The arrival of Yugoslav troops at Montenegro's international airport sent shockwaves throughout Europe. Having dealt with four separate wars in the Balkans this decade, should Western governments prepare themselves for further bloodshed and perhaps another military intervention?

Nothing can be ruled out when it comes to dealing with President Milosevic of Yugoslavia, but the chances still are that violence will be avoided, at least in the short term. And, uniquely in the long episode of Balkan crises, the West does appear to have a coherent strategy.

Montenegrins have grown tired of fighting Milosevic's long-lost wars, while suffering ostracism and penury. Two years ago they elected Milo Djukanovic as their President. He is hardly an example of democracy or moral probity: in the past Djukanovic did support some of Milosevic's repugnant policies. However, the Montenegrin leader has indicated a desire to reform. He also provided a safe haven for Serbian opposition figures during the Kosovo war.

Milosevic's response has been predictable: the creation of spurious disputes with Montenegro and the gerrymandering of federal institutions. But the Montenegrin President proved to be a skilled survivor. Not only did Djukanovic retain the control of the local police, but he also threatened to hold a referendum on full independence.

The latest dispatch of Yugoslav federal troops to Montenegro's airport was intended to forestall Djukanovic's plan to seize all federal transport means within his republic, yet another move towards separation.

But the Yugoslav troops swiftly withdrew from the airport yesterday, because both Milosevic and Djukanovic are fully aware their respective difficulties. Djukanovic knows that, although there is a desire for change in his country, there is still no consensus for independence. The nationalist Montenegrin parties have never mustered large support; Djukanovic himself was elected precisely because he avoided the question of independence. The truth is most Montenegrins are not persuaded about leaving Yugoslavia, but are now determined not to be taken for granted by the Serbs.

Milosevic, in turn, knows that, although he can unleash the Yugoslav military on the republic, this will be a disaster. Killing Muslims in Bosnia or Kosovo, or fighting the Croats is one thing; shooting Montenegrins, viewed by most Serbs as their brothers, is quite another matter.

So the takeover of the Montenegrin airport this week was just a gesture: it is now clear that the Yugoslav military acted under strict orders not to use force. The biggest imponderable for Milosevic is how the West would respond to a Montenegrin secession. For years, the Western position was against Montenegrin independence: governments tended to consider Montenegro as yet another complication they wished avoid. That position has changed in subtle ways.

Western leaders are now treating Djukanovic as an important interlocutor, and during the Kosovo war NATO explicitly warned Milosevic of the consequences of any destabilisation of that republic. Nothing was said about recognising an independent Montenegro if this comes about, but Milosevic, remembering the lessons of Croatia, Bosnia and Kosovo, cannot assume that the West would avoid this recognition either.

If Montenegro secedes and is recognised as an independent state, Serbia would be relegated to the status of a land-locked small country, utterly destroyed by war and Milosevic's own mismanagement.

One must assume that even a leader like Milosevic would think twice before taking the risk. Therefore, the West's current policy, which consists of basically not having a policy by deliberately refusing to say what will happen if Montenegro departs from Yugoslavia, seems to be working.

But for how long? If it becomes clear that, despite Western sanctions and the privations of the winter, Milosevic remains in power, the Montenegrins may be tempted to declare independence early next year.

So, as always, the choice between war and peace starts and ends with the dictator in Belgrade. The airport episode this week was merely the first warning shot.

Jonathan Eyal is director of studies at the Royal United Services Institute in London