The Russian president’s visit to Serbia was a lovefest—but beyond the odes to Orthodox brotherhood, the two authoritarian leaders are using one another to advance a geopolitical agenda.

By: Una Hajdari and Michael Colborne

Supporters of Russian President Vladimir Putin wait for his arrival in front of Belgrade’s Saint Sava Church on January 17, 2019.

or days before Vladimir Putin’s first foreign trip of 2019, the press in Serbia were already giving wall-to-wall coverage to the Russian president’s one-day visit to Belgrade. From the possible meal options—including a traditional local brandy named after Putin—to the furry shepherd dog Serbian President Aleksandar Vucic planned to give to his Russian counterpart in Belgrade, a carnival-like celebration was underway even before Putin landed on Jan. 17.

There aren’t many places in Europe where a Putin visit would be cause for such euphoria at a moment when most leaders on the continent eye the Russian leader with a mix of suspicion and contempt. “Dear President, I want you to feel good in Serbia,” Vucic said at a press conference soon after Putin’s arrival. “There are a lot of people waiting for you in the streets. All those people … they didn’t come for me. They came for you.”

Tens of thousands of people paraded through central Belgrade during the day, amassing in front of the towering Church of Saint Sava—dedicated to the founder of the Serbian branch of Eastern Orthodoxy—toward the end of the trip, where Putin ceremoniously placed the final three squares, in the color of the Russian flag, on a mosaic for the soon-to-be-completed church, having pledged an additional 5 million euros (about $5.7 million) for the job earlier that day.

Putin’s visit is part of the Serbian president’s carefully crafted public image in the country, an image backed by an army of loyal tabloids, which were quick to declare the day one of the biggest gatherings of Serbs in history. But the spectacle on display in Belgrade last Thursday was more than that. Behind the crowds and chants of Putin’s name, it was a spectacle of two autocratic leaders taking advantage of each other, despite their professed friendship, for their own geopolitical games.

“Putin’s visit is part of the Serbian president’s carefully crafted public image in the country, an image backed by an army of loyal tabloids”

For the openly pro-Putin Vucic, the picture is more complicated than it seems. For all his bluster and symbolic overtures toward Putin and Russia, Vucic’s policies are ultimately aimed at the Balkan country’s integration into the European Union—something that gets glossed over every time he and Putin get together.

“Serbian society is traditionally pro-Russian,” the historian Milan Radanovic said. “This makes us very different from the majority of Europe, especially neighboring states, even those who were subject to a much firmer Russian embrace throughout history.” Radanovic explained that although Vucic’s political orientation is toward Western Europe, “it doesn’t suit Vucic and his regime to be presented as a man of the West.”

The country is still nursing the wounds of the 1999 NATO bombing campaign that aimed to end Serbia’s brutal clampdown on the Albanian-majority population in Kosovo, its former southern province. Kosovo has since declared independence and is seeking full international recognition with strong support from the United States, NATO, and the EU. It’s tricky, though, because not only was Kosovo part of Serbia for most of the 20th century, but it is also home to the seat of the Serbian Orthodox Church and countless medieval monasteries.

This is why Putin has such appeal in Serbia. Russia was a major opponent of the bombing in 1999; since then, it has played a significant role in the curtailing of Kosovo’s full international recognition, both through diplomatic efforts and Moscow’s veto in the United Nations Security Council, the approval of which would be necessary for Kosovo to become a full member of the international community.

“Russia was a major opponent of the bombing in 1999; since then, it has played a significant role in the curtailing of Kosovo’s full international recognition”

“For a public which is skeptical toward the EU and the United States,” Radanovic said, Serbia’s leader “can’t be seen as someone who just promotes the political interests of the West.” The Serbian president has often been described by the international press as “sitting on two chairs,” something local observers would describe as a conscious effort on his part.

Vucic, explained Florian Bieber, a Foreign Policy contributor and professor of Southeast European history and politics at the University of Graz in Austria, “can use this to put pressure on the EU to remind them of an alternative [path for Serbia], however implausible it is.” The Serbian leader, who has asserted increasing control over the country’s media and is fierce when reacting to any criticism of his policies that weaken his control over public opinion—the country dropped 10 spots in the Reporters Without Borders index last year—hopes to improve his bargaining position with the EU if he can remind it, every now and then, that he’s got Putin on his side.

“While pro-Russian views of course predate his rule, they have been strongly encouraged by the media loyal to Vucic and his strong pro-Russian rhetoric. This also creates more maneuvering space for him in Serbia,” Bieber explained. Serbia was the only country in the region not to participate in European sanctions against Russia after its annexation of Crimea in 2014.

Considering the current climate in the EU, where Brexit and the continuing rise of the populist right uses up much of the oxygen in Brussels, expansion is far from the union’s top priority. The European Commission said there would be no new members joining until 2025, and even then it is much more likely it will be Serbia’s neighbor, Montenegro—a NATO member that has already been the target of a suspected Russian coup plot in 2016. So far, the Montenegrin leader, Milo Djukanovic, has managed to keep the pro-Russian sentiments among the opposition at bay.

All those in the Balkans who do foster a soft spot for Putin and Russia came to Belgrade last Thursday. Milorad Dodik, the Bosnian Serb representative of Bosnia and Herzegovina’s rotating tripartite presidency, and his deputy Zeljka Cvijanovic, the prime minister of Bosnia’s Serb-dominated region Republika Srpska, had a short sit-down with Putin. Two representatives from Montenegro’s opposition Democratic Front party, Andrija Mandic and Milan Knezevic, also came for a chat with the Russian leader. The pro-Russian party is suspected of being part of the attempted coup in the country that was allegedly instigated by Russia’s military intelligence service, the GRU.