#Kosovo

We are looking out the tiny window of our aircraft. Underneath, the landscape of the small piece of land that we are about to discover is unfolding. The impressive summits of the Sar mountain range in the south, Lake Battlava in the east, the gentle hills of the Drenica region to the west, and the huge Kosova A and B’s cooling tower close to the city of Pristina—our first impressions of many that are yet to follow.

It has only been two hours since we took off from back home in Berlin. Approximately the same distance one needs to travel to places all too familiar to us: Rome, Madrid or Barcelona. But in the minds of many of us, our destination seems far further away than a relaxing low-budget airline trip.

While talking to our friends and relatives about the seminar in Pristina beforehand we received a lot of raised eyebrows. Is it safe to travel there? Is the war over? Is it in Europe? Do they speak Turkish there? These are only a few questions we were asked while talking about our project. But these remarks give an idea of why we chose Kosovo as the destination of our seminar—Europe’s youngest nation whose status is still contested internationally as well as within the European Union. Cyprus, Greece, Romania, Slovakia and Spain have not recognised Kosovo’s independence of 2008. Many of us are too young to remember the pictures of the 1999 war that dominated the news at the time: thousands of refugees fleeing their homes, houses in ruins, or the then German Foreign Minister Joschka Fischer covered in red paint following the ferocious debate about Germany’s war involvement. Kosovo continues to be associated with war, ethnic conflict, and corruption, even within our generation. Barely any other topic in relation to Kosovo has made headlines in Germany over the last sixteen years.

It is a grey September day in 2016. Our aircraft touches down onto the runway of Pristina’s Adem Jashari Airport. We have landed and our seminar trip to Kosovo is about to begin. For the next days we will meet a great variety of people including politicians, foreign diplomats, journalists, civil activists, mediators, students, musicians as well as ordinary citizens.

Once back home we will glance through the countless photographs that we will have taken during our trip. They will act as a reminder of our vivid memories and reflections that we have made while discovering the country.

The EU’s rule of law mission, EULEX, continues to be highly controversial among Kosovars. When trying to approach the issue, our group is confronted with some worrying questions.

By Johannes Stolle

You simply cannot miss them. Already on our way from the airport to the city centre of Pristina, we spotted a handful of them on concrete walls along the road: Eulex go home, Eule(X)periment, or Eulex—Made in Serbia. Graffiti, expressing the discontent of the largest civilian mission under the Common Security and Defence Policy (CSDP) of the European Union, is a common sight for any visitor to Kosovo. The mission and its mandate remain highly controversial and are a hot topic in every conversation on politics. So it was to be during our seminar trip. While preparing the itinerary of our trip, it soon became clear that a visit to EULEX is a must-do for our group in order to understand the current political situation of the country. At first we were astonished by the fact that EULEX has taken over the responsibilities that lay with the United Nations and its UNMIK mission. However, it gave us an unconscious feeling of ease—UNMIK sounded far more like a ‘post-conflict’ and ‘peace building’ environment. EULEX’ logo with its dark blue background spangled with five yellow stars, on the other hand, gave us a reassuring impression that Kosovo is making substantial progress on the road to EU membership.

When EULEX was launched in 2008 with a ten year mandate, it became the most ambitious civilian mission of the EU, with the aim of assisting Kosovar authorities establish strong and independent rule of law institutions. Composed of a ‘Strengthening Division’ and an ‘Executive Division’, the mission and its 800 staff seek to support the development of judicial authorities that are independent and free from political interference, on the one hand, and aim to build up a multiethnic police force, on the other hand. Equipped with executive powers, the mission provides judges, prosecutors, and prisons, ready to step in to uphold Kosovar law should the country’s authorities be unable to handle a case. This makes the mission unique both in its ambition and its scope. Until present day, EULEX continues to deal with highly sensitive cases related to war crimes, terrorism, and corruption.

© Maren Weeger

Our meeting with EULEX representatives goes well, with diplomatic speak kept to a minimum and critical questions being addressed. The discussion is constructive and their position logical—a country that has come out of armed conflict needs an impartial juridical system, especially when addressing sensitive questions such as organised crime and large-scale corruption. The EU appears to be the appropriate partner in supporting the Kosovar authorities, as EU membership has been promised to all Western Balkan countries. The formation of judicial institutions that adhere to internationally recognised standards and European best practices are crucial to succeed in becoming an EU member in the long term. Considerable progress has already been made. For example, the Kosovar police force, which consists of ten percent Serb officers and fifteen percent women officers, regularly ranks among the most trusted institutions in the country.^[1] The wide-ranging executive powers attached to EULEX’ mandate are understandable if the mission is not to end up as a mere paper tiger—toothless and ineffectual.

But our first impressions, represented by the critical graffiti on the walls of Pristina, have not quite gone away. Over the past two years voices have been raised on EULEX being part of the problem rather than the solution. Western newspapers have reported on whistle-blowers accusing the mission of severe corruption cases within the organisation itself. The critique of the mission has multiplied since the publication of Andrea Capussela’s recent book entitled ‘State-building in Kosovo’,^[2] which includes a critical analysis of EULEX’ most significant cases. The fact that there even was a petition circulating to name a street in Pristina after EULEX’ first chief prosecutor, when the mission first started in 2008, speaks for itself. Something must have gone wrong along the way. One and a half years does not seem to be an enormous amount of time to fix the mission’s reputation, let alone Kosovo’s judicial system. EULEX’ official stance is that of a technical, not a political mission. Hence, when asked about its vision for the country once the mission expires in June 2018, the answer is rather vague: it remains for the politicians in Brussels and Pristina to decide.

After our meeting at EULEX, there is a slight feeling of discomfort arising within us. How can such a mission be drawn into so much controversy? Kosovo is a small country. Within a day one can circle its whole territory by car. The number of inhabitants only slightly surpasses the number of people living in the city of Hamburg. How can the EU with its global influence and its highly-qualified experts fail to deliver on a straightforward task? MP Ilir Deda, whom we talked to the day before our meeting at EULEX, once told the British newspaper The Guardian:

‘It is incredible they managed to fail in a society that was so pro-Western, was so pro-democracy. But corruption has grown exponentially under the eye of EULEX. We have made so many steps backwards.’^[3]

Of course, as we pointed out earlier: EULEX’ executive powers make the mission unique. ‘With great power comes great responsibility’ the saying goes. But what it also means is that, with great responsibility comes room for failure and therefore room for critique. It seems plausible that it is hard to lead such a mission by pleasing everybody, especially when considering that many members of today’s political and economic elite came to power during the opaque war times. But is this a satisfactory explanation for the criticism it has been confronted with? Many question marks remain. And the tasks that lie ahead of the EU’s Common Security and Defence Policy within the coming years seem of even bigger calibre: supporting peace and returning the rule of law to Afghanistan, Libya or Syria.

In the heart of Pristina, just next to the university campus, the ‘Milošević’ church is subject to an ongoing debate. It is not about religion though, but rather about how Kosovar society wants to deal with its past.

By Maren Weeger

In the middle of Pristina’s University Campus, one of the rare green spots within the city centre, we pass an impressive though abandoned and unfinished church. Walking by, we become curious about the building’s history, which in its cold incompleteness seems to be somehow out of place. In fact, the church is subject to a rather controversial debate. Just recently, in August 2016, students from Pristina university protested against the religious building on their campus, the church was vandalised and was ultimately put under police protection. Is this dispute about religion, then?

© Maren Weeger

Taking a closer look at the story of the church in the centre of Pristina, we learn that its construction actually exhibits various layers of Kosovo’s conflict. The ‘Cathedral Church of Christ the Saviour’ (Katedralja e Krishtit Shpëtimtar), so its official name, was first planned by architect Spasoje Krunić in the early 1990s. The construction on the campus started in 1995—a time when Kosovars of Albanian ethnicity were not even allowed to attend university. However, due to the war, the construction work was interrupted in 1999 and the church was never finalised. ‘The Serbian orthodox church on the grounds of the University of Pristina campus was built illegally and by force as part of a campaign of repression’, states political scientist Garentina Kraja in an essay published by Kosovo 2.0, an independent media organisation with the aim of fostering societal discourse.^[4] Until today, most Kosovars perceive the church as an explicit symbol for Milošević’s aggressive and repressive policies. The hostility facing the building has nothing to do with the fact that it is an Orthodox church in a predominantly Muslim country, but rather with the circumstances under which it was constructed.

It does not seem surprising therefore that a lot of Kosovar Albanians would like to see the church removed from the campus and thereby rid themselves of this constant reminder of the oppression that prevailed at the time of its construction. But—so we wonder—is demolishing the church the adequate thing to do? The destruction of a Serbian Orthodox church in Kosovo is certainly a sensitive issue especially considering the context of the 2004 events, when riots broke out against Serbian places of worship. Others, such as Garentina Kraja, advocate for the church to be preserved as a historical monument since one has a choice to interpret and learn from the past.^[5] One idea debated upon, is to create a museum within the church as a reminder of history.

The longer we try to understand the various aspects and feelings surrounding the unfinished church, the more we find that it somehow illustrates the deadlock of the conflict. How best to deal with signs and symbols of the past? Is a total clearance of the building site with a negative connotation a sustainable solution? Would that be equivalent to denying what happened? Does taking a hated symbol out of one’s view, give people the possibility to (finally) forget and heal wounds from the past? Is this, so to speak, an understandable way or even a right of people who have suffered from terrible experiences? Or ought one go all the way and redefine and accept the past as part of the present?

In the city of Mitrovica, segregation along ethnic lines is particularly visible. Symbolised by a blocked bridge, the consequences of the conflict of 1998 are still very present. An NGO providing mediation tries to solve long-lasting property right disputes—but is it enough to make people ‘cross the bridge’ again?

By Maren Weeger

We are very excited to see more of Kosovo as we prepare for our one-day excursion to the north. Driving out of the urban area of Pristina, we enjoy the view over the surprisingly wide Kosovo plain. Our destination: Mitrovica, also known as the ‘divided city’.

Entering Mitrovica from the south, we first notice many Albanian flags with the black double-headed eagle on a red background—clearly, this part of the city is predominantly inhabited by Kosovar Albanians. Crossing the Ibër/Ibar river, we access the northern, Serbian part of the city. Next to the Serbian flag, we spot graffiti with the straightforward message: Kosovo is Serbia.

After the outbreak of violence in 1998, around 12,000 inhabitants of Mitrovica were forced to leave their homes behind, either fleeing to another country or to the respective side of the river.^[6] Mitrovica was divided into two parts, the river Ibër/Ibar separating people along ethnic lines. Even though it is possible to cross from one side to the other, the biggest bridge is still blocked by barricades. To this day, the Mitrovica Bridge is a drastic symbol of residential segregation.

© Luisa Meyer

As a consequence of the conflict, various property issues remain unresolved. Our group meets CSSP-.Berlin Center for Integrative Mediation, an NGO that facilitates dispute settlement by mediation. Mediators do not judge or offer any tailor-made solutions, but rather facilitate communication. They provide a neutral space where both parties can participate on an equal basis. This setting increases the chances for real pacification and a sustainable conflict resolution. We learn that this is not an easy task, as sometimes people scream at each other, sometimes one party terminates the talks early, and sometimes they come back to the table and restart later. Nevertheless, over 85% of the 447 cases taken on by mediators since the centre’s establishment in 2013 reached a successful agreement. The newest positive trend shows that not only those who suffered from expulsion receive mediation support from the centre, but also today’s owners of unresolved property issues engage with CSSP to actively look for a settlement.

We are informed that also within the highest echelons of the state some progress can be observed. Recently, the EU Dialogue initiative between Belgrade and Pristina reached an agreement on the revitalisation of the Mitrovica Bridge. The EU committed to support the re-opening with 1.2 million euros. The first detonations of the barricades took place in August this year, and the bridge is planned to be opened again by January 2017.^[7] Kosovar Minister for Dialogue, Edita Tahiri, considers that these developments embody the steady improvement of the relations between Serbs and Albanians.^[8]

As we arrive back by bus to Pristina, our minds are full of thoughts. We learned about improvements at the interpersonal and political level. Mediation processes settle old disputes and the high-level talks between Belgrade and Pristina continuously progress. Does it indicate a brighter future for the ‘divided city’, where a joint and peaceful co-habitation can be revitalised, as illustrated by the bridge? Driving through the vast landscape of Kosovo, we wonder if it is enough to open the bridge. Despite all the positive developments, what reasons do people have to actually cross the bridge and go to the other side?We cannot help the feeling that there is need for even more—beyond high-level agreements and small-scale mediation. To recreate the connection between the citizens of Mitrovica, additional incentives might be necessary.

Some Serbian Orthodox churches are still under the protection of NATO’s Kosovo Force (KFOR). This is only one reminder of the (partly) grim status quo: the war may be over, but the tensions behind it have not fully disappeared yet.

By Kevin Rieger

The road leading up to the Visoki Dečani monastery goes past grain fields and through a little forest. It is a small and quiet street; in a country where the air pollution from the numerous cars and the big coal-fired power plants can be felt both in the bigger cities and on the roads connecting them, being surrounded by nature provides some welcome relief. This is what we thought until we turned a corner and suddenly found ourselves in front of a road block, allowing us only to advance at walking speed and under close surveillance by various cameras and searchlights. We were about to enter a zone under special KFOR protection.

Since the end of the war in 1999, the Visoki Dečani monastery—along with other Serbian Orthodox churches—has been a constant reminder of how deeply rooted the conflict between ethnic Albanians and Serbs in Kosovo is.Despite the non-religious origins of the tensions, old attempts to politicise religion appear to have left their traces.Guarded by KFOR troops, having been the target of several riots and attempts of vandalism, these monasteries tell a different story of post-conflict Kosovo.

‘Did you feel unsafe?’—came a comment, closely followed by laughter. This was one reaction we received when we told Kosovar Albanians in Pristina about KFOR’s massive presence at the gates of the monastery which caught us off guard. Why would anyone in Kosovo still need to feel unsafe, why would any object still need KFOR protection? It is true that, before our trip, none of us expected to come across such a visible sign of the conflict in 2016, maybe with the exception of Mitrovica Bridge. In a way, our Kosovar Albanian acquaintance was right: we had no reason to feel unsafe at all, and, in most places, neither did he. However, we could not help but feel that this was only half the story. Military alliances like NATO operate under financial constraints and do not task troops with the protection of sites unless they perceive a real threat.

© Johannes Stolle

Unfortunately, in the case of the Serbian Orthodox churches, there seems to be good reason for such an assessment. The most notable example for this assessment occurred during the 2004 unrest, which saw many churches attacked. However, even if KFOR’s mission today mostly focuses on protecting Serbian sites, this is not to say that outbreaks of violence can always be easily attributed to one ethnic group, nor that this group always is the Albanian one. Still, many Kosovar Albanians cannot imagine why KFOR’s presence might still be justified, and after our first few days in Pristina we would have agreed without hesitating. Yet, the situation of the monasteries left us with many new questions. When will Kosovar police forces be able to take over the task of KFOR at these sites, as shown to be possible since 2010 at Gazimestan?^[9] When will the protection measures become superfluous altogether? How can the symbolism of the ethnic conflict be detached from religious sites again? For us, seeing the security measures still in place definitely stressed the complexity of Kosovo’s challenges in its post-conflict society once more.

The Kosovo Women’s Network advocates women’s rights on a national, regional and local level. There is a need for economic empowerment of women and a need to challenge traditional gender roles in Kosovo.

By Sophie Hermanns

We are walking up the hill behind the library of Pristina’s university heading to our next meeting. At the top of the hill is a small street with some ordinary houses, supermarkets and some garages for mechanics. We almost overlook the small sign on one of the garages, which indicates the NGO we are about to visit, which is located in the building just behind the garage. The sign shows a clenched fist surrounded by an incomplete circle, all printed in a reddish colour. Around this circle is written Kosovo Women’s Network.

In order to get a feeling for Kosovo’s society and its different social groups, we decided that it is a must-do to inform ourselves about women’s standing in society for two reasons. Firstly, it is interesting to see how gender is perceived differently in other countries as reflected by culturally embedded norms and values. Secondly, in general Germany is viewed as a fully emancipated society with equal rights for everyone. However, this tendency is currently challenged due to the need to increase legal protection against sexual violence. With this changing dynamic, it is therefore especially interesting to see how a women’s rights movement in Kosovo has evolved and how women’s rights are advocated.

© Kevin Rieger

The Kosovo Women’s Network is a union of women’s groups and organisations of all ethnic groups across Kosovo, which was informally established in 1996. The organisation and its almost exclusively local staff advocates for women’s rights on a local, regional and national level in five major focus fields: capacity building, economic empowerment, health, domestic violence and trafficking, as well as women in politics and decision-making.^[10]

Since most of us do not know much about the situation of women in Kosovo, we are keen to receive an overview at the beginning of the talk. Most figures do not surprise us too much, but one figure sticks out: almost half of all women in Kosovo are experiencing or have experienced domestic violence mostly from older brothers, fathers, and husbands. But domestic violence is not an isolated issue and rather connected to other fields such as economic empowerment. Most women in Kosovo are not allowed to decide on how and with whom they want to live, as the vast majority of women do not earn their own income. Even if a woman wants to apply for a job, there are many obstacles. There are, for instance, an insufficient number of affordable day care centres, which makes it nearly impossible for women to work away from home as they are seen as responsible for the children. Another obstacle is that women are frequently confronted by questions about their family status or family planning in job interviews. Unfortunately, not only at home but also on a political level, the demands for women’s rights in Kosovo are often not met. A prominent example is, on the one hand, that the war veterans receive compensation and are therefore acknowledged of their suffering. On the other hand, hundreds of women who were raped and violated during the war are still awaiting public recognition and monetary compensation for the crimes committed against them.^[11]

Although these are sensitive topics to talk about, the atmosphere is pleasant—after all the diplomatic talk it is refreshing to talk to people who are passionate and have a vision in mind. Time is flying by as we take in the stories. The situation of women is a very personal issue for some of us; we therefore decide to prolong our stay in spite of our tight schedule.

We continue to discuss how the Kosovo Women’s Network wants to tackle the most prominent issues. On a national level, the Kosovo’s Women Network advises the government on issues such as gender responsive budgeting and maternity leave provisions in employment legislation. On a regional level, the Kosovo Women's Network increases the availability and quality of women’s shelters and organises events on women’s situation and women’s rights to inform, especially men, in order to change the norm in society. Naturally the question of financing arises and we are informed that funding comes from several international donors.^[12]

At the end of this meeting, we are impressed, but questions still remain.^[13] Before we leave for the next appointment some of us still ask questions, while others reflect on what we have just heard and on what we actually know about women’s rights and standing in Germany. Most of us are enthusiastic, but some start to wonder what for example ‘gender responsive budgeting’ actually is and if it is necessary; others argue about ‘working only for financial donors’ such as the UN and the EU. The discussion continues while we pass the KWN logo again. The sign and its unlikely location perfectly represent what we found out about this NGO: an important, but often unnoticed voice of women in Kosovo’s society.

In an unlikely spot, where even the letter ‘c’ can be a political obstacle that needs to be surmounted, we found a project of incredible courage and civilian commitment.

By Johannes Stolle

You really need to look for it in order to find it. Ten minutes off the main road leading through the village of Gra çanicë/Gračanica in the southeast of Pristina, one can find a gemstone of a hotel. Highly rated by numerous tourist agencies and websites, this hotel clearly stands out not only because of its top-quality and location, but also because of its extraordinary history exemplified by its three audacious managers.

© Johannes Stolle

One of them is Andreas Wormser, a former Swiss diplomat who first came to Kosovo in 1999. His mission was to clarify the conditions under which Roma, who fled to Switzerland during the war, could return. A difficult task. The Roma, the Ashkali and the Egyptian communities found themselves in the middle of the horrendous conflict between Kosovar Albanians and Serbs, accused of collaboration with the opponent by both parties. The UNMIK mission, responsible for Kosovo’s administration after 1999, relocated many of these communities to an area near Mitrovica that turned out to be heavily contaminated by a nearby disused lead mine. Until the present day, the disastrous health consequences are apparent across the communities.

At our meeting with the local NGO VORAE (Voice of Roma, Ashkali and Egyptians) based in Graçanicë/Gračanica, we learn that there is still a significant discrepancy between the official government rhetoric—the constitution guarantees far-reaching minority rights and the six yellow stars on Kosovo’s national flag symbolize the six major ethnic groups including Gorani and Romani—and the actual opportunities of participation that these communities have in everyday life. They are faced with a significantly higher unemployment rate, they are far more likely to live in poverty, and lacking basic infrastructure within their communities is common place. Life expectancy is ten years lower than the national average.

VORAE, which was established by two of Hotel Graçanica’s co-managers, has set itself the aim to improve the lives of RAE (Roma, Ashkali and Egyptians) and to further support their integration into Kosovo society by advocating for their rights. One of the NGO’s priorities is to ensure access for Roma children to adequate schooling on all levels (pre-school, elementary school, secondary school and university). For the school year 2014/15, VORAE and its partners launched a national scholarship programme for the first time, handing out grants of 300 euros per month to Roma, Ashkali and Egyptian secondary school students.

When Andreas Wormser first arrived in Kosovo, VORAE was in its early stages. While still working for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Switzerland, Wormser realised that the community needed a tangible project that would bring hope to the Roma community of Graçanicè/Gračanica. With his two (Roma) partners, Hisen Gashnjani and Atlan Gidžic, the idea of a high quality hotel was formulated. Since its completion in 2013, the hotel with its modern minimalistic architecture has earned a respectable reputation among the many internationals living in Pristina, who enjoy the hotel’s Sunday brunches.

From the very outset, Hotel Gračanica was intended to be an inclusive project, proving that all ethnicities present could come together to work towards a common goal. This philosophy also found its way into the spelling of the hotel’s name. The Albanian letter ‘ç’ and the Serbian letter ‘č’ are combined to form a neutral letter, the first ‘C’ in the hotel’s official name ‘Hotel Gračanica’. It shows the sensitivity with which one is to approach a post-conflict environment in order to remain impartial. Today, six out of the thirteen employees are Roma, which is primarily due to the fact that besides their Romani mother tongue, they speak Albanian and Serbian. The whole year round the hotel implements numerous projects in close cooperation with local partners. For instance, most of the popular Sunday brunches are accompanied by rhythmic sounds of the local musicians from the Jimmy Mustafa Band.

As outside visitors, we are baffled by the courage and the commitment that Andreas Wormser and his colleagues show in running a hotel in such an unusual environment. Nonetheless, at the end of the day, the hotel needs a certain amount of visitors in order to be profitable, and during our trip in Kosovo we have seen far more picturesque places than the outskirts of Graçanicè/Gračanica. Our doubts are confirmed when we were told that the question of the hotel’s location is a common one. However, nowhere else a project of such a magnitude is needed more in order to reconcile the wounds between different ethnic communities—no matter the odds.

So this is it. Back at Pristina’s Adem Jashari Airport, we check in our luggage and say faleminderit and hvala, thank you, one last time. For now.

It is impossible to fully understand Kosovo’s complexity during a trip as short as ours. What we did get is a number of impressions and tastes, the latter comprising of much more than just the great caffè macchiato that can be found on every corner of Pristina. We saw different reminders of the still recent, conflict shaken past as well as various approaches to dealing with it. More importantly, we were introduced to organisations and individuals with visions for a way forward. These visions differ, and some of them are anything but easy to put into practice. But they exist, and so does a Kosovar society beyond conflict.

At the end of our five days we have found new answers to old questions, but also new questions that require new answers. Answering them would involve much more than a short trip like ours. It would require living with the people who are shaping Kosovo’s future and immersing oneself in far more discussions on Kosovo’s past, present and future.

As our aircraft slowly starts moving, we still have a lot to process, and this certainly will not change over the weeks and months to come. Many of us also feel the need and the desire to return to Kosovo, to discover and understand more of its diversity. We now understand that this is a necessity more than ever, since many citizens of Kosovo count on Western Europe for inspiration and partnership—and leaving this call unanswered would be an opportunity sorely missed.