Beqë Cufaj writes: A wake-up call for Kosovo

Beqë Cufaj writes: A wake-up call for Kosovo

Five months after the elections, Kosovo finds itself in a deep political crisis. Albin Kurti is governing without a mandate; parliament is deadlocked. Democracy is in a state of crisis, while society has surrendered – and Europe is largely standing by and watching. It is time for a wake-up call.

Beqë Cufaj, Forum for International Cultural Relations

On February 17, 2025 – eight days after the parliamentary elections in Kosovo and on the 17th anniversary of the Republic of Kosovo – I published an article here that was not intended to be a hymn of praise. It was not intended to be melodramatic, but rather an attempt to say what seemed to be the case.

The diagnosis was that Kosovo is a democracy in the making with a political class that extols its legitimacy but ignores its responsibilities. I wrote about a Kosovo that stands in Serbia’s long shadow; about a dialogue between the parties that would develop slowly, at best; about a political deadlock that could “eat” the constitution and damage it.

Five months later, the prediction became reality. What was “beautifully presented” by the de facto government of Albin Kurti as a transitional phase towards a new era has now become an unconstitutional normality. From a constitutional point of view, Kosovo is now a democracy without a parliament, without representation of the people. No laws are passed, nor is there a budget. There is no control over the government in office. But the state still lives. It is being governed by a self-governing executive. The apparatus is working in the country, without the possibility of gaining momentum. At its center is Prime Minister Albin Kurti. He is continuing to govern. Realistically, he should not be allowed to do this. But he does it, because he can.

Kurti knows the truth.

Albin Kurti knows the truth: his majority is gone, he has been voted out. And the whole country knows that he knows. In the February 9 elections, Kurti’s party or movement “Vetëvendosje!” remained the largest political force, but fell from 50.2% to 42% of the vote. Since then, the Republic of Kosovo has been held hostage – bound and silenced by a government in office without a mandate. With this so-called transitional government, Kurti rules without any legal basis. There is no speaker of the assembly to lead the people’s representatives. There is no budget according to which the government can allocate funds. The parliament is paralyzed. But Kurti stands.

He may not be an autocrat. But he is a player who plays politics by the rules he writes himself and then breaks them immediately. For him, institutions are not authorities of the rule of law, but instruments of power in the toolbox of arbitrariness. The man who once waved the constitution as a flag in the fight against corruption and nepotism is now dismantling it. Piece by piece. Quietly and silently, but with clear intent.

The truth is simple. Voters have told Kurti: you can continue to govern, but not alone. But Kurti does not accept any other opinion, let alone external ones.

He does not accept any coalition or parliament that does not agree with him. He does not want agreements with partners, but the sole rule of “Vetëvendosje!”. Therefore, he has only one strategy left: obstruction. More than forty times, the new parliament has attempted to be constituted and to elect a speaker. Each time, it has been obstructed by theatrical rituals and legal distortions: an absurd political theater.

Exhausted by the crisis

The impasse that Kurti wants is paralyzing both sides: the defeated government and the strengthened opposition. The opposition is also stuck in “No to Kurti!”. It cannot agree on a common project, it cannot find a common language or a leader. This is not enough to break the impasse and free the country from this hostage situation.

Political talk shows are calling Kurti a “second Vučić,” a reincarnation of the Serbian president, who has been suppressing a persistent protest movement for months. Or has Kurti simply become the tired administrator of his quasi-revolutionary “self-determination” movement? But he’s not the only one who’s tired. The whole country is tired – and deafened by the echoes of the ongoing crisis.

On June 26, the Constitutional Court in Pristina ruled that the inaugural session of the newly elected parliament must be held within thirty days. This deadline has passed – without any consequences. As expected, nothing happened. The decision was not enforceable. On July 25, following a complaint by opposition parties about the constitution process, the Court issued an additional order: from July 27 to August 8, the Parliament must refrain from any official activity. The judges in black robes remain toothless political paper tigers.

This is known by the political class. President Vjosa Osmani, head of state with Kurti’s blessing and his loyal ally for a long time, speaks vaguely about “new interpretations” of the constitutional text. But the constitution does not need to be interpreted – it must be respected.

People gathered in front of the parliament. Many came without banners, and no slogans were shouted. One held a banner that read: “The constitution is not an option – it is an obligation.” Another whispered, almost silently: “No one listens to me.” There was no loudspeaker truck, no designated protest route. It was a silent sign, a silent indictment of the silence of the institutions. In the “Dit’ e Nat’” café, not far from the parliament, a law student could be heard asking: “Is this democracy or is it a theater that does not change the script?”

The spirit of surrender

The spirit of surrender, not rebellion, blows through the streets. A sense of helplessness pervades cafes, internet forums and radio chat rooms. There is no sign of change on the horizon. And the same question is asked over and over again: Is this still the Kosovo that founded the republic in 2008? Or is it simply a remnant of an idea that has been forgotten and lost? Civil society can raise its voice, but no one is listening.

The state of political emergency has become everyday life in the republic. “Constitutional deadlock” no longer means “state crisis,” but sounds like a “technical problem.” When a deadlock lasts too long, it ceases to be a scandal. Society has become accustomed to it. The crisis has become part of the furniture. Political artists are silent. Intellectuals are leaving – or taking refuge in sarcasm. Even the Kosovar diaspora, usually quick to judge and vocal in protests, is strangely silent. A political culture has spread that does not trust the present and will have nothing to do with the future.

But while Pristina remains in limbo, Belgrade is seizing the moment. The contrast could not be more stark. There, young people are on the streets with banners and demands; the country seems in a state of transformation and change. Here, there are barricades and half-empty meeting rooms where microphones do not carry sound. In Serbia, young people are protesting for a future without fear of oppression. In Kosovo, an exhausted society is closing in on itself.

Serbian President Vučić is running away from the crisis. The interim head of the Kosovo government, Kurti, talks endlessly without saying anything and without doing anything. His words? Repetition without substance. His messages? Pathetic, empty. No new beginning, anywhere. Just a pathetic defense of the status quo disguised as resistance.

He has always been like this: Kurti has never fulfilled his promises. He has never been the alternative he claimed to be to the establishment, but a populist with perfect sensitivity for the right moment. He has always been the spokesman for the frustration of the people. And he has always been the deceiver who listened to the voice of the people when they had previously given him their vote.

Vučić is pointing the finger at Brussels and trying to convince the people that the EU is to blame for the stagnation. But in Serbia, a new generation of students has awakened and is rising up against the authoritarian system. Young people are occupying universities, demanding fair elections and free media, and rejecting intimidation.

While in Serbia the word “democracy” is being filled with new energy, in Pristina it is turning to dust. Vučić, weakened by domestic politics, does not need to do anything to weaken Kosovo. Kosovo is doing it itself. Albin Kurti, the self-proclaimed enemy of Serbian oppression and obstruction, has long become their ally – blocking and paralyzing the country. This is a bitter irony, but certainly not a new one.

Meanwhile, the EU remains silent. It says it does not want to “intervene.” But Brussels has long been interfering – through continued inaction. While the EU talks constantly about the rule of law and reforms for membership candidates, it is silent about a situation in Kosovo that makes a mockery of these demands.

The Americans called Kurti

Washington is different. On July 12, Brendan Hanrahan, a senior official in the US State Department’s Bureau of European Affairs, was in Pristina. There was no formal reception, no diplomatic protocol, no smiles for the cameras. Kurti was not welcomed by the Americans – he was summoned: apparently they spoke clearly, with words and gestures.

Gradually, it seems that Brussels is also waking up. During her first visit to Kosovo on May 22, the EU’s high representative for foreign policy, Kaja Kallas, was noticeably reserved towards “caretaker prime minister” Kurti. She also met with representatives of civil society and opposition parties. The European foreign policy chief warned that the country needs “functional institutions that can effectively implement reforms” and called on all parties to “overcome the political deadlock and quickly form a government.” Nothing has happened in the eight weeks since then.

Meanwhile, Kurti remains silent. Or does he talk to himself? Questions about possible coalitions? He ignores them. Warnings from the Constitutional Court? He doesn’t listen. Appeals from the opposition? He responds with contempt. However, resigning would not be a personal or political failure, but an expression of democratic honesty. It would not be the end, but the beginning. But Kurti sees himself as irreplaceable, even indispensable. And this makes him dangerous. A politician who believes that without him everything will collapse leaves behind more damage than he could ever have done good.

Perhaps contemporary history needed someone like Albin Kurti. Someone who promised to overcome the old, weaken the elite, and return power to “the people.” And for a brief moment in the history of this young republic, it even seemed liberating to have someone like him. Kurti adopted a new tone, brought a fresh style, radiating youthful energy. But that energy quickly faded, and his tone and style shifted toward authoritarianism.

The emergence into the new was nothing more than the old cycle of power. The change with the system brought an unlimited system. The protector and guardian of the republic undermined and exhausted it. Not by the traditional means of brute force, but in a carefully calculated and almost silent way.

But anyone who holds up the constitution and acts as a protector of the people while weakening both is not a reformer, but a common fraud trying to come across as a reformer. Kurti promised to free democratic institutions from the filth of corruption and nepotism. Instead, he has poisoned and paralyzed them. His time was short. And it is coming to an end.

The history of Kosovo has never been the history of a single individual, an irreplaceable leader with no alternative. It has always been a collective project, fought for in the diaspora and resisted at home, strengthened in elections, preserved and continued through language and dialect. Our parliament in Pristina is more than a legislative institution. It is the first and most honored seat of state sovereignty – after decades of oppression and then international support. If this seat is now empty, if the election of a president of parliament is not even achieved, then this is more than a technical defect in the engine of democracy. It is a deep institutional, cultural and historical rift.

Media freedom under pressure

And the signs of a historic crisis are mounting. Freedom of the press, once the pride of the young Republic of Kosovo, is under pressure. Not through open violence, but through slow undermining.

International organizations such as the European Center for Press and Media Freedom (ECPMF) are sounding the alarm. Flutura Kusari, the lead lawyer at the ECPMF, speaks of “atmospheric intimidation” and condemns campaigns against journalists who dare to criticize Kurti’s government: a government that promised transparency and now controls and hinders access to information. There are also growing signals in the economic field. Contracts in the energy sector, bonuses after public tenders, promises of subsidies – they increasingly end up with individuals and companies with close ties to the ruling party. Management boards of state-owned enterprises resemble the regional executive committees of the ruling party. The fight against corruption is called for in words, but not followed through. The government is presented as clean and untouchable, but anyone who takes a closer look is portrayed as unpatriotic.

What now? Three scenarios can be imagined, none of which promise progress. First: Things remain as they are, Kurti continues to govern “interimally” without a legal basis. Second: The President announces new elections with no clear prospect of a way out of the impasse. Third: The EU and/or the US impose a compromise, which may only be a temporary solution.

What is needed is a “cultural shift,” a “new political language.” Power should no longer be understood as the property of an individual, but as a loan of trust from the people. We should not hesitate to accept the idea that the era of charismatic leaders is over.

That leadership of the democratic community is not guaranteed by the individual at the peak of his skills or influence, but by institutions and processes. Perhaps this is the silent benefit of this crisis: it not only blocks the democratic process, but creates a void that must be filled – not with ideology, but with pragmatism; not with power politics, but with procedures.

The collapse of the old system

Albin Kurti set out to overthrow the old system – with a new language, a new attitude and even a new toughness. For a moment, it seemed to be working. But those who want political change need a majority. And those who want to lead need to know where they are going – not just where they are no longer going. Kurti’s distrust of the old elites produced no idea of the new direction he himself wanted to go, let alone lead it.

His populist project, inspired by the spirit of rebellion, national pathos, and moral arrogance, quickly collapsed. Not because it was fundamentally wrong, but because the protest did not lead to reasonable governmental action and, consequently, to a sustainable concept of a democratic constitutional state.

What can the “West” do? Brussels should make institutional and material support, as well as the continuation of membership negotiations, conditional on the functioning of the constitutional order in Kosovo. Washington should impose targeted sanctions on all those who are particularly prominent in strengthening the blockade and the status quo.

But without a change of heart in Pristina, all initiatives will remain ineffective. Anyone who wants to become part of Europe and the Western community of values must meet the minimum requirements: the separation of powers, respect for democratic institutions, and transparent government action. Above all, this requires Kosovar society itself. It requires a collective realization that the Republic of Kosovo was not a gift of history, but a hard-won promise to itself. When the people – students, journalists, artists, citizens in general – get involved again, this new republic will take on a new vitality. Maybe not immediately, but soon.

The generation that lost everything in the oppression of the Milosevic regime, which culminated in the genocide and the Kosovo war in 1998/99, and gained everything with the independence of the Republic of Kosovo in 2008, must now see its children grow up in a country where democratic institutions have been exhausted. Perhaps the rebirth of Kosovar democracy will not begin with an election slogan, but with a simple statement: Things cannot continue like this.

And perhaps the next step for the failed de facto prime minister should not be triumph over his opponents, but resignation. Perhaps his future should begin with the acceptance: I am replaceable. And with the understanding that his political legacy lies not in clinging to power, but in letting it go. In the meantime, the opposition should not only warn, but act. And Europe should lead rather than hesitate. And Kosovar society, which has overcome more crises than almost any other in the region, should rise up one last time. Not for Kurti, nor against him. But for the republic. Democracies are not destroyed by the lust for power of a few, but by the despair of the many.

Anyone who wants to become part of Europe and the Western community of values must meet the minimum requirements: separation of powers, respect for democratic institutions, and transparent government action.

Kosovo’s history is marked by cracks. It is not a romantic tale of progress. When the flags of the Republic of Kosovo were raised on Zahir Pajaziti Square in Pristina on February 17, 2008, it was not a ceremony to celebrate what had been achieved, but a celebration of what was possible. The social energy was raw, and people were open to taking responsibility for the new. Today, that is precisely what is missing: the willingness to learn.

Today, Pristina is ruled by a man who does not trust education, because education raises questions. He sees criticism as distrust and confuses silence with loyalty. We must build on the path taken in 2008, with a reaffirmation of the identity of society – not through names, but through norms. The democratic institutions that were formed then were not complete. They seemed stable whenever they were supported by a relatively stable majority. But they crumble when the will to compromise is lacking.