Croatia as an Alibi

Author: Darko Šuković

Instead of confronting the fact that Montenegro has failed to meet even the minimum requirements to close Chapter 31, the authorities in Podgorica – some actively and others as accomplices – are misrepresenting Brussels' decision to the domestic public as an act of revenge by Zagreb. This tactic revives old anti-Croatian prejudices and animosities, deepening tensions in an already fraught political landscape.

For months, the Montenegrin government confidently asserted it would close ten chapters by the end of the year, metaphorically declaring it would "kick open the doors to the EU." However, after adopting the Resolution on the Genocide in Jasenovac, which turned out to be a self-inflicted wound, this optimism waned. Despite this setback, authorities continued manipulating the public narrative, claiming four chapters were already recorded as historic achievements of Spajić’s cabinet and Mandić’s parliamentary majority. As deadlines loomed, anxiety peaked on Karađorđeva Street over whether Brussels would greenlight three chapters or merely two.

As we awaited the final decision, a counter-propaganda narrative was prepared: shallow, noisy, and harmful as ever. Closing three chapters was heralded as a major success, with the ultimate proof, predictably, being that the previous government had managed the same number in a decade. Simultaneously, the failure to close Chapter 31 was attributed to the alleged ill intentions of neighboring Croatia. Zagreb’s stance was framed as revenge for Montenegro’s Resolution on the Jasenovac genocide. This narrative, propagated by various government figures, was reinforced by the Vice Prime Minister, Filip Ivanović, who reportedly suggested parallels with Bulgaria’s obstruction of North Macedonia’s EU accession efforts.

Through state-aligned media, the government sought to impose this interpretation on the public – portraying the setback as a mere bump on the fast-track road to Brussels. Yet the story is as misplaced as the infamous lavender fields of Milan Mijo Lekić.

Official Zagreb undoubtedly maintained a firm stance against Montenegro’s bid to close four chapters. The adoption of the Resolution on the Genocide in Jasenovac strained relations with Podgorica, forcing the Plenković government to respond decisively. However, according to Brussels sources, Croatia was far from alone in opposing the closure of Chapter 31; it was, in fact, one of nearly half a dozen EU nations sharing this position. Only after the insistence of several of the EU’s strongest members was Chapter 10 ultimately closed. (This decision, incidentally, is likely to result in problematic solutions for Montenegro’s media sector in the coming weeks, though such “trivialities” seem to matter little.)

The decision to leave certain chapters unresolved was not driven by emotion but by an objective assessment of Montenegro’s deficiencies. This becomes evident when examining which chapter remains open. In foreign policy, security, and defense, Montenegro could have secured a passing grade only from the most lenient evaluators – those who, as the saying goes, “would fail you only if your chair broke during the exam”. The number of wrong answers in Chapter 31 constitutes an irrefutable argument for the decision to send Montenegro back for a retake.

The adoption of the Jasenovac Resolution may be the most glaring example of diplomatic recklessness by Montenegrin authorities, but it is far from the only one. Other missteps include the parliamentary speaker’s gaffes during a meeting with Milorad Dodik, blunt denials of Kosovo’s independence, and insults directed at EU Parliament envoy Tonino Picula.

Admiral Dragan Samardžić, a man who built the Montenegrin Army "from the ground up", recently detailed the destruction and humiliation of Montenegro’s defense and security sectors. NATO’s Secretary General has also warned President Milatović that Montenegro has been without an ambassador to the Alliance for too long, is failing to meet its commitments to Ukraine, and has banned its Chief of Staff from participating in EU and NATO military committees. Additionally, Montenegro has not fulfilled its promised allocation of 2% of GDP for defense spending, while its army stagnates as the government pursues dubious purchases such as two patrol boats for €120-150 million.

Even gifted resources are left unutilized: a radar provided by NATO to address gaps in regional airspace monitoring gathers dust in Luxembourg rather than being installed on Zekova Glava. “Do you believe that NATO and the EU are unaware that a Putin supporter occupies the defense minister’s chair in Montenegro?” Samardžić asked rhetorically, underscoring the dire state of the country’s defense leadership.

Following the EU Committee of Permanent Representatives’ vote on Friday, it is clear that the bloc is fully aware of Montenegro’s shortcomings. They know about Krapović’s and Mandić’s tacit approval of soldiers disgracing the Montenegrin uniform in Kosovo and Štitarica. They know about the mockery of the Agency for National Security (ANB), exemplified by the appointment of Ivica Janović as its head. The naive belief that relations with Croatia can be repaired simply by appointing a Croat to lead national security ignores the realities of collective security: a system is only as strong as its weakest link.

President Jakov Milatović seems to recognize this. His reaction to Janović’s appointment, despite its apparent irrelevance, highlights the growing rift between himself and Prime Minister Spajić. What began as a personal quarrel has evolved into a serious political conflict – a dynamic that some lesser-known Western observers seem to understand better than the Quint ambassadors.

The Quint, trapped by superficiality and stubbornness, continues to back pro-Serbian parties under the illusion that they are committed to Montenegro’s EU and NATO aspirations. How else can one explain the U.S. ambassador’s apparent blindness to the deterioration of Montenegro’s society and state over six years? Increasingly, events are unfolding according to their internal dynamics, irrespective of the flawed projections emanating from Washington or Brussels.

Leaving Western values aside for a moment, let us consider stability – the one priority the Quint ambassadors claim to value above all. How is it possible that they fail to grasp the danger of deflecting responsibility for Montenegro’s EU setbacks onto Croatia, thereby fostering anti-Croatian hysteria? Do they not see how Belgrade- and Moscow-aligned parties, after benefiting politically from provoking Zagreb, now seek to score further points by exploiting old prejudices and animosities? Montenegro’s leaders – and their enablers – are playing a dangerous game, one whose repercussions may extend far beyond the borders of this small Balkan state.

The version of this article in Montenegrin is available here.