ABSTRACT
You’re in a tough negotiation. The guy across the table is unconcerned, backed up by his cronies, prepared to wait you out. There is no legal recourse. You need power, real power. Like this: “Mr. President, may I see you outside, alone, for just a moment?” “Certainly,” Serb president Slobodan Milosevic replies, with that smug self-assurance characteristic of his dictatorship. “Mr. President,” I begin, looking at him eye-to-eye that day in 1998 and speaking in an even voice, “perhaps you don’t understand, but the United Nations has directed that you pull out your excess forces from Kosovo now. And if you don’t, NATO is going to tell me to bomb you, and I will bomb you good.”
