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Between Puppets and Independent

Actors: Kin-state Involvement in
the Conflicts in Bosnia, Croatia and
Nagorno Karabakh
a
Nina Caspersen
a
Lancaster University, UK
Version of record first published: 03 Dec 2008.

To cite this article: Nina Caspersen (2008): Between Puppets and Independent Actors: Kin-state
Involvement in the Conflicts in Bosnia, Croatia and Nagorno Karabakh, Ethnopolitics: Formerly
Global Review of Ethnopolitics, 7:4, 357-372

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 Ethnopolitics, Vol. 7, No. 4, 357– 372, November 2008

Between Puppets and Independent

Actors: Kin-state Involvement in the
Conflicts in Bosnia, Croatia and Nagorno
Karabakh
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NINA CASPERSEN
Lancaster University, UK

ABSTRACT The conflicts and wars in Bosnia, Croatia and Nagorno Karabakh are commonly
viewed as little more than the expression of kin-state involvement. The Serbian regime is usually
assigned overwhelming influence over the local Serb leaders, and the formal division between
Armenia and Nagorno Karabakh is frequently argued to be a smokescreen. However, this article
argues that the leaders in Belgrade and Yerevan were not always able to control the local leaders
and dictate developments, and their influence varied considerably in different conflict phases.
Even though kin-state involvement can play a very important role, and indeed be the decisive
factor in a violent conflict, the potentially limited longevity of these ethnonational ties should be
acknowledged; they can be weakened even in a situation of extreme insecurity and this impacts
on the possibility for reaching a settlement.

Frankensteins have a habit of losing control over their monsters. (David Rieff quoted
in Panossian, 2002, p. 152)

Kin-state involvement in ethnic conflicts is based on an assertion of strong ethnonational

ties that cross borders and entails ‘the right, even obligation, to defend’ co-ethnics in
another state (Brubaker, 1996, p. 57).1 The importance of such trans-border linkages—be
it in the form of shadow economies, Diaspora support or kin-state backing—is increasingly
emphasized in the theoretical literature on ethnic conflicts, because from such linkages
‘many ethnic groups derive critical moral and material support’ (Sisk, 1996, p. 19).
Ethnic groups, or more precisely their leaders, are supplied with resources that open up
for new strategies; minority groups will rarely possess the resources for violent conflict
without external assistance and, as Walter Kemp (2004) argues, neighbouring states,
kin-states or patrons abroad ‘may have a political or economic interest in starting or
stoking “ethnic” conflicts’ (p. 49). Among such external forces, kin-states are in a unique

Correspondence Address: Nina Caspersen, Department of Politics & International Relations, Lancaster Univer-
sity, Lancaster, LA1 4YD, UK. Email: n.caspersen@lancaster.ac.uk

1744-9057 Print/1744-9065 Online/08/040357–16 # 2008 The Editor of Ethnopolitics

DOI: 10.1080/17449050701618546
 358 N. Caspersen

position to play a decisive role. Not only can kin-state leaders supply significant resources,
but the shared ethnicity also lends them a measure of leverage in an ethnically defined con-
flict. Moreover, if unification with the kin-state is an objective then the position of the kin-
state is obviously of great importance.
Kin-states can, consequently, have a very significant influence on local developments.
However, even in cases of very tangible involvement, kin-states often maintain an official
distance and, for example, refuse to recognize unification with territory carved out by their
secessionist co-ethnics or the independence of this territory: the proclaimed independence
of Nagorno Karabakh or of the Serb statelets in wartime Croatia and Bosnia was not recog-
nized by any states, not even by their kin-states. Similarly, the local leaders often insist on
their autonomy from the kin-state. Kin-state involvement is certainly not in vogue on the
international political scene; territorial integrity trumps national self-determination and
ethnic solidarity—or indeed territorial expansion. Nevertheless, the list of ethnic conflicts
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and wars with significant kin-state involvement is long, including Kashmir, Cyprus and
Northern Ireland, but it is also varied; kin-state involvement can be of different forms
and degrees and is likely to change during the course of a conflict. Despite the importance
of kin-states in ethnic conflicts, surprisingly little theorizing exists. Most literature on
kin-states is focused on the Hungarian minorities in Central and Eastern Europe and on
Hungary’s controversial 2001 Status Law; it is, thus, primarily concerned with minority
rights rather than with violent ethnic conflict.2
Rogers Brubaker’s work is a notable exception to this gap in the literature, and in his
theory of nationalism he sets up a triadic structure of relational fields: a nationalizing
state, a minority and a kin-state. The kin-state, in this framework, supplies the minority
with material or moral support and Brubaker highlights its importance in the emergence
of extreme nationalism and ethnic conflict; but kin-state involvement can take many
forms and the triadic nexus is not necessarily deeply conflictual. Brubaker, moreover,
acknowledges the lack of homogeneity in each field; different goals and strategies
compete for dominance (Brubaker, 1996). Although Brubaker emphasizes the different
levels of kin-state involvement in different cases, his framework does not, however,
explore the changing levels of kin-state involvement within the same case. Kin-state
leaders are exposed to pressures different from local leaders; support or involvement
may, over time, become of limited value and can even become a liability, despite the pro-
claimed strength of ethnic ties. Moreover, the lack of intra-ethnic homogeneity that Bru-
baker rightly identifies (divisions based on, for example, geography, ideology and power
struggles) may well sour relations between kin-state leaders and local leaders. Finally, kin-
states are not the only supplier of resources to local leaders and the existence of alternative
resources will enhance their autonomy.
The theoretical emphasis on kin-states is echoed in the empirical literature on the con-
flicts and wars in the three cases analysed in this article: Bosnia, Croatia and Nagorno
Karabakh. The Serbian regime is usually assigned overwhelming influence over the Serb
leaders in Croatia and Bosnia, who are consequently relegated to the role of puppets,
and the formal division between Armenia and Nagorno Karabakh is frequently argued to
be a smokescreen. In all three cases, self-proclaimed statelets with their own political insti-
tutions were established during the war, and such unrecognized entities are, as Dov Lynch
(2004, p. 4) argues, typically dismissed as criminal strips of no-mans land, or as the like-
wise criminalized puppets of external states. However, although kin-state involvement in
the three cases should certainly not be denied, the argument is often overplayed; the degree
 Between Puppets and Independent Actors 359

and form of kin-state influence varied considerably between the cases and over time in each
case. Even though Yerevan and Belgrade played a very significant role, the kin-states were
not always able to control the local leaders. Indeed, in the case of Nagorno Karabakh, the
local leaders even managed to take over power in the centre, whereas this form of success-
ful power play was the preserve of Serbian President Slobodan Milošević in the two former
Yugoslav cases. This article explores the changing nature of kin-state relations in the three
cases and the variables influencing the degree and form of kin-state influence. It finds that
kin-state control is influenced by the strength and cohesiveness of the kin-state leadership,
the degree of divisions among the local leaders, their access to alternative resources and the
political salience of the issue of kin-state relations. These factors, and the resulting
variations in kin-state influence, impact on the possibility for reaching a settlement and
a thorough examination of kin-state links should therefore be integral to conflict analysis
in such cases. The article calls for a recognition of the great degree of fluidity that may
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characterize such links; they are far less static than one would assume if only shared
ethnic identities were considered.

Cutting the Strings: Croatia, Bosnia and Nagorno Karabakh

The three cases share many similarities, which makes them well suited for a comparative
study. All conflicts took place in a transitional context following, or accompanying, the
disintegration of a multiethnic federation, and they all gradually escalated into all-out
warfare in the early 1990s. Furthermore, they all involved a ‘stranded minority’, which
expressed demands for joining its kin-state, or alternatively becoming independent,
rather than remaining part of the newly independent state in which it now found itself.
Such similarities were recognized by Arkady Ghukasian, then foreign minister of
Nagorno Karabakh, when he stated in 1995, ‘I think the Serbs . . . are very close to receiv-
ing their desired goals. Of course, this will have an effect on the status of Karabagh’
(Murinson, 2004, p. 6). Many theories of ethnic war, including Brubaker’s ‘relational
fields’, were ‘formulated to explain the wars in the former Yugoslavia’ (Kaufman,
2001, p. 45), and by including the case of Nagorno Karabakh it is therefore possible to
test, and develop further, existing theorizing on kin-state involvement in ethnic conflicts
and wars. An important difference between the cases makes the comparison even more
interesting: whereas the Yugoslav conflict is often held to be a top-down conflict, the con-
flict in Nagorno Karabakh is almost uniformly seen as a bottom-up conflict (Kaufman,
2001, p. 49; De Waal, 2003, p. 272). One would expect this to affect the importance of
kin-state involvement: Does the conflict express genuine sentiments or is it largely man-
ufactured from the outside? The analysis finds that bottom-up pressure does indeed reduce
kin-state ability to control, or manipulate, local developments, but it does not preclude the
significance of strains and divisions. Even when conflict appears to emerge from below,
ethnonational solidarity is not unchanging and does not ensure unity and a common cause.

Croatia and Bosnia: Benefactor with Varying Levels of Control

Milošević’s regime in Serbia initially enjoyed an almost symbiotic relationship with
radical Serb leaders in Croatia and Bosnia: the local radical leaders needed Belgrade’s
support to pursue the war option and, in the case of Croatia, to become dominant in the
Serb community, while Milošević needed radical leaders in place to pursue his ‘Greater
 360 N. Caspersen

Serbia’ project and to legitimize his claim to being the protector of Serbs outside Serbia.
Kin-state involvement was highly significant and took the form of direct military involve-
ment, supply of arms, financial assistance as well as influence on local politics through
support for favoured leaders. However, relations underwent a considerable change over
the years and, from being loyal supporters of the Serbian President, the local leaders
became increasingly autonomous actors who were at times in direct conflict with
Belgrade.

Pre-war: building up and arming extremists

In terms of securing a radical Serb leadership, Belgrade faced the most difficult challenge
in Croatia. The Serb Democratic Party (SDS), which gradually became dominant in the
Serb community, initially adopted a relatively moderate position; the leader of the
party, Jovan Rašković, was prepared to negotiate with the Croatian authorities and was
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furthermore publicly defiant of Milošević. Rašković was, however, challenged from

within the party by the more radical Milan Babić, and Belgrade proved highly instrumental
in this intra-party struggle. Belgrade’s involvement was of two main forms: arming of the
paramilitary police and extensive media support. In the Serbian media, a public profile was
created for the relatively anonymous Babić: an image of him as the undisputed leader of
Serbs in Croatia and a key player in the implementation of the ‘Greater Serbia’ plan
(Cerović, 1992). The military side of the involvement started even earlier, with the
Serbian security services and the Serbian Ministry of the Interior arming and organizing
radical elements in the Serb movement (Švarm, 1993a; Sell, 2002, p. 116). Rašković
enjoyed greater support than Babić in the Serb community (Jović, 1991) and in the
central structures of the SDS,3 but Belgrade supplied Babić with coercive resources and
he used these to threaten, harass and even physically remove his opponents in the party.
The kin-state involvement was, however, not merely one-sided; Babić purposefully
sought Belgrade’s support and began asserting his independence after having consolidated
his power within the Serb community. Thus, following talks between Milošević and
Croatian President Franjo Tudman in March 1991, Babić challenged Milošević’s right
to reach agreements on behalf of the Krajina Serbs and reminded the Serbs that Milošević
was the President of Serbia not of Krajina (Radulović, 1991b).4
In the case of Bosnia, the kin-state played a less direct role in intra-Serb power
struggles; Belgrade was satisfied with Radovan Karadžić’s leadership in the Bosnian
SDS, which was anyway more cohesive than its sister party in Croatia. Moreover, as
the Serbian secret police had a weaker network in Bosnia than in Croatia, more of
the organization of the Bosnian SDS was left to the locals (Judah, 2000, p. 192). The
SDS’s public relationship with Milošević, nevertheless, varied considerably between the
pre-election and the post-election period. Shortly after the formation of the SDS, Karadžić
argued that he did not want an alliance with Milošević’s Socialist Party of Serbia (SPS),
which he considered the bastion of the communist movement (Pejanović, 2002, p. 23).
Following the SDS’s electoral victory, on a relatively moderate platform, closer ties
with Belgrade were acknowledged and the paramount role of Milošević was recognized
by Karadžić when he stated, ‘If Yugoslavia is to be dissolved, we authorise Slobodan
Milosevic to act on our behalf’ (Andjelić, 2003, p. 207). Such displays of loyalty were
not, however, reciprocated by Milošević, who sought to camouflage his links with the
SDS and maintained that he did not know Karadžić well (Sell, 2002, pp. 160 – 162).
Despite such public distancing from the SDS leadership, challenging factions within the
 Between Puppets and Independent Actors 361

party could not look to Belgrade for support because Milošević remained satisfied with the
SDS’s course. There was therefore no reason for Belgrade to take advantage of internal
divisions and support more radical challengers. Even so, the Serbian regime still influ-
enced the radicalization of the Bosnian SDS: Belgrade provided the party with the
resources it needed to pursue the war option (Pejanović, 2002, p. 55).
Kin-state involvement, thus, had a very significant impact on the Serb position in the
two Yugoslav cases; in Croatia, the pre-war radicalization of the Serb position was
driven, to a large extent, by Belgrade, and the supply of coercive resources enabled
already radicalized leaders in Bosnia to pursue their policies. The basis for Belgrade’s
control over the local Serb leaders in the pre-war period was their lack of cohesion and
the increased importance of coercive resources; as the conflict intensified there was a
change in the resources of importance—from democratic to non-democratic
resources—and this increased the influence of the Serbian regime. During the war, the
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local Serb leaders depended on both economic and military assistance from Belgrade.
The local Serb leaders proclaimed independent Serb statelets—Republika Srpska (RS)
in Bosnia and Republika Srpska Krajina (RSK) in Croatia—but these entities were not
viable without external assistance. In spite of this dependence, the local leaders almost
invariably fell out with their benefactor in Belgrade. Rivalry therefore began over who
was the true interpreter of Serb interests and goals, and in this competition disgruntled
leaders in the two Serb statelets sought co-operation with opposition forces in Serbia,
while Milošević found other players more willing to follow his tune.

War-time: gradual cooling of relations

Military failures, international pressure and German push for Croatia’s recognition gradu-
ally led to a change in Belgrade’s strategy and goal. Thus, in late 1991 the Serbian Gov-
ernment apparently became willing to accept the notion of ‘special status’ for the Croatian
Serbs, i.e. status short of unification with Serbia (Burg & Shoup, 1999, p. 89). As a result,
relations between Belgrade and the leaders in Knin, the ‘capital’ of the RSK, became
increasingly frosty and Milošević’s control was undermined. In order to obscure
Belgrade’s involvement in the Bosnian war, the Yugoslav People’s Army (JNA) was, in
May 1992, divided into two forces: the VRS, the army of the Bosnian Serbs, and the
VJ, the army of the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia (Gow, 2003, p. 175). This cosmetic
separation was not, for the first year of the war, accompanied by deteriorating relations,
but the leaders in Republika Srpska soon followed the pattern established on the Croatian
side of the border. Belgrade never cut all ties with the Bosnian Serbs and Milošević still
wanted to control local developments, but this became increasingly difficult.
The first open conflict between Belgrade and the Croatian Serb leaders in RSK was
caused by the Vance Plan, in early 1992, which set up four United Nations Protected
Areas. Belgrade’s interest in such an agreement was spurred by international pressure,
overstretched Serb forces in Croatia and the need for freeing up soldiers for Bosnia
(Gow, 2003, p. 166); but the RSK President, Milan Babić, was vehemently opposed to
the plan, fearing that the mandate of the UN forces would not be extended after 6
months (ICTY, 2002, p. 13,625). His rejection brought out the wrath of the Serbian
President, who dismissed Babić’s right to make such a decision, ‘the price of which . . .
has to be paid in blood by the entire Serbian nation’ (Milošević, 1992). Belgrade
proceeded to make use of divisions within the Serb statelet; Milošević persuaded the
speaker of the RSK parliament to endorse the plan and to call a parliamentary session
 362 N. Caspersen

in Glina, away from Babić’s stronghold in Knin. Members of parliament from outside the
Knin area proved more willing to play Belgrade’s game: they accepted the plan and dis-
missed Babić as president. Belgrade had thereby demonstrated that taking advantage of
local divisions remained an effective strategy against self-assertive leaders; but again, it
was a two-way street: the rivalling leaders saw their chance to seize power and sent a
letter to Milošević in which they described Babić as an autocrat who was spearheading
the Serbs to ruin (Švarm, 1993a). They assessed that Belgrade’s support might secure
ascent to the political top and actively pursued Milošević’s favour; but the rift was
growing now that Milosevic no longer supported outright extremism.
In Bosnia, kin-state relations were similarly shattered by a peace plan: the Vance-Owen
Peace Plan in the spring of 1993. In the RS parliament there was widespread belief that
Karadžić had been forced to sign the agreement, and this fuelled resistance.5 Thus, even
though Milošević appealed to Serb unity, he managed to win only two votes (Cerović,
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1993). The humiliation greatly angered the Serbian President, who described the
behaviour of the RS leaders as that of ‘drunk poker players’ (Švarm, 1994a). In an
effort to discipline the ‘drunk poker players’, a temporary blockade was imposed on the
Drina, cutting off all supplies except food and medical supplies (Vasić, 1993). The
Serbian Government did not, however, make use of internal divisions in the RS; the leader-
ship was cohesive and the opposition was weak. Consequently, Belgrade did not try to
remove Karadžić and eventually had to back down. The RS leadership had acquired
alternative resources—resources that were independent of Belgrade’s goodwill—and
this enhanced their autonomy. They possessed some independent control over coercive
resources and had furthermore allied themselves with Vojislav Šešelj’s Serb Radicals.
Moreover, kin-state relations had become a disputed issue in the Serb statelet and the
local Serb Radicals challenged the leadership on their close links with Milošević.6
Deteriorating kin-state relations on the Croatian side of the border were brought out
when elections were held in the RSK in late 1993. Babić made a decisive comeback
and the result therefore left a question mark over Milošević’s continued control in the
RSK. However, the electoral commission was under heavy Belgrade influence and it
duly declared that there had been irregularities in the presidential election and conse-
quently annulled the results in several of Babić´s strongholds. It was subsequently declared
that Babić had received 49.89% of the votes, whereby a second round was secured (Švarm,
1993b). No expenses were spared in the effort to guarantee the victory of Belgrade’s pre-
ferred candidate, Milan Martić (Švarm, 1994b), who reciprocated by declaring that he
would like to be RSK president for five days only, after which he would step down in
favour of ‘all-Serb President Milosevic’ (ibid.). The strategy worked and Martić won
the second round. Commentators speculated that Babić had built a parallel military infra-
structure, and as power depended on control of coercive resources, he had been able to
confront Belgrade’s candidate successfully (Švarm, 1993b). This may have aided Babić
in the first round, but Belgrade in the second round created a clear perception that, if it
were not satisfied with the elected candidate, it would abandon the RSK (Švarm,
1994b). Milošević consequently secured the continuation of a loyal leadership, but
Belgrade’s influence had come to depend on the credibility of its continued involvement.
In Bosnia, the distancing from Belgrade had ensured cohesion on the RS radical wing,
but this overall cohesion was undermined when Belgrade broke with the RS leadership in
August 1994 following their rejection of the Contact Group peace plan. The Serbian
regime announced that they were breaking off all economic and political relations with
 Between Puppets and Independent Actors 363

the Pale leadership and banning all transport to the RS except food, clothes and medicine.
Despite this break in relations, the RS leaders remained calm, convinced that Milošević
would again be forced to reverse his position (Milošević et al., 1994). The confidence
of the RS leaders was encouraged by almost unified backing from the Serbian opposition
(Milošević, 1994). What they had not considered was that divisions in the RS were
growing and that this would increase Belgrade’s influence. One of Belgrade’s strategies
was to augment the already-existing conflict between the civilian and the military
leaders in the RS. For this purpose, Milošević could utilize the close relationship
between the military leadership in Belgrade and the commander of the RS army, Ratko
Mladić (Gow, 2003, p. 180). Thus, Mladić was, despite the embargo, provided with exten-
sive political, military and logistical support (Vasić, 1995) and he eventually chose to
follow Milošević’s lead, although he reportedly rejected launching a coup against
Karadžić (Thomas, 1999, p. 240; Sell, 2002, p. 233). In Serbia, the staunch supporters
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of the RS leadership, the Serb Radicals, were, moreover, in a far weaker position:
Milošević had concentrated his coercive force on the Radicals, and Vojislav Šešelj was,
in September 1994, given a prison sentence for two violent attacks in the Federal Parlia-
ment. Thus amputated, the Radicals were unable to repeat the spectacle of 1993 when
Milošević had been forced to backtrack (Milošević et al., 1994). By August 1995 the
RS leaders were so weak that they gave in: they agreed to a joint Serb delegation in
Dayton in which Milošević would have the deciding vote.
Belgrade’s ‘divide-and-rule’ strategy proved less successful in the RSK: once elected,
the new president, Milan Martić, gradually gave up on Belgrade’s support and instead
relied on the military and the police, on Karadžic’s SDS, on the Radicals and on his
growing popularity resulting from increasing anger with Milošević (Komlenović, 1994).
In the spring of 1995, Martić sought to free himself of Belgrade’s influence by ousting
Milošević’s man, RSK Prime Minister Borislav Mikelić, and it is significant that Mikelić’s
more moderate position did not win despite Belgrade’s support. After this public defiance,
Milošević had no greater qualms abandoning his former protégés. Goran Hadžić (RSK
President, 1992 – 1994) argues that this was part of a deliberate strategy: Milošević inten-
tionally supported leaders who were likely to defect.7 The cooling of relations and the
stubborn intransigence of the Knin leaders certainly made it easier for Milošević to
abandon them without this resulting in a backlash in Serbia. However, Milošević’s
ability to influence internal politics was also reduced by the apparent existence of
power resources that were outside his control. Belgrade’s resources gradually became
of less importance because two of the main contenders for the top of the RSK hierarchy,
Martić and Babić, had access to their own coercive resources; it was not enough to win the
war, they were not militarily independent, but it was enough to keep them in power. Con-
sequently, Belgrade’s support was no longer decisive for whether a local leader could
maintain his position of power, whereas it had earlier been the sine qua non of political
success. The counter-moves available to the RSK leaders remained limited, but the exist-
ence of other potentially relevant audiences, especially the Serb Radicals, encouraged
intransigence. Autonomy from Belgrade was, moreover, a potential basis for popular
support and it was the only significant issue separating the candidates in the RSK
elections.8
Thus, Milošević’s backtracking on the ‘Greater Serbia’ project led, in both cases, to a
souring of the kin-state relationship. In the ensuing struggle to define the ‘Serb position’,
Belgrade could take advantage of local divisions and target its supply of resources to more
 364 N. Caspersen

amenable actors while the local hardliners sought to enhance their autonomy by seeking
alternative alliance partners and suppliers of resources. Despite these similarities in the
two cases, there were important differences in the degree of kin-state influence towards
the end of the war; Belgrade seemed more effective in influencing the internal rivalry
in the Bosnian case than in the Croatian case, even though a change in leadership never
materialized. Milošević’s alliance with the RS opposition and the RS army was significant
in this respect, especially as it largely removed the control of coercive resources from the
civilian leadership. The difference in kin-state influence can therefore partly be explained
by different configurations of internal competition; but it also owes something to the
harsher measures used against the RS. When Pale and Belgrade fell out, the resulting con-
flict was much more intense than the one between Belgrade and various Knin leaders: in
the RSK, Milošević never used the military and economic levers he possessed and, further-
more, he did not actively push for an agreement with Croatia (Sell, 2002, p. 239). A poss-
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ible reason for Milošević’s more forceful reaction against the RS leaders was their greater
sway in Serbia proper; Milošević would have been more concerned about a prolonged con-
flict with Pale because the RS leaders had a greater chance of undermining his position.
Milošević himself professed that the reason was that he could not afford another intra-
Serb conflict (Cohen, 1995, p. 243). Milošević may, finally, have been less interested in
effecting moderation in the RSK; he knew that Tudman would not accept an agreement
and the only thing Belgrade could hope for was for the situation to remain frozen.
In the two former Yugoslav cases, the autonomy of the local Serb leaders was enhanced
by their access to alternative resources, while kin-state influence was reduced at times of
greater local cohesion and when the issue of kin-state relations was salient in the local
rivalry. However, dependence on the kin-state persisted; the alternative alliances were
never a perfect substitute for Belgrade’s military and economic backing. Combined
with Milošević’s strong hold on power, this meant that the kin-state never lost its import-
ance and that an overturn in the kin-state leadership, as a consequence of the growing rift,
was never really a possibility.9 This was, however, exactly what happened in the case of
Nagorno Karabakh.

Nagorno Karabakh: Periphery Takes Over the Centre

Before the outbreak of war, Armenians constituted 77% of Nagorno Karabakh’s popu-
lation but only 6% of Azerbaijan’s total population. On the face of it, the Karabakh
Armenians were therefore in a weaker position, and therefore more reliant on external
support than the Serbs in Croatia and Bosnia, who constituted 12 and 31%, respectively,
of the pre-war population. However, the internal unity of the Karabakh Armenians seems
to have been enhanced by their enclave existence, and the lack of territorial contiguity with
Armenia not only rendered unification more difficult, but also appears to have hampered
kin-state control. Even more importantly, the conflict in Nagorno Karabakh (NK) was
more ‘home-grown’: it started in NK rather than spreading from Armenia proper
(Kaufman, 2001, p. 49). De Waal, moreover, rejects that it can be seen as a top-down con-
flict: the general population was driven to act ‘by passionately held ideas about history,
identity and rights’ (De Waal, 2003, p. 272). This does not mean, however, that national
unity was complete; divisions existed both within NK and between Stepanakert and
Yerevan. As was the case in Serbia, the war and the resulting international isolation
gradually became a liability for the kin-state, but the Yerevan leadership was even
 Between Puppets and Independent Actors 365

more constrained in its ability to change the course of the conflict. What explains this
difference? Why was Yerevan less able to control local developments? Some of the
answers to these questions are to be found in the fragile and fragmented nature of the
newly independent Armenian state, the importance of the Diaspora, the bottom-up
nature of the conflict and the relative cohesiveness of the Karabakh leadership.

Pre-war: unification or democratization

On 20 February 1988, the Regional Soviet in Nagorno Karabakh voted for the transfer of
NK from Azerbaijan to Armenia and looming inter-ethnic tensions had thereby been given
an official voice. The Karabakh resolution was greeted with mass rallies in Yerevan and
the formal organization of the Karabakh Committee; the issue of NK proved very effective
as a popular mobilizer. However, the movements in Armenia and NK were soon heading
in different directions; whereas the Karabakh Armenians focused single-mindedly on
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the goal of unification, the Karabakh Committee in Armenia adopted a broader agenda
and became increasingly focused on democratization as the primary goal (Malkasian,
1996, p. 4).
In NK, the traditional nomenklatura was gradually pushed aside by a younger, more
radical group. This group’s powerbase was mostly in the Dashnaks;10 they enjoyed
Diaspora backing and also came to control the paramilitary forces in NK (Melander,
2001, p. 52). Owing to resources provided by the Diaspora and the existence of coercive
resources within Nagorno Karabakh—in the form of hunting riffles and weapons procured
from the Soviet Army (Kaufman, 2001, p. 52)—the radical Karabakh leaders were not
dependent on Yerevan for their ascent to power. They were, furthermore, aided by
growing inter-ethnic tensions and the loss of faith in the communist authorities.11 Div-
isions persisted between the Karabakh Committee—now renamed the Armenian National
Movement (ANM)—the authorities in Yerevan, and the Dashnak-dominated NK.
However, the quickening speed of inter-ethnic violence brought them closer on the
issue of the conflict (Malkasian, 1996, p. 194). The ANM was facing outbidding on the
Karabakh issue and realized that downplaying its importance would stir up resentment
(Malkasian, 1996, p. 129; Libaridian, 2004, p. 205). On 1 December 1989, the Armenian
Supreme Soviet in a joint session with the Karabakh National Council voted to unify
Armenia with NK and, the following month, NK’s finances were incorporated into the
overall budget of the Armenian republic. This reflected a major shift in the political
winds of Armenia (Malkasian, 1996, pp. 195– 196); the kin-state and the local leaders
were now pursuing a common cause.
Intra-Armenian cohesion was, however, put to the test once more following the military
crackdown ‘Operation Ring’, which was launched in the spring of 1991. As a result of this
ruthless show of force, the more moderate faction in the NK, backed by the Armenian
Supreme Soviet, agreed to negotiate with Azerbaijan on the basis of what essentially
amounted to capitulation. However, the younger, more militant leaders vehemently dis-
agreed; they had risen to prominence through the paramilitary and argued that there
was now no choice but to engage in an all-out military struggle (Melander, 2001,
p. 70). This faction proved their dominance by assassinating one of the initiators of the
negotiations and Yerevan had to follow the course set by Stepanakert.
The NK conflict was therefore driven to a considerable extent by local dynamics rather
than by the kin-state. This does not, however, mean that the new ANM Government in
Yerevan was an unwilling participant; like Milošević in Serbia, it had used nationalism
 366 N. Caspersen

to help gain power and reach its other goals. The growth in inter-ethnic violence brought
the kin-state and the local leaders closer together; bottom-up pressure as well as pressure
from rivals limited the degree of divisions. Unlike in the case of Serbia, the local leaders
did not depend significantly on Yerevan for their hold on power; they had access to
resources supplied by the Diaspora and could, moreover, rely on the procurement of
large amounts of heavy weaponry and ammunition from the Soviet army.

During the war: international pressure and ambiguous kin-state role

The first months of war brought great military success for the Armenian forces and by the
end of May 1992 nearly all of Nagorno Karabakh was in their firm control (Croissant,
1998, p. 80). Such successes were needed in Yerevan where the unity of the ANM Gov-
ernment had splintered within the first year of it coming to power; military success pro-
vided a short breathing space for a beleaguered government. However, Armenian
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President Levon Ter-Petrosian navigated a narrow course; he was pressured by the parlia-
mentary opposition to support NK openly, but was under simultaneous international
pressure to restrict Armenia’s direct involvement (Laitin & Suny, 1999, p. 154).
In May 1992, Ter-Petrosian argued that he had difficulties with Karabakh radicals.
During peace talks with Azerbaijan, the city of Shusha was being attacked and it
looked as if Ter-Petrosian had either been double-crossing the Azerbaijanis or was not
in control of the situation (De Waal, 2003, p. 180). However, the military fortunes soon
began to shift, and this provided the Yerevan Government and its Karabakh allies with
an opportunity to change the NK leadership. The statelet was close to collapse and follow-
ing pressure from Yerevan and from military forces, the NK parliament introduced mili-
tary rule with a state defence committee, under the leadership of Robert Kocharian,
assuming all executive powers (ibid., p. 196).12 Some divisions, however, persisted,
because the parliament remained dominated by the Dashnaks.13 In any case, new-found
military success coupled with international pressure on Yerevan soon renewed the intra-
Armenian dispute based on divisions between Ter-Petrosian, who supported a diplomatic
settlement, and the Karabakh leaders, who wanted to press their new military advantage.
These divisions came into the open during the attack on Kelbajar in March 1993 when
Ter-Petrosian called on Kocharian to halt his forces. The NK leadership, however,
asked for a month’s delay for the withdrawal to be implemented; their string of successes
had made them more aggressively independent (De Waal, 2003, pp. 212– 213).
The attack on Kelbajar caused an international outcry (Laitin & Suny, 1999, p. 160).
Turkey imposed a blockade on Armenia, while the UN Security Council called for a cease-
fire and the withdrawal of ‘local Armenian forces’ (Croissant, 1998, pp. 87– 89). The
wording of the resolution seemed to recognize Yerevan’s claims of non-involvement,
but the international pressure persisted and continued Armenian advances fostered new
UN resolutions (ibid., pp. 89, 92). A ceasefire agreement was finally signed in May
1994. At this point, the combatants were exhausted; the Azerbaijanis were demoralized
and the Armenians over-extended (Laitin & Suny, 1999, p. 161).
Only at the very end was the war waged between two armies; most of it was waged
between irregulars (De Waal, 2003, p. 168). Towards the end of the war, the irregular
fighting force in both NK and Armenia became more organized and the then Armenian
Defence Minister, Vazgen Manukian, stated ‘. . . the Karabakh Armenian and Armenian
army were united in military actions’ (ibid., p. 210). This institutionalization increased
Ter-Petrosian’s ability to control developments in Karabakh. However, individual NK
 Between Puppets and Independent Actors 367

leaders still had access to resources from the Diaspora, from the Soviet weapons stock and
from the shadow economy. Nagorno Karabakh was, moreover, relatively unified once
Kocharian had consolidated his power, and this made it difficult for Yerevan to exert its
control. Most importantly, however, Ter-Petrosian was unable to make use of his levers
of influence; introducing a blockade or withdrawing military forces would have spelt a
certain political death.14 There were thus limitations on kin-state control and, notwith-
standing international pressure and Karabakh’s rejection of ceasefires, there was no
break in relations. Ter-Petrosian was in a weaker position than Milošević and faced
internal outbidding while the NK leaders also possessed their own resources. However,
the current ‘No peace, no war’ situation, which has lasted since 1994, has seen a significant
change in relations and the kind of open conflicts that were characteristic of the two Yugo-
slav cases.
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No peace, no war: the periphery takes over the centre

Despite significant Diaspora support and the beginning reconstruction of the local
economy, Nagorno Karabakh remains dependent on Armenia’s support, in the form of
military and economic backing. According to an independent assessment, over half of
the 18,500-man strong NK army is made up of Armenians from Armenia. Senior
Armenian authorities, moreover, admit they supply substantial equipment and weaponry,
and NK authorities acknowledge that Armenian officers assist with training (ICG, 2005,
pp. 9– 10). Nagorno Karabakh is equally dependent on external financial support and
has, since 1993, benefited from an Armenian ‘inter-state loan’. This loan used to constitute
around two-thirds of the statelet’s budget, but its proportion is now closer to one-third.15 In
spite of this continued dependence, there has been a shift in the balance of power: ‘While
Yerevan formerly was politically dominant, more recently the opposite appears true’
(ICG, 2004, p. 6).
This change was to a considerable degree caused by the weakening of Ter-Petrosian’s
power and his attempt to adopt a more accommodative course. The victory in the
Karabakh war had for a time strengthened the Yerevan Government, but chronic economic
problems and international isolation gradually undermined Ter-Petrosian’s political base.
Following the questionable 1996 elections, Ter-Petrosian became dependent on the
backing of the ‘power ministries’ of defence, national security and interior (Laitin &
Suny, 1999, pp. 155 –156). In order to regain popular support, Ter-Petrosian appointed
NK president and war hero, Robert Kocharian as Armenia’s new Prime Minister (ICG,
2004, p. 9). This new constellation of power constrained Ter-Petrosian’s room for
manoeuvre, but the Armenian President was exposed to cross-pressures because the cata-
strophic economic situation spurred the need for an end to international isolation. Prag-
matic considerations won and Ter-Petrosian decided to accept a phased approach, rather
than the package solution to the conflict that the NK leadership and Yerevan hardliners
demanded. This led to open conflict between Yerevan and Stepanakert (Laitin & Suny,
1999, p. 166), and unlike the Croatian and Bosnian cases it caused the downfall of the
kin-state leader.
In December 1997, Baku and Yerevan were willing to sign-up to the Minsk Group peace
plan, but Stepanakert refused (Potier, 2000, p. 96). Two months earlier NK president
Arkady Ghukasian had actually expressed greater willingness to compromise when he
suggested that in exchange for reliable and effective guarantees of its security, NK
would be willing to enter into a confederation with Azerbaijan (Croissant, 1998,
 368 N. Caspersen

p. 138); but Ghukasian argued that the Minsk Group plan went further than this. Powerful
forces in Stepanakert may, moreover, have calculated that by withdrawing troops from
occupied Azerbaijan, Karabakh would lose its direct access to Iran and the profitable
trade that flowed from the south. Closing this route would also make Karabakh even
more dependent on Yerevan and on Ter-Petrosian, whom they viewed with increasing sus-
picion (Laitin & Suny, 1999, p. 165). The proposal therefore risked jeopardizing the per-
sonal interests and powerbase of high-ranking Stepanakert officials and would reduce
Karabakh’s autonomy; it would reduce their access to alternative resources.
In January 1998, a meeting of the Armenian Security Council brought together the top
officials of Armenia and Karabakh for a discussion of the peace process. During this
meeting, Kocharian reportedly threatened to resign over Ter-Petrosian’s policy and he
had earlier warned that ‘no decision adopted in Armenia will be implemented without
Karabakh’s consent’ (Croissant, 1998, pp. 122–123). In addition to the NK leaders and
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Kocharian, the opposition to Ter-Petrosian was made up by the Interior and National Secur-
ity Minister, Serzh Sarkisyan, the Armenian military; much of the intelligentsia and the
Diaspora (ibid., p. 123). The leaders in Stepanakert had, thus, managed to ally themselves
with powerful forces in Yerevan and were thereby able to effect a change in policies and in
the leadership of the kin-state. Ter-Petrosian’s position had become untenable and in
February 1998 he resigned. Kocharian took over as acting President and was elected to
the post the following month. The periphery had taken over the centre (Panossian, 2002,
p. 152) and Kocharian declared that he represented NK as well as Armenia.16 However,
this does not mean that Yerevan and Stepanakert can now be considered as one. Karabakh
leaders increasingly emphasize their independence from Armenia; as the president’s
advisor has argued ‘the big question is actually who depends on whom?’17 Divisions
over means and ends in the negotiation process also remain a distinct possibility, with
Stepanakert being less willing to accept a compromise solution (Khachatrian, 2006).
What happened in the ‘no war, no peace’ period was, thus, far from a kin-state acting as
a puppeteer and manipulating a conflict across the border; it was not a case of ‘pliant
clients doing their master’s bidding’ (Kolstø, 2006, p. 733). The periphery gained the
upper hand and took over the centre. Similar dynamics of international pressure and econ-
omic crisis were present in the Yugoslav cases, but a takeover of power in Serbia by
Radovan Karadžić would have been unthinkable; the Armenian regime was less cohesive
than the Serbian one and NK leaders were able to ally themselves with powerful forces
within Ter-Petrosian’s powerbase.

Conclusion: Degree and Form of Kin-state Influence

Kin-state involvement is, in all three cases, usually held to have been of crucial signifi-
cance for the escalation of the conflict, its further development and attempts to reach a
settlement; this is to such an extent that the local leaders are almost relegated to the
role of puppets. However, this article has argued that although very significant, the
degree and form of kin-state influence varied over time and the kin-state leaders were
not always able to dictate local developments. Indeed, in the case of Nagorno Karabakh,
the local leaders eventually came to dictate developments in the kin-state. Kin-state ability
to influence local developments, including in a more moderate direction, was found to be
strengthened by the existence of a strong and cohesive kin-state leadership, by a high
degree of divisions among the local leaders, in particular if kin-state relations have not
 Between Puppets and Independent Actors 369

become a salient political issue, and by a significant reliance on resources supplied by the
kin-state. The latter can relate both to the ability of local leaders to stay in power or to the
ability to be victorious in the inter-ethnic conflict. The autonomy of local leaders was, on
the other hand, enhanced by: a divided and weak kin-state, especially if the kin-state lea-
dership was facing internal competition on the issue of the conflict; a high degree of local
cohesion; and by access to resources that were beyond the control of the kin-state leader-
ship. Despite the proclamation of strong ethnonational ties, complete unity cannot be
expected and divisions between the kin-state and the local leaders are likely to emerge.
Such divisions do not necessarily result in the absence of kin-state influence, but it does
mean that the impact of the kin-state should be regarded as a variable; one that is strongly
influenced by the factors listed above.
There are some important differences between the three cases that are worth pointing
out, as they also have more general implications. The first is the relative size of the
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‘stranded minority’ and its proximity to the kin-state. This is undoubtedly important for
kin-state involvement, but the impact is mostly indirect. It impacts on the need for kin-
state support, the ease with which the kin-state can directly control developments, and con-
ceivably the level of popular support for the cause of the ‘stranded minority’, although
proximity and vulnerability are by no means the only factors accounting for the depth
of ethnonational solidarity. A more important difference between the three cases, with a
more direct impact on kin-state influence, is the degree to which they are bottom-up or
top-down conflicts. Bottom-up conflicts appear to reduce kin-state control, which can,
at least in part, be explained in terms of resources: in the case of a bottom-up conflict,
local leaders enjoy popular support and are therefore less dependent on kin-state
backing for their hold on power. Moreover, kin-state leaders are likely to be more con-
strained in their ability to change position on the issue of the conflict. Despite the
bottom-up nature of the NK conflict and the accompanying pressure of popular mobiliz-
ation, strains and divisions emerged, and the ethnonational solidarity, which is supposedly
underlying the link with the kin-state, did not ensure unity and a common cause.
When the conflicts intensified there was a closing of ranks in all cases and the need for
coercive resources enhanced kin-state influence. International pressure and war weariness,
however, gradually led to greater divisions; there was a tension between the multiple con-
cerns of the kin-state and the more single-minded focus of the local leaders. Ethnic soli-
darity appears to have limited staying power when exposed to such stresses, even in a
situation of extreme insecurity. The analysis demonstrated that kin-state links could be
highly fluid even in three cases that are often viewed as kin-state engineered conflicts
and in which one might have expected to find a great level of unity and/or kin-state
control. When analysing kin-state involvement in ethnic conflicts it therefore appears
that a very dynamic framework is most useful; a framework that is even more dynamic
than Brubaker’s relational field. This should allow for overlaps between the ‘relational
fields’ and include the above-mentioned factors that limit or enhance kin-state control.
This framework can also be used to analyse other cases of kin-state involvement, including
Belgrade’s currently limited involvement in Kosovo, although this case differs somewhat
as Belgrade can be seen as an official veto player, rather than a kin-state, due to Kosovo
still being de jure a part of Serbia. Although kin-state involvement can play a very import-
ant role, and indeed be the decisive factor in a violent conflict, the potentially limited long-
evity of such links should be acknowledged. When analysing kin-state involvement, one
should not be blinded by the shared ethnicity and assume unity, lack of divisions and a
 370 N. Caspersen

common cause. Instead, the fluidity of such relations should be emphasized, and this is
better captured by looking at intra-ethnic divisions and the distribution of resources
than by looking at shared ethnic identities.
As far as conflict resolution is concerned, such fluidity creates challenges but also
opportunities. The cases have shown that kin-states can have a significant impact, in
both a negative and a positive direction; a kin-state that rejects compromise and actively
support maximalist positions will certainly act as an obstacle to a settlement, but a kin-
state can also act as a moderating influence on extremist local leaders who rely on its
support. However, the degree and form of kin-state influence are likely to vary both
between cases and, over time, within cases, and complete unity of kin-state and local
leaders should not, in any case, be assumed. In case of great divisions between local
leaders and kin-state leaders, and if both are veto players, this certainly makes the
process more complicated, but it also holds the opportunity for compromise: divisions
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lead to a weakened position, the possibility of game-playing, and may foster a fear of mar-
ginalization. Although fluidity and divisions can create difficulties, they can also foster
windows of opportunity and mechanisms for change that would be hard to imagine
with static, ethnonational linkages.

Acknowledgement
Research for this article was supported by grants from Lancaster University’s Research
Committee and from the Danish Research Agency. An earlier draft was presented at the
Association for the Study of Nationalities Conference in Belgrade, 2006.

Notes
1. Brubaker terms kin-states external national ‘homelands’.
2. See, e.g. Chiva (2006).
3. In February 1991, 38 out of 42 members of the SDS’s main board supported Rašković against Babić
(Radulović, 1991a).
4. See also Danas, ‘Milan Babić: Hrvatska nema suverenitet’, 26 March 1991, p. 24.
5. Author’s interview with Vladimir Lukić, RS prime minister 1993–1994, Banja Luka, 2 December 2003.
6. Author’s interview with Nikola Poplašen, founder of the Serb Radicals in Bosnia. Banja Luka, 3 Decem-
ber 2003.
7. Author’s interview with Goran Hadžić, Belgrade, 30 October 2003.
8. Author’s interview with Filip Švarm, journalist, Vreme, Belgrade, 13 September 2004.
9. For further analysis of kin-state involvement in these two cases, see Caspersen (2007).
10. The Armenian Revolutionary Federation or the Dashnaks is the main organization for Diaspora Arme-
nians. It has maintained an ideological commitment to a united, and hence enlarged, Armenia.
11. Radicalization had gained speed following the anti-Armenian pogrom in Sumgait in February 1988.
12. Author’s interview with David Shahnazaryan, former Karabakh negotiator for Armenia, Yerevan, 6 Sep-
tember 2006. Author’s interview with Manvel Sarkisian, political analyst, Yerevan, 9 September 2006.
13. Author’s interview with Levon Zourabian, former advisor to Ter-Petrosian, Yerevan, 4 September 2006.
Author’s interview with Manvel Sarkisian, Yerevan, 9 September 2006.
14. Author’s interview with Levon Zourabian, Yerevan, 4 September 2006.
15. Data kindly supplied by Levon Zourabian.
16. Author’s interview with David Shahnazaryan, Yerevan, 6 September 2006.
17. Author’s interview with David Babayan, Stepanakert, 13 September 2006.
 Between Puppets and Independent Actors 371

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