London, 11 May 1997 

Kings Without a Country 

Crown Prince Alexander Karadjordjevic of Yugoslavia 

By Matthew Sweet 
 

CROWN PRINCE Alexander Karadjordjevic of Yugoslavia has given me three videos about himself. One is an interview from CNN, the others cover his return to Belgrade in 1991. In "A Crown Prince Among His People", pictures from Serbian TV show him weeping with emotion as crowds of thousands cheer his name and give him the three-fingered Chetnik salute. 

A world away from Balkan turmoil, the area around London's Park Lane has always been important to the Karadjordjevic dynasty. When Alexander's grandfather was assassinated in Marseilles in 1934, Yugoslavia's Prince Pavel renounced both a dizzy social life and a flat on Mount Street in order to fulfil his duties as regent to Alexander's father, King Petar II. After the Nazis invaded his country, Claridges hotel accommodated King Petar's government-in-exile. It was also here that Petar lived with his wife, Princess Alexandra of the Hellenes, in exile in London after Greece was declared a republic in 1924. And, on 17 July 1945, King George IV declared their suite to be Yugoslav territory for a day, so that Alexander could be born in his own country, and have a legitimate claim on the throne: although the fragmentation of his homeland means that his ambitions are today limited to Serbia and Montenegro. 

And now Alexander occupies modest offices behind an empty shop on Hyde Park Corner. Behind the unassuming front door is a room decorated with maps of the former Yugoslavia and innumerable framed magazines - Hello!- type journals with Alexander and his family beaming from their covers. Meeting the Crown Prince is a similarly glossy experience. He's a smooth-faced, rather chunky businessman with a laid-back, transatlantic manner. He looks as if he could schmooze the former Yugoslavia back to peace and prosperity. That, in fact, is his aim. 

"My role is to bring democracy to my country to put an end to these chameleons who are playing with people but are incapable of putting them first." Alexander's inspiration is King Juan Carlos, whose return to Spain after Franco's death eased the country into democracy. His enthusiasm for this work is evangelical: "I'll be very positive, get down to the job, make friends. We're so lucky here in the West-look at the debates on TV where everyone gets up at the end and shakes hands instead of shooting each other. My job is to provide a mediatory role over coffee, and a pat on the back. It would have been marvellous if the recent wars of succession could have been fought out in this way." 

 He takes this project seriously, and has given up lucrative business activities to devote himself to Yugoslav affairs and polish up his rusty Serbo-Croat. A stream of faxes and e-mail flows into his office, and next door Crown Princess Katherine is arranging to send wheelchairs to Sarajevo and Belgrade. "Some for the Muslims and some for the Serbs. Everyone needs help". 

 Perhaps because of the monarchist sympathies of Serbian opposition leader Vuk Draskovic, the Belgrade regime is beginning to register Alexander's activities, and President Milosevic is attempting to discredit him through the state-controlled press. In February, Draskovic and the other leaders of the Zajedno ("Together") coalition came to London far talks with Alexander: "I thought it would be very nice if we met in Claridges," he explains. "It was rather symbolic, and they enjoyed that very much because they knew the history. The state media said we met for a few minutes in a pub. Now I have nothing against pubs, but we met for over two hours." The morning of my appointment with Alexander, a letter bearing his forged signature appeared in a Serbian newspaper. "They must be getting access to my correspondence, or they're taking excerpts from my statements and twisting them. This one mentions my uncle, but it doesn't use the correct form of address, so they made a mistake there." 

He's clearly pleased by the propagandists attentions, confident that people will be able to see through them. "It's fascinating that this is happening - they must be very desperate to go to such cheap lengths." 

Milosevic has tried to divide monarchist sympathies by persuading Alexander's 70-year old uncle Tomislav out of exile in Sussex and back to Belgrade. "It's a sad story. I think he was taken in, and believed he could be something he couldn't be," his nephew reflects. "It happens to the best of people. I've always considered him my uncle and love him very much. I've spoken to him on numerous occasions, but try to avoid any public situations because this is exactly what the regime wants. These are the Balkans -political games are everywhere." 

For Alexander, a re-established monarchy would bring good constitutional practice to Yugoslavia, and resuscitate democratic processes begun by his family during the inter-war years but frozen by Tito. This is a rosy reading of Karadjordjevic history. In 1929, his grandfather abolished the Yugoslav parliament, and in 1941, his uncle Pavle made on ill-fated Chamberlain like deal with Hitler. Although he's keen to see these events sympathetically, Alexander's distaste for Tito is undiluted. "His was the new imperial party, and he was an emperor who lived better than any European king. He had more suits than all the presidents of Europe put together. And more shoes as if he was a centipede. Imelda Marcos was nothing compared to him." 

He bears no malice towards the British government for allowing the Communists to unseat his family. "It's understandable that they really couldn't care less who was in power after the war. We would have appreciated it if the backing had been given to the loyalist side, but that's another story. I'm sure that it'll come out one day that - unwittingly to Churchill - Communism penetrated right into the halls of power of the British government." 

And as if to prove he can talk tough as well as offer conciliatory words, Alexander launches, into a bit of hard-nosed football coach team-talk: "My version of monarchy is very different to the British tabloid version. I have a job to do, which is called bringing democracy. I don't have any scandals or any of that crap. Alright? None of this garbage about chasing girlfriends and queers" It's a coffee-table-bashing mantra: "Democracy. People, people, people. Once we get that, then you come and buy a few newspapers and find some scandal." He expects Milosevic to fall within the year, but the president has a limpet's tenacity when it comes to sticking to power, and he's currently benefiting from disarray in opposition ranks. For the moment, Alexander's cafetiere and packet of biscuits will have to wait.