much more. We mostly
laughed at this, considering him to be nation-
ally obsessed and largely outdated. At the
same time, he had over three hundred pages
written on the partisan commander Sava
Kovačević, which he never published. He was
an authority in the group, someone everyone
somewhat feared, although we sometimes
mocked his clumsy formulations that often hit

10
the core of the matter.
Then there was his brother Milenko, my
best man. Milenko and I were relentless rivals
in countless chess matches during our daily
gatherings. He had moved from a Nietzschean
student phase, through the Frankfurt School,
and was positioned with the Yugoslav Praxis
philosophers, earning his doctorate in phil-
osophy under the renowned philosopher Kan-
grga in Zagreb on the topic of the petty-bour-
geoisie. He wrote articles on this subject in
magazines. He was the editor of Savremenost,
the theoretical journal of the Provincial Com-
mittee of the Communist Party of Yugoslavia,
but later switched to the Faculty of Philoso-
phy in Novi Sad, where he focussed on ethics.
The relationship between the Perović broth-
ers was a classic patriarchal family dynamic
of competition — who would be better and
achieve more — and entire sociological and
psychological studies could be written about
it. I was something of a mediator between the
brothers, although I knew that it held little
weight until Mečo’s storm passed, especially
when he lost a chess game, causing the chess-
board to fly off the table, and then, in a surreal
scene, he would jump on it with all his weight.
The third member of the table was the “en-
tertainer” Roćko, an eternal student of Marx-
ism, sharp-witted and humourous, who at the
age of seventeen had already established him-
self as an “icon” among artistic and intellec-
tual circles. Simply by his presence, he opened
doors everywhere. He was the editor of the
Novi Sad youth magazine Stav and the main

11
joker at our table, but without any recognized
“gravitas.” Ideologically, he oscillated be-
tween Marxism, Trotskyism, anarchism and
even Titoism if necessary, as ideology was not
that important to him. He had already con-
ducted interviews with well-known politicians
like Mira Marković, Slobodan Milošević’s
wife, and Tudjman, among others. He would
later make fun of them in his own way, cre-
ating a “scene,” and we would laugh. During
the Yugoslav wars, he ended up in Russia,
then in Ukraine, in Donbass, Donetsk, again
as a journalist, with doors open everywhere.
He followed Mečo, who had gone to Moscow,
leaving behind a flat in Tuzla with a few thou-
sand books and a military pension, forgetting
everything.
There was also Miodrag Karadžić from
the same village as the war criminal Radovan
Karadžić. The son of one of Tito’s security
officers and my boss in a construction com-
pany, he wrote the comedy Djekna Hasn’t Died
Yet, and When She Will, We Don’t Know, which
left a mark not only on Montenegrin society
but also beyond. Many local Montenegrins
criticized him, shouting, “Why did he insult
us like that!” To which he replied in his own
style, “I wrapped you in cellophane so no one
would see what you’re really like.” Karadžić
was constantly torn between the need to be
protected by his father’s influence and his de-
sire to be something else.
Once, Mečo threatened him at the table,
saying, “Rola, are you planning to hire me?”
Karadžić called State Security the next

12
morning. They told him they had nothing to do
with it and that he should decide for himself.
That’s how I ended up in the system, working
as a lawyer in a construction company, so I
wouldn’t have to work in brick factories or dig
ditches for water and sewage lines to support
my family.
Also at the table was Bajo Zečević, my
schoolmate, mild-mannered and somewhat
indifferent to politics, considering it all rela-
tive and transient. Finally, there was the silent
poet Tomo Djivuljski, who later committed
suicide under pressure, refusing to serve the
corrupt government and rejecting to sign off
on a dubious multimillion-dollar project.
Overall, it was an ideologically diverse
group, and as a Marxist-Leninist, I was some-
thing different to them. I knew that there was
no room for me at that time, and the doors
were closed to any organized political work,
partly due to ideological differences, partly
due to the lack of interest from my friends, and
also because of police surveillance. However,
the events around us pushed us to move away
from “world politics,” the National Liberation
War, the history of Montenegro, literature,
and the analysis of texts on the state of soci-
ety written by Milenko, and to start address-
ing phenomena and texts increasingly charged
with nationalism. After the publication of the
Memorandum of the Serbian Academy of Sci-
ences and Arts, and the subsequent debate it
sparked throughout society, it became clear
to us that something was happening that we
hadn’t expected or clearly understood where

13
it would lead.
After the 8th session of the Serbian Com-
munist Party in 1987, Slobodan Milošević
took over the party. His visit to Kosova,
where he positioned himself as the leader of
the Serbs and Montenegrins, showed us that
things wouldn’t remain confined to intellec-
tual circles, although we still didn’t clearly
foresee how the political crisis would unfold.
Events accelerated, and within three
years, everything that led to the war and the
dissolution of Yugoslavia escalated.
Whether by chance or design, Vrbas was
chosen as one of the starting points in a series
of rallies promoting Great-Serb nationalism.
First, they had to settle things “in their own
house,” primarily in Vojvodina, before mov-
ing on to other regions.
Previously, the Party Committee in the city
held a meeting and decided to oppose the de-
structive intentions of the demonstrators from
Kosova. The rally was supposed to express
solidarity with the Serbian people in Kosova,
who were allegedly being terrorized and per-
secuted by the Albanian majority — or as they
derogatorily referred to them, “Šiptars.” Later
on, rallies became a daily occurrence, but this
one was the introduction. It was organized by
the Serbian State Security.
From early morning, demonstrators ar-
rived in large numbers, sitting in ditches,
parks, crowded cafés and in the hotel garden.
The president of the municipality already
had a speech prepared to somewhat calm the
growing tensions. However, during the night,

14
the police from Belgrade took control, and the
municipal president gave a different speech,
supporting the Serbs in Kosova and the dem-
onstrators.
A large banner read, “Oh Serbia, you will
be whole again from three parts,” followed by,
“From Triglav to Tirana, they give us deep
wounds,” and images of Slobodan Milošević
with the message, “We want one like this...”
When the rally began, we felt a sense of
pride that our table remained in complete
isolation, detached, yet with the feeling that
something significant was brewing.
The event in Vrbas was merely a prelude to
the main showdown between Milošević’s gov-
ernment and the provincial leadership of Voj-
vodina. That confrontation took place at the
beginning of October 1988 in Novi Sad over
two days. Everything was well-organized,
fuelled by public dissatisfaction with the en-
trenched political structures, and exacerbated
by the worsening economic situation and the
intense nationalist fervour that had already
gripped the masses, driven by aggressive
propaganda about the alleged endangerment
of the Serbian people.
On October 5, everything came to a stand-
still. Everyone was heading to Novi Sad.
I asked a colleague from the company:
“Why are you going?”
“To overthrow the Vojvodina govern-
ment!”
“Why?”
“I’ve been waiting for an apartment for fif-
teen years and still haven’t gotten one.”

15
 People attended the rally with slogans like:
“We believe in the League of Communists of
Serbia,” “Down with the 1974 Constitution,”
“Kosova is Serbia,” “Vojvodina is Serbia” and
“Together we are stronger.”
However, the leadership of Vojvodina still
resisted and didn’t want to capitulate or resign
easily. That night, the provincial government
building was pelted with rocks and yogurt —
hence the term “Yogurt Revolution.”
The next day, we took the train to Novi
Sad, not knowing the outcome. Tickets were
no longer being charged. Everyone seemed
to be in a mild trance, thinking that some-
thing better was coming. In Novi Sad, we saw
crowds of intoxicated people and demonstra-
tors celebrating. The cellars had been opened
the previous night and drinks were flowing
freely. The speeches on stage were varied,
clumsy but triumphant. To our surprise, we
saw Mišović, an occasional guest at our table
and a local bohemian and writer, on stage with
his literary comrades from Kosova.
It was only later that we realized that the
groundwork for the armed conflicts in Yugo-
slavia had been laid in Vojvodina. The prov-
ince’s autonomy was effectively abolished.
We returned from the rally feeling dis-
heartened.
Mečo offered his analysis:
“Milošević and his people are on the rise
now, and all we can do is throw tacks on the
road.”
That image of throwing tacks on the road,
like in some partisan films, stuck in my mind.

16
It reflected the reality of our insignificant
power. And not just ours, but much, much
wider.
Karadžić informed us that he had been in-
vited to work in the cabinet of the new prov-
incial secretary and that he accepted the offer.
He moved to Novi Sad, and I immediately cut
off contact with him, as did the others — or
perhaps he cut off contact with all of us.
Soon, Radoman Božović also aligned him-
self with the new government and Milošević.
Božović had come from Montenegro to attend
high school in Vrbas. As a curiosity, he had
his graduation photo taken wearing a Monte-
negrin cap, which attracted attention, just as
my later photo in a “Mao cap” did, as these
were novelties at the time. When he began
studying economics in Subotica, alongside
my brother and his group of friends, Božović
began asserting himself with his sharp wit and
audacity. Thus began his rise through the uni-
versity and political hierarchy, especially af-
ter the fall of the Vojvodina leadership. The
third of the Perović brothers, Blažo, passed
on the information that Boško Kovačević,
the party secretary in Subotica, had refused
Milošević’s offer to take over the leadership
of Vojvodina after the “Yogurt Revolution.”
However, Božović didn’t refuse anything that
was offered, and he advanced to the position
of prime minister, and later the speaker of
the Serbian assembly. He zealously defended
that policy with cynicism and brazenness.
With his instincts, he managed to avoid being
swept away by the later downfall of Milošević,

17
retreating into political anonymity in time,
preserving his wealth and business connec-
tions. I remember my mother’s words when we
told her that Božović had sided with Milošević:
“I’m only sorry for the pillow I gave him as a
student so he’d have something to sleep on…”
Then came the downfall of Montenegro’s
Titoite leadership, which had been boasting
in vain, while Milošević pushed forward new
frontrunners — Milo Djukanović, Momir Bu-
latović and Svetozar Marović, the so-called
“sweater-wearers,” as they were dubbed at
the time, supposedly modest in contrast to
the “armchair politicians” in power. After
the so-called “Anti-Bureaucratic Revolution,”
as it was named, these sweater-wearers took
the title “the young Montenegrin leadership.”
Milo Djukanović, later nicknamed Milo
Britva (The Razor), was the first to side with
Milošević, creating a rift in the then Monte-
negrin leadership, which was still entrenched
in the framework of Tito’s Party and couldn’t
adapt to the new circumstances.
Following the tried and tested method
used in Vojvodina, the key to toppling the
Montenegrin leadership was to win over the
workers of the Nikšić steelworks and the
aluminum plant in Titograd (now Podgor-
ica). After several unsuccessful attempts, with
the help of nationalists from Kosova, such as
Šolević, Kosta Bulatović and other Milošević
loyalists, an attempt was made to send dem-
onstrators from Nikšić to Titograd. However,
the police met them at Žuta Greda and dis-
persed them. This only added fuel to the fire,

18
giving Milošević’s forces even greater propa-
ganda leverage and the ability to mobilize the
people. At the pivotal rally in Titograd, work-
ers were once again mobilized. The slogans
were a mix of everything: “We want change,”
“Long live the League of Communists of
Yugoslavia,” “Long live the working class,”
“Comrade Tito, we swear to you,” “Yugoslav-
ia, Yugoslavia,” but also “Down with Vidoje
Žarković,” “You have betrayed Serbdom.”
The crowd chanted: “Slobodan, son of Serb-
ia, when will you come to Cetinje,” “Slobo,
freedom,” “Leaf through the forest, bloom
flowers, Montenegro is heading to battle” and
“Who says, who lies, Serbia is small.”
We followed the events on television and
later discussed them at our table, trying to
touch up the picture a bit in the false hope that
things might not end so badly.
Next in line was Kosova, where the Kos-
ova leadership, led by Kaqusha Jashari and
Azem Vllasi, tried to offer some resistance.
However, under military and police pressure
and threats, Kosova’s autonomy was abol-
ished. In response to the abolition of auton-
omy, about eight hundred miners from Stari
Trg descended into the mine and barricad-
ed themselves nine hundred metres under-
ground. This event shook all of Yugoslavia.
Stipe Šuvar, the leader of the League of Com-
munists of Croatia, descended into the mine
to negotiate and to support the miners, hav-
ing previously made the loud declaration that
he would “call a spade a spade,” meaning he
would oppose Milošević. However, nothing

19
came of it because by then, the situation also
began to suit Croatian Party members. Šuvar
did not oppose it, and representatives of the
Yugoslav state and party leadership acted tra-
gically comical, as had Ivan Stambolić and
Buca Pavlović in Serbia earlier, in their at-
tempts to restrain Milošević.
That night, when the situation with the
miners was at its breaking point, Rajko Ce-
rović, a journalist, publicist and the former
chief editor of TV Titograd, joined our table.
He was no longer favoured by the new Monte-
negrin authorities and was forced to resign
under pressure. We came to a unanimous con-
clusion: “Yugoslavia is being defended at Stari
Trg.” Although I wanted such a Yugoslavia to
collapse due to its betrayal of socialism and
everything else, I now wanted to defend it,
even if it was in this state. Especially since
I admired the strength and determination of
the miners, I sought a class signature in their
actions, and perhaps, naively, the foreshadow-
ing of something greater.
At the same time, Milošević organized a
large rally in Belgrade, demanding the arrest
of Albanian leaders like Vllasi and others.
In response to the crowd’s chants of “Arrest
Vllasi!” he cynically replied, “I can’t hear
you well!” The appearance of Raif Dizdar-
ević, then-president of the Yugoslav presi-
dency, under a large image of Milošević at
the rally was met with jeers from the crowd.
Under pressure, the Yugoslav Presidency de-
cided to declare a state of emergency in Kos-
ova and the Dukagjin Plateau. Special police

20
units were sent in, descending into the mine
through ventilation shafts and arresting the
miners. Azem Vllasi was also arrested.
In Belgrade, Serbian intellectuals, in-
flamed by nationalist hatred, especially writ-
ers, supported all the regime’s measures
against the “Albanian rebellion” and criti-
cized the support for the miners coming from
Slovenia and Croatia.
Knives were being sharpened quickly.
The final act was set to take place at the
14th Congress of the League of Commun-
ists of Yugoslavia, held in January 1990 at
the Sava Centre in Belgrade. But before that
concluding event, the final rally at Gazime-
stan in Kosova took place, marking the 600th
anniversary of the Battle of Kosova, where
Milošević, before hundreds of thousands of
his supporters, threatened war.
We eagerly awaited and closely followed
the congress of the League of Communists of
Yugoslavia. Delegates from all the Yugoslav
republics were present, as well as delegates
from the Yugoslav People’s Army (JNA). The
congress became the pinnacle of the conflict
between two visions of how Yugoslavia should
be organized — centralist and unitary under
Belgrade’s domination, and confederal as
proposed by most other republics. Naturally,
the congress was doomed to fail. The sharp-
est clashes occurred between the Serbian and
Slovenian delegations. The former advocated
for a “one man, one vote” system, meaning the
centralization of Yugoslavia, as Milošević’s
intention was to take control of the party at

21
the federal level. However, the Slovenians
proposed a confederation of the party and
state. The essence of their proposal was the
introduction of political pluralism. Elections
had already been held in Slovenia for their
representative in the federal presidency, and
Croatia and Slovenia were preparing for the
first multi-party elections. They demanded a
redefinition of relations between the republics
to ensure that overrule by any single entity
would be impossible. All the proposals from
the Slovenian delegation, led by Milan Kučan,
were rejected. All of Milošević’s proposals
were accepted by the majority of votes. The
Slovenian leadership walked out of the con-
gress, which Milošević tried to use to impose
his views, but then the Croatian delegates also
walked out, followed by the delegates from
Macedonia and Bosnia and Herzegovina. The
party that formally united them disintegrated.
Personally, I felt satisfaction that the re-
visionist and nationalist rot of the League of
Communists of Yugoslavia had fallen apart.
It pleased my ego, as I had advocated for this
outcome. However, the unravelling didn’t
happen according to my naive vision of a
revolutionary uprising of the masses against
the traitorous League of Communists, but in-
stead, under their direction, where they were
already fully prepared to renounce even that
nominal communism they had so fervently
professed, all while living comfortably off it. I
remembered that night the wonderful thought:
“Renegades are always worse than the class
enemy.”

22
 We could hardly wait for Roćko to re-
turn from Belgrade, where he had managed
to secure access to the congress’ corridors
and share with us all the juicy details. And,
of course, to dramatize the scene of how he,
while helping the elderly Baja Radosavljević,
one of the leaders of the Serbian leadership,
climb the stairs, launched a tirade against the
Slovenian and Croatian leaderships, all while
Baja complained about the atmosphere that
had taken over the party.

23
 THE PARTY FOR THE FIRST
TIME
The news that the Association for a Yugo-
slav Democratic Initiative (UJDI) was found-
ed at the Faculty of Philosophy in Zagreb
in early 1989 unsettled me somewhat. The
founding members included Branko Horvat,
Nebojša Popov, Žarko Puhovski, Bogdan
Bogdanović, Milan Kangrga, Lev Kreft,
Shkëlzen Maliqi, Vesna Pešić, Koča Popović,
Milorad Pupovac, Ljubiša Ristić, Božidar
Gajo Sekulić, Rudi Supek, Ljubomir Tadić,
Dubravka Ugrešić, Predrag Vranicki... All of
them part of what one might call the so-called
humanist intelligentsia. It was an attempt by
intellectuals to oppose the nationalist surge,
but in their misunderstanding of reality, and
one could say of politics itself.
In Novi Sad, the UJDI held a panel dis-
cussion attended by the philosopher Miladin
Životić from Belgrade. Milenko and I returned
with him. I was afraid that Milenko might be
drawn in by that philosophical inclination, as
he too was part of that Praxis school. I wasn’t
afraid because Milenko didn’t belong among
those intellectuals, but because I had already
decided that we needed to attempt once again
to form a communist party, and Milenko was
a crucial link in that.
Milenko made his decision: “The UJDI
has no weight.”
Our shared stance was that intellectuals,
with their so-called civic concept, could not
stop the nationalists with the sterile idea that
24
all they needed to do was explain things to
the masses. This later proved to be true. The
UJDI’s attempts did not resonate with the
masses and remained marginalized, eventual-
ly merging into the neoliberal Civic Alliance,
which also disappeared from the political
scene over time. Some members of the UJDI
“betrayed” the cause and ended up supporting
Great-Serb nationalism.
When the multi-party system was an-
nounced in Serbia, we welcomed it with some
relief, seeing the need for more organized work
ourselves. I immediately suggested to Milenko
that we start forming a party. Milenko advised
that we wait for some communist parties to
emerge from the centre because we were un-
knowns, and no one broader would support
us. It was a realistic assessment.
Then a decisive event happened for me —
Vlado Dapčević’s return to Yugoslavia and
his first interview in the press. I knew little
about Vlado in September 1990, aside from
what I had read when I was 19, in December
1975, while in investigative detention in Novi
Sad. Back then, I read that Vlado Dapčević
had been arrested on Yugoslav territory for
counter-revolutionary activities. I only knew
that he was the brother of Peko Dapčević,
a Spanish Civil War fighter, national hero,
Tito’s general and liberator of Belgrade,
which gave me additional strength at the time.
I knew nothing more because it was impos-
sible to find out anything else then. It wasn’t
until after the collapse of Yugoslavia that I
began to piece together a clearer picture of

25
Vlado, especially after I got my hands on the
book Cominformist by Slavko Ćuruvija, which
was an autobiographical account of Vlado’s
life. I read it in one sitting, then slowly, page
by page, committing everything to memory.
That’s when I gained a clearer picture, which
I later filled in further.
If I were to summarize Vlado’s life, as dif-
ficult as that may be, it would look something
like this:
Vlado Dapčević was a well-known revo-
lutionary within the communist movement.
He was a pre-war member of the Communist
Party of Yugoslavia. He was arrested multiple
times. He was severely wounded in a confron-
tation with Ljotić’s forces. He participated in
the National Liberation War from the first
shots of the uprising and was wounded sev-
eral times. He fought in all the major battles
during the war. After the war, as a colonel, he
said the historic “No” to Tito in 1948. During
an attempt to flee Yugoslavia across the Ro-
manian border with General Kadja Petričević
and JNA Chief of Staff Arso Jovanović, Arso
was killed, Kadja was captured and Vlado
was later caught. He was sentenced to twenty
years in prison. In investigative detention and
later on Goli Otok, he was subjected to the
most horrific torture, which lasted over eight
years. They failed to break him or make him
renounce his ideological beliefs. Upon his
release from Goli Otok, under the threat of
re-arrest, he fled to Albania with a large group
of comrades and later moved to the Soviet
Union, where he continued his political work.

26
Due to increasing conflict with Khrushchev’s
policies and revisionism in general, and his
siding with the Albanian and Chinese com-
munist parties, he came under attack from
the Soviet authorities, forcing him to leave the
USSR to avoid arrest. He moved to Western
Europe, where he worked the hardest manu-
al jobs to survive, but he was constantly ha-
rassed and expelled from various European
countries. In Belgium, he met his future wife
Micheline, with whom he had a daughter,
Milena. In the 1970s, the Yugoslav police
attempted to assassinate him by sending an
agent to Brussels, but the assassination failed.
During those years, he refused his comrade
Mileta Perović’s proposal to form a commun-
ist party in Yugoslavia, believing it was too
early and destined to fail. In 1975, through
cooperation between Yugoslav and Romanian
police, Vlado was kidnapped in Bucharest —
two of his comrades were killed — and he was
transported to Yugoslavia. He was initially
sentenced to death, then to twenty years in
prison. He was released in 1988 after nearly
thirteen years of imprisonment but was de-
nied the right to stay in Yugoslavia. Unexpect-
edly, he reappeared in Yugoslavia in Septem-
ber 1990, as he had been granted permission
to return.
I read his interview in Borba carefully, af-
ter his panel in Titograd. The journalist men-
tioned that he didn’t simply descend the stairs
but seemed to fly down them, even at the age
of 73.
He said:

27
 “The only reason I decided to come back
to Yugoslavia so quickly is because I’m deep-
ly troubled by what is happening in our country.
And, as always when necessary, I decided to come
and contribute, even if just a little, to preserving
this country that was built with blood. We must
prevent the horror looming over this country — the
horror of the most terrible civil, national and re-
ligious war. If the vast patriotic majority, which is
currently silent, does not wake up, rise and organ-
ize, and instead allows the chauvinists and nation-
alists to lead, none of us will fare well.”
Milenko’s premonition came true, and
soon one Goli Otok survivor, in whom we
didn’t have full trust — not because of any par-
ticular reason but because we generally didn’t
trust Goli Otok survivors, knowing they were
often blackmailed into working for the regime
— approached me. He proposed that I attend
the founding assembly of the New Commun-
ist Party of Yugoslavia (NKPJ) in Belgrade. I
accepted the invitation, and together we went
to Belgrade. At the entrance to the hall, two
members offered me a membership form to fill
out, as well as a program for the NKPJ. Quite a
few people had gathered, mostly older. As the
event began, I started reading the program. In
the introductory pages, I didn’t find anything
that particularly put me off, except that it was
written in a somewhat archaic style. After a
few pages, I came across a section on Kosova,
where it stated that the NKPJ supported con-
stitutional changes regarding the autonomy
of Kosova and the Dukagjin Plateau, in line
with Milošević’s regime’s efforts to revoke au-

28
tonomy. I immediately stood up, returned the
membership form to the organizers and left.
During a break, I noticed a group of about ten
people standing apart from the main crowd. I
realized they didn’t belong to this event and
approached them. They said they were mem-
bers of the “Bar Communist Party of Yugo-
slavia.” I had heard of them because I had
been imprisoned with some of their members
almost two decades earlier in Sremska Mitro-
vica. At the time, I had tried to establish con-
tact with them and organize political work
in prison, sending them a smuggled letter to
their pavilion. They argued about it, and one
comrade slapped another who supported ac-
cepting the contact and the need for political
work even in those conditions. Most of the
group considered it a provocation, so my in-
itiative went nowhere.
Now they gave me propaganda material,
which I took back to Vrbas. On the way, I read
the program. It also seemed archaic, but I
didn’t detect any overt nationalism, and it was
clear it had been written in an earlier period.
I informed my comrades that I had joined
the Communist Party of Yugoslavia, and
everyone accepted it.
I began working on expanding the organ-
ization. The first issue of the party newspaper
Komunistička Iskra was printed, which I dis-
tributed among members and sympathizers.
The organization gradually grew stronger. I
was no longer alone.

29
THE COMMUNIST PARTY OF
YUGOSLAVIA
Soon, Milenko and I were invited to a
meeting in Belgrade. That’s where we met
Mileta Perović, the General Secretary of the
Communist Party of Yugoslavia (KPJ). Mileta
was tall, balding, with a moustache, promin-
ent cheekbones and a rough face. He gave off
an impression of intelligence and sharp in-
sight.
Immediately, Milenko and I were placed
into the Central Committee, which flattered
us but also raised some doubts about the ser-
iousness of the organization.
From the very beginning, I felt some sort
of hesitation in my relationship with Mileta. I
wasn’t sure what caused it. Later, I conclud-
ed that it was probably because he was prag-
matic. He was already ill and was rushing to
create some kind of connection for the future,
no matter the cost. I, on the other hand, was
rather sectarian — not so much in theory but
in my relations with people.
We didn’t know much about Mileta’s life.
In the first issue of Komunistička Iskra, it said:
“Mileta Perović was born in 1923 in Peja.
As a boy, he joined the revolutionary move-
ment, and the educational authorities expelled
him from all high schools in the Kingdom of
Yugoslavia. He joined the Communist Party
of Yugoslavia (KPJ) in 1941. He participated
in the National Liberation War from its early
days. In 1942, the Italian occupiers captured
him and sentenced him to death, though the
30
sentence was immediately commuted to 101
years in prison. He managed to be transferred
to a hospital, from which he escaped and re-
turned to fighting. After the war, he served
as a military attaché in Albania, a military
intelligence officer, and then head of the In-
fantry and Cavalry Division of the Organiza-
tional Mobilization Directorate of the Gener-
al Staff. In 1949, under accusations of being a
Cominformist, he was arrested and sentenced
to 18 years in prison. He served his sentence
in Stara Gradiška, Goli Otok, Bileća and Goli
Otok again. He was released at the end of
1956, after 7 years and 9 months. In mid-1958,
as part of a group of high-ranking Goli Otok
prisoners, he illegally emigrated to Alban-
ia and, two years later, moved to the Soviet
Union. There, he earned a degree in political
economy, completed postgraduate studies and
earned a doctorate. He became a professor of
political economy at the Institute of National
Economy in Kiev. At the Congress of Bar in
1974, he was elected, in absentia, as General
Secretary of the illegal Communist Party of
Yugoslavia. Shortly afterwards, he moved to
the West and lived in several countries, main-
ly France. In 1977, he was kidnapped while on
vacation in Switzerland. In Belgrade, he was
sentenced to 20 years in prison. He served his
sentence in Sremska Mitrovica. In prison, he
wrote 10,000 pages on political economy. He
was released on New Year’s Day in 1989 after
11 years and 6 months. Counting his earlier
imprisonment, he spent a total of 19 years and
3 months in prison, making him one of the

31
world’s record-holders among political pris-
oners. He lives in Belgrade and represents for-
eign trade companies from Kiev in Yugoslavia
and Western Europe. He is the author of sev-
eral books and numerous articles on political
economy. He speaks Russian, French, Ger-
man, Italian and Albanian.”
Milenko and I realized that the Cen-
tral Committee of the party was composed
of people stuck in the past, and some were
burdened with psychological issues, like
Momčilo Jokić, the party’s chief ideologist
and propagandist, who later wrote books try-
ing to prove that Tito was not really Tito. Mi-
leta let all of this go. People could almost walk
in off the street and join the Central Commit-
tee. At the same time, we assessed that Mileta
had practically shifted to the Gorbachev line,
justifying everything that was happening in
the USSR at the time.
When a proposal passed in the Central
Committee that a comrade should not be ad-
mitted to the CC because he couldn’t afford
to attend meetings due to poverty, Mileta re-
acted harshly: “Poverty cannot be a reason for
someone not to be a member of the Central
Committee if they deserve it!”
Milenko always returned from meetings
in Belgrade dissatisfied, but I was focussed on
moving forward.
A special event was our trip to Belgrade
for the launch of the first issue of Komunistička
Iskra. Jokić organized it at a high level, as if
we were some significant political force. The
ceremony was held at the Sava Centre. About a

32
hundred people attended, and I had mobilized
our members to appear in full force. A choir
of a hundred members performed just one
song — The Internationale. Then, two people
entered carrying a flag that Jokić announced
as the flag from the Aurora ship, allegedly pre-
served by sailors until today and handed over
to us. It was complete madness. But by then,
there was no turning back.
Mileta soon called me and asked if I could
organize a visit to Czechoslovakia, specific-
ally to meet with their communist youth. Four
of us from the Vrbas organization, along with
two from Belgrade, travelled to Prague. When
we arrived, the people there were complete-
ly taken aback. They couldn’t believe anyone
would show up, especially since Czechoslo-
vakia was in the midst of the so-called col-
lapse of communism. Mileta even believed
they would all be thrilled by our visit, but the
Czechs merely tolerated us out of politeness.
Soon after, a shock hit all of us. The latest
issue of Komunistička Iskra came out, and on
the front page was a caricature of Milošević
oiling a “faltering” red star at the very mo-
ment when Yugoslavia was falling apart.
That evening, Mečo appeared at the table
and tossed Komunistička Iskra in front of me,
saying, “Where have you led us?”
I immediately decided to call a meeting
of the Vojvodina organization, where about
thirty of us drafted a letter to the party leader-
ship, demanding clarification regarding the
issue.
The letter stated, among other things: “As

33
soon as this double issue was released, we
received complaints from ten comrades who
demanded an immediate response to the ap-
pearance of Great-Serb nationalism in our
paper... We convened a meeting where almost
all participants in the discussion expressed
concern that the infiltration of any national-
ism into our party would place the KPJ on the
same footing as the former LCY or the cur-
rent NKPJ, which would inevitably lead to its
demise from the historical stage.”
We did not receive a response, but we were
invited to a meeting with Mileta. Milenko
and I went. Mileta introduced us to Vlado,
who was then staying in the apartment of Mi-
leta’s sister, Senka. He was exactly as Slavko
Ćuruvija had described him in his book: grey-
haired, with a characteristic broken nose, not
very tall but broad, with a sharp voice and
eyes that still held fire. At first, we were sizing
each other up. At one point, Mileta said some-
thing critical about the Cultural Revolution in
China, mentioning how they had forced pro-
fessors into physical labour. Vlado defended
the Cultural Revolution and retorted to Mi-
leta that it would be better to call his Iskra
“Chetnik” rather than “communist,” which
both surprised and delighted Milenko and
me. After that, everything went smoothly. Mi-
leta left us in Vlado’s hands.
To Vlado’s question: “What do you think of
Stalin and his purges?”
Milenko responded: “If things could have
been different, they would have been.”
I said: “I support everything, except the

34
waving of his portraits everywhere and his
failure to curb the cult of personality around
him.”
Vlado replied: “That was an expression of
the times.”
Soon after, Mečo conducted an interview
with Mileta for Monitor, which was then the
only opposition publication in Montenegro,
advocating for Montenegrin independence.
However, the interview contained mostly gen-
eralities with little substance.
In the meantime, Vlado began working on
his idea of gathering Goli Otok survivors as a
political force. He refused to believe that the
Goli Otok associations were already under
the control of the authorities in Belgrade and
Titograd. He thought those former prisoners
would be excited to engage politically once
again. Stubbornly, he rejected the notion that
most of them had become “former people,”
forced to make numerous compromises with
the regime over the years. At a gathering of
Goli Otok survivors in Belgrade, when Vlado
appeared, the audience stood up and ap-
plauded, but the chairman of the meeting,
writer Dragoslav Mihajlović, said, “Here’s
our Vlado, but he’s only a guest here.”
As in his previous appearance at the forum
in Titograd, the entire hall rose and applauded
for several minutes. When Vlado took the
microphone and said, “We’ve been living with
Albanians for 1,300 years in peace, and we should
continue to live in peace!” The room fell silent,
followed by a wave of discontent. Some people
stood up and started approaching Vlado with

35
threatening intent.
“I had my Beretta in my pocket, and I was
ready to shoot, not allowing myself to be beaten
like I was on Goli Otok.”
It took some time before Vlado heard and
read the smears directed at him. Eventually,
he threw in the towel and made his character-
istic break, as he always did when he realized
someone had irreversibly ended up on the
other side of the barricade. But several im-
portant events unfolded before that final mo-
ment.

36
 VLADO AT THE HELM OF
THE KPJ
After returning to Vrbas, we concluded
that we needed to “play the Vlado card.” I
took the initiative and organized a KPJ forum
in Vrbas. The poster announced that Mileta
Perović, Vlado Dapčević and Milenko Perović
would be speaking. I used a bit of trickery and
boldness — without even informing Vlado.
Mileta called me and said that Vlado refused
to come because he wasn’t a member of the
KPJ. I spent half an hour on the phone with
Vlado, trying to convince him. Still, he wasn’t
budging. I told him his name was already on
the printed posters and that his presence was
crucial for advancing our ideas in this region.
In the end, I “broke” him and he agreed to
come.
The cinema hall in Vrbas was packed.
People were standing along the sides of the
seating area. I moderated the forum, and af-
ter the polite but dry speeches from Mileta
and Milenko, Vlado took the floor and spoke
with passion. People were so inspired they ap-
proached the stage in excitement. His words
struck the core of the issues. He especially
criticized the Montenegrin colonists for sup-
porting Milošević just because he was safe-
guarding their Tito-era pensions and allowing
them to live in abandoned German houses,
fearing they would lose them in these turbu-
lent times. But his main focus was on fighting
the impending war, urging everyone to wake
up and prevent the evil that was coming.
37
 Mileta returned to Belgrade, while Vlado
stayed with us, visibly satisfied. I suggested to
Vlado that he hold another forum in the neigh-
bouring village of Lovćenac, where many of
his fellow Katunjani from the same region of
Montenegro lived. The event was organized
by Vlado’s friend Petar Vrbica. Though the
turnout was good, we sensed a certain cau-
tion from the audience, likely due to their past
suffering and the overall uncertainty in the
society.
Vlado stayed at my place that night.
Milenko and I had a long conversation with
him. Our view was that we couldn’t make any
meaningful changes within the party without
his help, and that he, too, couldn’t influence
much from the outside. He needed to join the
party. Vlado agreed. He told us that Mileta
was ill and would soon be going to Kiev for
treatment and that he saw new strength in us
— two key reasons for him joining the party.
He said: “Now, slowly, we’ll clean out every-
thing that’s wrong.”
Vlado’s entry into the party and his ap-
pointment as party president while Mileta was
undergoing treatment sparked a storm. Almost
the entire membership of the NKPJ joined.
This left Kitanović, the leader of that party,
with only a small group of followers. Every-
one wanted to join the KPJ because of Vlado.
A bigger commotion ensued than ever before
within the KPJ. The Central Committee now
had 73 members, as if we were the Commun-
ist Party of China. Almost every third mem-
ber was a member of the Central Committee.

38
The party was essentially composed of three
main factions — the “Bar Party,” which held
much of the control, our strong Vojvodina or-
ganization and Kitanović’s newcomers, which
included some high-quality comrades like the
poet Milan Nikolić from Kragujevac and aca-
demician Radonja Vešović, as well as mem-
bers from other Yugoslav republics. The party
had between two and three hundred members.

39
 CONFLICTS
Vlado held a session of the Central Com-
mittee of the KPJ. In his speech, he was some-
what cautious, stating that we should support
the so-called Western positions regarding the
situation in Yugoslavia, which advocated for a
peaceful resolution to the crisis, and that the
JNA should maintain the unity of the country.
This stance provoked a reaction, and rumours
began to spread, especially in Montenegro,
that Vlado was working for the West, as he
was supporting their proposals.
The real conflict within the party began
with Vlado’s appearance on TV Sarajevo on
July 9, 1991. Vlado always claimed that media
interest in him was like the interest consum-
ers have in a new product — temporary, until
it fades away.
The interview on TV Sarajevo was cer-
tainly a novelty and a shock for a portion of
the Bosnian public that year. In it, Vlado pre-
sented our views in a completely transparent
and principled manner.
On his return to Yugoslavia:
“I said that I wasn’t thinking of returning be-
cause I hadn’t yet been granted permission to return
to Yugoslavia. In the meantime, my eldest broth-
er (Milutin), who had done a lot for me, passed
away, and I couldn’t even attend his funeral. As
soon as the opportunity arose, I returned with joy.
I asked if I could return without being arrested
or persecuted again, privately through the journal-
ist Ćuruvija, and I received a positive answer. I’ve
suffered many times because of my naivety, but my

40
desire to return to Yugoslavia was so great that I
seized the first opportunity and came back. Since
my return, I haven’t encountered any obstacles,
nor has anyone summoned me... Coming back af-
ter 33 years was an immense joy for me because
I am bound to this country with every drop of my
blood. Perhaps it’s because I’ve struggled so much
here. And, to be literary for a moment — the land
I literally soaked with my sweat, blood and tears.
And for that reason, I love it immensely. When
I saw nationalist madness taking hold, more or
less across all the peoples of Yugoslavia, knowing
what consequences this could bring to the country,
I felt it was my duty to once again join the political
battle, even though I am an old man with limited
means, to do what I can to prevent the worst — to
stop this country from sinking into a sea of blood,
into interethnic and religious conflict.”
On Goli Otok:
“Goli Otok arose from a specific situation.
People who considered themselves communists,
and many perhaps believed they were, betrayed the
cause they fought for and switched to the other side
of the barricade — to the position of the class ene-
my. And, like all renegades, they persecuted those
who remained loyal to socialism, to the commun-
ist idea, far more viciously than the class enemy
would have.”
On the Yugoslav People’s Army:
“The Yugoslav People’s Army, as its name sug-
gests, should be both Yugoslav and of the people,
and should treat all nations objectively. Even the
slightest bias can gravely compromise the JNA. We
must remember that we are a multinational coun-
try, and everything happening around us inevitably

41
affects the army. Because of this, the JNA must act
objectively toward all.”
On Bosnia:
“To save this country, to prevent fratricidal
war at all costs, especially here in Bosnia, because
without Bosnia, there is no Yugoslavia, nor can
Bosnia exist without Yugoslavia... If fratricid-
al conflict is allowed to break out here, rivers of
blood will flow, not just streams. We must remain
faithful and consistent to our past, to fight for Bos-
nia and Yugoslavia and not allow anyone in Bos-
nia to spread any interethnic hatred, because they
are the same Ustaše and Chetniks we fought so
successfully against.”
Then Vlado went to Tuzla, where a state-
ment of his was published in the press, ac-
cusing Milošević of destroying Yugoslavia.
This caused a real uproar in the party. That
evening, Branislav Dragović from the “Bar
Group” and a member of the party leadership
informed me that, due to Vlado’s actions, the
Political Bureau had decided to remove him
from the leadership of the KPJ. I replied that I
hadn’t read his interview yet, but that only the
Central Committee could remove him since
they were the ones who elected him. After
about fifteen minutes of persuasion, Dragović
agreed to hold a Central Committee meeting.
I immediately called Mileta’s sister,
Senka, and told her I would be coming the
next day and needed to urgently speak with
Vlado. Mečo and I travelled to Belgrade. The
problem was that two former “Kitanović men”
were with Vlado, and he had been casually
talking with them for hours. Later, we learn-

42
ed that their role was to distract and monitor
him, something one of them admitted under
pressure. We interrupted the conversation and
asked Vlado to step outside with us. We went
to a café near the Partizan football stadium.
Vlado was completely caught off guard by our
information, stunned and in total disbelief.
We told him we were preparing for a Central
Committee meeting and that we would do
everything we could to ensure our line pre-
vailed. Later, Senka told me that Vlado, who
usually slept peacefully, kept waking up and
getting out of bed that night.
The meeting was attended by 49 members
of the Central Committee. Vlado chaired the
meeting and gave the floor to those proposing
his removal to explain their reasoning. Af-
ter speeches from Jokić, Bošković, Dragović
and others from the “Bar Group,” I realized
they were ready for a compromise — Vlado
wouldn’t be removed as long as he distanced
himself from his statements. They were sup-
ported by Kitanović’s man, Renovčević, who
declared that he wouldn’t allow the party
to wrong the Serbian people a second time.
Then the rest of the members stood up in
defence of Vlado, defending his position on
principle. Finally, Vlado took the floor and
attacked them, not only for attempting to
violate democratic centralism but also for ac-
cusing them of being agents, stating he had
proof. Vlado was pushing the conflict to the
extreme. The proposal to remove Vlado was
supported by nine members of the Bar Group,
three abstained, while 37 members opposed

43
the proposal. Left in an absolute minority, the
Bar Group demonstratively walked out of the
meeting, saying as they left: “We are the KPJ.
We have the seals!” The meeting lasted from
10 a.m. to 5 p.m.
Milenko, Mečo and I returned from the
meeting satisfied. When I got home, I turned
on the TV to see if there were any news up-
dates. In the announcement for the evening
news, there was a headline that the Central
Committee of the KPJ had removed Vlado
Dapčević and expelled him from the party.
Up until then, there had never been any
news about the KPJ on state television. I was
stunned but immediately realized that the
state machinery had kicked into gear and that
we were entering a battle of “the lame against
the horned.”
The “Barists” immediately tried to win
Mileta Perović over to their side. They sent
him materials and their version of the “dis-
missal of Vlado.” Mileta responded from Kiev
on August 15, 1991:
“Dear Branko,
“I received your letter, a report from
some gathering, and the ‘Report on the Split
with Comrade Vlado Dapčević,’ which you,
Momčilo Jokić, and four other comrades un-
known to me signed, along with the Central
Committee of the KPJ stamp and seal.
“First, I must tell you that both the letter
and the ‘documents’ surprised me so much
that I initially doubted their authenticity, as
stamps and seals can easily be forged and mis-
used, as you have done on this occasion. But

44
regardless of the improper form, I read your
letter and the ‘documents’ countless times,
and I couldn’t find a single reason for this
unprecedented attack on Comrade Vladimir
Dapčević. In fact, you don’t cite any author-
ized interview by him, only the writings of
journalists from our republics. However, in
your interpretation of Vlado’s statements, I
couldn’t find the slightest reason, not even for
the mildest rebuke, let alone for denouncing a
fellow party member through external (mostly
regime-controlled) mass media.
“Communist morality and political ethics
regard such actions not only as a major moral
offence but as a grave sin against the party.
Good god, comrade, is it normal or permis-
sible to air household disputes in the street?
“I cannot condone such a practice, which
has no precedent, either as a person or as a
communist. On the contrary, I categorically
condemn it.
“Furthermore, your letter and ‘documents’
clearly show that you have grossly violated the
Party’s Statutes. You, a mere quarter of the
Political Bureau, illegally, without the know-
ledge of the Political Bureau, the General
Secretary or the Central Committee, removed
Comrade Vlado Dapčević from his position
as acting General Secretary. According to the
KPJ Statutes, such an action requires a de-
cision by the Central Committee of the KPJ.
What this means and what consequences may
arise, I leave to you to consider and to con-
scientiously, in a communist manner, review
your position and inform not only the Cen-

45
tral Committee of the KPJ but also all Party
members and the Yugoslav public through the
media outlets where you published your previ-
ous unconstitutional decisions.
“If you do so, I will make every effort to
ensure that the Central Committee of the
Party and the communists assess your actions
as leniently as possible, following the old say-
ing, ‘What’s done cannot be undone,’ and I
firmly believe in the possibility of resolving
your case in this way.
“However, if you persist in holding onto
your untenable positions, I will propose to
the Central Committee the formation of a
commission to thoroughly investigate your
relationship with Comrade Vlado Dapčević,
consisting of the following members… (a list
of ten names).
“For now, that’s all. With respect, Mileta
Perović.”
With this letter, Mileta and Vlado once
again found themselves aligned. Mileta passed
away a few months later. He would often say
about Vlado: “Vlado is leagues ahead of us.”

46
 UPHEAVAL, WAR IN
SLOVENIA AND CROATIA
The armed conflicts in Yugoslavia cannot
be viewed in isolation from the broader context
of the so-called “collapse of communism” and
events across Europe: the dissolution of the
Soviet Union, regime changes in all Warsaw
Pact countries, the fall of the Berlin Wall, the
reunification of Germany and the creation of a
new concept of a united Europe. The unique-
ness of the Yugoslav situation lay in the fact
that the systemic crisis did not play out “as it
should have.” Yugoslavia had, in fact, become
a confederation by 1974, but now, amid a deep
economic and political crisis, proponents of
different concepts were fighting for domin-
ance and the future structure of the country
— either a return to a centralized, unitary sys-
tem, or further confederalization. On one side
were Croatia and Slovenia advocating further
confederalization, while on the other side was
Serbia pushing for a return to centralism and
unitarism.
In this clash of republican bureaucracies,
the reformist, pan-Yugoslav liberal concept
of rapid privatization, championed by then-
Prime Minister Ante Marković, was gaining
more and more supporters. This concept was
backed by the West, particularly the U.S. and
other countries that supported the preser-
vation of Yugoslavia. However, the national
revisionist party bureaucracies were openly
rallying under nationalist banners, especial-
ly in Belgrade and Zagreb, eager to consoli-
47
date power within their own borders. The only
question remaining was how much of “their
own” they could secure in the minds of the lo-
cal imperialists.
The struggle between party bureaucracies
inevitably led to a resurgence of the ideolo-
gies, mobilization and aggression of forces
defeated during the Second World War —
namely the Chetniks and Ustaše. Just as lib-
erals had to retreat before the still “commun-
ist structures” in these lands, Titoism’s rem-
nants were forced to make compromises and
concede more and more to openly nationalist
forces — Chetniks and Ustaše in all but name.
The events of 1991 unfolded rapidly, like
a film reel.
The nationalist and anti-communist bloc,
led primarily by the writer Vuk Drašković,
held a rally in Belgrade on March 9, 1991,
against the five-pointed star and for “media
freedom,” challenging the “remnants of com-
munism.” The rally turned into demonstra-
tions and clashes with the police. Milošević,
too, had to show force, deploying police and
even receiving support from the still-federal
JNA. With the help of tanks, a state of emer-
gency was imposed in Belgrade. Soon after,
the Milošević regime found a way to resolve
the internal tensions and dissatisfaction of the
inflamed nationalist masses, which it had it-
self incited: by “exporting” the conflict out-
side of Serbia. Belgrade pressured the JNA
leadership to take matters into their own
hands, providing institutional space for a mil-
itary coup. The coup never materialized, but

48
in Slovenia and then in Croatia, the call for
independence grew stronger. This provided
the regime in Belgrade with two options: to
demand that the JNA intervene, prevent se-
cession from Yugoslavia and arrest the repub-
lican leaderships opposing Yugoslav unity,
or to negotiate a peaceful separation with the
Slovenes. Belgrade worked on both fronts:
preserving Yugoslavia under its dominance,
even in a truncated form, or, if that failed, cre-
ating a Serbia based on the ethnic territories
of the Serbian people.
As the exponent of increasingly aggressive
Great-Serb nationalism, Milošević continued
to consolidate power in Serbia, quelling the
remnants of autonomy movements in Voj-
vodina and openly clashing with the Alban-
ian population in Kosova after the Kosova
Assembly declared independence. In Kosova,
Milošević used federal institutions to impose
martial law, enforce a curfew and brutally
suppress Albanian resistance.
The attempt to “discipline” Slovenia by
organizing a rally in Ljubljana failed when
the Slovenes banned the gathering, prompting
Serbia to cut economic ties with Slovenia.
After Slovenia’s decision to secede, the
JNA was deployed to prevent it. The Federal
Yugoslav government formally made the deci-
sion to send the army into Slovenia. Slovenia
mobilized and resisted with its modest but
united forces. This so-called Ten-Day War re-
vealed the complete incompetence of the JNA,
leading to a military, political and, above all,
moral collapse. It also exposed Serbia’s inten-

49
tion not to oppose Slovenia’s exit from Yugo-
slavia. This gave Belgrade two powerful ad-
vantages: the opportunity to fully subjugate
the JNA and to send a clear message to Cro-
atia that it would not leave Yugoslavia without
a fight. Now Milošević had to follow the plans
of the Serbian nationalists, proclaiming some
form of Yugoslavia on ethnically Serbian ter-
ritories, which automatically meant war with
Croatia and redrawing its borders.
In analysing the events in Yugoslavia, the
role of the Counterintelligence Service (KOS),
Tito’s military intelligence, must also be high-
lighted, particularly its conflict with republic-
an state security services, and later the roles
of these services’ cadres in the post-Yugoslav
period, where they seized economic levers of
power, often with the cooperation of foreign
intelligence agencies.
In our party, we still formally adhered to
the idea of recognizing all republics within
their Anti-Fascist National Liberation Coun-
cil (AVNOJ) borders. At the same time, we
clearly saw events unfolding that signalled
the division of Croatia along the line of Kar-
lobag-Ogulin-Karlovac-Virovitica, as the war-
mongering criminal Šešelj constantly advo-
cated. This notion was shared by the Serbian
“map-makers,” writers like Vuk Drašković
and Dobrica Ćosić, who carried maps under
their arms and “negotiated” how to carve up
Yugoslavia. Ćosić, the “father of the nation,”
later accepted the position of president of the
so-called rump Yugoslavia but was eventu-
ally pushed aside when Milošević no longer

50
needed him. The fact that Ćosić transitioned
from a former communist to a nationalist was
not particularly surprising — what else could
one become in a revisionist Yugoslavia but an
even bigger nationalist or an even bigger lib-
eral? Many never forgot or forgave him for his
months-long journey with Tito on the Galeb
ship, serving as the “court writer,” or his
strutting around in white linen suits on Sveti
Grgur, an island in the Adriatic that served
as a women’s labour camp for Cominformists.
There, with a notebook in hand, he tried to
persuade Brana Marković to admit that Stalin
had killed her husband, Sima Marković, a
prominent Yugoslav communist, which she
refused to do. According to Borislav Jović,
a key figure in the Serbian leadership and
Milošević’s right-hand man (if he can be be-
lieved), Ćosić’s stance was: “We must fight
for the genetic map of Serbian space. That
is the future space of Serbia. Kosova cannot
be held. History teaches us that Serbs move
northward. We have taken Vojvodina, and we
can partition Kosova. This plan must be kept
secret and activated at the critical moment.”
In an interview, Ćosić openly stated: “I do
not recognize the AVNOJ borders. These are
Comintern and communist borders.”
The list of primarily Serbian but also Cro-
atian intellectuals who fancied themselves not
only political architects but historical actors
is long. When their poison was unleashed
upon the Yugoslav peoples, it left behind tens
of thousands of dead, massacred, raped, and
hundreds of thousands of displaced people.

51
They justified their actions by claiming “mis-
takes” and downplayed their role in the devas-
tation, mostly blaming the politicians.
Our party always emphasized the critical
role and responsibility of intellectuals. Vlado
often repeated: “If we had a party of the same
quality as before the Second World War, a party
with ten thousand supporters, we would have driv-
en out all these nationalists in Belgrade and Zag-
reb and saved Yugoslavia.”
In Croatia, the nationalist Croatian
Democratic Union, led by former Tito’s gen-
eral Franjo Tudjman, won the elections. The
Serbian population in Croatia perceived this
as the revival of Ustaše ideology, with Bel-
grade’s propaganda fuelling fears by recalling
the Ustaše massacres during the Second
World War. Franjo Tudjman declared: “The
Independent State of Croatia was not merely
a puppet and fascist creation but also an ex-
pression of the historical aspirations of the
Croatian people.” Meanwhile, a rally was held
on Mount Petrova Gora by Serbs in Croatia
under the slogan “This is Serbia,” filled with
threats against the “Ustaše,” Tudjman and
Ivica Račan.
Soon, tensions and conflicts escalated in
Croatia under the banner of the “Log Revolu-
tion,” where Serbian residents blocked roads
and declared certain territories as their own.
The Croatian regime was preparing to declare
independence, while Belgrade sought to pre-
vent it by stirring up the Serbian population
in Croatia and demanding the redefinition of
existing borders.
52
 At that time, Vlado’s position was that the
Serbian people should ally with the so-called
democratic forces in Croatia against the Cro-
atian nationalists. This was principled but un-
realistic.
At the gatherings of Serbs in Croatia,
groups from Belgrade were sent to fuel the na-
tionalist fervour and provoke conflicts. While
some representatives of the Serbian commun-
ity in Croatia tried to negotiate with relevant
forces, namely Tudjman, in hopes of a peaceful
resolution, both Milošević and Tudjman were
working to escalate the conflict — Milošević
to redraw Croatia’s borders and Tudjman to
find a “final solution” to the Serbian question,
viewing it as a disruptive factor and aiming
to preserve Croatia within its “historical bor-
ders.”
As a party, we were mere spectators of
these events, without the strength to serious-
ly influence anything. We engaged in minor
propaganda efforts and decided that party
members should not respond to military draft
calls or participate in mobilization.
Two of our comrades couldn’t evade the
draft and ended up being mobilized. They
fought in the Osijek and Vukovar battlefields.
At a party meeting, I demanded that both be
expelled from the party. However, I faced re-
sistance from within the party, as one of them
was an internationalist and a “party favour-
ite.” Still, I remained firm and insisted. After
a long debate, the decision to expel them was
made. This was necessary to maintain the
ideological unity of the party. After nearly

53
a year, we readmitted the internationalist to
the party. He then expressed his full self-criti-
cism, saying: “I will never forgive myself for
ordering the firing of seven shells at our Cro-
atian brothers.”
Some members of the Vrbas organization
managed to evade mobilization thanks to my
cousin, who worked in the military office and
agreed to withhold draft notices for acquaint-
ances, mostly along Montenegrin lines, so
they wouldn’t be sent to the front. However,
the poor Rusyn, Hungarian and other minor-
ity populations were mobilized, proving their
loyalty to the Serbian regime.
In Vrbas, two locals played key roles in
the war propaganda in the media: Milijana
Baletić, reporting from the Dubrovnik front,
and Petko Koprivica, covering the Slavonian
front. Later, Petko became the lead announcer
for the evening news, spreading interethnic
hatred and propaganda lies every night with
his booming voice. Yet, when slightly drunk,
he would ironically and quite candidly say to
those gathered in the café: “I’m off to spread
some Chetnik propaganda.”
The war in internationally recognized
Croatia triggered action from the so-called
international community, which became
particularly active after the peak of military
operations around Vukovar, its fall, and the
entry of Serbian forces, still under the Yugo-
slav name. A situation of mediation arose,
and a ceasefire was reached, along with secret
agreements between Milošević and Tudjman,
not only regarding the end of the war in Cro-

54
atia but also their plans to divide Bosnia and
Herzegovina.”

55
 THE RALLY IN TITOGRAD
In February 1992, we travelled to Tito-
grad, which would change its name to Podgor-
ica two months later.
At the time, the situation in Montenegro
was becoming increasingly complicated.
The “young Montenegrin leadership” was in
power, to which Vlado often remarked, “Youth
is no excuse. I’ve seen 17-year-old SS soldiers
commit horrific crimes.”
The war in Croatia had been going on
for more than half a year. Although Monte-
negro was not officially involved in the war, it
had sent so-called volunteers to Herzegovina
and Dubrovnik with the support of the army.
Alongside the war frenzy and euphoria, resist-
ance to the war was also growing in Monte-
negro, splitting the country between those
supporting the war effort and those opposing
it. Among the opponents of the war, the Liber-
al Alliance, led by Slavko Perović, stood out.
After several smaller gatherings, especially in
Cetinje, the Liberal Alliance, together with
the Social Democratic Party, rare intellectuals
and anti-fascists, organized a rally in Titograd
called “For a Sovereign Montenegro.” On the
same day, at the same square, the government
organized a counter-rally “For Yugoslav-
ia,” composed mainly of supporters of the
Democratic Party of Socialists (formerly the
League of Communists of Montenegro) and
the pro-Serbian Chetnik-oriented People’s
Party.
Our party decided to attend the rally and

56
support the anti-war policy while encouraging
the struggle for Montenegrin sovereignty. I
travelled with five comrades, and Vlado joined
us in Titograd.
Two groups gathered in the square. The
“For Montenegro” group had several thou-
sand people, fewer than the “For Yugoslav-
ia” crowd. A police cordon separated the two
gatherings. The “sovereignists” displayed
old Montenegrin flags, while the other group
prominently displayed the Yugoslav flag with
the red star.
At the “sovereignist” rally, people sang
and chanted: “O bright May dawn, our moth-
er, Montenegro,” “O, heroic cradle of ours,
viva vero Montenegro,” “Montenegro will
have no peace, as long as Milo and Momir are
around,” “E viva, e viva, e viva Montenegro”
and “Montenegro may be small, but it will be
sovereign.”
Vlado informed us that the rally organiz-
ers had asked if he would speak. I saw that
Vlado was hesitant and asked for our opinion,
so we all discussed it. I asked each comrade
individually, and they all agreed that Vlado
should speak. We knew the potential con-
sequences of his speech, especially since we
had just dealt with the presence of Serbian
nationalism within the party. We were aware
that Vlado’s speech could be used in propa-
ganda against us, accusing us of supporting
the Montenegrin nationalists.
Before Vlado, Boško Djureković spoke
— a pre-war member of the KPJ, participant
in the July 13 Uprising in 1941, fighter in the

57
National Liberation War, recipient of the Par-
tisan Memorial, People’s Hero of Yugoslavia
and Colonel General of the JNA. As Vlado
made his way through the crowd, people rec-
ognized him and began chanting his name. At
the beginning of his speech, Vlado seemed a
bit tense, carefully choosing his words.
He started by addressing those who had
died on the Dubrovnik front, in the war
against Croatia. He said: “I feel sorry for
Montenegro’s youth and those young lives
that were lost in vain. But they have brought
shame upon Montenegro.”
The rally organizers tried to stop him due
to his “harsh words,” but Vlado couldn’t be
stopped:
“Serbia and Slobodan Milošević are not
the same. The vast majority of Serbia is against
Milošević’s disastrous, criminal policy and the
scum surrounding him. No matter how Yugoslav-
ia is reorganized, Montenegro must be a separate,
truly sovereign state.
“The entire policy of Milošević and that group
has inevitably led to a bloody fratricidal war, the
worst destruction and crimes this country has ever
seen. We have no reason to support Momir and his
cronies either, as they have continuously pursued
an anti-Montenegrin and anti-Yugoslav policy
as lackeys of Slobodan Milošević. The policy of
the Memorandum was an anti-Yugoslav policy, a
policy of fratricidal hatred and war.”
The crowd became euphoric.
The rally ended with a speech by Slav-
ko Perović, but as soon as it concluded, the
police began to remove the cordon, and the

58
“Yugoslavists” pushed the “sovereignists”
back. They moved forward with the Yugoslav
tricolour, chanting “Yugoslavia, Yugoslavia”
and raising three fingers, singing, “Who says,
who lies, that Serbia is small. It’s not small,
it’s not small, it fought in three wars...” They
were indeed for Yugoslavia, but with a Chet-
nik heart.
We were satisfied with the outcome and
continued our journey across Montenegro.
But that wasn’t the end. That evening, a spe-
cial broadcast aired on Montenegrin tele-
vision, featuring Momir Bulatović, President
of Montenegro, Slavko Perović as a represent-
ative of the rally organizers and several other
participants, where Vlado’s speech was con-
demned. None of the participants defended
him. Momir Bulatović, with his characteristic
sweet smile, began his attack on Vlado with
the words: “Comrade Vlado, pardon me, ha
ha, now Mr. Vlado...”
But even that wasn’t the end. Titograd’s
Pobjeda newspaper launched an orchestrated
smear campaign. They attacked politicians,
prominent public figures, and members of the
Albanian and Muslim (Bosniak) communities
in Montenegro, particularly the sovereignists:
Slavko Perović, the leader of the Montenegrin
liberals, Montenegrin writer in exile Jevrem
Brković and, of course, Vlado Dapčević. The
campaign also targeted the editorial policy of
the independent weekly Monitor and its auth-
ors.
The second page of Pobjeda was dedicated
to reader responses, and for nearly a month, it

59
published attacks on Vlado and other rally par-
ticipants. The attacks on Vlado mostly came
from Goli Otok survivors and former parti-
sans. On our return to Belgrade, we read Pob-
jeda and these reactions. The attacks affected
Vlado, but when he read one that labelled him
a “three-time traitor,” he paused: “How, damn
it, three times? Alright, if they consider me a trai-
tor for ‘48, and now. But the third time? I don’t get
it. Unless they consider the 1941 uprising a betray-
al...” And then he started laughing like a child.

60
 THE PARTY OF LABOUR
Vlado attempted, through statements and
denials, to counter the false portrayal of the
KPJ in his name, even naively considering
starting a legal battle. However, this was a
waste of time with minimal chances of suc-
cess. Milenko and I believed we should move
forward with a new name for the organization.
We knew that the “other KPJ” was doomed
to failure in the long run, given the people
involved, the lack of a clear program and the
regime’s preference for backing the NKPJ
which, with its social chauvinism, was at least
somewhat useful to them by creating confu-
sion on the so-called left.
With that proposal, in early March 1992,
I travelled to Belgrade. Vlado received me in
what was now his apartment, which he had ob-
tained due to his status as a first-time fighter
and holder of the Partisan Memorial, a relic of
Tito’s laws. The 48-square-metre apartment
was located on Ruzvelt Street. It consisted of
a small kitchen, a bathroom, a tiny hallway, a
living room and a bedroom. Vlado’s comrades
from Belgrade had managed to find some fur-
niture to equip the apartment. Most of it was
old and worn out. In the living room, there
was a couch, three armchairs, a picture on the
wall, a small table and a larger table covered
with newspapers and books, along with a very
old phone that looked like something out of
a war movie. It was a rather ascetic environ-
ment. We spent two days there, talking.
At one point, Vlado went to the wardrobe

61
in the bedroom and pulled out a folder. Inside
was a newspaper clipping from Borba, which
had been the first to publish serials about
Goli Otok survivors sharing their testimonies
from the camp. In Serbia, and in other parts
of Yugoslavia, discussions had begun about
the need to rehabilitate Goli Otok prisoners
and all political prisoners of the “communist
regime,” which most Goli Otok survivors sup-
ported. The clipping was about my reaction
against rehabilitation, in which I had stated
that only those who had faltered could de-
mand rehabilitation. Vlado had circled and
cut out the article.
I returned to Vrbas. Although I hadn’t
completely convinced Vlado about the need
for a new party name, he said he would think
about it. We immediately held a meeting of
the Vojvodina organization, where thirty of
us decided that if the KPJ’s name were to be
changed, the new party should be called the
Communist Party of Internationalists. We felt
it was important to distinguish ourselves from
all the other parties calling themselves com-
munist, which were essentially nationalist.
A week later, Milenko and I went back
to Belgrade with the proposal for the new
name. Kosana Milošević, a former Comin-
formist prisoner who had been arrested as a
lieutenant and endured the torture of women’s
camps, was with Vlado. She had a sharp sense
of people’s character, having worked in per-
sonnel departments after the war. She was
from Lijeva Rijeka in Montenegro, like Slobo-
dan Milošević’s father, and they were distant

62
relatives. Once again, we presented Vlado
with the argument for changing the party’s
name. After a brief pause, he agreed. Kosana
also agreed, provided we didn’t lose people. I
suggested the party be called the Communist
Party of Internationalists and explained why.
Vlado immediately responded, saying that the
term “communist” had been compromised by
both revisionists and nationalists who wielded
it, and that it should be avoided in the party’s
name. He cited Lenin’s proposal to remove
the word “social-democratic” from the party’s
name because the term had been comprom-
ised in the workers’ movement. Vlado pro-
posed naming the party the Party of Labour.
After a brief hesitation, Milenko agreed, ex-
plaining that “labour” is one of the funda-
mental principles of Marx’s theory. I opposed
the name, as I was bound by the decision of
the organization. Kosana sided with Vlado’s
proposal. Left in the minority, I accepted the
majority’s decision.
Upon returning to Vrbas, I called a new
meeting. I had to explain to the comrades why
we had abandoned our proposed name for
the party. I said I had been in the minority
and had to accept the majority’s decision. The
comrades reluctantly, and with some reserva-
tions, accepted the proposal for the new party
name. However, we had already “crossed the
Rubicon” and rid ourselves of the burden of
Serbian nationalism in the party, which was
the most important thing.
The founding assembly of the Party of
Labour was held in Belgrade on March 28,

63
1992. Around fifty members attended. Vlado
explained why we were adopting a new name,
noting that we were almost blocked, that there
was another group calling itself the KPJ that
was causing confusion and had the regime’s
backing, and that this could go on indefin-
itely, but events were dictating that we move
forward. Some attendees objected to the
name change and the removal of “commun-
ist” from the title, and a few left the party
later. Milenko presented the party’s program,
which he had written, and there were no sig-
nificant objections. Then it was my turn to ex-
plain the party’s statutes, and that’s when an
issue arose — why the emblem featured only
a red star and not the hammer and sickle. I
had to explain that the circle represented to-
tality, that the red star filled that totality, and
that the party would still use the hammer and
sickle as its symbols. In the end, the majority
accepted the new party name. The leadership
was elected, with Vlado at the head to prepare
the congress.
We were particularly pleased that Milosav
Petrović, also known by his partisan name
Mića Kolubarac, from a prominent Serb-
ian family from Ub that had suffered under
the occupiers during the First World War,
joined the party’s leadership. His brother had
wrapped the Yugoslav tricolour around his
body and carried it to the top of the Albania
Palace, then the tallest building in Belgrade,
during the liberation of the city. Mića had
been sent to Goli Otok. He retained the “Bol-
shevik spirit of a communist,” particularly in

64
his understanding of the party, its duties, and
the responsibilities of its members. He would
later be a great support and role model, espe-
cially to the younger members.
Vlado, satisfied, returned to Belgium to be
with his wife Micheline and daughter Milena.
We stayed behind to continue expanding the
party. The work was like mining — gruelling
and never-ending. I threw myself fully into
daily activism. All the responsibilities of car-
ing for our two children fell to my wife. We
built the party’s structure in Vojvodina, Bel-
grade, other parts of Serbia and even a bit in
Montenegro. The party grew with new mem-
bers. I remembered Milet’s stance, which had
bothered me — his focus on quantity over
quality.
In Vrbas, our base was mostly composed
of young people from partisan families, like
Raško Koprivica, Slavko Višnjić, Zoran
Miljanić and others. A group of workers from
the factories, led by Djoko Pokrajac, joined,
as did Slavko Grubač from Bačko Dobro Polje
with his relatives, along with about ten bus
drivers and conductors from the station. All
of them came from the Titoite era with their
own understanding of “communism” and the
party. There were also members from Crvenka,
like Ante Bošnjak, who wanted to materially
support the party, and Djoko Pejović, known
as “the four-motor” (he was imprisoned twice
on Goli Otok and another two times in regu-
lar prisons), with an incredible sense of hu-
mour even in his eighties. A portrait of Stalin
hung on his wall. Another important figure

65
was Slobodan Plavšić from Kruščić, whom we
nicknamed the Internationalist because of his
connections with the Cubans. In the 1960s,
he was persecuted by the State Security for
raising a red flag on his house during Cuban
holidays. He was quite isolated in his village,
considered an oddball, especially since, as a
self-taught veterinarian, he provided free help
to the villagers with their livestock. He proud-
ly kept a letter from Castro and decorated his
walls with portraits of revolutionaries — from
Marx, Engels, Stalin, Mao, Ho Chi Minh,
Che and Castro. Later, he added a special por-
trait of Vlado. My brother Dragan and wife
Ljiljana joined the party. In Novi Sad, Nedjo
Krivokapić was active. In Belgrade, there was
a group of Goli Otok survivors working with a
student named Milan Cvetković.
The greatest gain for the party during that
period was the membership of the student and
young poet Nenad Glišić Gile, with the help of
the poet Milan Nikolić from Kragujevac. We
immediately saw that he was a promising fu-
ture cadre for the party, and he soon brought
Saša Marković and a few other young people
from Kragujevac into the party. Around the
same time, Comrade Ismet Adrović, an excep-
tional cadre with a long history in the com-
munist movement, contacted us from abroad.
The party was growing both in numbers and
in terms of cadre quality. However, this also
required significant internal party work with
new members.
We began our activism in front of factor-
ies. We distributed leaflets with class-based

66
content to workers. The workers were disin-
terested, with one even responding, “I’ll work
for Hitler as long as he pays me!” Simply put,
our leaflets with that kind of phraseology and
slogans didn’t resonate, partly due to the na-
tionalism that had taken hold of the working
class, the atmosphere of war and the collapse
of “socialist industry,” where the imposed
understanding of so-called social ownership
was that “what belongs to everyone belongs
to no one.”
We launched the party’s Bulletin, a small
brochure printed in about a hundred cop-
ies. We printed it illegally in a state printing
house, thanks to a sympathizer who secretly
printed it at night, along with all the other
propaganda materials.
The ideological framework for our texts in
the Bulletin was not only given by the party’s
basic documents but also by Vlado’s earlier
statements, which he frequently repeated:
“The roots of everything lie in 1948. That’s
when Yugoslavia shifted from the positions of pro-
letarian internationalism to general Yugoslav na-
tionalism. And that nationalism necessarily had to
be transferred later to the republics and regions...”
or, as journalists liked to highlight in their
headlines: “I tip my hat to Tito for his wartime
merits, but for ‘48, I’d take his head off.”
Usually, I would draft rough theses for
the main text, and then Milenko would refine
them to give it a more theoretical form. In ‘92
and ‘93, we essentially formulated our pos-
itions and later only supplemented them.
— The Party of Labour grows out of the

67
tradition of the struggle of the international
communist and workers’ movement to over-
come the general principles of the bourgeois
era, the essence of capitalist society, and all
the fundamental economic, political, cultural
and mass-psychological consequences that af-
fect the modern human being.
— Analysts who, in their reflections on pol-
itical reality, start from the Marxist method of
thought and analysis, who understand the es-
sence of capital relations and its tendency for
planetary expansion, see nothing new in the
so-called “latest” world processes except the
old ambition of the world of capital to dom-
inate the entire world, to fully capitalize it, to
impose its measure on things and dictate all
the rules of “life’s expression.”
— The West made Yugoslavia into such
a “flexible” type of state and social struc-
ture that, on the one hand, was constantly
instrumentalized for the purpose of defence
against the communist threat from the East
(thus Yugoslavia was maintained as a relative-
ly strong state and military structure). At the
same time, it performed the “job” in the inter-
national workers’ movement, among countries
liberated from colonialism, and in general —
among the countries of the so-called Third
World — and that job was being the “Trojan
horse” of the capitalist world, aiming to direct
the revolutionary energy in those movements
and countries against the potential global pro-
letarian synthesis.
— On the other hand, the West systematic-
ally fuelled and maintained internal Yugoslav

68
contradictions (national, religious, social and
regional), which, according to specific histor-
ical circumstances, would enable the “cordon
sanitaire” to break once there was no long-
er a political or military need for it. Such a
“floating” policy was possible based on the
reality created after 1948 (the mutualist mod-
el of ideology and social-state organization),
and it was implemented through political and
economic pressures and blackmail (from con-
stitutional solutions to regional planning of
industrial development).
— Based on these premises, it is possible
to explain the so-called change in the West’s
stance on the issue of “Yugoslav unity.” The
collapse of the Soviet Union had to bring
with it the collapse of the Yugoslav “cordon
sanitaire” set up against the Soviet Union.
The “cordon” lost its purpose, and there was
no longer any need to finance its continued
existence with substantial resources.
— The new Western concept regarding the
East, in which Yugoslavia appears as an in-
dispensable part, is a concept of fragmenting
the state tissues of former socialist countries,
based on encouraging existing or fabricated
national, religious and other contradictions.
The fragmentation of newly emerged national
states is a model for establishing more lasting
Western dominance over the East.
— However, an essential question arises:
if the existence of the Yugoslav community
rested on the strength of the Yugoslav idea,
how could it happen that this community col-
lapsed twice in this century in a sea of blood?

69
The answer is not hard to find: Yugoslavia dis-
integrated because of the militant nationalism
that had taken over the political conscious-
ness of its peoples! Where are the roots of this
nationalism? How was it possible that during
the fifty years of the so-called socialist order
in Yugoslavia, such a political opponent was
not restrained, especially knowing very well
that it was from that opponent that Yugoslav-
ia could most likely be destroyed, along with
that so-called socialist order?
— The Party of Labour believes that the
roots of nationalism lie at the heart of the col-
lapse of the socialist revolution in Yugoslavia,
which occurred in 1948. The ruling oligarchy
of Yugoslavia at that time destroyed the foun-
dations of the revolution in which it had par-
ticipated, provoked a conflict with the Soviet
Union and the international communist and
workers’ movement, abandoned the most au-
thentic socialist revolutions and proletarian
internationalism, and sided with the imper-
ialist and bourgeois forces of the world for “a
handful of dollars”... The leading intellectual
elites in all Yugoslav nations spiritually pre-
pared the disintegration of Yugoslavia. Na-
tionalist political bureaucracies systematic-
ally worked for decades on its internal dissolu-
tion, and the so-called collapse of socialism —
i.e., the legitimization of the anti-communist
nature of society and the open restoration of
capitalism — led to its final breakup through
war.
The second fundamental reason, closely
linked to the first, is the deep economic crisis

70
that Yugoslavia had fallen into. After 1948,
Yugoslavia based its economic development
on generous Western aid. This was the price
of betraying the revolution. In this regard, the
speed of economic development was not es-
tablished from the stability of the economic
system, but from non-refundable aid from the
West and favourable loans, which allowed the
ruling bureaucracy to control social and class
contradictions in society without major diffi-
culties, even to work on establishing elements
of a consumer society and producing wide
middle layers. By the late 1980s, due to chan-
ges in the West’s strategy regarding Yugoslav-
ia’s role as a “showcase” of consumer “para-
dise” facing the East, the economic crisis
deepened, the standard of living declined
and, in turn, the political crisis worsened. The
accelerated process of impoverishment of the
working class, peasants and middle strata fa-
cilitated the rise of nationalist movements and
the gradual fascization of society. War was the
inevitable outcome of Yugoslavia’s economic
collapse.
The third cause of Yugoslavia’s breakup
was already indicated in the previous one.
Yugoslavia’s complete economic and political
dependence on the West, its reliance on its
role as a “cordon sanitaire” against the East,
meant complete dependence on the global out-
come of the superpower confrontation. The
West’s strategy after the “fall of communism”
was to fragment and divide all Eastern states
so that they wouldn’t rise into a serious power
opposing Western interests for a long time.

71
 The fourth cause of Yugoslavia’s collapse
relates to the difficulties of the modern exist-
ence and functioning of multinational federa-
tive states. The first Yugoslavia collapsed due
to the inability to resolve the national ques-
tion and the growing conflict between nation-
al bourgeoisies over the model of organizing
a multinational state. The second Yugoslavia
collapsed again because national bureaucra-
cies, rejecting the communist, internationalist
principle, objectively began to act like nation-
al bourgeoisies.

72
 VLADO’S WORKDAY
While Vlado was staying in Belgrade, I
would visit him every Friday afternoon and
return on Sunday evening. Vlado would sleep
in the bedroom, while I slept on the couch in
the living room. He would wake up around 7
a.m., and by that time, I was already awake.
Vlado would spend almost half an hour in the
bathroom each morning, showering and shav-
ing. Then, he would go to the bedroom and
choose his clothes from an old wardrobe. He
had quite a refined taste in dressing, although
I think this was largely due to the influence
of his wife, Micheline. She was meticulous
about making sure he always wore quality
clothing — from shoes, underwear, shirts, ties
and suits, to coats and jackets. Everything
was high-quality, made from the finest cotton,
cashmere and velvet.
He would enter the living room fully
dressed, sit down and quickly scan the head-
lines of the newspapers I had already brought.
We would have breakfast around 8 a.m. in the
small kitchen. He always drank tea, rarely cof-
fee. He brought black tea from Belgium and
enjoyed explaining its origin and health bene-
fits. He would talk about why lemon shouldn’t
be added to hot tea immediately or whether
sugar or lemon should be added first, consid-
ering their different chemical properties. But-
ter was always on the table, as well as aspirin
every morning, for his heart. I traditionally
opposed all kinds of medicine and told him
that it was more of a placebo effect. During

73
breakfast, we would discuss internal party
developments. Afterwards, we would move
back to the living room, where he would work
on crossword puzzles from the newspapers. I
found this amusing, but he would “justify” it
by saying it was a way to exercise his memory
and prevent forgetfulness. Then, the analysis
of the news we had read would begin.
Although he was a passionate smoker, he
wouldn’t light a cigarette until around 10 a.m.
He did this with particular pleasure. Slowly, he
would tear off the filter from the cigarette and
light it. He smoked slowly, as if wanting the
cigarette to last as long as possible. He treat-
ed cigarettes with care, as though saving them
— likely a consequence of the war, his time
on Goli Otok and other prisons, where a ciga-
rette was a true treasure. Just as he smoked
his cigarettes slowly, lunch with Vlado was a
marathon. Although he wasn’t a gourmet, he
behaved like the Russian nobility who would
eat for hours. While he ate for a shorter time,
he enjoyed pausing mid-meal and engaging in
a conversation for half an hour.
Around ten or eleven, various visitors
would start arriving.
I knew almost all of Vlado’s answers to the
visitors’ questions by heart. This was due to
his incredible memory. I eventually realized
that his exceptional memory wasn’t just a re-
sult of genetic predisposition but also of his
years in prison, where he would constantly
analyse his past life in minute detail. All these
memories and thoughts had passed through
his mind so often that they were permanent-

74
ly etched in. In his stories about his past, you
couldn’t add even a comma — everything was
as precise as if recorded on tape.
Sometimes, the conversations with these
visitors were tiring for me, especially when
they involved people I couldn’t stand. But
Vlado thought it was important to “explain”
things to them. Many weren’t even interest-
ed in his explanations, seeing him as a “rel-
ic of the past,” or they admired him so much
that they enjoyed simply speaking with him.
This gave rise to the ongoing “conflict” be-
tween Vlado and me, which lasted in various
forms until his death. He believed we should
use every opportunity to spread our ideas,
and while I could accept that, based on Len-
in’s views about using the bourgeois press, I
couldn’t tolerate certain people he met with
— our ideological enemies or people of weak
character. In those situations, I would always
avoid contact with them, not even wanting in-
direct engagement.
Vlado would always tell me: “These media
and others use me as a new kind of detergent, as
long as I’m interesting to them, until they use me
up.”
Occasionally, Stevan Mirković would vis-
it — Tito’s general and former Chief of the
General Staff of the JNA. Stevan dedicated
himself to preserving Yugoslavia but didn’t
understand all aspects of politics. He honestly
admitted that he had even volunteered to “de-
fend Knin from the Ustaše in 1991.” He was
one of the founders of the League of Com-
munists — Movement for Yugoslavia, a party

75
of generals, as it was called, because it was
mainly composed of military personnel. He
later clashed with Mira Marković, Slobodan
Milošević’s wife, who took control of the party
and merged it with the Yugoslav United Left
(JUL). Afterwards, he accurately described
the relationship between Milošević and Mira:
“She steers the bicycle, and he just pedals.”
Stevan would visit without ulterior mo-
tives or to complain. He remained a commit-
ted Titoite, and his relationship with Vlado
was almost friendly, with mutual respect.
Sometimes they would have lunch together at
the small table in the living room.
To Vlado’s surprise, Dragoljub Mićunović
once stopped by — a former Goli Otok pris-
oner turned professor, opposition leader, lib-
eral and one of the leaders of the so-called
democratic forces. He came to complain that
Zoran Djindjić had taken over his party while
he was in the United States, ousted him as the
leader of the Democratic Party, and seized the
million marks they had in the party’s treasury.
A decade later, Mićunović played a significant
role in toppling Milošević and even became
president of the Serbia and Montenegro As-
sembly.
Vlado was visited by party members, for-
mer Goli Otok prisoners, many journalists for
interviews, and, occasionally, a relative or two
who rarely stopped by.
The son of Kadja Petričević, with long
hair and living in difficult conditions, once
came by. He wanted Vlado to explain wheth-
er his father had truly recanted, something

76
he couldn’t accept. Vlado carefully tried to
explain that his father had been a great and
deserving man but that he had broken at one
point, something he needed to come to terms
with. However, I could see that Vlado’s ex-
planation had little effect.
A filmmaker once arrived with his cam-
era. The filming started well, but as the smell
of roasting meat began to waft from the kitch-
en, the filmmaker became more interested in
the food than the filming, frequently leaving
to check on the pot. At one point, Vlado stood
up and said:
“The filming is over!”
The look on Vlado’s face prompted the
filmmaker to hurriedly pack up his equip-
ment, leaving without the footage — and with-
out the meal.
Ljubo Dapčević, Vlado’s close relative,
would visit late at night. He ran casinos and
restaurants in Belgrade and belonged to the
criminal underworld. Ljubo would announce
his visit around 8 p.m. and show up with a
bottle of whisky since Vlado rarely had any
alcohol at home, nor did he care much about
it. A trait of people who don’t enjoy drinking.
I would withdraw to the room, knowing that
Ljubo had a need to engage in ideological
sparring with Vlado, constantly teasing him,
while Vlado would remind him of the world he
belonged to and his youthful criminal adven-
tures in Paris. Ljubo would leave around mid-
night after finishing the bottle of whisky. He
later helped organize Vlado’s funeral. He met
a tragic end, killed by his wife, who also took

77
her own life after emptying almost an entire
magazine into him and their daughter.
One day, Vlado “tested” the endurance
of young party members who had gathered
from all over. He began his talk at 9 a.m. and
didn’t finish until 11 p.m. — a full 14 hours. I
only prepared a small meal for him once and
gave him tea. Some couldn’t endure it. Later,
I teasingly told him: “You’re like Castro. He’d
keep people on the square for two days in the
blazing sun.”
I especially enjoyed it when Martin
Opančar, Vlado’s friend from Goli Otok who
had emigrated to Hungary, would visit. The
three of us felt completely “at home” then.
Martin had been married four times and had a
daughter in Belgrade. He was almost “in love”
with Vlado, always looking at him with a con-
stant smile. He always carried a camera and
would photograph Vlado hundreds of times.
I first met Martin when I travelled to
Budapest with Slavko Višnjić from Vrbas and
Nataša Omerkić from Tuzla. Vlado gave an
interview there to a comrade from a Belgian
communist party, and we tried to see if there
was any concrete potential for more serious
political work in Hungary.
Martin had played a significant role in
Vlado’s life during his kidnapping in Bucha-
rest. He had managed to get information from
a Hungarian intelligence contact, who had re-
layed a tip from his agent in the Romanian po-
lice that a plot to abduct Vlado in Bucharest
was underway. Martin immediately called
Micheline in Brussels, but it was already too

78
late — Vlado had been kidnapped by Yugoslav
state security and transferred to Yugoslavia,
with two of his comrades killed. However, the
news gave Micheline enough time to mobilize
her family connections in the Belgian gov-
ernment and alert the public, thus preventing
Vlado’s planned execution or death sentence.
Before leaving, a departure that was clear-
ly difficult for him, Martin would take one
last photo, smiling and wistfully repeating:
“Ehhh, Vlado, Vlado...”

79
 BOSNIA, BOSNIA
After Vlado’s alarming interview on TV
Sarajevo and his warning about the impending
disaster and the need for everyone to mobilize
to prevent the war, Bosnia became our main
concern and “open wound.” We felt power-
less to do anything concrete. Preserving the
unity of Bosnia and Herzegovina was a matter
of life and death for us because we knew that
this was the foundation for breaking the grip
of nationalism across Yugoslavia. Vlado had
a sentimental attachment to Bosnia, having
spent his best years there during the war.
“The preservation and strengthening of a
united Bosnia and Herzegovina is important not
only because all the people of Bosnia and Herze-
govina will live together, blending their cultures,
customs and habits as they have for centuries, but
also because the existence or non-existence of a
united Bosnia has tremendous significance for
the future of all the people of Yugoslavia. It’s no
coincidence that bitter enemies — Serbian and
Croatian nationalists — agreed to divide Bosnia
and create some form of a ‘Greater Serbia’ and
‘Greater Croatia,’ aiming to either kill or expel the
Bosniaks (Muslims) from Bosnian territory. They
wanted to divide Bosnia because a divided Bos-
nia means the destruction of the idea of rebuilding
Yugoslavia.”
We wrote: “The war conflicts from Croatia
inevitably had to spill over into Bosnia and
Herzegovina. The Party of Labour continual-
ly emphasized in its addresses to the people
that Bosnia was the cornerstone and guaran-

80
tee of any possible future union of our peoples
and that the fate of the two most powerful and
dangerous nationalisms in the region — Serb-
ian and Croatian — was being decided there.
The destruction of Bosnia meant delaying the
possibility of forming such a future union.
“Despite the fact that nationalism had
also begun to take root among the Muslims,
their fundamental political nature was for
Yugoslavia. It was in Yugoslavia that they ex-
perienced national, social and spiritual-cul-
tural affirmation. Therefore, it was easy to
predict that in the event of Yugoslavia’s dis-
solution, they would pay the highest price —
being squeezed, marginalized and threatened
by both Serbian and Croatian nationalism.
Before and during the war, the Muslims had
no real choice. Aligning with Croatian nation-
alism would put them under attack from Serb-
ian nationalism. Aligning with Serbian na-
tionalism would put them under attack from
Croatian nationalism and lead to the loss of
their national identity. By seeking a united
Bosnia and an independent Muslim state in
Bosnia, they would come under attack from
both Serbian and Croatian local imperialism.
The lack of real choice for the Muslims and
the expansionist plans of Belgrade and Zag-
reb for the territorial division of Bosnia (with
the later annexation of conquered territories
to Serbia or Croatia) completely defined the
nature of the war events in Bosnia.
“Muslims (Bosniaks), in this war that was
entirely imposed on them and for which they
were the least prepared, grew into a modern

81
national entity — not as an ‘invented’ nation,
not as ‘Croatian flowers,’ nor as ‘Serbs by ori-
gin,’ but as a nation that, through the experi-
ence of war, gained national consciousness,
self-respect, and recognition of political and
spiritual sovereignty. The price of this recog-
nition was certainly enormous, in terms of hu-
man casualties, suffering and material losses.
However, from their position as the designat-
ed victims, the Muslims transformed them-
selves into something Serbian and Croatian
conquerors of Bosnia least expected — a fully-
fledged nation! This fact holds deep historical
significance because it proves to be the main
bulwark against Serbian and Croatian expan-
sionist plans for Bosnia.
“Therefore, the vast majority of the Mus-
lim nation, along with all those forces within
the Serbian and Croatian peoples of Bosnia
who unwaveringly stood for a united Bos-
nia and Herzegovina, could become the only
political force capable of restoring the multi-
national, democratic and united state com-
munity of Bosnia and Herzegovina. Only such
a united state can serve as the foundation for
breaking Serbian and Croatian nationalism
and as a bulwark against their current and fu-
ture expansionist endeavours.”
In the Party of Labour, we rejoiced at
every success and advance of the Army of
Bosnia and Herzegovina. With full hearts, we
distributed a leaflet across Serbia, which con-
cluded with the statement: “Bosnia will not be
divided because it cannot be divided!”
During Operation “Storm,” Croatia lib-

82
erated its territory, giving the Croatian re-
gime the opportunity to expel a large part of
the Serbian population. Columns of refugees
from Croatia, under attack from the Bosnian
army, poured into Banja Luka. In that situ-
ation, the U.S. warned Alija Izetbegović, the
Bosniak leader, that if his forces entered Ban-
ja Luka, the U.S. military, which had previ-
ously bombed Serbian positions around Sara-
jevo, would now bomb his units as well.
The columns of refugees then moved to-
wards Serbia, mainly heading for Belgrade.
However, Milošević did not allow them to en-
ter Belgrade or Kosova, aware of the potential
consequences. He even attacked the leader of
the Croatian Serbs, Martić, saying, “You fled
from Croatia like dogs,” despite already hav-
ing agreed with Tudjman: “Take that, Franjo.
Western Bosnia doesn’t interest me.”
Thus, most of the refugees ended up in
Vojvodina. From the perspective of Great-
Serb nationalism, this was a smart move be-
cause it changed the demographic structure of
Vojvodina, creating a strong base for Great-
Serb ideology, which had already captivated
the masses. Playing on their support later paid
off in maintaining power and dominating over
the so-called autonomism and multi-ethnicity
in Vojvodina. However, in the long term, these
new “arrivals” also held the potential for re-
sistance to Belgrade itself.
Columns of refugees also appeared in
Vrbas. They were housed together in the
sports hall. Despite the August heat, lo-
cal “tennis players” indifferently passed by

83
the refugees, unwilling to miss their regular
match. Women from the neighbourhood or-
ganized themselves, preparing and bringing
food, water and drinks for the refugees.
Vlado remarked: “The war in Bosnia raged
for four years, with the U.S. and NATO not inter-
vening in the conflict. They watched the destruc-
tion of the people of Bosnia with indifference, wit-
nessing the worst atrocities, genocides and more.
However, when the danger arose that the war
would spread from Bosnia, through Kosova and
Macedonia, across the entire Balkans, jeopardiz-
ing the global interests of U.S. imperialism and
threatening to cause events to spiral out of con-
trol — leading to war between two NATO mem-
bers, Turkey and Greece, which were strategic-
ally crucial — the U.S., as the global superpower,
intervened, deciding to end the war. They forced
Milošević and Tudjman to sign the Dayton Agree-
ment, which would guarantee a unified Bosnia,
preserve it as a state, ensure the return of refugees
to their homes, allow freedom of movement and
punish war criminals.”
Nearly two decades later, we stood with
the rebellious Bosnian masses, who were pro-
testing the worsening social situation and
feeling that they had fought in vain, only for
some to get rich and strengthen a corrupt sys-
tem. At that time, in a spontaneous surge,
the masses burned down major state institu-
tions. Interestingly, among the protesters was
our comrade Erna, one of those who had fled
Bosnia as a refugee. Not only that, but this
same comrade carried the May Day banner
in Belgrade, blocking the workers’ procession

84
with the intent to direct them towards Serb-
ia’s state institutions and replicate the actions
of the Bosnian masses from two years earli-
er. The police reacted swiftly and prevented
it. The banner bore the symbolic inscription:
“No more marches. Bosnia, Bosnia.”

85
INTERVIEWS, TRIBUNES AND
SCHOOLS
Journalists often tried to portray Vlado
as a remnant of the past. Given the circum-
stances and ideological positions in which
they lived, it was natural for them to view him
this way, calling him “The Last of the Mohi-
cans.”
Vlado would respond:
“I am more or less like any other person, an
ordinary man. By the force of circumstances, I
was placed in situations where I had to participate
in struggles that sometimes exceeded my abilities
and strength. I tried to do it as best I could. I have
no reason to renounce either my communist past
or present. If someone else had been in my place,
they might have done it better and smarter than I
did.
“In my basic ideological positions, I wouldn’t
change anything because the goal I fought for all
my life has not yet been achieved. As for imperial-
ism, it hasn’t changed in essence — it’s only be-
come even more imperialistic, more monopolistic
(multinational corporations, holdings, etc.), and
economically, morally and politically more ripe
than ever to be replaced by socialism.”
Vlado was invited to tribunes that involved
various professors. The professors would
“stick to their stories,” while Vlado would try
to ignite activism among the audience, mostly
students. At one tribune, he stood up and in-
terrupted the professors, “entrenched in their
intellectual trenches” and unable to break free
from their scholastic stereotypes and habits:
86
 “All of this is smoke and mirrors. War is ahead
of us, and if we don’t organize, things will not turn
out well.”
Due to the limited reach of the party in
Vojvodina, Belgrade, Kragujevac and a small
number of members in Montenegro, we decid-
ed to try to expand while the war in Bosnia
was still ongoing. My decision to hold party
tribunes during the summer and the 1994
FIFA World Cup turned out to be a mistake.
Two of our members, the Nešić couple
from Jagodina, organized the first tribune.
Their inexperience and the circumstances
resulted in only one journalist attending the
event. I suggested to Vlado that we cancel
the tribune, but he refused. For an hour, he
patiently endured often meaningless and pro-
vocative questions and answered them.
After the tribune, we went to their un-
finished house, which exuded poverty. Two
little girls ran out and immediately hugged
Vlado. Tears welled up in his eyes. He reached
into his pocket and gave them some money.
That night, Vlado held another “tribune” for
Nešić, who bombarded him with hundreds
of questions, which he patiently answered. I
couldn’t keep up and went to bed. The smell
of clean sheets, the familiar touch of poverty
and patriarchy, when a special guest arrives,
reminded me of my childhood.
The next day, we travelled to Čačak, where
we were greeted by Milojko Rovinac, an in-
triguing figure in every way. He was a former
officer of the JNA and currently a professor
teaching a still-existing course on General

87
People’s Defence.
Rovinac was a “true believer in commun-
ism.” His father had emigrated from Yugo-
slavia at the end of the war and ended up in
the Australian army, and Rovinac grew up in
an orphanage, which left a mark on his per-
sonality. He became a strict disciplinarian,
believing he had to be an example for every-
one else — always and everywhere acting for
the collective. His wife told us that he would
sometimes, in the middle of a summer down-
pour, get out of bed, go to the barracks, catch
a soldier sleeping on duty and write it down
in the logbook, even though it would reflect
badly on him as it was his soldier who was
caught sleeping. And so it went for his entire
life.
Rovinac filled the lecture hall with stu-
dents and acquaintances for the tribune. He
had somehow pressured the students by tell-
ing them they would all get a passing grade (six
out of ten) and wouldn’t have to study if they
read How the Steel Was Tempered by Ostrovsky
and Cominformist by Vlado Dapčević. Later, a
student supporter told me that most students
lied about reading the books, and Rovinac
took them at their word, marking a six in their
grade books. Nevertheless, the tribune had
a good atmosphere. Vlado engaged the audi-
ence and encouraged discussion.
In Montenegro, in Podgorica, the trib-
une was poorly attended, with only about
twenty people, which was a consequence of
the media’s earlier smear campaign against
Vlado. We visited the Zeković family, one of

88
Vlado’s friends, as well as Mrki Vuković and
the poet Petar Đuranović. We returned to Bel-
grade unsatisfied. It was a great physical ef-
fort for Vlado, but the results were negligible.
We held party schools once a year in my
apartment in Vrbas. About ten of us would
stay there constantly, while others stayed with
comrades. We ate at a restaurant. Vlado pa-
tiently gave lectures, as the ideological level
of these young comrades was not very high.
Milenko would occasionally give a lecture
as well. In the evenings, we would go out to
socialize. To break the monotony of lectures
and discussions, we organized shooting train-
ing with firearms (rifles and pistols). Weapons
could always be found among the members.

89
 VLADO AND HIS FAMILY
After a long analysis of everything Vlado
had told me, I can roughly summarize his rela-
tionship with his immediate family, although
this is always a delicate area due to the com-
plexity of family relationships.

Father
Vlado, and likely his brothers, never man-
aged to get close to their father. According
to Vlado, he was a cold and rigid man, traits
he believed Peko inherited from him. What
haunted Vlado most was his father’s partici-
pation in the Podgorica Assembly of 1918. It
wasn’t because he thought it was against the
interests of the Yugoslav peoples, as he em-
phasized, but because it led to the abolition
of Montenegro’s statehood and forcibly halted
the development of Montenegrin national con-
sciousness. When he was allowed to return to
Yugoslavia in 1990, the first thing he did was
organize the transfer of his father’s remains
from Albania. His father had been interned in
a camp in Albania during the Second World
War, where he died. Vlado said that the Al-
banians maintained the grave. When his fath-
er’s bones were exhumed, a bullet casing was
found with a note inside bearing the name
“Jovan Dapčević” — so it would be known.

Mother
In the patriarchal world, a mother is some-
thing untouchable and something people
rarely talk about. You fight for your father’s

90
honour, but you die for your mother. Vlado
almost never mentioned his mother, except in
the context of her arrest by the Italian fascists
and the call for the people of Cetinje to wit-
ness her execution. At her trial, she reported-
ly said: “I am proud to have followed in the
footsteps of men. I have four sons, and I know
they will avenge me.” She was led to the firing
squad, but at the last moment, the decision
was changed and she was sentenced to thirty
years in prison. The reasons for this are un-
clear — whether it was because of her family
connections to the Italian queen, the daughter
of King Nikola, or because of fear of retribu-
tion from her sons in the guerilla forces, or
something else entirely, it’s hard to say.

Brothers
He had three brothers. The most famous
was Peko — a Spanish Civil War fighter, Tito’s
general and the “liberator of Belgrade.” Vlado
and Peko fell out in 1948, and their estrange-
ment lasted until the end of their lives. They
never saw each other or exchanged any words
after that.
After the Fifth Congress of the Commun-
ist Party of Yugoslavia, Peko told Vlado:
“Why are you so pensive, Vlado? Leave
that big philosophy of yours behind. Let’s just
go along with the Central Committee, and
whatever happens, happens. As for Stalin? To
hell with him if he’s wrong.”
Vlado responded:
“To me, Stalin is a representative and ideol-
ogist of the international communist movement,

91
and I believe that whoever shoots at Stalin today
is, by extension, shooting at communism. There-
fore, I am inclined to shoot at anyone who shoots
at Stalin, and hence, communism!”
“Even at me?”
“Even at you, if you start shooting!”
Their wives, who had been eavesdropping
behind the door, intervened to prevent the
brothers from physically fighting or even kill-
ing each other.
When Vlado was released from Goli Otok,
an esteemed elderly Montenegrin was sent
from Montenegro to “reconcile the brothers.”
Vlado agreed, but Peko, after listening to the
old man, said:
“Listen, if Tito told me to jump off the ‘Al-
bania’ building, I would jump.”
To which the old man replied:
“Peko, I thought you were a wiser man.”
Vlado kept in touch with Peko’s daugh-
ter Milica, attending birthday parties for her
children. I had the chance to witness her vis-
it to Vlado. Her eyes were fiery — full of the
“Dapčević spirit.” On the other hand, Vlado
didn’t think much of Peko’s son, considering
him a typical product of Belgrade’s bourgeoi-
sie. He also couldn’t understand Peko’s ob-
session with philately and gambling “in dens
with the worst rabble in Cetinje,” deeming it
unworthy of him.
“Peko is like a machine, with a heart of steel.
He feels nothing. I watched him stand upright while
bullets flew around him because, as a commander,
he couldn’t show weakness... On the Neretva, we
captured some high-ranking Italian officers who

92
showed bravery and dignity before their execution.
But Peko chose the worst soldiers to execute them
— men you wouldn’t even trust to crack a walnut.
I told him we should show dignity too and assign
the best soldiers, but he didn’t listen.”
Vlado almost never mentioned his broth-
er Drago, nor did he maintain contact with
him, as Drago had behaved poorly after be-
ing arrested in 1948. However, he was close
to his brother Milutin, who had also been in
Goli Otok and helped him whenever possible.
Milutin died shortly after Vlado was released
from his last imprisonment. Below Vlado’s
apartment on the second floor lived his sister-
in-law, Milutin’s wife, with their son, who was
already elderly. Vlado maintained a formal
relationship with them, and only occasion-
ally would go down to watch a sports event
since he didn’t have a TV in his apartment. If
I wasn’t there and Vlado was ill, his sister-in-
law would sometimes fetch the newspaper for
him, and that was about it.

Sister Danica
Vlado adored his sister Danica, who was
the eldest. She married before the war to the
son of Savo Lazarević Batara, a colonel in the
Montenegrin army and a notorious war crim-
inal against the Albanian people. He earned
the nickname Batara because he didn’t exe-
cute Albanians and Muslims one by one but
with volleys of gunfire into crowds. He also
participated in organizing the liquidation of
the well-known Albanian leader Isa Bolet-
ini. Since they had no children, Danica re-

93
turned to Cetinje. During the war, she was
imprisoned in an Italian camp, from which
she helped organize the escape of prison-
ers. She was arrested and imprisoned again
in 1948. She was particularly close to Vlado,
and her life after that was dedicated to caring
for and supporting her brother. After Vlado’s
release from Goli Otok, they lived together
until Vlado fled the country. She visited him
in the Soviet Union and was with him when he
left the Soviet Union for the West. After his
kidnapping in Bucharest, she knew she would
never see him again. Vlado often said: “Dan-
ica is better than all of us.”
With other relatives, Vlado didn’t main-
tain any special contact, except with his cous-
in Rade from Cetinje, who helped him a lot in
his later years, along with his family.

Wife Micheline
I don’t think Vlado ever fully established
a close relationship with his wife. Ideologic-
al and life perspectives stood in the way of a
complete connection. However, Vlado owed
her a great deal, as she sacrificed herself for
him, subordinating almost everything to him:
from accepting him as a homeless man, re-
fusing his advice to abort when she became
pregnant, asking him to choose a name for
their daughter from those of their homeland
and much more. For me, the best indicator of
her dedication was her relentless engagement
during his kidnapping in Bucharest, which ul-
timately saved his life since his execution had
been planned. She fought for him for years,

94
ultimately securing international pressure on
the Yugoslav government, leading to his early
release. There was also a deeply rational rela-
tionship between them. When she called him
from Brussels, they spoke in French, and I
could tell from the tone of their conversations
that it was often unpleasant, almost quarrel-
some. She often wrote him letters.
Micheline would sometimes say to him:
“How long am I supposed to finance your
party?”
In reality, she gave him just enough money
for a few months. Naturally, Vlado used half
of it to support the party, as no one else fund-
ed it except for small contributions from its
members. Micheline was constantly afraid of
losing him again — and how could she not be
after everything that had happened?

Daughter Milena
Vlado never established a close relation-
ship with his daughter either. When she was
born, he was already over fifty and completely
grey-haired. When he would take the baby for
a stroll around the building, the neighbours
would say, “Look at the grandpa, taking care
of his granddaughter.”
Milena didn’t remember him well, and
after his kidnapping, she almost erased him
from her memory. When he returned, she was
already a grown woman. At a family dinner,
one of the guests turned to Milena and said:
“Your father is an extraordinary and fascin-
ating person.” She coldly responded: “Maybe,
but I know I didn’t have a father when I need-

95
ed one most.”
A year after Vlado’s death, Milena mar-
ried an Italian man, had a son named Vladi-
mir, and visited her father’s grave in Ljubotinj
to pay her respects and take a photo.

96
 THE STRIKE
During the time of hyperinflation and war,
our attempts to connect with workers were
unsuccessful. At the same time, being ab-
sorbed in party work, I failed to notice what
was happening right before my eyes in my own
company.
In the construction industry, due to the
war, sanctions and the overall state of the
economy in Serbia, the consequences were
increasingly severe, and this affected the
company’s operations, which began to col-
lapse. The director surrounded himself with
his people, and open theft began. It wasn’t
just the director but also others who had the
opportunity, as they saw no future for the
company. About twenty workers sat down on
the steps of the administration building just
before the New Year in 1995, protesting while
waiting for their wages. But there were no
wages, not for the next four months either. It
was then that I decided to organize a strike. I
had one sympathizer and one party member
with me. We formed a strike committee, and
in our demands, we called for the removal of
the director and the company’s leadership. We
also gained the support of younger engineers.
We then went around the construction sites
and facilities, seeking the workers’ support for
the strike. The workers were sceptical about
whether anything could change.
One event gave us additional momentum
and convinced us that we couldn’t back down.
At one construction site during breakfast, we

97
noticed that most workers were eating bacon,
while some bricklayers and carpenters weren’t
eating anything. I asked the foreman:
“Why aren’t they eating?”
“They don’t have enough for every day.”
Since the director didn’t respond to the
strike committee’s demands, we organized a
workers’ assembly at the machinery facility,
while at the same time, the director convened
a workers’ council to discuss our demands for
his dismissal. Around three hundred workers
gathered at the assembly. The director was
given a few hours to resign. Our colleagues
from the workers’ council informed us that the
director was stalling the meeting and refusing
to resign. At that point, there was hesitation
among the workers and some began leaving
the assembly. I knew the situation was critical
and that we could be defeated, so I proposed
that we march to the administration building
and forcibly remove the director. This propos-
al seemed to turn the tide. The drivers, mixer
operators, bulldozer operators, excavator
operators and forklift drivers all started their
machines as one and headed toward the ad-
ministration building. The rest of the assem-
bly organized into a column, like an army, and
marched through the town toward the admin-
istration building. Meanwhile, the director
requested police protection, but they did not
respond. Realizing that he would be forcibly
removed from the building, he submitted his
resignation. There was jubilation. One worker
fired a gun into the air. My heart was full be-
cause, for the first time, I felt the real power

98
of class struggle and the strength of organized
labour.
But that wasn’t the end of the company’s
troubles — the fight had just begun. Fif-
teen days later, the former director gath-
ered some of his supporters and attempted a
“counter-attack.” However, our sympathizer,
Vojo Knežević, a technician and poet, quickly
quelled the leader of their group by force. But
even the new director and management didn’t
have money for wages. I then suggested that
we temporarily adopt a “war communism”
approach, where about twenty workers em-
ployed on the only available project would re-
ceive their wages, while the rest would receive
nothing. This arrangement lasted for two
more months. Then we secured some new con-
tracts, and we made a new decision: all work-
ers on the construction sites would receive
their full wages, while all administrative staff
in the office, from the director to the cleaning
staff, would receive the minimum wage for the
next six months. That meant everyone would
get the same amount. We managed to pull the
company out of the crisis, and this lasted for
nearly six years until the general privatization
in Serbia began, and the company could no
longer operate as a so-called socially-owned
enterprise. The workforce began to dwindle,
and work became scarce. In desperation, we
tried selling our vacation property in Monte-
negro. It was proposed to the workers’ coun-
cil to decide whether the proceeds from the
sale should be reinvested in the company to
renew outdated machinery and shift our focus

99
to infrastructure work, or whether the money
should be divided into six workers’ wages.
Everyone voted to distribute the money for
wages, and thus they had enough to live on for
another six months.

100
 THE CONGRESS OF THE
PARTY OF LABOUR
After the wars in Croatia and Bosnia, the
Party of Labour found itself at a crossroads.
How should we proceed tactically?
Milenko was already tired. He had never
fully adapted to organized party work due to
his intellectual individualism, which suffo-
cated him. He also had a strong motivation to
continue the work started by his brother Mečo
on the Montenegrin national question. Later,
Milenko played a significant role in the stan-
dardization of the Montenegrin language and
in defending Montenegrin identity.
Milenko wrote me a letter stating that he
was leaving the party and that he knew I, as a
friend, would never forgive him for it, which
was true.
Vlado also began feeling increasingly
physically exhausted, a consequence of his
age and the onset of illness. He would travel
to Belgium for almost six months at a time,
saying:
“I’m going to rest and recharge my batteries.”
Vlado was against organizing a congress
and adopting a new program, arguing that it
was not yet time. He expressed this view in
a statement published in the press on May 1,
1996: “It is not yet time for a Party of Labour.”
Vlado believed that although the war in Cro-
atia and Bosnia had ended, the process of
crushing aggressive nationalism was still
unfinished, as the issues of Montenegro and
Kosova remained unresolved. He was right
101
about that.
My argument was that we had existed for
several years without a finalized party pro-
gram and that we needed to strengthen the
weakened leadership with new and young-
er cadres. Vlado eventually relented, and we
began preparations for the congress in the
summer of 1997.
By then, Vlado was eighty years old. Our
preparations for the congress were somewhat
surreal. In the intense midday heat, we went
through Belgrade’s antique bookstores to
find any remaining Marxist literature before
it was destroyed, intending to distribute it to
younger members. Vlado, despite the scorch-
ing heat, wore a long-sleeved shirt, corduroy
pants and sneakers. He would sometimes
experience sudden chills even in the middle
of summer. Upon returning from the book-
stores, two quixotic figures dragged them-
selves across the hot asphalt, carrying large
bundles of books. We stopped at the “Mosk-
va” hotel for a break, as Vlado had a lifelong
“dependency” on baklava. His mother, who
had worked as kitchen help in King Nikola’s
court, had mastered the art of being an excel-
lent cook. I patiently waited while he enjoyed
the sweets like a child.
We wrote the party program in an apart-
ment at thirty degrees Celsius, with Vlado dic-
tating, shirtless and in his underwear, while I
typed on a second-hand “Pentium 2” comput-
er, struggling with my almost total computer
illiteracy.
After the first day and thirty pages typed,

102
I turned off the computer without saving the
document. The next day, we started over. Af-
ter a few more pages, I went to make coffee,
tripped over the power cord and the computer
shut off again. Vlado said nothing, seeing my
frustration, which was unusual for him as he
knew me to be calm and introverted. (“You re-
mind me of a comrade because he was calm, and
I was hot-tempered.”) We started from scratch
for the third time. I kept shortening the pro-
gram due to my habitual minimalism, while
he insisted that earlier events and processes
needed to be explained. Besides the program
proposal, we also drafted two resolutions:
one on the national question and another on
NATO’s presence.
The program contained both minimum
and maximum goals. The maximum goal was
the struggle to overthrow the capitalist sys-
tem and replace it with a socialist one, in the
fight for communism. The minimum goals
included: “Given the current state of societ-
al consciousness, under the dictatorship of
the mafia, the working class is not capable of
fulfilling its role as the most progressive class
and driving force of society. Therefore, the
first and most important task of the Party of
Labour is to persistently and systematically
remove the bourgeois nationalist conscious-
ness from the working class and replace it with
democratic proletarian consciousness... The
Party of Labour must unite with all democrat-
ic, anti-nationalist and anti-war forces into a
unified front... The working class and people
of Serbia and Croatia must lead and organ-

103
ize a democratic revolution to overthrow the
bureaucratic-mafia dictatorship. This is the
only possible path that must be traversed be-
fore further struggle for socialism can begin.”
The resolution on the national question
posed no problems, as we already had it in
our previous documents and positions, but
the issue of NATO, our greatest enemy, was
tricky, especially how to justify its interven-
tion, which at that point had only occurred in
Bosnia. Vlado had previously stated:
“The Party of Labour is absolutely opposed
to NATO’s expansion, as it is preparation for the
most reactionary imperialist war, which will cer-
tainly engulf our country as well. Therefore, we
will fight with all our might against this, today the
most reactionary force in the world.”
In the resolution, it stated:
“It is clear that NATO remains an aggres-
sive military force of imperialism and that it is
doing everything possible to ensure, not only
through economic and financial means but
also through military power, that imperialism
dominates the entire world...
“NATO troops, along with their political
staff, are present on Yugoslav territory, de-
ployed in Bosnia, Croatia and Macedonia...
“Unfortunately, in Yugoslavia, national-
ism has gripped the masses.
“The Great-Serb and Great-Croat chau-
vinists, through their policies of war and en-
dangering the global interests of the U.S. and
NATO, essentially invited NATO into Yugo-
slavia. The fact is that in Yugoslavia, due to
the widespread nationalist consciousness, no

104
forces could be organized to oppose the dis-
astrous chauvinist policies of Milošević and
Tudjman. The fact is, had NATO troops not
arrived and stopped the war by force of arms,
there would likely have been hundreds of
thousands more deaths, new destruction and
new atrocities over the past two years.
“The act of stopping the war was positive.
“If, even after peace is established in Bos-
nia and these fundamental problems are re-
solved, NATO troops remain in Yugoslavia,
the Party of Labour will consider them occu-
piers, which they will truly be. At that point,
the Party of Labour, as a truly patriotic party,
will organize political and other struggles
against NATO’s presence, including armed
struggle to liberate the country from occupa-
tion.”
The congress was held in Belgrade. With
thirty delegates present, a new leadership of
seven members was elected, including “the
old guard” — Vlado and Mića Petrović — as
well as younger cadres.
Vlado said:
“Every idea is only as valuable as the people
who carry it. For the Party of Labour to be up to
the historical task, it must be composed of people
capable of fulfilling that task. Therefore, the Party
of Labour will only admit the most politically
aware, militant and consistent individuals into its
ranks.”

105
 COMRADES
Vlado’s relationship with women and com-
rades is a unique story, and much could be
written about it. Vlado loved women and they
loved him. He often emphasized: “Women are
the better half of humanity. I’ve been convinced of
that hundreds of times in my life.”
I met him toward the end of his life, and I
would describe his relationships with women
at that time as something between comrade-
ship and memories. He would say, “That’s
passed for me, like an old woman trying to whis-
tle” (meaning an old woman without teeth
can’t whistle). But what intrigued me most,
aside from a visit from a mysterious woman
with a tattooed number on her forearm, mark-
ing her time in a German concentration camp,
and Vlado’s outings with his partisan com-
rades (“I was at the cemetery. They and I are both
one foot in the grave.”), were three women who
regularly visited him.
Kosana Milošević was often present as
a party member and was in love with Vlado.
Then there was Senka, Miletin’s sister, whose
husband, despite being an invalid, swam
across the Danube in 1948 to reach Romania.
However, Vlado was always somewhat re-
served toward her, and I never found out why.
The third, and to me the most interesting, was
Kosa. At just sixteen, she joined the move-
ment and immediately fell in love with her
commissar. Once a week, she would secretly
bring Vlado several cooked meals. She moved
slowly due to a wound in her thigh from a burst

106
of gunfire during an assault. She not only
brought food but also served as an important
source of information, which she managed to
gather from her connections. Vlado had the
utmost trust in her. I often thought of her as
his alter ego.
Kosana and Senka were not on good terms,
which created a problem for Vlado, who un-
successfully tried to reconcile the two. As fate
would have it, a somewhat comical situation
arose. Vlado was talking with Kosana in the
living room when the doorbell rang, and “se-
cret” Kosa, who wasn’t supposed to be seen,
appeared. Vlado quietly hid Kosa in the bed-
room and told her to wait. Kosana sensed
someone had entered, but Vlado insisted no
one had. Yet Kosana kept glancing toward the
hallway:
“Someone came in!”
Vlado: “No, they didn’t!”
Not long after, the doorbell rang again —
this time, it was Senka at the door. Now Vlado
was in a panic. He told Kosana, “It’s Senka.
Go to the kitchen so you don’t run into each other,
and leave quietly.” Kosana went to the kitchen.
Senka and Vlado continued talking in the liv-
ing room. Kosana quietly left, satisfied that
she had avoided Senka. Meanwhile, Kosa
slipped out of the bedroom, left the food in
the kitchen and quietly sneaked out as well.
Other significant events in the party also
revolved around Kosana. An older couple,
Bajo and Dušanka Lopušina, were devoted
to the cause and the party. Bajo would get a
nosebleed anytime he became agitated. He

107
had a massive reel-to-reel tape recorder with
hundreds of musical titles, as well as a rich li-
brary. He spent his days reading and listening
to music. He couldn’t tolerate Kosana’s reluc-
tance to fully condemn Milošević. She tried to
distinguish between Slobodan and Mira, pla-
cing the blame solely on Mira. When Bajo set
off for a meeting where he planned to confront
Kosana and settle the matter, his heart gave
out. Dušanka blamed Kosana for hastening
Bajo’s death. Afterwards, Dušanka became
even more motivated to support the party.
Her apartment became a regular meeting spot
for party gatherings and, later, a safe place for
comrades from the revolutionary movements
in Turkey and Kurdistan, who avoided staying
in hotels due to police surveillance.
Another event involving Kosana was
Drago Bulajić’s reaction to Bajo’s death and
Kosana’s unprincipled stance on Milošević
and Mira. Drago, the son of Dr. Sava
Kovačević, who led his son into the partisans
and died at Sutjeska, marched barefoot into
Belgrade with the partisans in October 1944,
losing his shoes along the way. After the war,
he joined the air force but retained some an-
archistic views. In 1948, he threw down his cap
and stomped on the five-pointed star, which
landed him in Goli Otok. He lived alone, rent-
ing out his apartment to students for free, and
made a living selling books. Drago sent a let-
ter resigning from the party, citing his conflict
with Kosana. His letter included the state-
ment: “According to the well-known physical
law that two bodies that don’t get along can’t

108
occupy the same space at the same time.”
I once stayed at Kosana’s apartment be-
fore she distanced herself from party activ-
ities, though she never formally left the party.
I believe it was solely out of respect for Vlado.
Kosana never married. She took care of her
niece, who suffered from schizophrenia, and
her son. While I was trying to sleep, Kosana’s
niece kept wandering through the apartment,
turning lights on and off repeatedly. Kosana
finally snapped at her: “Stop walking in and
out and turning the lights on and off. You’ll
wake him up!” With a deep accent, I heard her
reply: “That’s not a man.”
Three years later, when we no longer had
contact with Kosana, Vlado informed me by
phone that her niece had killed her with a
knife.
What I appreciated about Kosana was her
relationship with other female camp survivors
and the respect she had for them. She would
mention names like Novka Tmušić, Bosa
Abramović, Brana Marković and Danica Srz-
entić with a special tone, full of warmth and a
sense of female solidarity forged through the
struggle of war and life in the camps. Kosana
was the only one who would openly show her
frustration with Vlado and raise her voice:
“Listen, Dapčević!”

109
 TWO-LINE STRUGGLE
After the wars in Croatia and Bosnia end-
ed, the political scene in Serbia became in-
creasingly polarized and the so-called oppos-
ition began to grow stronger. Although resist-
ance to mobilization and frequent desertions
existed earlier, the military defeats acceler-
ated the process of uniting opponents to the
regime. Dissatisfaction grew among the Rad-
icals, led by Šešelj, because after the “Dayton
Agreement,” Milošević sought to reduce the
role of the significant radical Chetnik forces
across the Drin. The war criminal Šešelj criti-
cized the “Red Witch from Dedinje” at rallies,
referring to Milošević’s wife. However, this
conflict was short-lived, and the radicals once
again became a pillar of the regime, especial-
ly with the escalation of the conflict in Kos-
ova. Dissatisfaction also simmered among
the so-called Serbian “soft Chetniks” and the
so-called democratic liberal opposition. The
broader populace, facing worsening economic
conditions, was also growing discontented.
In our Bulletin, we outlined our position:
“The Party of Labour believes that, in an
historical sense, there are no serious oppos-
ition forces in the Yugoslav territories. The
common ideological denominator and con-
crete political activity of opposition parties
contain the same fundamental components
as those of the ruling parties. These are na-
tionalism, anti-communism and economic
programs that proclaim the complete restor-
ation of capitalist relations. In this respect,

110
in none of the former Yugoslav republics are
the differences between ruling and opposition
parties of any deep ideological character. Dif-
ferences arise on the terrain of immediate
political interests and ambitions, in the clash
of insatiable desires for power. In this area,
their mutual confrontations are inevitable and
ruthless. With the more radical escalation of
war and the growing resistance to war, mil-
itarization and the numerous social conse-
quences of the war, many opposition parties
attempt to distance themselves from and ‘for-
get’ their own nationalist and fascist stances
and shift the burden of guilt for the war and
its horrors solely onto the ruling parties. This
fact should be understood as the real begin-
ning of political awakening among many dir-
ect and indirect participants in the Yugoslav
war, and the slow maturation of a political
opposition that would, in a fundamental ideo-
logical sense, distance itself from the ruling
regimes.”
Before the Party of Labour’s Assembly, a
minor conflict emerged within the party over
two issues. The instigator was an interview
Vlado gave to Srpska reč, a newspaper edited by
Danica Drašković, the wife of Vuk Drašković,
one of the main warmongers in the Yugoslav
region and, at the time, the leader of a power-
ful opposition party that had begun to take
positions contrary to the regime on national
issues. During the interview, Vuk Drašković
appeared “coincidentally,” theatrically ad-
dressing Vlado: “Where have you been, great-
est one?” He gave Vlado his new novel with a

111
personal inscription. On the way back, Vlado
handed me the book: “Here, read!” I turned to
Gile and passed it on: “Here, read!”
Some older party members felt that
Vlado should not have given an interview to
a pro-Chetnik publication. Vlado responded
by pointing out that Danica Drašković wrote
about the oppression of the Albanians in Kos-
ova, in a society that treated them not only
from a nationalist position but also with chau-
vinism and even racism. He emphasized that
even the smallest opportunity should be used
to make our views heard: “The stance on the
position of the Albanian people reveals who the
true revolutionary is and who is the mere chatter-
box.”
The second point of contention revolved
around JUL, the party of Mira Marković,
which received unprecedented media cover-
age in regime-controlled outlets, influencing
the views of some of our members. We tried to
explain that we had already addressed JUL in
our Bulletin, where Milenko wrote that it was
the last farce of “communism” in the region.
The text included the following:
“From the programmatic documents and
political practices of the ‘Yugoslav United
Left,’ it is impossible to discern where it truly
stands on this wide ideological map. Wheth-
er this is a case of complete ideological con-
fusion among the ideologues of this ‘left’ or
mere opportunism, seeking to profit from the
moment, one can only speculate! When one
looks at the bombastic phrases by which this
‘left’ defines itself in relation to issues of class,

112
freedom, democracy, the meaning of epochal
processes, etc., one sees the oft-repeated mod-
el of petty-bourgeois socialism.
“Thus, all the ‘leftist’ phrases about ‘peace
among nations,’ about ‘a rich and cultural-
ly advanced society,’ about ‘fighting against
violence,’ about ‘rectifying the confusion of
values,’ about universal ‘access to education,’
about equality in consuming artistic creation
and information, about ‘protecting nature
and man within it,’ are moralistic posturing
without understanding the fundamental con-
stitution of the epoch and its essential causal
relationships. As if, at some point in the hist-
ory of leftist ideas, in the bourgeois epoch, the
absolute demand and task for scientifically
socialist foundations of the trans-bourgeois
epochal project, i.e., the communist project,
was not set!
“Its ideologues recite tempting phrases
about ‘stopping the war,’ ‘maintaining peace’
in the ‘present Yugoslavia,’ about ‘integration
processes among the South Slavic peoples,’
about the reconstruction of ‘that’ Yugoslav-
ia into which (oh, what a pity!) ‘everyone who
wants to live in it’ can enter.
“Let’s ask ourselves, gentlemen ‘commun-
ists’: who would truly want to live in a South
Slavic community on your terms? Wasn’t it a
happy day for each Yugoslav nation when they
could free themselves from the iron grip of
Belgrade, the Great-Serb military class, the
intellectualism of the Memorandum and, in
one word, the political model of Serbian dom-
inance over the rest of Yugoslavia? Who will

113
ever express a desire to live in some new, great
Yugoslavia while Serbia is dominated by the
spiritual and political forces that destroyed
Yugoslavia to create ‘Great-Serbia’? Don’t
count on anyone’s nostalgia for ‘that’ Yugo-
slavia while you represent Serbia!”
Vlado condensed it all into one sentence:
“This isn’t about any leftist movement; it’s just
an ordinary interest group.”
This was best demonstrated later, after the
fall of Milošević’s regime, when JUL mem-
bers left politics and shifted into business, ac-
cumulating significant capital.
A few members left the party because they
couldn’t accept the party’s stance on JUL.
Soon after, demonstrations erupted in
Serbia, triggered by electoral fraud in local
elections. Protests began in Niš and then
spread to other cities. The most intense pro-
tests and clashes occurred in Belgrade, lasting
over three months until Milošević, under ex-
ternal pressure (from Europe), conceded op-
position victories in some cities.
The demonstrations showed that only a
united opposition could effectively challenge
the regime. These demonstrations, rallies,
counter-rallies, marches, beatings by the po-
lice and the like revealed early signs of what
would later be known as “colour revolutions,”
featuring “creative resistance,” music, per-
formances, giving flowers to police cordons,
constant marches and blocking traffic, among
other tactics.
At one counter-rally, Milošević’s support-
ers began chanting: “Slobo, we love you!” To

114
which he ambiguously replied: “I love you
too!”

115
 FOR A SOVEREIGN
MONTENEGRO
After the congress, we divided the party’s
activities. Vlado focussed on the issue of
Montenegro, I handled Kosova, and the
younger members dealt with problems in
Serbia.
Vlado:
“The leadership in Montenegro, now divided,
came to power on the wave of the so-called ‘an-
ti-bureaucratic revolution,’ which was nothing
more than the aggressive policy of the Great-Serb
nationalists aimed at liquidating Montenegro’s
state sovereignty and incorporating it into the ex-
pansionist plans of the Great-Serb nationalists
against the other nations of Yugoslavia. Not only
did they succeed, with Montenegro being an ac-
tive accomplice in the infamous war of aggression
against Slovenia, Croatia and Bosnia and Her-
zegovina, but they also gradually dismantled the
foundations of Montenegrin sovereignty, with the
simple desire to turn Montenegro into just another
region. This was accompanied by the rewriting of
Montenegrin history and the denial of its national
identity.
“However, the continued aggressive policy that
hindered Montenegro’s development and led to the
economic blockade of Serbia and Montenegro
by the rest of the world began to cause a differ-
entiation of forces within Montenegro. A faction
within the Montenegrin leadership, led by Milo
Djukanović, gradually started to adopt a more in-
dependent stance against the absolute command
role of the Great-Serb nationalists represented by
116
Slobodan Milošević and his wife. This struggle,
which began on the economic front, moved to the
political terrain and escalated over two years into
a full-blown conflict.
“The result was that the forces aligned with
Milošević and the Great-Serb nationalists, led
by Momir Bulatović, clearly showed they were in
favour of liquidating Montenegro as a state. In
contrast, the other group, supported by the Monte-
negrin opposition, decided to defend Montenegro
and what remained of its state sovereignty, and
possibly to restore some elements of statehood that
had been lost.
“Since the Party of Labour stands for the right
of every nation to self-determination and the right
to create its own state, we support this position, re-
gardless of the personal intentions of those leading
the current movement for Montenegrin equality.
This stance is in the people’s interest and weakens
the core of Serbian nationalism, led by Milošević.”
The conflict within the Montenegrin
leadership further polarized Montenegrin so-
ciety into two camps: Great-Serbs and sover-
eignists, with the ever-present question: “Are
you for Milo or Momir?”
We decided to become actively involved
in supporting Djukanović, recognizing that
he now sought to openly free himself from de-
pendency on the policies of the Belgrade re-
gime and had almost entirely adopted the pro-
gram of the Liberal Alliance in the fight for a
sovereign Montenegro.
We stayed at the “Crna Gora” hotel, where
most of the active players in the upcoming
elections gathered. Vlado was busy all day,

117
showing boundless energy. We had dinner
several times with the poet Jevrem Brković.
Despite his theatricality and narcissism, it
was clear he was a wise man. When Roćen,
Djukanović’s advisor, and others from that
circle would arrive, I made an effort not to be
present.
In my view, Vlado’s role in 1998 in sup-
porting Milo Djukanović in the fight for
Montenegrin sovereignty was immeasurable.
Through the media, Vlado insisted on sharp-
ening the divide in Montenegrin society and
advocating for a clear separation from Bel-
grade, encouraging the undecided to take a
more definitive stance. For several years, there
had been growing awareness that Montenegro
had shamed itself by participating in the war
against Croatia. As writer Mirko Kovač put
it, “Montenegrins didn’t die for ideals, brav-
ery, but for ham and VCRs,” often repeating:
“From Cetinje the fairy cries, forgive us, Du-
brovnik!”
In an interview on television, Vlado em-
phasized:
“We treated the Ustaše a hundred times more
harshly than we did the Chetniks. In 1945, in just
three days, we executed nearly 30,000 Ustaše near
Maribor. But we captured the entire government
of Draža Mihailović and none were sentenced to
death. All were given prison sentences and re-
leased. Had we been stricter with them, the Serb-
ian and Montenegrin Chetniks, there would be
fewer now supporting Slobo and Momir...
“I spoke with the Chetniks throughout the
war through the sights of a rifle because of their

118
treacherous policies and open collaboration with
the occupiers. And I will again, even though I’m
81 years old.”
When Vlado appeared on Radio Bar, an
incident occurred.
“They come here with three fingers raised,
shouting ‘This is Serbia!’ It makes me want to pull
out my gun and shoot!”
The editor jumped up and cut the broad-
cast. The audience reacted, accusing Vlado of
inciting a fratricidal war. Vlado, furious that
the interview was cut off, lashed out at the
editor. She defended herself, saying she had to
stop the broadcast because of the listeners’ re-
actions. I sided with the editor and told Vlado,
“You gave the enemy ammunition,” which
calmed him down somewhat.
Later, that incident was used in the mu-
nicipal assembly by representatives of the
Great-Serb parties, who referenced “Vlado’s
gun.”
The elections passed, and Djukanović
won. Montenegro began its journey toward
independence.
“Milo Djukanović’s victory saved Monte-
negro’s statehood and the Montenegrins as a na-
tion.”
But then something happened that deep-
ly affected Vlado. In his euphoria, he didn’t
sense the depth of Montenegrin intrigue.
Those around him once led him to a table at
the hotel to introduce him to an “older com-
rade.”
Unwittingly, and with advancing cata-
racts, Vlado extended his hand and said:

119
 “Vlado Dapčević.”
The man shook his hand and replied:
“Jovo Kapidžić.”
Vlado froze and turned away.
“I felt like the lowest of men.”
It was the hand of Jovo Kapidžić, Tito’s
general, whose name was indelibly etched
in the minds of every Goli Otok prisoner as
one of the organizers and torturers. Although
he had taken a completely correct stance on
Montenegro in the 1990s, he was remembered
as a man of questionable ethics, willing to do
anything. However, the Milo regime “sided”
with Jovo and not Vlado, which was entirely
logical and expected. Just as later, Milenko
Perović’s role, who had done so much for
Montenegro’s identity, would be forgotten. It’s
difficult to be more prominent, more deserv-
ing and to gain gratitude in Montenegro when
everyone believes they deserve that spot. In a
way, it both pained and pleased me because it
only increased my class hatred and strength-
ened my conviction that it’s not the mafia, nor
small and large capitalists, who can defend
Montenegro’s identity, but only the commun-
ists.
Vlado, however, said that these were bour-
geois politicians, and we had to work with
them while they fought against war and for
Montenegrin sovereignty: “Later, we will be-
come fierce enemies because we, first and fore-
most, fight for the workers’ movement and social-
ism.”
I didn’t always travel with Vlado to
Montenegro, so our comrade Slavko Višnjić

120
handled the technical arrangements for inter-
views. During one of Vlado’s trips to Monte-
negro, another incident occurred, which his
cousin Nana Dapčević told me about. Vlado
had gone to buy newspapers and cigarettes.
He always carried all his money with him.
At the kiosk, he forgot his wallet with about
two thousand marks and some Swiss francs.
Naturally, it was gone when he went back. He
returned to Belgrade after only a few days in
Montenegro and told me he needed to go to
Belgium urgently. From his face, I could tell
something serious had happened. I thought it
was something personal with Micheline and
didn’t press him further. But he was ashamed
to admit what had actually happened.

121
 THE CUBANS
Vlado was often invited to various meet-
ings of representatives of communist parties,
and he occasionally attended, usually in Ger-
many. He was held in high regard among com-
rades abroad. On several occasions, he tried
to mediate and bring together Turkish revo-
lutionary parties, but there was a strong dose
of sectarianism among them. They were firm-
ly entrenched in their views, and no one was
willing to compromise. At these gatherings,
he also defended the Peruvian movement from
attacks by reformists. Generally, in Western
Europe, the movement was quite weak and in-
fected with reformism.
After the collapse of the Soviet Union, the
“fall of communism,” the fall of the regime in
Albania, the disintegration of Yugoslavia and
the rise of Chinese capitalism, there was no
stronghold to rely on. Furthermore, the pos-
ition of the Party of Labour was that during
this period, we shouldn’t be relying on any-
one. However, certain events led to the estab-
lishment of friendly, though not party, rela-
tions with the Cuban ambassador to Serbia,
Omar Medina Quintero, and his family.
It all started with Omar’s arrival from Ha-
vana. He received a list of Cuba’s friends in
Serbia, and on that list was the name of our
internationalist. Omar later told us: “I asked
a comrade from the Central Committee who
gave me the list:
“Who is this person?”
“I don’t know. Ask Fidel.”

122
 The internationalist invited me to go with
Omar and his family to Kovačica, as Omar
was a fan of naive art. That’s how our ac-
quaintance and friendship began. Omar was
short, a mixed-race man with a beard, and
looked older than his years. Having previously
served in Yugoslavia, he spoke our language
well and had a fantastic sense of humour. His
wife Esperanza was white and much larger.
They had two daughters, about ten years old.
Omar then met Vlado, and soon we began
visiting each other regularly. From the out-
set, Vlado made it clear that we didn’t want
to establish any official party relations. Omar
understood the stance of our party, so we
never opened the topic of the “character of
Cuban socialism.” Omar responded that he
had to represent the interests of his country
and, for that reason, often needed a strong
stomach to deal with local officials.
Once, the internationalist and I stayed
overnight at Omar’s residence. The next mor-
ning, Omar was getting ready for a reception
and sought “advice” from the internationalist:
“Slobodan, should I wear a tie?”
“A tie?! Fidel and I don’t wear ties, and
you’re thinking of putting one on!”
On the 30th anniversary of Che Gue-
vara’s death, we held exhibitions in Vrbas and
Kragujevac featuring Che’s photographs, with
speeches by Omar and Vlado. The exhibitions
were well attended, especially in Kragujevac.
On the way back from Kragujevac, Omar
told us about the so-called hostage crisis in
Lima, where comrades stormed the Japanese

123
embassy and were eventually killed by Peru-
vian forces with technical and other support
from U.S. agencies. It was clear that Omar
was well-informed.
Once, Vlado and Omar visited Vrbas, and
we went to see the internationalist in Kruščić.
Vlado also stopped by Bačko Polje to vis-
it our comrade Slavko Grubač, who enjoyed
making a spectacle of it, hanging a red flag
on his house, setting a lavish table, gathering
thirty locals and firing a gun when Vlado ar-
rived. Vlado criticized the somewhat “Chet-
nik” atmosphere, but to no avail. Meanwhile,
Omar told us how he had an almost 80-year-
old father who lived in a remote rural area.
“When I moved to Havana and advanced
in my career, I tried to convince my father to
come, as the living conditions were incompar-
ably better. But he refused, saying it was too
boring there.”
Our friendship with Omar soon came to
an end when he developed a blood clot in his
leg and had to return to Havana for surgery.
Before his departure, he invited us to a recep-
tion for a Cuban holiday. I didn’t feel like go-
ing, especially since it was freezing, but I went
with my wife Ljiljana and the internationalist
because of Omar. Radonja Vešović joined us.
Vlado had no intention of attending the recep-
tion. Worse than the cold was when Šešelj ap-
peared at the reception with his protégé Vučić,
taking centre stage in the hall. We quickly left
the reception and stopped by Vlado’s place to
warm up.
“Well, those receptions are nonsense. Why did

124
you even bother going in such weather?”
Omar went for surgery and our connec-
tion with the Cubans was completely severed
afterwards.
Before leaving, Vlado confided to Omar
that he had lung cancer in its early stages.

125
 KOSOVA
Vlado had a special connection with the
Albanian people. There were many reasons
for this. At one point, he attended high school
in Prizren before being expelled from all the
schools in Yugoslavia for his communist ac-
tivities, where he came to understand the true
plight of the Albanian people. Not to men-
tion his escape from Yugoslavia to Albania,
when an old, respected Albanian man played
a key role in helping him and others cross the
border successfully. His reception in Albania
was significant, as the leadership under Enver
Hoxha supported Vlado and Mileta Perović
during their conflict with other exiled Comin-
formists, particularly later on ideological
grounds, with Vlado supporting the Albanian
comrades in their struggle against Khrush-
chev’s revisionism.
“On the territory of the former Yugoslavia, af-
ter its disintegration, the issue of Kosova is a key
question. It is both the condition and the beginning
of the dissolution of Yugoslavia. It is not by chance,
and it has often been said, ‘Everything started in
Kosova, and everything will end in Kosova.’ Any
attempt to prevent the Albanians in Yugoslavia,
especially in Kosova, from deciding how and with
whom they will live is doomed to fail.
“In fact, the first act that led to the breakup
of Yugoslavia was Slobodan Milošević and his
clique’s destruction of Kosova’s autonomy and the
imposition of martial law there, which was accom-
panied by horrific persecution and humiliation of
the Albanian people.

126
 “When the regime in Serbia and Montenegro
suffered a total military, political and diplomatic
defeat, they invented a new deception, creating a
new state — essentially to hold onto power for as
long as possible. And just as the insane idea of cre-
ating a Greater Serbia, where all Serbs would live
in one state, led to immense destruction and loss of
life, this stubborn insistence on creating this kind
of Yugoslavia will lead to even greater conflicts be-
cause, in the end, the essential issue that must be
addressed — the position of the Albanians — will
come to the forefront. Therefore, it is necessary to
fight with all means to ensure that the citizens of
Serbia and Montenegro do not leave their bones in
Kosova in yet another terrible and dirty war.
“As for the Albanians, we have no intention
of giving them, or anyone else, advice, but based
on the experiences of peoples’ struggles around the
world, I would say only one thing to the Alban-
ians — that the freedom of the Albanian people
and their ability to determine their future depends
entirely on their own struggle and unity.
“In any case, we will be on the side of the just
struggle of the Albanian people.”
In the August 1996 issue of our Bulletin, we
discussed the Albanian question, and I wrote:
“Given the current situation, the regime
in Belgrade aims to delay resolving the status
of Kosova for as long as possible. The goal
of buying time regarding Kosova is to, in the
context of lasting peace, attempt to complete-
ly break the unity of the Albanian movement
through aggressive propaganda and system-
ic measures, gradually reducing the issue of
Kosova to a matter of internal Serbian affairs.

127
 “The Albanian movement, which adopt-
ed Gandhian methods of struggle, patiently
waiting for the end of the war and the reso-
lution of the situation in other parts of the
former Yugoslavia, has faced the powerful
force of the Great-Serb regime and the West’s
stated positions. Increasingly, the movement
is confronted with the inevitable question of
changing its methods of struggle. A more rad-
ical faction within the movement, which seeks
to shift the focus of the fight back to Kosova
itself, is gaining strength. Belgrade’s delays in
negotiations contribute to the radicalization
of the movement and the escalation of armed
actions.
“The Party of Labour, as a Marxist-Lenin-
ist party, maintains a consistent internation-
alist stance on the position of the Albanian
people in Kosova. The Albanian people have
the right to self-determination, including se-
cession and the creation of their own state
— with the condition that, in achieving this
right, the Albanian people should support all
processes that lead to integration with Serb-
ia, while the Serbian people should advocate
for the Albanian people to achieve their goal.
Therefore, the Party of Labour advocates for
negotiations between the Belgrade regime and
the Albanian movement in Kosova to begin
as soon as possible, to peacefully resolve the
existing issue. Should the Albanian people in
Kosova succeed in achieving their goal and
freeing themselves from Belgrade’s authority,
they will face the same question the people
of Serbia face. They will discover the misery

128
and cruelty of their own capitalists and polit-
ical bureaucracy. At that point, those national
flags will be no different from the hated na-
tionalist flags of the regime in Belgrade. Then,
the Albanian proletariat will have no choice
but to raise the fallen red flag and extend a
hand to the Serbian proletariat.
“Together, they will defend Serbia and
Kosova from the onslaught of imperialists and
their local lackeys. Together, with the other
peoples of the Balkans, they will fight for the
victory of the idea that the Balkans belong to
the proletariat of the Balkan peoples.”
At the beginning of October 1997, peace-
ful protests by Albanian students provoked a
brutal reaction from the Serbian police. In a
video tape we received, we saw police arrest-
ing the student leader. We found out his name
was Albin Kurti. At a meeting, we decided to
establish contact with him and support the Al-
banian student movement.
We conducted campaigns for the return of
Albanian students to schools and universities
at the universities in Novi Sad and Kraguj-
evac. We collected a few hundred signatures,
which was surprisingly many, considering the
prevailing attitudes in society about the rights
of Albanians.
At the same time, I was preparing to go
to Kosova. Vlado wasn’t in Yugoslavia at the
time. We left Vrbas in a van with four of us,
with two comrades waiting for us in Kragu-
jevac. It was late November 1997, and very
cold. Just before Besiana in Kosova, our tire
blew at five in the morning. We waited for a

129
tire repair shop to open, freezing in the van.
In Prishtina, we blindly searched for the Ve-
lanija neighbourhood because we had heard
that the University of Prishtina was now oper-
ating out of houses there. They pointed us to
some houses, and we entered one with a few
rooms and four tables. We were given tea,
though there was a noticeable level of suspi-
cion. But when we mentioned we were look-
ing for Albin Kurti, the situation immediately
changed. Soon, Kurti appeared and took us to
another room.
We told him about our action and the peti-
tion of support. Kurti said he was a Gandhian
by conviction and believed that peaceful pro-
tests could achieve the goals of the Albanian
people. This surprised us a bit, and Comrade
Raško Koprivica told him, “No people have
ever gained their freedom through peaceful
means, and neither will you.”
As we walked through Prishtina, I walked
ahead with Albin, and I noticed that people
showed him respect, greeting him as we
passed. An elderly Albanian man with a cane
stopped and bowed as we passed.
We continued maintaining contact with
Albin, but the situation grew more compli-
cated and tense. Armed actions began.
At that point, I decided to return to Kos-
ova to get a clearer sense of the situation. In
doing so, I behaved completely unprincipled,
non-party-like and uncomradely — I “be-
trayed” Vlado. The reason was simple — I
knew he wouldn’t have approved of our trip in
that situation. We left Belgrade for Prishtina

130
in the evening, Comrade Gile and I. Just as
we were leaving, Albin called Vlado to ask if
we had set off. Vlado was completely caught
off guard.
In the bus, the presence of police was no-
ticeable, and the atmosphere was hostile to-
ward the Albanian passengers. We arrived in
Prishtina earlier than expected. Dawn hadn’t
broken yet, and police officers patrolled the
station with automatic rifles. We hid until
morning and then connected with Albin. Al-
bin took us to the university, where they had
been allowed to return, but the rooms had al-
ready been turned into mobilization bases for
fighters. On Albin’s walls, instead of Gandhi,
hung portraits of some Albanian movement
fighters.
He took us to the headquarters of Adem
Demaçi’s party, the chief ideologist of the
Albanian movement at the time, but they re-
ceived us with suspicion and reservation,
though they acknowledged knowing and re-
specting Vlado as a friend of the Albanian
people.
Albin later briefed us on the situation, and
it became clear to us that an armed conflict
was inevitable.
The following week, we were to face the
music. We had a meeting at Vlado’s apartment
with several of us present. Vlado lined me and
Gile up, focusing particularly on me:
“You! You organized all of this!”
I tried to justify myself, not for the lack of
principle, but by arguing that it was a neces-
sity and that it was more on friendly grounds

131
than party grounds. But my arguments were
unconvincing.
“And what if you had been arrested or killed
there? What would have become of the party? It
was completely thoughtless!”
Since he didn’t know what else to say, he
“fired off” a “party punishment.”
“For your punishment, you’ll sleep on this
table tonight.”
I accepted that with relief, knowing that
the matter was closed, especially since he
knew I sometimes slept on the floor anyway.
By that time, we had already begun print-
ing our newspaper Otpor, which immediately
provoked a reaction, with the pro-Chetnik
newspaper Pogledi publishing: “The commun-
ists still support the Albanians.”

132
 NATO BOMBARDMENT
Another war was approaching once again.
The Americans had given Milošević a
grand welcome at Dayton in 1995, presenting
him as a stabilizing factor while sweeping
under the rug all the accusations they had pre-
viously levelled against him. After the sign-
ing of the Dayton Agreement, Milošević was
given some time to resolve the issue with the
Albanians in Kosova. However, resistance
among the Albanian people to the de facto
occupation and apartheid grew daily, lead-
ing to the formation of the Kosova Liberation
Army (KLA). The political core of the KLA
was largely made up of Enverist Marxist-Len-
inists who, due to both the collapse of social-
ism in Albania and the circumstances in Kos-
ova, began to distance themselves from their
previous ideological positions, prioritizing
national liberation. In the early stages of the
struggle, some of the fallen fighters were bur-
ied with The Internationale, and their guerilla
salute was a raised fist.
Milošević’s police and military crushed
these initial forms of the KLA, primarily due
to the superiority of Serbian forces and the
KLA’s inexperience in warfare. The KLA,
with its hastily dug trenches and light weap-
onry, tried to engage in frontal battles against
the Serbian army.
Our stance was clear: “In these difficult
and historic moments for the Albanian people,
the Party of Labour is on the side of the just
struggle of the Albanian people. Milošević’s

133
regime has started a war against an entire
people, and that war will be lost.”
The defeated KLA forces largely withdrew
into Albania. Then, a political shift occurred.
The U.S. had earlier placed the KLA on its list
of terrorist organizations. But now they sent
their envoy, Richard Holbrooke, to Junik in
Kosova to meet with KLA representatives and
offer U.S. assistance. By accepting that help,
the KLA also capitulated ideologically, hav-
ing to abandon their previous ideology and
symbols, and submit to the complete control
of U.S. instructors. As a result, the balance
of power began to shift in favour of the Al-
banians in Kosova, as they now had the most
powerful protector.
In fact, the U.S. was trying to bring both
the Belgrade regime and the Albanian move-
ment under its control. The problem was the
“great president” Milošević and the Great-
Serb forces, who refused to make any con-
cessions regarding Kosova, and the Albanian
representatives were not willing to deviate
from their basic goals in the fight for Kosova’s
liberation. At the Rambouillet Conference in
France, where both the Albanian movement
and Belgrade regime were invited, no agree-
ment was reached. Neither side was prepared
to compromise.
The weekly newspaper Evropljanin, edited
by Slavko Ćuruvija, published an open letter
to Milošević, signed by him and the journalist
Aleksandar Tijanić. Even though we knew of
their previous ties to the Titoite regime’s sec-
urity services and their ongoing contact with

134
Mira Marković (Milošević’s wife), this was
surprising. When I visited Vlado, he handed
me the newspaper and asked me to read the
open letter:
“You have handed over control of the state
and social wealth to a select group of a hun-
dred families who enjoy your support and pro-
tection. The officials of the state you lead dem-
onstrate feudal extravagance, nouveau-riche
arrogance amidst widespread poverty and
misery, and your cronies run large compan-
ies…
“In your time, national prophets, vam-
pires, charlatans and freaks have been stimu-
lated by state media, glorifying death and war,
all the while making sure not to die them-
selves… Crime has merged with the highest
levels of government like nowhere else in Eur-
ope…”
Vlado asked: “What do you think?”
“Auu! That’s bold!”
“They have sentenced themselves to death.”
The “honeymoon” and truce between
Milošević and the Americans, which had last-
ed for a few years, essentially ended with his
increasingly brutal actions in Kosova. Amer-
ica’s interests were once again threatened due
to the potential for a broader Balkan war, and
they sought to prevent this at all costs.
In early February, we held a meeting of
the party leadership. We assessed that war be-
tween Serbia and NATO was inevitable. We
even considered the possibility that if, at the
last moment, Milošević began restoring rights
to the Albanian people in Kosova, thus avoid-

135
ing war, we would support such a move. Nat-
urally, nothing of the sort happened, and we
saw where things were headed.
We made the decision for part of the leader-
ship to move to Montenegro, while the others
would hide across Serbia, away from their
residences, and await developments. Comrade
Mića Petrović went deep underground, and
Comrade Adrović was already abroad. This
decision was dictated by our objectively small
strength, but we also had information that
there were suggestions to isolate all enemies
of the regime in special camps. We were con-
vinced that Vlado would certainly be on that
list if one was being made.
We had no idea what kind of war it would
be and had no other option but to go to Monte-
negro, which was against the war. At that time,
we had no base in Bosnia and Herzegovina,
which was also exhausted from the war.
It was hard for me to leave Lilja and my
two young children, not knowing how long we
would be apart. Gile left his girlfriend behind.
Everyone was leaving someone.
We travelled to Montenegro. Suljo Musta-
fić, then employed at Radio Bar and later the
Deputy Speaker of the Montenegrin Parlia-
ment representing the Bosniak party, greeted
us that evening. He explained that they had
received instructions to preserve the radio sta-
tion and evacuate out of the city in the event
of bombing or other threats. He suggested
that we retreat with the radio station into the
hills around Bar, where we would be safe for
a while.

136
 Exhausted, I went to sleep. Suljo and Gile
followed the news, watching as NATO planes
took off from the Aviano airbase in Italy.
The next morning, Vlado told us we were
heading to Cetinje. There, we settled in an
abandoned house belonging to some of his
acquaintances. Rumours were circulating
around Cetinje, with talk of a possible inter-
vention by the Yugoslav army to take over the
government and drag Montenegro into the
war.
Vlado spent his days walking around
Cetinje, talking to people, and encouraging
the formation of a Montenegrin army to op-
pose Belgrade’s plans to involve Montenegro
in the war and to preserve peace in the coun-
try. This initiative began to take shape.
At the same time, it became clear that this
was a different kind of war than we had im-
agined. Bridges were being bombed, factories
destroyed and civilians killed. We realized
this was something else, that there would be
no escalation or broadening of the conflict.
We spent our days lounging around. I
grabbed a transistor radio and listened to the
news every half hour. Vlado kept telling me,
“Throw that away!” but I couldn’t stop. Gile, in
his usual hedonistic manner, made the most of
every moment. He slowly took notes for some
of his poems or prose. Vlado, as usual, was
out all day. The two of us would go up to Or-
lov Krš daily, as a form of physical exercise.
From there, all of Cetinje was visible, spread
out like a map.
Early in the war, it was announced that Al-

137
bin Kurti had been arrested, and shortly after,
Slavko Ćuruvija was killed. Despite every-
thing, it was clear that the regime would soon
capitulate — it was only a matter of time.
After nearly four weeks, we realized there
was nothing left of the war we had imagined,
nor was there any real danger to us. So, we
decided to return.
The problem was how Vlado could leave
the country, as naval blockades were in place.
Suljo came to the rescue and used his con-
nections to arrange for Vlado to leave Monte-
negro as a stowaway on a ship bound for Du-
brovnik and then on to his family. Gile went
to Kragujevac, and I headed back to Vrbas.
At the bus station in Podgorica, I met a
group of Albanians fleeing from Mitrovica,
heading to Bosnia. I could only treat one
family to a meal and chat with them, though
they were all anxious and scared. They told
me there had been many casualties in their
city.
As we drove through Serbia, the bus driv-
er stopped just before Čačak, turned off the
lights, and told us there was an air raid alert
and that, by protocol, everyone should leave
the bus. I was the only one who stayed behind
to nap — sleep was more important to me than
the possibility of bombs hitting the bus. How-
ever, when we entered Čačak, I saw firsthand
what bombing looked like. The “Sloboda” fac-
tory was smouldering in ruins, completely de-
stroyed. We continued to Belgrade, and then I
managed to reach Vrbas by some back roads
and ferries, as the bridges had been bombed.

138
 There was general joy in the family. Every-
one was talking at the same time. I started
feeling guilty for having left them. Ljilja told
me that some kind of collective spirit had
taken over. All the neighbours were social-
izing, while before they had only exchanged
formal greetings. There weren’t any daily cas-
ualties or bombs, but they were constantly in
the dark due to power restrictions.
It was during this time that I first felt fear
during the bombings. One night, I heard a
strange sound. I jumped out of bed and felt
my hair stand on end. Then, a terrible explo-
sion followed. We rushed outside the build-
ing. About two hundred metres away, every-
thing was smoking from the missile strike
and what was left of the bridge. The roofs of
nearby houses were riddled with holes, and all
the windows had shattered. Astonishingly, no
one was killed. I went to my brother’s house.
They were all standing in the yard, terrified.
In front of them was a piece of the bridge, over
two hundred kilos of iron, that had passed
through the roof like butter.
After the bombing ended and Kosova be-
came a protectorate, I remembered a question
I had previously asked Albin: “If you free
yourself from the Belgrade boot, and another
boot comes to Kosova, will you fight for the
liberation of the Albanian people again?”
“Yes.”
Albin and the other imprisoned Albanians
were put on trial in Niš. Albin stood strong:
“I do not recognize this court. The only court
that can judge me is the court of my own

139
people.”
He was sentenced to fifteen years in pris-
on.
“It doesn’t matter whether you sentence
me or how long it is. Everything I did, I did
voluntarily and with dignity. I am proud of
that, and if I could, I would do it all again.”
After the fall of Milošević and external
pressure, the new government freed Albin and
the other Albanian political prisoners after
two years.

140
 THE FALL OF MILOŠEVIĆ
“The seriousness of the current opposition
against Slobodan Milošević’s regime can only be
discussed if all of the opposition unites on a com-
mon programmatic basis. Without that, rallies will
achieve nothing, and anti-communist slogans will
not lead to democracy. Anti-communism has al-
ways led to fascism, not democracy.”

After the NATO bombings, the situation

in Serbia became increasingly complicated.
Under the influence of his wife, Milošević
decided to call early elections, seeking the
people’s support after the defeat in Kosova.
In September 1998, we launched a youth
magazine called Otpor, written by our young-
er members and sympathizers, like Slobodan
Sadžakov, Marija Perković and others, most-
ly students. The symbol of a clenched fist ap-
peared in the magazine’s header. A female stu-
dent, who wasn’t a member of our organiza-
tion, painted a graffiti of the fist with the word
“Otpor” on the university building. She and
a few other students were arrested, sparking
a real uproar among the students. Less than
a month later, someone had the idea to use
that concept, along with our name Otpor and
the fist symbol, in the fight against Milošević.
The Otpor movement was formed, albeit
with a stylized version of our fist. Despite
some initial upheavals, the movement gained
complete support from American agencies,
with significant financial backing and train-
ing for its members, aimed at overthrowing

141
Milošević. Everything that happened with
that movement later became a classic example
of the so-called “colour revolutions,” which
would mark the following decades worldwide.
It became increasingly clear that this
was a battle on a much larger scale, and that
someone had united the entire opposition,
both nationalists and liberals, under the name
Democratic Opposition of Serbia (DOS). Stu-
dents and high schoolers were pushed into
the Otpor movement, and a less compromised
candidate, Koštunica, was put forward for the
elections. At the same time, efforts were made
to gain the support of the working class, espe-
cially in the “Kolubara” mining basin.
At that time, we had no information about
whether there were efforts to win over the po-
lice and military.
Vlado was in Belgium during the elec-
tions. After the elections, all of Serbia came to
a standstill and a confrontation loomed. The
police completely blocked roads to prevent
citizens from coming to the opposition rally
in Belgrade on October 5. The opposition did
not accept the announced results of the first
round of elections.
I had gone to Belgrade earlier to avoid the
announced blockades. The rest of our com-
rades from Vojvodina couldn’t make it, nor
could those from Kragujevac. However, the
people from Smederevo succeeded. I was with
the crowd in front of the parliament build-
ing when tear gas was thrown, and citizens
stormed inside and set it on fire. Among the
first was our comrade from Belgrade, Ivica

142
Djurić. We were directed toward the television
building, where police officers on the roof
were firing tear gas. I was at the back of the
building, near the fence, watching the events
unfold. A man in an elegant suit stood next to
me. At one point, I noticed that he was hold-
ing a pistol in his hand, pressed against his
thigh. He then walked away. Nearby, a young
couple sat on a bench, kissing, while another
couple strolled by with their dog as if nothing
was happening.
I headed towards Ruzveltova Street, and
from March 27th Street, I saw a column of
armoured vehicles with special forces head-
ing toward the television building. I thought
chaos was about to erupt. But in the distance,
I saw the armoured vehicles stop. A crowd sur-
rounded them. The special forces were talking
to the people. I thought, “This is good.”
Back at the apartment, exhausted, I just
wanted to rest, but here came Milan Djurić
from Smederevo, all proud. He said he had
been involved in surrounding and blocking a
police station. He saw some people had even
gotten hold of weapons. I told him to wake
me if Milošević sent in tanks. At one point,
he woke me and said that some acquaintances
from Smederevo were asking if they could stay
in the apartment until morning. When I woke
up in the morning, the people from Smederevo
were gone. They had left bottles of whisky,
coffee, chocolates and all sorts of things on
the table.
Djurić said, “They were interested in
something else.”

143
 “What?”
“Jewelry stores.”
The next morning, I left for Vrbas. There
wasn’t an intact shop window in sight. Every-
thing was smashed, and a lot had been looted.
In front of the city hall, people were dancing in
a circle while politicians on the balcony urged
them not to leave because it wasn’t over yet.
At the bus station, policemen from the prov-
inces sat without their caps. Some held their
heads in their hands, deep in thought. Back
in Vrbas, some people I didn’t particular-
ly like were hugging me, drunk with victory.
Milošević addressed the public and admitted
defeat in the elections.
Under the influence of these events, we
used the term “democratic revolution” in our
party’s public statement. However, during a
meeting two weeks later, Vlado pointed out
the error in that statement. There were about
ten comrades at the meeting. Vlado called
from Belgium and dictated the message.
Milan Djurić listened and wrote it down.

Phone conversation with Vlado Dapčević —

October 21, 2000

“Every serious party, and I consider our party

to be serious and to have proven itself so in every
action, must always, especially during significant
events, conduct a thorough analysis based on
available facts and only facts — not on hearsay or
wishful thinking. The question is, what happened
in Belgrade in recent days? Was it a revolution,
as the Western mass media claims, or a coup, as

144
Velimir Ilić, Slobodan Milošević and Šešelj say?
“When it comes to revolution, it is a relentless
struggle between two classes for a fundamental
change in social system. In the case of Belgrade,
this was neither a class struggle nor a revolution.
Rather, nationalist forces in Serbia, after their
final unification around Koštunica, organized a
coup that required the backing of a broader popu-
lar movement.
“In an interview with Velimir Ilić on October
12, 2000, it became clear that a high-ranking of-
ficial from the Ministry of Internal Affairs came
and informed him that there would be no shooting,
and that they could enter the parliament and tele-
vision building. After the first wave of demonstra-
tors was repelled, a phone call was made and the
police withdrew.
“What happened after the elections? Russia,
which had supported Slobodan Milošević, found
itself in a delicate situation, as all its troops in
the area were placed on high alert. Putin and
Ivanov did not want a civil war because Kosova
Force (KFOR) troops would have entered Bel-
grade. Therefore, they sided with Koštunica and
the DOS, counting on their nationalism, to pre-
vent NATO from further expanding in the region.
Serbia, in that sense, was of interest both to the
West and to Russia. While Ivanov was negotiat-
ing, first with Koštunica and then with Slobodan
Milošević, special paratrooper units moved toward
Belgrade. When Ivanov heard this, he refused any
further support for Slobodan Milošević.
“When it comes to the coup, only one person
was removed — Slobodan Milošević — and only
from his position. He and his associates have now

145
regrouped and taken full control of the Ministry
of Internal Affairs and part of the Yugoslav Army.
In Serbia, there was no systemic change, only a
change of individuals. After everything, the ques-
tion arises: was our stance correct, or did we mis-
judge the situation? Our line was completely cor-
rect, and with the resources we had, we took the
right position. Despite being a small party, we are
the only working-class and revolutionary party in
Serbia and Yugoslavia, based on proletarian inter-
nationalism, which we have consistently applied in
practice. We have built significant political capital
over the past period, and we must not jeopardize it
over minor or major day-to-day events, nor should
we cater to anyone’s demands.
“On the other hand, the struggle between the
DOS and Slobodan Milošević was essentially a
battle between two nationalisms for power. One
was inconsistent — Milošević’s — and the other
was consistent, firm and unyielding, represented
by the DOS. Given the current balance of power,
the DOS’s decision to put forward Koštunica as
their presidential candidate was smart and cor-
rect, because only he could unite all the nation-
alist forces in Serbia, which had been fragmented
across different parties, to create a critical mass
for the potential removal of Slobodan Milošević.
“Again, we need to be realistic about our pol-
itical strength. We are still such a small party that,
not only on a national level but even locally, no
matter how engaged we are, we cannot influence
shifts in power, not even at the level of a neigh-
bourhood council. We must also acknowledge that
neither we nor anyone else in the world knew that
a split had formed within the police and military

146
apparatus. This was done completely covertly and
in a coup-like manner. When I spoke with Role, I
mentioned that we didn’t know whether the appar-
atus was fracturing. The only visible conflict was
between nationalist forces. We must seek out and
recognize the details, no matter how small, that
could mean a great deal.
“When everything started, our people per-
formed excellently. This means that all of our
comrades understood that members of the Party
of Labour must be with the masses when they are
in motion to change something and influence them
as much as possible through words, actions and
participation, focussing on what is fundamental to
our minimum program — the elimination of the
Great-Serb nationalist policy. At the same time,
we should wisely use this opportunity to observe
and establish closer contacts with young people,
workers, students and others who stand out, par-
ticularly through their militancy and anti-nation-
alist stance.”

Soon, these views were fully con-

firmed. Many would later point out that the
much-needed “October 6” never happened.
In the general turmoil, and the demand to
open police archives and allow citizens access
to their files to see whether they were under
surveillance and being followed, we decided to
investigate. We wanted to find out if there was
information on us and how much significance
the regime had attributed to our strength. We
also hoped to uncover any infiltrators in our
ranks.
Gile quickly took advantage of this oppor-

147
tunity and went to the Kragujevac State Sec-
urity office. The inspector handed him a fold-
er with over 150 pages. He read through it
until he got bored and began skipping parts.
Most of it consisted of transcripts of our tele-
phone conversations. I was referred to by the
codename “The Instigator.” During our plan-
ning for the trip to Kosova, it was suggested
that constant surveillance and even video
monitoring be put in place.
I didn’t go to Novi Sad right away but wait-
ed another two weeks. In the end, I went and
requested access to my file. In the hallway, I
saw the former politician Mirko Čanadanović,
who had been removed from his position dur-
ing Tito’s era and accused of liberalism.
I assumed he was there for the same rea-
son.
However, by then, everything related to
the opening of the files had been halted. The
new government had decided that the current
state of affairs regarding the files benefited
them more than it harmed them. As a result,
the issue of opening the files was mentioned
less and less over time. All they gave me was
a single sheet of paper containing a denunci-
ation by a political prisoner from Sremska
Mitrovica prison, from nearly thirty years
ago. I was angry at myself for being naive,
and even more so for agreeing to ask anything
from them in the first place.

148
 THE CIRCLE IS CLOSED
Returning to Montenegro was a real or-
deal. Vlado mostly stayed in his hotel room.
Some people came to visit him, but he no long-
er had the energy for the long conversations
that were typical of him. The nights were par-
ticularly difficult because he kept waking up.
In the hotel hallway, I would meet with our
comrades, which gave me a bit of a break from
the constant watch over him. Once, Vlado
came out into the hallway after me, barefoot
straight from bed and said, “Where are you go-
ing? Don’t leave me alone!”
At that time, he received an invitation to
visit Djukanović. He got ready, and I could
see it meant something to him. He returned
somewhat dissatisfied. He had expected more.
“I thought we would have a political discus-
sion, but it all boiled down to formality.”
Djukanović had thanked him for every-
thing and gave him a watch.
In Belgrade, younger members would visit
him during the week and make sure he wasn’t
left alone.
Whenever Vlado had previously set off for
Belgium or anywhere else, he would pack his
suitcase meticulously, with every little thing
in its place. Now, he did it a bit carelessly.
Passing by the Technical Faculty in a taxi, he
pointed to the facade above again and said
with a tinge of sadness in his voice:
“For a long time, there were bullet holes there
from where the Ljotićites fired before the war.
Later, they removed all of that.”

149
 At the airport, a flight attendant with a
cart was waiting to take him away. I leaned
down and kissed him. We didn’t say anything;
our eyes just welled up with tears. We knew
we wouldn’t see each other again.
In Belgium, Comrade Ismet Adrović and
his wife visited him. The last contact was by
phone. Almost in a whisper, Vlado said:
“I think it’s the end.”
When he was diagnosed with lung cancer,
the doctor advised Vlado to stop smoking im-
mediately.
“What will I gain from that?”
“Certainly, a few more months of life.”
“I’ve smoked all my life, so I won’t change that
for just a few more months.”
Vlado died on July 12, 2001 at the age of
84. On the same date in 1941, the decision to
rise up in revolt was made, and the next day
the people of Montenegro, as one, rose up
against the Italian fascist occupiers.
“It was exactly three in the morning. I
raised my rifle and said — Let’s start, with
luck.”
Vlado’s nephew Nikola from Belgium
called me and told me that Micheline wanted
to know if Vlado’s wish had been to be buried
in Montenegro. I confirmed it.
Later, the relatives, especially Ljubo and
Rade Dapčević, got involved in organizing the
funeral.
Radinja Vešović contacted me to say he
was very sorry that he couldn’t make such a
long journey.
Some of the members travelled by car,

150
some by bus, train, while others were already
in Montenegro. We from Vrbas spent the night
at Pedja Simićević’s place, in Aluge near Žab-
ljak.
In Cetinje, at the chapel, Milenko arrived
with his wife, Bosiljka. Milo Djukanović
also came with his entourage. After that, we
headed to Ljubotinj. There, we saw Vlado’s
birthplace, which had been burned down by
the Italian fascists during the war, leaving
only the charred stone walls. Now, only a few
elderly women lived in the village, visited oc-
casionally by their relatives from the city.
The path to the cemetery was quite in-
accessible and overgrown with bushes. The
relatives had made efforts to clear a narrow
path and access. However, the coffin had to
be carried to the cemetery, and local villagers
from nearby areas helped to easily carry it.
Along that path, behind the coffin, Michel-
ine and Milena walked unsteadily. I can only
imagine how they felt on that rocky terrain in
the wilderness. Their feet had never before
stepped on Montenegrin soil, especially not
in such a remote place.
Montenegrin television also covered the
event. I gave a speech, and Rade Dapčević, on
behalf of the family, thanked everyone present.
I struggled to find the right words, not want-
ing to sound sentimental, as it seemed that
anything I said wouldn’t carry enough weight
and would be insufficient.
“Vlado Dapčević was a man of the 20th
century. He was its attentive witness and a
fierce participant. Through his life story, like

151
through a prism, all the hardships, sufferings
and ideals that this century carried in abun-
dance are reflected. Only from that perspective
can one understand the life and fate of Vlado
Dapčević. This is why all of Vlado Dapčević’s
struggles were the same, a continuous battle
for something better, for something more hu-
man, for something more just, and he never
wavered or faltered in this, with his boundless
optimism, constant smile and incapacity for
hatred. He was the salt of this earth because if
it weren’t for such people, for those rare grains
of salt, the earth would become tasteless. The
greatest among us has died. To us, his com-
rades, he was a leader, a teacher and a friend
— a symbol and a guide. Let it remain so. Let
us be grateful to Vlado Dapčević for pushing
the boundaries of humanity…”
As Vlado himself said two years earlier:
“Everything I’ve been through tells me I will
die in peace because, to the best of my abilities,
I have done everything to make life better for the
people. In such a struggle, when you fight against
a stronger opponent, you have to pay the price. I
think I’ve confirmed Marx’s maxim when asked
what happiness means to him, he replied, ‘To
fight!’ I am a happy man because, throughout my
life, I’ve had the strength, even now at 82, to fight
for a better and more just society. And as long as
I breathe, I won’t stop fighting because that’s the
meaning of my life.”

152
 EPILOGUE
After Vlado’s death, we felt the need to
preserve his memory, as it seemed at that mo-
ment that everything would eventually fade
into oblivion. Some comrades believed that
without Vlado, the party could not survive, so
they left us, while others became passive.
Meanwhile, in Montenegro, of course, no
one suggested that Vlado should be honoured
in any way. To all of them, he still remained on
the other side of the class barricade.
We placed a marker on his grave, where
he was buried in his grandmother’s grave, who
had passed away at the beginning of the 20th
century. On a small plaque on the old monu-
ment, it read: Vlado Dapčević, Revolutionary
1917-2001. Party of Labour.
Martin Opančar from Hungary came to
me and said he would like to visit Vlado’s
grave before he dies. We set off from Belgrade
together with Comrade Dragan Džaković,
who was in charge of staying in Vlado’s apart-
ment. In Podgorica, we were met by Nana
Dapčević, who drove us to Ljubotinj, to the
grave. Martin was thrilled and took several
photos of the grave and all of us.
Before that, another event occurred that
left a particular impression on me.
After Vlado’s death, Kosa called me and
told me that I knew why she couldn’t attend
the funeral, but that she would like to meet in
Sušanj, near Bar. It was already autumn. She
arrived, walking slowly, and we sat under the
umbrellas by the beach.

153
 It was a moment for silence and listening.
“I haven’t told you before, but he had a
fiancée. She was a nurse. She stayed with the
wounded. The Chetniks came and massacred
everyone; the nurses were raped, then slaugh-
tered, and had five-pointed stars carved into
their chests. Dana and I loved him the most,
each in our own way. We never told him that
she committed suicide when he was kidnapped
in Bucharest. She knew she would never see
him again. She wrote a letter, lay down in the
bathtub and slit her wrists. And me?... Well,
we were never together...”
Then she took out a photo of herself as a
partisan and placed it on the table, saying:
“Take it.”
She walked away slowly, just as she had
come. I sat there for a long time, staring at the
waves crashing on the shore, feeling as if each
one took a part of me with it.
To show that we would continue even
more resolutely after Vlado’s death, we or-
ganized a protest in front of the U.S. Embassy
in Belgrade over the U.S. attack on Afghan-
istan. The police had banned the protest, but
we didn’t back down. A line of police awaited
us and armed special forces were inside the
embassy.
We burned the American flag and threw
firecrackers at the police. They arrested us —
four of ours and one anarchist. Later, we were
released.
With our younger comrade Sovilj, I went
to Kosova to visit Albin. I wanted to see him
after his time in prison and hear his current

154
thoughts and positions. Albin welcomed us
into his apartment. He told us that his move-
ment, Vetëvendosje, was made up not only of
leftists but also of nationalists and liberals.
Albin spoke of the crimes committed against
the Albanian people but also acknowledged
that at the end of the war, there were acts of
revenge by the Albanians, mostly in villages,
and primarily by those who had lost loved
ones. I could see that his political stance was
shifting and that he was becoming more prag-
matic. However, his comrade Liburn told us
that he had been a Marxist-Leninist and had
also been in prison. After the war, when he
was released, he saw many of his comrades
who had previously declared themselves
Marxist-Leninists, frequently visiting for-
eign embassies in Prishtina. He asked me to
visit his sick father, who had expressed a de-
sire to meet Vlado’s comrade. But we were in
a hurry to catch the bus to Belgrade. I often
reproached myself later for not fulfilling the
wish of the ailing man.
At the departure, as the bus was about to
leave, we saw Albin and Liburn running to-
wards us, carrying bags full of pastries and
yogurt so we wouldn’t be hungry on the way.
I opened the Communist Manifesto that I
had received from Albin, which he had gotten
from some anarchists in Belgrade. I remem-
bered Vlado’s words: “When I read the Com-
munist Manifesto, I felt like a communist.” And
I recalled his other words from a party assem-
bly:
“Every person who works makes mistakes, and

155
so does Role. But thanks to Role, and to him alone,
who worked diligently with Bolshevik consistency
and persistence, our party has survived, and for all
that, I tip my hat to him before all of you.”

156
 MEMORIES
During one assembly of the Party of
Labour, I suggested to the comrades that they
decorate the hall with our flags, symbols and
portraits of the classics: Marx, Engels and
Lenin. However, Vlado arrived before the
meeting started and firmly ordered, “Take
down this masquerade!” We were all shocked
and surprised, but only later did I understand
the correctness and depth of his demand.
***
Vlado carried an Italian Beretta, a high-
ly regarded pistol for which one gunsmith
offered me the choice of two pistols from his
arsenal in exchange. Whenever Vlado went
to Belgium, he would leave it with me and I
always carried it with me. When I travelled
outside of Serbia, I entrusted it to Comrade
Aneta for safekeeping.
In the end, that pistol was given as a tok-
en of appreciation to the Mustafić family from
Bar, in gratitude for the help they provided to
Vlado.
***
We visited Bogosav Živkov in Pančevo,
Vlado’s comrade, a small Romani blacksmith,
but still as lively as fire. He and his family
were overjoyed at our visit, but we were dev-
astated by the poverty in which Bogosav lived.
Two years later, he fell ill. Vlado and Ko-
sana went to visit him.
“He stared blankly, not recognizing us. Then,

157
in one moment, it was as if his awareness returned.
His eyes blazed like in the old days, in the heat of
battle. He lifted himself up in bed and began to
sing The Internationale at the top of his lungs,
so loud that the entire ward of the mental hospital
echoed.”
He died a few days later.
***
Vlado’s comrade, Ferid “Fićo” Čengić,
had been to Goli Otok twice.
Because of his contributions during the
pre-war and wartime periods, he was elected
the first post-war mayor of Sarajevo. Before
the war, he spent six years in prison, and dur-
ing the war, he was imprisoned and tortured
by the Ustaše. He was later exchanged for a
captured German officer. His wife, Nataša Zi-
monjić, came from the well-known Zimonjić
family, as did the Čengić family. (The history
of these two families, as well as the fate of
Ferid Čengić and Nataša Zimonjić, could fill
volumes.)
In one interview, Nataša said:
“Well, through the Zimonjić family, my
dear child, I am related to those great royal
and imperial families, and now, when I look
back, I wonder how so many decades of my
life after the Second World War passed, and
that fact meant almost nothing to me? Life
was different then. We were all the same. It
didn’t matter who came from a larger or small-
er spring. Perhaps that is, in fact, the ideal of
humanity, isn’t it?”
“My sister Ksenija was a nurse in a parti-

158
san unit. The Chetniks captured and slaugh-
tered her. My cousin was in Belgrade as a stu-
dent. He was imprisoned in Banjica. Three
days before the liberation of Belgrade, he was
hanged.”
Fićo and Nataša’s eldest son, Goran, was
an athlete and a member of the Bosnian na-
tional handball team. In the summer of 1992,
he went to save his old neighbour, Professor
Husnija Čerimagić, whom Veselin Vlahović
Batko, later known as the Monster of Grba-
vica, came to take. Goran failed to save his
neighbour, and Batko killed him as well.
Nataša spent her final years reminiscing
and caring for her mentally ill son, Rodoljub.
That responsibility kept her going. She had
also lost her other son, Igor, who died of leuk-
emia while still in high school. At that time,
Goran dragged a huge stone from Jablanica
for his brother’s grave. He told his mother that
he had visited the quarry for days, watching
the machinery work.
“As soon as that stone appeared, he knew
it was the one he was waiting for. Then he
worked on it himself, giving it shape. He was
ecstatic about its beauty, just as he was with
all beauty. Little did he know then that from
1999 onward, after they found the grave on
Trebević, it would also mark his own resting
place.”
Nataša had refused to abandon her hus-
band, even when pressured to do so multiple
times, starting in 1948.
“Fićo couldn’t bear the fact that former
comrades were quickly becoming the ‘red

159
bourgeoisie.’ I was thrilled when they opened
warehouses where the communist elite could
buy better goods with special coupons, and I
immediately thought about whom I would get
something for. But Fićo strictly ordered me
not to go. He was driven by pure ideals and
never wanted any privileges for himself or his
family. He worked honestly and was deeply
sensitive to injustice. You can imagine how
he felt when Aleksandar Ranković, in front
of Tito and the entire leadership at the time,
here in Sarajevo, reproached him for having
the most ‘Turks’ in the Committee. I was there
at that dinner. Fićo jumped up, grabbed Ran-
ković by the shirt and demanded an apology.
Tito had to step in and separate them, but
from that day on, our life was never the same.”
After the war in Bosnia ended, the secret
police archives were briefly opened. Nataša
went to see what they had on Fićo. They gave
her a few selected documents. From them, she
concluded, as she had suspected earlier, that
some of their friends had come to their home
under orders from the party.
She decided she wouldn’t tell anyone.
“Everyone will have to live with their own
conscience.”
After the war, Vlado sent our member
from Bijelo Polje, Refik, to visit Nataša in
Sarajevo.
A few years later, I brought Vlado the good
news that the Monster of Grbavica had been
arrested and was in prison in Spuž, Monte-
negro.
“Hmmm. Remember, remember the name of

160
that criminal. Once evil flares up, it’s hard to stop.”
But the criminal escaped from prison and
fled abroad. Vlado was ill by then, and I didn’t
want to upset him with the news. Later, how-
ever, the criminal was once again captured
and imprisoned in Bosnia. By then, Vlado was
gone.
When Batko was finally arrested and tried,
the 2013 verdict included: 31 murders, 14 dis-
appearances of persons believed to have been
killed by him, 13 rapes, and over 50 beatings
and severe injuries.
He was sentenced to 42 years in prison.
During his extradition from Spain to Bos-
nia, Batko declared, “I killed more than a
hundred Muslims and burned their bodies.
And I don’t regret it.”
***
“As for that fool, Slobodan ‘Boba’ Mitrić, he
was recruited back when he was in a correctional
home in Kruševac. They gave him materials and
sent him to Romania, to some of my comrades
there. He introduced himself as a political prison-
er from Yugoslavia and said he wanted to go to
the West, asking for connections. They gave him
my phone number. So when he was in Brussels,
he called me. I was immediately suspicious. He
spun some story. But since my comrades had given
him the number, I agreed to meet him. Michel-
ine was at work. Our apartment was on the third
floor. From the peephole, I had a clear view of the
hallway and the elevator. As soon as he stepped
out of the elevator, I grew even more suspicious.
I positioned a chair farther from me so I’d have

161
time to react. The moment he sat down and start-
ed talking, I knew he was lying. I told him to wait
a minute while I went to the other room. I came
back with my hand in my pocket, two fingers for-
ward. I said to him: ‘I’m going to kill you like a
dog right here if you don’t tell me who sent you,
and you know I will.’
“Even though I didn’t have a gun, I knew I
couldn’t shoot him, as it would have completely
complicated my stay in Belgium. He turned white
as a sheet, visibly shaken. He spilled everything,
admitting that the police had tasked him with kill-
ing me whenever he had the chance. I told him to
get up slowly and leave, warning him that if I ever
saw him near, even across the street, I would shoot
him. I later watched from behind the curtain to
make sure he left.
“I didn’t tell Micheline, as it would have upset
her, but not long after, a Dutch police commission-
er announced himself. Micheline was in a panic
again. We let him in, and he informed us that
Mitrić had been arrested in Holland following a
shootout within the Yugoslav émigré underworld,
where some were killed. Shots were even fired at
the police. Mitrić was now asking me to confirm
that he wasn’t a criminal, but a political emigrant.
I refused. Later, he wrote to me from prison, ask-
ing me to be a witness in his trial.”
Slobodan Bob Mitrić, after being released
from prison (he was originally from my neigh-
bouring village, Bačko Dobro Polje), praised
Vlado while simultaneously supporting Chet-
nik organizations. After Milošević’s fall,
there was even a newspaper serial where he
described his work for the Yugoslav State Sec-

162
urity and his encounters with Vlado, claim-
ing that he had abandoned the idea of killing
Vlado once he realized who he was dealing
with. He eventually died in an attic in Amster-
dam, in utter poverty and madness.
***
“At that time, a fellow Yugoslav who ran a
small restaurant helped me. My job was to main-
tain the toilets, clean the floors and tidy the tables
after closing. I also had a small room where I
lived. Buha, who later became some sort of minis-
ter under Radovan Karadžić, would occasionally
drop by. Back then, he was a student in Paris. He
would start provoking me, saying things like:
“‘Vlado, you’re a colonel, and now you’ve end-
ed up scrubbing toilets.’
“I tolerated it a few times, but one day I
grabbed that mop with the broom:
“‘Listen, Buha! If I get hold of you with this, it
won’t end well for you!’
“He never showed up again. When I was kid-
napped in Bucharest, and after they decided to
sentence me to death, they read to me everything I
had said back then. Thirty-something typewritten
pages. All reports from Buha.”
***
“I stayed in these shelters in Paris. There were
also some Roma families there who mostly didn’t
work. One day, one of them won a huge amount of
money in the lottery. They disappeared for almost
a month. When they returned, I asked them where
they had been. They said they’d been staying in
hotels, eating, drinking and celebrating until they

163
spent it all.”
***
“While working on power lines and hanging
on them, I got sick and developed a high fever. A
Spanish worker saved me then. He brought me
to my place half-dead and settled me in. When I
came to a bit, I found some money in my pocket
that he had left for me. Those Spaniards were the
best comrades.”
***
Vlado had an unfulfilled wish to meet
Djilas and engage in an “ideological show-
down.” There was an attempt to organize a
forum or meeting between the two of them,
representing two opposite poles of Yugoslav-
ia’s dissident movement. However, Djilas re-
fused.
In his renunciation of the idea, Djilas fell
further and further, always trying to justify
his earlier positions, refusing to take personal
responsibility, or downplaying and forgetting
his role in certain events. Still, I believe Vlado
retained some residual respect for Djilas from
that earlier period, considering him the chief
party ideologue. Djilas’s silence during the
1990s, his flirtation with nationalism and his
funeral, complete with a throng of priests, put
an end to everything and sparked a kind of
pity in Vlado.
“I remember after the war, Djilas used to
come by our house. We would often have discus-
sions over dinner — him, me and Peko.
“One time, I told him:

164
 “‘Djido, you’re just a messy intellectual.’
“Peko jumped to the ceiling and later told me:
“‘You’re crazy! Do you know what he could do
to you?’
“But Djilas wasn’t the vengeful type, and he
let it slide.”
***
“All those stories about women are fabrica-
tions. Just like the things they showed about me
on TV.
“I always said — when did I have time for all
that? Before the war, it was party work and ar-
rests. During the war, the same thing. I had only
one opportunity during the war, when we spent the
night in a cabin and a comrade was lying next to
me. I felt her closeness, hugged her around the
chest and pulled her closer. But then I immedi-
ately thought — ‘What happens next?’ I’d have to
tell everyone we were together and that I’d marry
her. I didn’t carry any of the gear like other fight-
ers, just a rifle with five bullets. The rest of the
comrades helped me. In the morning, I got a blan-
ket thrown in my face by that comrade...
“After the war, I worked like a horse until
1948. I was swamped with work. There were
only opportunities during those receptions when I
would go meet someone, but that was rare. One
time, Tempo said in front of everyone: ‘Vlado,
you’re a womanizer!’ What could I say but: ‘I’m
not a pederast, so if the opportunity arises, sure.’
“Then came eight and a half years on Goli
Otok, and right after that, the escape to Albania.
Well, in the Soviet Union, there was plenty of that.
Women there are warmer and freer than ours, and

165
besides, there were 20 million more women after
the war. There was this engineer, a good man, who
once asked me to go with him to his village. He
hadn’t seen his mother in a long time. I went with
him to some remote place. We got off the bus and
slowly headed towards the village. It was a summer
night, and we were smoking as we walked. From
the village, we heard singing. Those sad female
voices — enough to stop your heart. They knew we
were coming. And there, about fifteen women sat
and sang around the table. There was hugging and
kissing all around. He explained to me that only
the elderly and children were left in the village.
The young had gone to the city. All the other men
had died on the front.
“Olja lived in Odessa, and she loved me very
much. She was married, and her husband was
on ocean liners and wouldn’t come home for six
months at a time. They had a son who was in ele-
mentary school. I lived there with her, and her hus-
band knew. I tutored her son in math and other
subjects. I was almost like a father to him. When
I left the Soviet Union, I thought I’d never see her
again, especially after the kidnapping in Bucha-
rest. In the solitary confinement of the Požarevac
prison, after ten years, I started losing my mas-
culinity. I felt like a part of me was disappearing.
When I got out, I decided to visit Olja in the
USSR. A middle-aged man opened the door for
me. At first, I thought he was her husband, but it
turned out to be her son, now a physicist, who said
his mother had just gone to the hairdresser. Behind
him, an old man appeared, even older than me.
That was her husband. Then Olja showed up. She
hadn’t changed a bit. The same! She looked at the

166
two of us. Two old men.”
***
“My grandfather was a priest. His wife died
early. He was almost a hundred years old, and he
would smoke and drink half a litre of rakija a day.
He liked it best when I made him coffee. While I
was making it, he’d ask me all sorts of questions
since I was already in school.
“‘Vlado, do they teach you anything in that
school of yours?’
“‘They do, grandpa.’
“‘What do you learn?’
“‘A little bit of everything, grandpa.’
“‘Have they taught you what the greatest sin in
the world is?’
“‘Yes, grandpa. Do not kill, do not steal... do
not commit adultery.’ (I listed what we had learn-
ed in religious studies.)
“‘Eee. You don’t know anything, you beast!
The greatest sin is when a woman gives you signs
that she wants to be with you, and you betray her.
Look, I’m almost a hundred years old. I’ve forgot-
ten all the women I’ve been with since your grand-
mother died early. But the ones I could have been
with, but for various reasons I wasn’t — they come
to me in my dreams every night and torment me.
That’s the greatest sin, and you’d better remember
it well. Now, go make some coffee. You make it
the best.’”
***
“Once, some woman from the village told
my mother that my father was seeing someone in
Cetinje. When he came home, my mother con-

167
fronted him about it. I was just a boy then. My
father pushed my mother aside. I grabbed an axe
and went straight for him. My mother grabbed my
hand and took the axe away from me. I ran across
the yard and went to my uncle’s place. My mother
came two days later to take me home, as if noth-
ing had happened. From then on, my relationship
with my father changed. It was as if he respected
me more.”
***
“Peko was a better footballer than I was. We
even had a team in Cetinje back then. And he
kicked me off the team. I was furious. I waited
for him to come back. I hid behind the door with
a club. I heard him whistling as he approached,
clearly pleased with himself — they’d won. The
moment he entered, I struck him across the back
with the club, and he fell flat on the floor.
“‘You dare kick me off the team!’“
***
“The National Liberation War of the Yugo-
slav peoples was great in terms of the ideas and
goals it set, all of which were achieved. The main
goal was to free the country from the occupiers
and establish a community of equal nations. What
it later turned into is another story, but the Nation-
al Liberation War itself had an absolutely positive
character. That’s the judgement of history, and
nothing can change that.”
***
“I took my nephew Ljubo to Pljevlja. He was
still in high school at the time. He was part of a

168
choir and had a voice like Caruso. That night, the
Italians bombarded us with artillery. It was a ter-
rible slaughter, and we were inexperienced. At one
point, Ljubo started singing ‘O Sole Mio.’ Every-
thing went silent. The Italians stopped firing and
everyone listened. When he finished, the bombard-
ment resumed. A shell hit, and I saw Ljubo blown
apart right before my eyes. A ricochet hit me in the
back of the head. In a daze, I wandered off, taking
off my coat, barefoot in the snow.
“It was Djuro who saved me — he later be-
came Tito’s bodyguard, and he was a veteran of
the Spanish Civil War. Djuro broke into a ware-
house filled with sacks of salt. It was a flimsy shack
that any shell would have torn apart. He built a
proper bunker out of the sacks, and that’s how we
survived at that moment. Djuro later shielded Tito
with his body and died on the Sutjeska, not like the
lies they made up later. I saw Tito on the Sutjeska,
angrily shooting at German planes from a rock,
powerless.”
***
“I knew Sava (Kovačević) from the pre-war
period, and we were in prison together in Sara-
jevo. He was a true communist. After the war,
people said and made up all sorts of things about
him, true and false. It’s true that we made those
so-called leftist mistakes in Montenegro and Her-
zegovina, and that we alienated the people from
us. But many of those actions were justified. You
don’t execute a kulak, and then he betrays you or
shoots at you at the first opportunity. Most of them
collaborated with the Italians and supported the
Chetniks. There were some stupid decisions too.

169
We published a bulletin of the Provincial Head-
quarters for Montenegro, where we even printed
lists of executed kulaks, and at the bottom, it said:
‘To be continued.’
“I was assigned to lead a group to execute a
kulak I knew. We went and waited for him outside
his house. When he appeared, we shot at the roof
of the house. Eventually, these actions were con-
demned as mistakes, but the damage had already
been done.
“A doctor told me about Sava’s death. He was
involved in the exhumations after the war. People
today write and lie about it. It was early mor-
ning, foggy. The fighters were demoralized, and
Sava attempted another breakthrough. A German
sniper shot him then. They covered him with some
branches to avoid panic and continued the charge.
The exit wound was in the back, but the bullet had
entered beneath his moustache, so the entrance
wound wasn’t visible.”
***
“On the Sutjeska, the German planes de-
stroyed us. They had maps and bombed in a grid
pattern, one area at a time with carpet bombing.
I nearly died in one of their raids. I saw they had
finished the previous valley and that we were next.
We were on a path with cliffs on one side and a
fifty-metre drop on the other — nowhere to escape.
At the last moment, I spotted a thick branch jut-
ting out over the precipice, half a metre below the
path. I jumped onto it, knowing that only a dir-
ect hit would kill me. Half of those above me were
killed.
“War is a craft, and you have to know how

170
to fight. Once, when we were mining a railroad at
night, a Ustaše armoured train came. Everyone
panicked and started running away from the train.
One experienced fighter told us to run towards it.
The Ustaše machine gun couldn’t aim through the
narrow slits at close range because of a dead zone.
Those who ran away were killed.”
***
“On Goli Otok, I realized that the Yugoslav
leadership had completely crossed over to the other
side and that, like all renegades, they took their
vengeance most harshly on their former comrades.
They carried out an unprecedented internal terror
in the prison. A portion of the inmates were forced
to become executioners, to beat, torture and hu-
miliate their own comrades. The worst part about
Goli Otok wasn’t the daily beatings, the hunger,
the thirst, the gruelling labour, or the lack of sleep
— even though each of those was terrible on its
own. The worst was the atmosphere. An atmos-
phere of horror that constantly hung in the air. In
that atmosphere of horror, I came to the conclu-
sion that those who commit such crimes must be
fought against with everything, to the death.”
***
“You can’t live in this world without trusting
people, even when you shouldn’t trust them at all.
Man is a social creature, and whether you like it or
not, you have to live with others. How can you live
with people if you don’t trust them?”

171
THE NOVEMBER 8TH
PUBLISHING HOUSE
Catalogue available at november8ph.ca

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