Prosecutors Want Life Term for Perisic

Prosecutors Want Life Term for Perisic

Momcilo Perisic in the ICTY courtroom. (Photo: ICTY)
Momcilo Perisic in the ICTY courtroom. (Photo: ICTY)
Thursday, 14 April, 2011

Covering a war crimes trial can be a bit like trying to put together an intricate puzzle, often without even knowing what the finished product should look like.

The proceedings against ex-Yugoslav army, VJ, chief General Momcilo Perisic - which concluded two weeks ago - were in many ways a classic example of this: scores of confidential documents, numerous closed court sessions, and very little save a general 20-page indictment to concretely set out the prosecution’s case, which by their own admission is “unique”.

During much of the Nineties, Perisic was the highest authority in the VJ, and he is accused of providing financial, logistical and material support to Serb forces in both Croatia and Bosnia by personally establishing two “personnel centres” to covertly deploy officers to those two break-away republics while also paying their salaries.

In his case, prosecutors are trying to finish what they started in the trial of former Serbian president Slobodan Milosevic - that is, establish a direct link between the leadership in Belgrade and crimes committed on the ground in Bosnia and Croatia during the wars in the former Yugoslavia.

It’s a complicated and extremely significant case that could finally determine what exactly Serbia’s role was in some of worst atrocities of the conflict, including the 1995 Srebrenica massacre. The trial, however, was almost impossible to cover in any coherent way, as the hearings zoomed in and out of closed session so often that following one sometimes felt like a bizarre psychological test.

After the closing arguments, another journalist even called me to discuss what was said in court. Were my conclusions the same as hers? Did I understand what the evidence was, and what exactly was being argued? My answer was: well, as much as is possible in a case where so much of the testimony and related evidence has been unavailable to the public.

The situation is remarkably similar in the trial of Serbian ex-intelligence officials Jovica Stanisic and Franko Simatovic, who are accused of organising, financing and aiding paramilitary groups in Bosnia and Croatia which abused and killed scores of civilians.

The Stanisic and Simatovic trial – another case attempting to link the Belgrade leadership to crimes on the ground - has been held almost entirely in closed session. Last week, a hearing was held where the Simatovic defence asked judges to dismiss the counts against him, and it was probably the first time I’ve been able to successfully follow a court session in two years.

For me, all of this begs the ever present question: what – and who - are these trials for?

Do they occur in order to secure - or avoid - a conviction, no matter what it takes? Or should the trials be a means of publicly uncovering the truth about what happened during the war? Does the public – including victims of the alleged crimes – have a right to know what is going on? What is the appropriate balance here?

I don’t have an easy answer, but trying to fairly report on any trial – especially a very important one - when it is closed to observers is extremely difficult, not to mention frustrating. There is simply a lack of information available, even if the trial is technically broadcast each day over the internet, via the tribunal’s website.

This broadcasting service is crucial and the court should be commended for providing it, but if the screen says “closed or private session” almost perpetually, then it really makes little difference for interested members of the public.

This is not to say that there aren’t legitimate reasons why certain evidence is heard behind closed doors. Many trials rely on sensitive witnesses who have requested protective measures out of fear or other concerns, and those individuals should be able to remain anonymous.

Other times, governments that provide documents to the court will request that certain material remain confidential out of what they say are national security interests – and this has become a controversial issue over the last several years.

Very recently, judges decided to unseal numerous documents and exhibits used in the Perisic trial, including transcripts from sessions of Yugoslavia’s Supreme Defence Council, SDC, which are thought to be crucial to gaining a full and accurate picture of Serbia’s involvement in the wars of the Nineties.


Portions of these transcripts were blacked out several years ago as per Serbia’s request, and the decision to keep them confidential during the Milosevic trial caused something of an uproar. It is still unclear if these redacted parts will ultimately be revealed, since none of the unsealed material will be released to the public until after the Perisic verdict.

The fact that confidentiality was lifted, however, meant that the majority of the closing arguments could be held in open session. While the public still had no access to the parties’ final briefs – which lay out their respective cases in detail – observers were treated to snippets of the SDC transcripts which had never before been read out publicly.

Were there any major revelations? Not really, but the tidbits – which included Milosevic pushing for a peace plan and saying it was impossible to “wage war against the whole world” – were still illuminating and offered a glimpse into the workings of the Serbian leadership during the war.

And the fact that they could be read out publicly meant there was much less zooming in and out of private session, and the hearing was much easier to follow.

As a journalist who covers these trials on a weekly basis, I’ve thought a lot about what they mean, both for the general public and for those who lived through the crimes I hear about every day in court. To me, a closed trial – however justified it may be – simply lacks the striking immediacy of proceedings that people can watch and most often learn from, whatever their perspective. The end result might be a conviction, or perhaps an acquittal, but a greater understanding can be lost in the process. 

Frontline Updates
Support local journalists