What To Say About ... Montenegro

Sydney Morning Herald

Saturday May 27, 2006

Aaron Timms

FIRST East Timor split from its western appendage. Now Montenegro has chosen to go it alone after 14 years of sometimes blissful, sometimes icy union with Serbia.

But how long will Montenegro stay single? Will it find love on the rebound and shack up with another emerging nation state? Will it flirt with the casual relationship? Contract an unwanted fungus? Trot out that old "I need my space" line when a love-struck paramour goes territorial with its intensity?

And how long will it be before all the other loose federations of the world go the same way? Will Herzegovina kiss goodbye to Bosnia? Will Saint Vincent call it off with the Grenadines? Will Nevis call it off with Saint Kitts? And what about Sao Tome - how long before it has to get by without its Principe?

All these nations should watch the development of the former state of Serbia and Montenegro very closely. With only a little attention, they will be able to see where this once proudly conjoined federation went wrong. Eurovision. Entering the Eurovision song contest is perhaps the single most damaging thing a finely balanced political federation can do. Serbia and Montenegro got their first entry pass in 2004. Zeljko Joksimovic was the man with the microphone. He was a Serb. He finished second. Last year No Name, a six-member boy band, got the nod. They were Montenegrin, and finished seventh. After that, it was only a matter of time before the commonwealth came apart. If you're a Herzegovinan and you're thinking of entering Eurovision: don't. Or make sure you win. Conjunction. Serbia and Montenegro made the foolish decision to conjoin its name. This would be the equivalent of Australia calling itself something like "New South Wales and Victoria and Queensland and Tasmania and Northern Territory". It doesn't work. No, loose federations need a catchy name. Forget Serbia and Montenegro, blah blah blah. How about something more fresh, more contemporary like, say, Spektakyula? Or consider using a hyphen. It worked for Guinea-Bissau. It could have worked for Serbia-Montenegro. Nothing binds a nation like a hyphen. Slobodan Milosevic. This man can spell disaster for even the most robust conjunction-federation. Look at Serbia - king of the class one day, Nigel no friends the next. All because of him. If this man ever puts his hand up to run your commonwealth, do the following: 1. Point out to him he is dead. 2. Say no.

© 2006 Sydney Morning Herald

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