It took only a few years for Vetëvendosje to become Kosovo’s strongest force. Now that joining the government is within its reach, its delegates are completely at odds. A look at the flight and fall of a left-wing nationalist movement.
As we drive along, we pass by unplastered brick houses and concrete skeletons. Most of them do not have a fence, driveway or backyard. They are located on fields and meadows near the main road, which is lined with one car repair shop after the other. The man looking out of the window, lost in thought, loves to invent ornate metaphors. Many years ago, when he was a student with long shaggy locks and wearing chequered flannel shirts, things were different. Back then he used to shout slogans into a megaphone, the bolder the better, his brow creased with frown lines. Today, he prefers to wear slim fit suits like Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau and France’s President Emmanuel Macron. His hair is short with a few white strands. The former rebel now has the air of a statesman. When he talks, he takes lengthy pauses between phrases to appear contemplative and philosophical. He cites Judith Butler and Sigmund Freud. Albin Kurti, Kosovo’s loudest opposition member, does not holler, he whispers his sentences as if they were fragile. “These houses out there,” says Kurti, “symbolise the entire country. We have a roof and a foundation, but something’s missing in between.”
Albin Kurti heads a party that has managed to become Kosovo’s strongest force within just a few years. The party’s name speaks for itself: Vetëvendosje means self-determination. Founded in 2004 by Kurti, the movement aims to be citizen-oriented, down-to-earth and anti-elitist. Many of its supporters are students who are disillusioned with the corrupt elite that has governed Kosovo since the end of the war in 1999. Precisely ten years ago, Kosovo, a Balkan country with a population of 1.8 million, declared its independence from Serbia of which it had been a province in the former Federal Republic of Yugoslavia. Kosovo is predominantly populated by Albanians and in the late nineties it was torn apart by a bloody war that was ended by NATO air strikes. Although Kosovo is teeming with foreign soldiers, judges and prosecutors, and although thousands of non-governmental organisations have sprung up like mushrooms since the war, it remains the poorest country in the Western Balkans. Today, many citizens wonder about the whereabouts of billions of euros in aid money. Vast sums disappeared into the pockets of corrupt politicians and their respective clientele, prompting opposition leader Kurti to call the ruling parties “thieves”. He describes the international community that promised to lead the country to a better future as “colonial rulers”. And he compares neighbouring Serbia, which has not recognised Kosovo to this day, to an “octopus” that uses its tentacles to probe deep into his country.
Read the full story here: http://www.erstestiftung.org/en/the-split-opposition/
As we drive along, we pass by unplastered brick houses and concrete skeletons. Most of them do not have a fence, driveway or backyard. They are located on fields and meadows near the main road, which is lined with one car repair shop after the other. The man looking out of the window, lost in thought, loves to invent ornate metaphors. Many years ago, when he was a student with long shaggy locks and wearing chequered flannel shirts, things were different. Back then he used to shout slogans into a megaphone, the bolder the better, his brow creased with frown lines. Today, he prefers to wear slim fit suits like Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau and France’s President Emmanuel Macron. His hair is short with a few white strands. The former rebel now has the air of a statesman. When he talks, he takes lengthy pauses between phrases to appear contemplative and philosophical. He cites Judith Butler and Sigmund Freud. Albin Kurti, Kosovo’s loudest opposition member, does not holler, he whispers his sentences as if they were fragile. “These houses out there,” says Kurti, “symbolise the entire country. We have a roof and a foundation, but something’s missing in between.”
Albin Kurti heads a party that has managed to become Kosovo’s strongest force within just a few years. The party’s name speaks for itself: Vetëvendosje means self-determination. Founded in 2004 by Kurti, the movement aims to be citizen-oriented, down-to-earth and anti-elitist. Many of its supporters are students who are disillusioned with the corrupt elite that has governed Kosovo since the end of the war in 1999. Precisely ten years ago, Kosovo, a Balkan country with a population of 1.8 million, declared its independence from Serbia of which it had been a province in the former Federal Republic of Yugoslavia. Kosovo is predominantly populated by Albanians and in the late nineties it was torn apart by a bloody war that was ended by NATO air strikes. Although Kosovo is teeming with foreign soldiers, judges and prosecutors, and although thousands of non-governmental organisations have sprung up like mushrooms since the war, it remains the poorest country in the Western Balkans. Today, many citizens wonder about the whereabouts of billions of euros in aid money. Vast sums disappeared into the pockets of corrupt politicians and their respective clientele, prompting opposition leader Kurti to call the ruling parties “thieves”. He describes the international community that promised to lead the country to a better future as “colonial rulers”. And he compares neighbouring Serbia, which has not recognised Kosovo to this day, to an “octopus” that uses its tentacles to probe deep into his country.
Read the full story here: http://www.erstestiftung.org/en/the-split-opposition/
