Balkans monarchy expected to make glittering comeback

By Gwynne Dyer

LONDON (JP): In the monarchy business, generally speaking, losing is forever. Some two dozen kings have been overthrown in this century, from the Russian, German, Austrian and Turkish emperors in 1917-1918 to the Greek, Ethiopian and Afghan monarchs in the 1970s. Only one -- King Juan Carlos of Spain -- has ever got the throne back. But now the prospects are brightening all over the Balkans.

Since the middle of last month, the tallest man in Albania has been Leka Zogu (6feet 8inches -- 2.02 metres), back from South African exile with the blessing of beleaguered President Sali Berisha. The would-be King Leka I has left Queen Susan (former Australian designer Susan Cullen-Ward) back in Johannesburg for the time being, as Albania has become a rather dangerous place recently, but Leka is deadly serious about getting the throne back.

In fact, he already talks like the King of the Albanians. He doesn't even rule out taking the Albanian-majority region of Kosovo from Serbia by force -- though, he adds sagely, "I would hope that it wouldn't be necessary, because the last thing I need is another war in the Balkans." President Berisha, desperate for allies, has already promised a referendum on restoring the Albanian monarchy.

All the Balkan countries were monarchies before 1945, mostly with royal families that they imported from Germany when they escaped from Turkish rule during the 19th century. All of the kings (except in Greece) were chased out by the communists at the start of the Cold War. And all of them are now trying to make a comeback.

The likeliest to succeed is King Simeon of the Bulgarians (also known as Simeon Coburgoski, a business consultant in Madrid).

"If the Bulgarian parliament decides to conduct a referendum on whether to have a republic or a monarchy," he says, "I will accept and support the decision." There is every chance that the new Bulgarian parliament, elected last month after demonstrations drove the ex-communists from power, might decide to do just that.

When Simeon visited Bulgaria a year ago, for the first time since he left in 1946 at the age of nine, half a million people turned out to cheer him. A recent opinion poll named him the most popular man in Bulgaria. Many members of the right-wing coalition that won last month's elections openly back Simeon's return -- and his son now works as an adviser to President Petar Stoyanov.

Less glowing are the prospects of Alexander Karadjorjevic, a London insurance broker who is the son of the last king of Yugoslavia, King Petar II. What's left of Yugoslavia -- Serbia, basically -- is still in the grip of the dictator Slobodan Milosevic, a recycled communist who has no time for royalty. But Milosevic is rather less popular these days, having lost the savage war to create a Greater Serbia that he launched five years ago.

During the months of demonstrations in Belgrade against rigged elections earlier this year, all three of the main Serbian opposition leaders went to London to see Crown Prince Alexander.

One of them, Vuk Draskovic, promised that he would restore Alexander's citizenship if he wins the presidential elections this year, and declared publicly: "Serbia needs a Serbian Juan Carlos."

Alexander would love to have the job of easing Serbia's transition from dictatorship to democracy, the same job Juan Carlos did in Spain after the death of long-ruling dictator Francisco Franco. "I'll be very positive, get down to the job, make friends....My job is to provide a mediatory role over coffee, and a pat on the back. It would have been marvelous if the recent wars of succession could have been fought out in this way."

Alexander's chances of ascending the Serbian throne would be better, however, if he actually spoke fluent Serbian. (Born in exile in London in 1945, he has only visited Serbia once, in 1991).

And Milosevic has no plans to quit soon.

Finally, there is Michael Hohenzollern, a retired market gardener living in Geneva who was once king of Romania. He was forced to abdicate by the Russians in 1947, but in recent months the new Rumanian government has given him back his citizenship and invited him to Bucharest, where he was mobbed by adoring crowds.

The new president, Emil Constantinescu, has had dinner with him, Rumanian embassies abroad have been instructed to address Michael as 'Your Majesty', and he is currently touring Western Europe trying to persuade governments to include Rumania in the first wave of former Soviet-bloc entrants into NATO and the European Union. In Britain, he even had lunch with the Queen.

But that is probably as far as he will get, for Rumania today is a country where the problems are starting to shrink. It has peacefully voted out the ex-communists who clung to power for most of the period since 1989, it has decent relations with all its neighbors, and its economy is beginning to turn around. It just does not need the symbolic magic of a monarchy.

It's the countries where both politics and the economy seem broken beyond repair that are attracted to the idea that a king could change matters -- which means that Leka of Albania, Simeon of Bulgaria, and even Alexander of Serbia have a real chance of being asked back. But the honeymoons are unlikely to last, because the Balkan royals have lived too long as ordinary people. The romance and the mystique are gone, and without them a monarch becomes a faintly ridiculous figure. Ask Britain's Queen Elizabeth.

Her children and their spouses are deeply embarrassing, she now has to pay some taxes, and half the British people say they wouldn't miss the monarchy a bit. Australia will hold a referendum to drop it in the next couple of years. Only Fiji really wants her.

Fiji dumped Queen Elizabeth ten years ago, as part of the coup that brought Gen. Sitiveni Rabuka to power. But now he wants her back as the constitutional Queen of Fiji, and most of the Fijian population seems quite enthusiastic about it. It's a match made in heaven: feudal-minded Fijians, and a queen who lives as far away as is possible without going into orbit.

From that distance, monarchy still glitters. It's a lot less shiny when they actually come and live with you.