As we enter 2010, the future looks bright for much of the western Balkans. Ten years after the last armed conflict in the region, it seems almost too optimistic to hope that the region can become settled enough to fulfil its potential future role in Europe; the recent progress of Croatia and Serbia suggests, though, that this future is not only possible but inevitable.

Serbia’s progress has been the most remarkable. 12 or 18 months ago, the relationship between Serbia and the EU was frosty at best, but since then the change has been remarkable: the EU has unfrozen the interim trade agreement between Serbia and the EU; Serbian citizens no longer need visas to travel to EU countries; Serbia’s previously Eurosceptic population is now 70 per cent in favour of joining the organisation. At the end of December 2009, Serbia made clear that it wishes to apply formally for EU membership and was received warmly by existing EU members; it’s a remarkable progression.

Serbia has rumbled, slowly but surely, across the starting line of a race that EU officials estimate will take 5–7 years to complete. Kosovo will, of course, provide many of the obstacles to negotiations—virtually all of the EU countries have, to Serbia’s pique, recognised Kosovo’s independence—but it will not delay Serbia’s advancement forever: the prize is simply too great, and even the hardliners know it. Right-wing politicians like Dragan Marković, leader of Serbia’s nationalist Jedinstvena Srbija (“United Serbia”) party, have spoken in recent weeks of the benefits that EU membership would bring to Serbia—something that would have seemed inconceivable just a few years ago. The presidency of the pro-EU Boris Tadić has, it seems, done much to rehabilitate the institution in the eyes of Serbians.

Croatia, too, has made significant progress. Croatian citizens, like their Serbian counterparts, no longer need visas to visit the EU and the fight against corruption within the Croatian government has been moderately successful; in general, Croatia’s functioning institutions and stable economy have been a solid foundation on which to negotiate Croatian accession to the EU. A border dispute with Slovenia over Piran Bay/Savudrija Bay remains the only significant obstacle to Croatia’s membership; it seems difficult to conceive of a future for Croatia that does not involve EU membership.

Serbia and Croatia’s rapid development and willingness to cooperate with the wider European community is something to be praised and encouraged, of course. But as Serbia and Croatia march towards joining Slovenia in the European Union, with all the concomitant economic benefits that brings, Bosnia risks being left behind—a travesty, given the tremendous boost that EU membership could bring to a country of over four million still reeling from the 1992–95 war.

Serbia and Croatia both emerged from the Yugoslav dissolution as territorially secure, ethnically fairly homogeneous states. Once Croatia had dealt with its war of independence and its secessionist Serbs, and once Serbia had dealt with the Kosovo War in 1999, the process of rebuilding—and of working towards European integration—could begin. Though they have not been without their ethnic problems, the fact that the two countries had overwhelming majorities of single ethnic groups made these issues troublesome but not insurmountable—and certainly made the risk of a return to the troubles of the 1990s unlikely.

Bosnia could not provide a stronger contrast. Its peace in 1995 had a jury-rigged air about it: the Dayton Agreement, which brought peace in 1995 and remains Bosnia’s constitution, is rife with workarounds, get-outs and concessions that seek in vain to spark some sort of cooperation between Bosnia’s three main ethnic groups, none of which forms an absolute majority. The federal executive is hamstrung by its own consociationalism; the need for guaranteed ethnic representation at all times means that executive power, ordinarily vested in one officeholder, is split between three representatives—one Croat, one Bosniak, and one Serb—with predictably unproductive results.

To complicate matters further, the two entities created at Dayton, the Republika Srpska and the Federation of Bosnia and Herzegovina, are split almost entirely along ethnic lines: the Republika Srpska is majority-Serb, whereas the Federation is majority-Bosniak with a substantial Croat minority. This extends the scope for inter-ethnic squabbling, and allows entity governments to undermine the designedly weak central government.

Bosnia’s Serbs have always considered Dayton an imposition. Though the Republika Srpska enjoys considerable autonomy, Bosnia’s Serbs have nevertheless sought to undermine central institutions and strengthen the institutional and practical sovereignty of the Republika Srpska wherever possible. This extends to challenging the authority of the EU within Bosnia, and power struggles between the Republika Srpska and the Office of the High Representative are distressingly frequent. Unrest is not limited to the Republika Srpska, though. Many in the Federation challenge the Dayton order just as strongly; some have gone so far as to call for the wholesale eradication of the Republika Srpska, viewing it as a product of genocide and of wartime territorial conquest—with predictable consequences for inter-ethnic cooperation.

Dissatisfaction with Dayton is perhaps inevitable: it was, after all, the product of peace negotiations in 1995, and Bosnia has changed much since then. Reform is inevitable; indeed, it is an essential requirement for joining the EU, since the current constitution conceivably violates the ECHR. But constitutional reform has been made impossible by the fact that opinions on reform are so extreme and so split along ethnic lines. A consensus-based government with no inter-ethnic consensus is a recipe for gridlock, and that is precisely what has happened.

Corruption also remains a significant problem. Corruption is not, of course, a uniquely Bosnian problem; Croatia and Serbia have also had to overcome significant problems with graft, bribery and other corrupt practices. Bosnia, though, has been less successful than either Serbia or Croatia in combatting corruption. Integration with pan-European and global processes, such as the OECD’s bribery convention or the Council of Europe’s anti-corruption convention, has been frustratingly slow; journalistic investigation into corruption is hampered by ineffective freedom of information legislation, and threats against government whistleblowers are frequent.

The future looks bleak. In October 2010, Bosnia faces perhaps its most crucial presidential and parliamentary elections since independence. They come at a time when Bosnia’s inter-ethnic tensions are almost certainly at a postwar high, and when experts predict that the global economic downturn—which has thus far left the country largely unaffected—will hit Bosnia’s economy hard.

The Republika Srpska shows no signs of cooperating with either central institutions or the Federation, and RS Prime Minister Milorad Dodik spent much of 2009 clashing with the Office of the High Representative over more and more important issues. Dodik must shore up his core support, of course, but surely he knows the potential price of actually acting on his secession rhetoric—popular though it may be with his constituency. If Bosnia is to overcome the huge obstacles between it and EU membership, its entire population must unite behind that single cause; for as long as it does not, it will surely be left lagging painfully behind its neighbours.