You say in your introduction that as the literature about Kosovo and the region grows, the question of who is heard becomes acute. Can you expand on that, and comment on how it relates to the structure of your book?

William Joseph Buckley: Do you recall the story of the man, who, having never seen an elephant because of his blindness from birth, came to believe that different parts of this same elephant were quite distinct items? After feeling its tail, he claimed it was a rope, its ear a fan, its leg a tree trunk and its trunk a tree branch. The analogy to Kosovo is "revealing": taken separately, the staggering number of horrible pictures and horrendous stories from Kosovo dwarf our abilities for comprehension. Even individual personal stories of suffering overwhelm our senses from among Kosovo's 1.5 million dislocated, thousands of victims of violence, their relatives and witnesses.

In addition, a burgeoning industry of reportage and commentary further colors our perception. With respect to Kosovo, there already exist 180 websites (uniquely available in our book), 209 books (as of October, 2000, in English alone!), several thousand journal and periodical articles, not to mention the private and government news media from 191 countries and some 70 territories as well as a host of UN agencies and NGOs/IGOs (non and intergovernmental agencies).

To further complicate matters, many of these self-proclaimed authoritative versions are derived from one another or sources that are influenced by the prisms of certain interests. Many of these sources were not neutral observers but participants in these events; they (like us) were not simply an observer or audience but characters within a drama of protagonists and antagonists. Whose version of events is trustworthy and why? Rather than sharpening our view (and understanding), don't these assorted voices and images appear instead as a hall of mirrors, distorting what we perhaps once heard as definite facts and inverting images we perceived as unquestionably self-evident?

Of course, stories, voices and pictures about Kosovo have many narrators, audiences, and styles-each with their own presuppositions. Because there is no "ideal observer" to these events, we must be alert to when and how portrayals contain undue distortions designed to support a certain bias. However, the lack of a perfect narrator need not make us unduly skeptical about judging relatively better or worse accounts. Just because the night is grey, does not mean all the cats are black! Nonetheless, because most of the views representing the conflict to us were "Western" and highly choreographed by the interests of official or private news agencies-we often lacked the opportunity to hear firsthand, in their own voices, the opinions and beliefs of those directly involved.

Hence this book begins by listening—to the first hand narratives of those directly involved (both Albanians and Serbs), then moves to scholarly accounts of the cultural and historical contexts, followed by voices of today's Albanian and Serbian intellectuals and politicians, then world leaders responding to one another about Kosovo, followed by voices of political commentators, then assorted ethical and religious evaluations, and finally issues to be faced in the future.

The structure of the book frames the issues in terms making sure that the voices heard first are not western political analysts but Kosovars and Serbians, followed by an effort to help us gain some familiarity with the historical and cultural contexts of these voices. This is an effort to "fuse horizons"—to make it possible for us to see the world in their terms as the basis of understanding and the beginning of conversation. But these native voices are not the only voices because the drama also included "outsiders"—namely us. Hence, subsequent chapters feature natives and outsiders as interlocutors—as conversationalists. The structure and method of the work enable us to see and listen more appreciatively—so that we are not blindly feeling our way or merely repeating what we have heard.

Probably the most controversial "voice" in the book is that of Slobodan Milosevic. What went into the decision to include someone that many see as the "bad guy" in this situation?

William Joseph Buckley: The decision to include President Milosevic involved balancing a number of important considerations. Virtually all major political leaders were invited to contribute essays. Throughout the conflict, President Milosevic was a key center of attention in the international media and foreign ministries; likewise, there is no individual in this collection who is mentioned so often in the index by so many. Precisely because of this "bad guy" perception, I judged it important to allow him (as others) to state his perceptions and interests on his own terms—in the form of an essay or personal interview. Through special contacts, twice I specifically offered to speak on the phone or even come to Belgrade and enable him to "tell his story." Despite initial interest, these did not work out. Of course there were real risks: Like any other embattled political leader, he might try to use this opportunity (and my relative naivete) for his own purposes. Giving him a voice could be seen by some as allowing a controversial figure an undeserved platform for stating objectionable views. Some Yugoslavs would surely object to any suggestion that the views of President Milosevic represented a majority opinion. Perhaps some contributors would not agree to be in a book with him.

There were also risks in the other direction: What kind of book about voices, conversations, and arguments, excludes a priori one of the principal parties in a conflict? How many in the west have even heard his voice—much less heard him say or write anything about this matter? There were also potential benefits. Even those who have studied him quite intensely and spent a lot of time with him admit that President Milosevic's elusive decision making processes merit closer scrutiny (such as General Wesley Clark and Ambassador Richard Holbrooke). How can he be better understood? When opportunities for a direct interview with me or essay from him evaporated, UPI CEO Arnaud de Borchgrave graciously allowed me to use a very informative interview that he had with President Milosevic during the conflict. As is apparent, it is quite revealing about his stated perception of a number of matters.

You have read all the essays in this book (in addition to the many others that weren't included). Which ones particularly moved you? Which ones taught you things you didn't know before, or changed your mind on an issue?

William Joseph Buckley: All of the essays have widened my appreciation of the complexities involved and deepened my suspicion of "partial accounts". My heart especially goes out to those who have suffered and tried to help others; my head is engaged by a number of contributors who showed "the big picture". Flora Kelmendi's heartrending account of her horrendous escape from Prishtina and life as a refugee first in the no man's land fields of Blace (outside Macedonia), then the Macedonian camp at Brasda as well as her later teary departure to the Netherlands was especially moving ("A Tale from Prishtina"). The fright of the elderly Besevic sisters is palpable as they try to live under NATO bombing in Belgrade, while realizing the bomb shelter is too far away ("Belgrade Sisters Under Siege"). There are heroes as well as villains: Having come to know him over the months of this project, my esteem for the moral virtuosity of the refugee camp doctor Fokko de Vries with Medicin sans Frontieres ("Doctors without Borders") could not be higher. His diary account of treating one of the torture victims of the Racak massacre is one of the most moving paragraphs in the book (cut nose, cigarette burns on arms, beaten testicles) ("Diary of a Refugee Camp Doctor"). Equally disturbing are the accounts given by refugees to journalist Sevdije Ahmeti about the wanton violence of destroyed villages and raped women dumped into family wells ("'My Father Was Burned Alive': Testimonies from Kosovo Refugees"). Although essays by Mark Danner, Tim Judah, Miranda Vickers, Hugh Poulton and Darko Tanaskovic deepened my historical and cultural understanding in a way that enabled me listen more appreciatively to the articulate point-counterpoint exchanges among Albanian and Serbian contributors (Haxhiu, Kelmendi, Surroi, Cosic, Draskovic, Djindjic), it is Maria Todorova's incisive essay that helped me see how western biases have distorted my perceptions ("The Balkans: From Invention to Intervention"). I found Kofi Annan's essay succinct but very full of important reflections about the issues at stake ("The Effectiveness of the International Rule of Law in Maintaining International Peace and Security"); likewise I found the Vatican interview highly nuanced ("Winning Peace: The Vatican on Kosovo"). I also learned a great deal about the complexities of international relations from Kissinger, Habermas and Brzezinski—not least of all the debates between so-called "Realists" and their critics. Notwithstanding Brian Hehir's qualified defense of part of the intervention, I think Jean Bethke Elshtain and Richard Miller's essays pointedly state the ethical problems it posed by way of the jus in bello criteria of proportionality and discrimination. The fine reportage of Timothy Garton Ash and Julie Mertus, as well as the point-counterpoint essays on the question of whether or not Kosovo should be independent (Samardzic/Maliqi) are quite interesting. Veton Surroi and Martha Minow offer very elegant final pieces ("Kosova and the Transition of the Century" & "Why Try?"). Issues of ethnic and national identity—as well as the justifications limits of the use of lethal force for political ends are intertwined throughout.

What were some of the practical challenges you faced in getting the book ready for publication?

William Joseph Buckley: This cell phone and internet anthology faced many practical challenges and risks that could only have been overcome by two things. (1) Having lived and worked in places under the vicissitudes of martial law, I did not want others to be put in undue risk; yet nothing published in this book was (or would remain) "secret". My experience in tense situations under the watchful if not happy eye of authorities in Northern Ireland and American inner cities (St. Louis and Chicago) as a naïve, foolish and occasionally reckless son of a retired FBI agent has left me with neither a slavish aversion nor an undue contempt for the responsibilities of those in law enforcement. Curiously, the very accessibility to technical resources and information that protects some (e.g. access to the media) poses risks for others (being monitored, suffering disinformation, etc.).

(2) The technology that has developed since the beginning of e-mail in 1983 and the world wide web several years later made it possible for nearly instantaneous communication; yet acquiring correct information about phone numbers, e-mails and fax numbers was very time consuming. One day it took me an hour and a half to get through to one colleague—whose information proved vital for the rest of the text. Of course there were drawbacks. Some are now laughable: after the second phone call from a very distinguished figure in Sarejevo at 3:00 am, my wife dryly asked from underneath her pillow "I know that you and he are fellow Ph. D.'s from the University of Chicago—but can't he tell we are six hours behind him, not six hours in front of us?" (The publisher and I are convinced that the chief economic beneficiary of this book has been the phone companies; calls, faxes, e-mails to Albania, Macedonia, Montenegro, Belgrade, Kosovo, Slovakia, Czech Republic, Germany, France, England, etc.)!

Other challenges were more formidable. Contributions to this volume came in seven languages from fifteen countries. My translators did remarkable work—and all authors had the opportunity to review their contributions. As Timothy Garton Ash points out in his praise of our book in the New York Review of Books (September 10, 2000), this was a war fought on and through the internet. In addition, phone lines, faxes and e-mail to Kosovo and Belgrade during the war and NATO air campaign were constantly being interrupted due to electrical outages caused by bombing. I know at least some of my communication was monitored by our own National Security Administration (How many transmissions from near Washington to Belgrade or Prishtina during the war would not give rise to suspicions?). After I learned that some of my phone conversations to Prishtina and Belgrade were monitored by the Yugoslav Interior Ministry, I was informed that all forms of communication were vulnerable, but that e-mail was the least risky. I had to be careful about who I contacted and how: one I planned to contact was executed before I could even reach him (Kosovar Albanian Rambouillet negotiator Fehmi Agani). Others went into hiding, were deported or were driven into exile. A number risked being placed under suspicion. My contacts during the war with contributors in hiding (Veton Surroi in Prishtina) came via intermediaries whose trust I had built up; for example I tracked one figure from Washington to New York, Frankfurt, Vienna and finally to the Swiss cell phone in his car in Prishtina. Officially declared dead by the Serbian authorities, Albanian journalist Baton Haxhiu answered my phone call from his speeding car and announced to the world that reports of his demise had been greatly exaggerated. In addition to travel restrictions before and after the war, some of my contributors were constantly on the move as refugee/deportees to Macedonia, Albania, Montenegro, Bosnia, Austria (e.g. Kelmendi, Shala, Maliqi, etc). Those Serbian contributors who had not already been expelled (Anastasijevic) were under close scrutiny (e.g. Cosic, Papic). Contributors offered invaluable and generous advice about how to reach key figures and even opponents with contrary opinions. The urgency of events, the importance of the project and the fact that it was designed to feature many sides all helped me persuade the more high profile western contributors of the worthwhileness of their respective contributions.

Your academic specialty is ethics. What led you to embark on a book about Kosovo? Is your book more concerned with ethical matters or public policy?

William Joseph Buckley: This Kosovo book illustrates how a more complete understanding of conversation (and argument) can reconnect ethics and public policy with some of the claims of religious traditions, contrary to the views of many who would like to separate or eliminate one of them (e.g. religious traditions).

Misunderstanding about religious traditions remains widespread—for many its claims are on a par with astrology and alchemy. Consider the widespread misuse of the term "fundamentalism" by government specialists, diplomats and think tank curia. Likewise, please note the number of books about religious ethnicity in which not a single professionally trained scholar of religion has an essay (several dozen in the past year). The appropriate "methodological atheism" of such "received views" about religion within western humanistic and social sciences sometimes risks becoming a cultural bias in a world in which most people in fact, are believers in some kind of religious tradition. Of course, believers in religious traditions throughout the world experience their own religiosity in ways very different from notions of belief as merely private, individualistic, or voluntary—as many experience it here in the United States. Such regrettable presuppositions about religion guide many humanistic scholars and social scientists who generally do not have even the baseline knowledge about relevant religious traditions that is required of a first year graduate student in the academic study of religion. To remedy this problem with respect to Kosovo, I sought out the best resources in the world about Balkan Islam, Eastern Orthodoxy, and Christianity.

Ethics is more than rules and public policy is more than technical fixes to problems. Both involve very profound assumptions about human identity, memory, and community. It is a peculiar feature of our own time that we have separated assumptions about what persons should be (virtues) and do (actions) as individuals with social customs and collective practices. In that regard, we have bifurcated character from community—unlike ancient understandings of "ethics" (from the Greek "ethos") and its Latin counterpart "morality" (from "mores"). Issues of identity, memory, and community are at the heart of the Kosovo conflict. Many, including my mentors James Gustafson and Stephen Toulmin, have rightly derided both overly theoretical and shallow technical approaches to complicated issues; hence, I deliberately sought those who could address the specificity of this issue with theoretical and practical competence (from just war theorists to pacifists). In other words, while any discussion about humanitarian intervention contains theoretical issues worth exploring (e.g. under what conditions should there be intervention, what will count as intervention, etc.), one must go farther. Put another way, the realities of our interdependent world urgently require practical guidance about specifics (in Sierre Leone, in Kosovo, etc.). We have not solved anything by merely agreeing on principles.

How shall one begin to wrestle with the complicated phenomenon of conflict? From Gadamer, Habermas and David Tracy, I learned the value of conversation—and from Stephen Toulmin the value of argument (how assertions are linked to claims using evidence). Yet in this conflict, antagonists were not heard in the west (except through official sources); we had little or no historical or cultural background to appreciating their viewpoints before our governments undertook military action. General Clark told a group recently that it was clear the government had not done enough to "leverage" public opinion. An effective peace only comes through justice; a beginning of justice is listening to the claims of another. One step in the direction of listening is agreeing to meet the "plausibility requirements of a listener" or audience; i.e. About what do protagonist and antagonist agree; how can this agreement deepen their respective appreciation for how they disagree? Yes, this is a small step. But even the journey of many miles begins with one step. Perhaps the modest aims of this work can point that journey in a better if not the right direction.

It has been more than a year since the war has ended, why is this book still relevant?

William Joseph Buckley: The war has not ended; there was not a victory or surrender but merely a ceasefire: the conflict is not over. The situation in Kosovo is ongoing and unresolved: an international protectorate is a fragile entity. Elections in Serbia (September 24, 2000), Albania (October 1), Kosovo (October 28) and the USA (November 7) make political language about the intervention and its aftermath vulnerable to hyperbole that can influence subsequent public policy decisions with international consequences (e.g. whether and under what conditions the USA should remain in Kosovo, etc.). Depending upon election results there and here, Kosovo involves Europeans and Americans more deeply than ever; for example, approximately 6000-10,000 American military service personnel will rotate through Kosovo every six months for the next five years—if not longer—at a cost of one to two billion dollars a year. Regardless of election results, there will be violent elements (revanchists) in several societies who are unhappy with the results. Even under the most optimal conditions, life after these elections in Kosovo and Serbia will face many challenges which the book helps clarify.

What do you think we can learn from this conflict?

William Joseph Buckley: Lesson # 1: "A stitch in time saves nine." In the 1959 extravagantly satirical film based upon Leonard Wibberley's novel, "The Mouse that Roared," the fictionalized smallest nation in the world ("The Duchy of Grand Fenwick") declares war on the USA with the explicit purpose of being defeated so as to benefit from the postwar largesse of its conqueror. One of the interesting aspects of having some 35,000 troops in Northern Ireland at the height of its conflict—and solders present over a period of three decades has been a surge of improvements in the region's overall infrastructure (roads, electricity, construction, etc.). Of course, this has been a mixed blessing—but the economic development needs of Kosovo and the region are tremendous. Most of these needs were foreseen as potential sources of conflict well before the war. We should learn the correlations between economic needs, injustice, and potential conflict. If we can forecast the weather, we can forecast armed conflict. One can make similar remarks about efforts to support democratic forces prior to nondemocratic dictatorships and transitions.

Lesson #2: "Liar, liar, pants on fire" We should demand clear and detailed reasons in public national forums for any and all armed interventions. We must require detailed answers as to why the UN diplomatic avenues are not adequate. We must press press military leaders to be very frank about the limits of what military force can achieve. It is about time we invite a national (and international) conversation on humanitarian intervention (with policy makers, academicians, the public). We must reform the UN Security Council immediately.

Lesson # 3: "Drink from your own wells." In Northern Ireland, and in numerous other places, the reconstruction of civil society is a crucial effort from below. Small groups of (sometimes voluntary) self-help organizations at the local level display the best prospects for discerning and responding to local needs and resources. We must not assume our version of democracy and capitalism is the best for all others.

Lesson #4: "Stop doing business as Usual"—Despite the high profile of events in Kosovo and the former Yugoslavia, international and national meetings of professional academic societies in four major disciplines in the USA over the past two years that I have attended (American Political Science Association, Association for the Study of Nationalities, American Academy of Religion, Society of Christian Ethics) have contained only a handful of scholarly papers that directly addressed the topics. Because academic reflection is so "behind the curve of events," it misses its chance to engage and shape public opinion rather than heaping scorn on those in positions of practical policy or political advocacy (i.e. for human rights). Academicians also have responsibilities to the wider society.