Journalist Baton Haxhiu has published another article, after being interviewed regarding a statement he made about Albin Kurti. Haxhiu has revealed what questions prosecutor Ariani Salihu asked.
Written by Baton Haxhiu
Honestly, yesterday I hesitated to publicly write these questions. Not because they were investigative secrets. But because I was ashamed that a prosecutor of the Republic of Kosovo, like Arianit Salihu, had built a procedure on this level of thinking.
It seemed incredible to me that in 2026, after all the crises this country has had, a justice institution had reached this point of intellectual and procedural degradation.
Look at the questions a prosecutor asks, which I didn't ask in yesterday's article because I was feeling ashamed instead of the prosecutor.
Look what questions the investigators ask me!
"Do you know Albin Kurti?"
"Do you know where his house is?"
For a moment I thought the camera of some satirical show was missing.
I answered calmly.
"Yes, I've known him for 30 years."
"And no, I don't care at all where you live."
That's when I realized that the problem was no longer my statement. The problem was the level of fear and devotion with which someone had decided to defend power from a political metaphor.
For a few seconds I thought I had accidentally walked into a TV sketch and not an investigative institution. Then I realized that I hadn't. It was serious. Or at least it was trying to seem serious.
Two investigators, correct and almost embarrassed by the questions they were reading, were interviewing me about a political statement made on television. And somewhere, in an office of the Basic Prosecution, a prosecutor (imagine, he is the Deputy Chief Prosecutor at the Basic Court) had thought that the protection of the constitutional order of the Republic of Kosovo begins by asking a journalist if he knows the Prime Minister and where he lives.
At that moment, a kind of calm came over me. I realized that Albin Kurti is more protected than any leader in the Balkans. Not by the Guard. Not by the police. But by metaphors.
Apparently, a television sentence is now considered a strategic threat to national stability. And there begins the heroic operation to protect the leader: “Do you know Albin?” “Do you know where he lives?”
A republic, which I have contributed in some small way to being free and having freedom of thought and speech, has been reduced by Arian Salihu to the address of the prime minister's residence.
And honestly, if I were to read this in some satirical novel about small states in the Balkans, it would seem like literary exaggeration. But it's not like that! It's procedural reality.
At one point, I even thought about Albin Kurti himself. How sad it must be for a prime minister to be protected by this kind of institutional piety. To have institutions that, instead of protecting the law, try to protect your image from political analysis and literary figures.
Because this is not protection. This is the worst way to harm a government, even when it worships the leader, as prosecutor Arianiti does.
Surrounding the government with people in the prosecution who take stupidity seriously and call it professionalism is the end of the world.
And before any new cases are opened, I am also clarifying this for the Basic Prosecution Office of Pristina: the phrase “it's the end of the world” is a literary figure. It does not imply the destruction of the planet, it is not a threat to the constitutional order, and it does not require the investigative question “do you know where the world lives?”
It is usually used for moments like these, when the procedural imagination of an institution reaches a point where logic has long since given up.
Therefore, instead of investigating corruption, contracts, economic crime, the capture of institutions or the degradation of the administration, we have reached another level of legal sophistication. The prosecution deals with the interpretation of literary figures and the geography of the prime minister. Where does he live?!
And then we wonder why the citizen does not have trust. Because, naturally, the citizen thinks that the prosecutor deals with the law. While the prosecutor, in such cases, seems to be dealing with producing loyalty to the government through procedural absurdity.
This is no longer justice. This is the bureaucracy of political anxiety.
And the most tragic thing is that no one there seemed bad. On the contrary. The investigators gave me the impression of people who themselves felt the absurdity of the situation. The tragedy was not in the question, but the tragedy was that the question had passed the institutional hoops and received an official stamp. Summons as a witness?!
So, someone wrote it. Someone else approved it. Someone thought it made sense.
And that's where the real problem of a state begins. Not when a person makes a mistake. But when the absurd begins to take the form of a procedure.
When I left the serious crimes investigation, for a moment I thought about going back and telling them that they shouldn't worry about Albin Kurti's address anymore.
Because with this level of interpretation of metaphors, the greatest danger to the prime minister does not come from those who speak in television studios, but from those who read literary figures as operational plans.
And honestly, after this experience, I felt a great sense of relief. I realized that we have not yet entered a dictatorship in this country.
We have entered into something much more Balkan. Into the institutional administration of stupidity. /AlbanianPost
t7 live
