By: Dragutin Nenezic
Events in Kosovo have been unfolding faster than at least I expected—so fast that I am on the verge of believing that everything has in fact been planned. In less than a week, we have seen Self-Determination announce that it will not respect the Constitutional Court’s decision on the election of the Assembly’s Deputy Speaker; the temporary release of several Albanians from the Specialist Chambers paired with the presentation of closing arguments in the trial of Thaçi and others; the EU’s clearest statement yet that all crimes committed in Kosovo must be tried there (read: Banjska); and then—a move against the University, in mid-February, when the timing could hardly be worse.
The University was not targeted under the Law on Foreigners, but through a property-law claim. A letter was received—incorrectly titled and citing the wrong cadastral parcel—demanding that the premises be vacated within 30 days, or that its use be regulated with another university which, unlike this one, is both formally and factually located in Pristina.
The reaction was, to put it mildly, nonexistent. We heard that the University lacks the legal capacity to deal with this (what about the Faculty of Law and the legal department—we did not hear); that it lacks legal subjectivity, i.e. standing, to appear before Kosovo institutions (even though it received a letter from a Kosovo authority—albeit a flawed one); and that it is awaiting instructions from Belgrade, with expectations placed on the international community. Instructions arrived in the form of a public statement, of course—and, of course, they too included expectations directed at the international community.
And the international community, i.e. the EU, responded more or less in sync, welcoming the registration process. By analogy, one may expect it to welcome this as well. It has in fact been confirmed that the international community’s primary concern is that everything proceeds peacefully and that, in essence, what was agreed in 2023 is implemented.
To avoid any misinterpretation of what I am writing, I will try to be specific:
• First, incorrectly titled letters are not accepted, and letters citing the wrong parcel can be returned to the sender for clarification by the recipient. One who does not recognize another does not accept correspondence from them; if one does accept it, that implies recognition, at least in terms of legal communication.
• If the parcel belongs to Trepca, as the rector claims, then it must appear on the official inventory of Trepca’s assets compiled about a decade ago as part of the adoption of the Law on Trepca—a list that official Belgrade also possesses. In that case, the only way to resolve the issue of its use is through court proceedings within the Kosovo system—and that is not my claim, but the EU’s, from which the University and Serbia expect something.
• If the parcel belongs to the University, as stated in the letter, at least two questions arise. Was it covered by the 1996 or 1998 agreements under which university property was divided among Serbs, Albanians, and Turks? Does the University still consider UNMIK Administrative Instruction 2/2002 valid, which establishes its right to use the property? If the answer to these questions is yes, then this concerns an acquired right, and the attempted eviction constitutes a form of de facto expropriation. Again, the only way to resolve this issue is through the courts.
• On the basis of the aforementioned UNMIK Administrative Instruction, the University undoubtedly has the right to appear before Kosovo courts, as well as other institutions, to defend its rights. Moreover, this is the only way the University can defend itself, since it was Belgrade—whose instructions it now seeks—that closed it into the Kosovo system, with the approval of the international community, which supports these processes. Anyone who holds this against the University in fact wants it to be the first victim in this wave of clearing Serbia from the North—a process that Pristina and Self-Determination plan to conclude with the integration of the education and healthcare systems, as we have heard from Besnik Bislimi. What Belgrade plans, we have not heard.
• It is also clear that the role of municipal authorities in the North is crucial. Judging by Bislimi’s invocation of their enhanced competences, full integration cannot be carried out without their active participation. Until then, it will proceed, as one of my friends and comrades puts it, through flanking maneuvers—from the one targeting the dinar to these aimed at students, faculty, and the building itself. It is therefore surprising that the municipalities are not taking more active steps on this issue; indeed, they are rejecting initiatives in that direction. In this property-law entanglement, municipalities have significant powers and could act in complement to the University’s legal battle (or even conduct that battle on its behalf, since they operate within the Kosovo system in any case).
If such a reaction does not follow, the situation is clear—despite the rector’s denial of relocation rumors literally the day before the letter was received, it will happen, as it did in the period before the return to KM. Perhaps the rector is not planning the relocation—perhaps someone else is.
And if it does happen, it is certain that, in the now standard manner of the authorities in Belgrade, faculty salaries will be increased; perhaps that is why, aside from a handful of professors (at the protest in KM—surprisingly in pro-government outlets as well as in this one), none of them are speaking out.
Let me be clear—I want the University to remain where it is, and I am ready to stand up for that, just as I fought for Trepca, for Brezovica, against expropriation, and against the abolition of the dinar. But I fear that abandoning that fight has in fact become state policy—implementing what has been agreed—and that the abandonment of resistance is compensated solely by higher incomes.
If the University relocates, North Mitrovica will be almost halved demographically, and the integration of education and healthcare—bringing even graver demographic consequences—will be just a short step away, a step that can be taken faster than it seems.
After all, the accelerating sequence of events in recent weeks confirms this.
What if someone devised a plan for Kurti to complete everything and then allow Thaçi, as a triumphant returnee from The Hague, to form the Association of Serb-Majority Municipalities—something that would surely be forgiven to him? What if someone devised a way to present some temporary arrangement on the survival of schools and hospitals until the formation of that Association as some kind of victory? What if absolutely everything from the end of 2022 to today has already been agreed upon and the steps precisely formulated?
I have no answers to these questions—only dark forebodings. Perhaps it is true, or perhaps it is merely a reflection of my own helplessness. Perhaps we will learn the truth only when everything is over—and it certainly will be; the only question is when and how.
What remains, however, is the question of how to explain such profound silence—a silence noted by everyone who deals with these issues and who cares about the Serbs from Kosovo.
I fear that the answer to that question would be devastating for all of us, including those of us who do not remain silent.
All views expressed in this text are the author’s personal opinions and do not necessarily reflect the views of the editorial board. KoSSev is not the author of this text.
Preuzimanje i objavljivanje tekstova sa portala KoSSev nije dozvoljeno bez navođenja izvora. Hvala na poštovanju etike novinarske profesije.
