Written by: Enver Hasani
For this reason, dealing with the programs of the LVV and with how much Mr. Kurti has realized from his promises in the past government is a Sisyphean task: the LVV vote is not based on Mr. Kurti's good governance, but on the voters' trust in the expropriation of the wealthy. This promise of expropriation of the wealthy does not mean returning property to the poor or empowering the poor of Kosovo, inside and outside of it. The class promise is enough to be realized in the first dimension, that is, to expropriate the wealthy and to despise the elite with the aim of subjugating them by the uneducated masses. For the LVV voter, it is enough that others are harmed, those who are the target of the leader, that is, the leadership of the KLA at all levels.
The conceptual framework of the LVV discourse
This article presents a theoretical and sociological elaboration of the thesis that the Vetevendosje Movement (LVV) only seemingly functions as a classic parliamentary party; in essence, it represents a movement with elements of political moralism, class struggle and national-populist mobilization. Consequently, the arguments that are constantly articulated by the opposition, civil society and various analysts, and that are based on criticism of Mr. Kurti’s government, no matter how obvious they may be, fail to produce a significant political or electoral effect. This is because the methodology through which votes are won and preserved is not simply material, but mainly metaphysical in its symbolic and emotional dimension. The material dimension is built on the narrative of class struggle in the specific Kosovar circumstances and in the context of the crisis of Western liberalism; while the metaphysical dimension is based on the appeal for the symbolic overthrow of the elites, the rich and the learned, who have traditionally dominated the public scene.
According to this political logic, the propaganda structure of the LVV is built on a strong moral division between “us” and “them”. Since this narrative also relies on the resources of state power, it acquires a more pronounced political and institutional dimension. In this sense, similarities can be observed with the concept of the “friend–enemy” dichotomy, elaborated by Carl Schmitt during the period between the two world wars. Within this logic, “us” is identified with the people, morality and justice, while “them” with corruption, illicit enrichment and state capture. This form of moral division of society is not new in modern political history. Similar elements can be found both in the revolutionary left tradition and in populist movements of different eras, where political legitimacy is built on antagonism towards existing elites.
One of the most significant historical examples remains the period of the French Revolution, during which rhetoric against the aristocracy and traditional privileges created the conditions for major political and social transformations. However, history has shown that revolutions often produce new political elites. In the case of Napoleon Bonaparte, the revolution was institutionalized and centralized through the state, creating a new political and administrative order. After consolidating power, Napoleon built a new state and administrative aristocracy, placing family members and loyal people in key positions in the system.
The most articulate intellectual opposition to this centralization was represented by the so-called “Coppet Group,” the liberal circle gathered around Germaine de Staël, who criticized Napoleon’s growing despotism and attempted to curb the transformation of the revolution into state authoritarianism. A similar dynamic can be observed in later ideological revolutions, where figures who initially support the overthrow of the existing order often end up marginalized by the very system they helped create. In this context, one can also mention Leon Trotsky, one of the main figures of the Russian Revolution, who was later ostracized and politically eliminated by the Soviet regime. Beyond his revolutionary role, Trotsky had reported as a correspondent from the Balkan Wars on the systematic violence that the Serbian and Greek armies exercised against Albanians.
In all these cases, like the “crumbs” left behind by the historical process, many of those who had once contributed to the moral division of society into antagonistic categories – “us” and “them”, “friend” and “enemy” – ended up on the other side of this division themselves. They were rarely politically or morally rehabilitated, because their subsequent evaluation was made precisely within the moral and conceptual framework that they themselves had helped to construct.
In a more subdued form, elements of this dynamic can also be observed in Kosovo, in relation to the Social Democratic Party of Kosovo (PSD), which was once part of the same political and mobilizing spirit, but later positioned itself on the opposing side of the dominant discourse of the LVV. In more radical historical contexts, similar dynamics have also been seen in revolutionary communist regimes, where many individuals who initially did not take the gradual consolidation of authoritarian power seriously later ended up excluded or repressed by the very system they had tolerated or supported. A typical example in the Albanian space remains the regime of Enver Hoxha, especially in the early stages of his consolidation of power.
In this class interpretation, which underlies the polarizing discourse of the LVV, the wealthy and political elites are presented as morally dubious categories. Political loyalty built on class antagonism towards the elites and the wealthy can often become stronger than traditional family, tribal or social ties. Historical evidence from countries with dogmatic and Stalinist socialist systems, including Albania, shows that ideological conflict penetrated even the most intimate human relationships. In many cases, individuals were pitted against their family members in the name of loyalty to the party, class or revolution. This moral and psychological degradation of the individual within a system built on fear, conformism and class antagonism has been powerfully literary treated by Fatos Kongoli in the novel “Kufoma”. His description of the moral deformations and human relationships under ideological pressure offers a literary illustration of such mechanisms of polarization and social exclusion. Similar elements of moral and political exclusion can also be identified in the internal conflicts that have occurred over the years between former LVV and PSD figures.
In the Kosovar context, these mechanisms of moral and class mobilization do not manifest themselves in the extreme historical forms that have characterized the totalitarian regimes of the 20th century, but they continue to produce strong emotional and political polarization, especially in relation to the way in which the perception of the elite, wealth and public legitimacy is constructed. In this context, it is not uncommon to hear Kosovar citizens complain about the inability to explain to their families or social circle their dissatisfaction with Albin Kurti's government. Criticisms related to corruption, misgovernment or the lack of concrete results often do not produce the political effect that the opposition, civil society and analysts expect from them. According to this interpretation, the reason lies in the fact that political support for the LVV is not built on a classic programmatic contract based on technical governance or efficient administration, but on a moral and class narrative against the political, economic and symbolic elites of the post-war period.
Within this discourse, the wealthy, the political establishment and influential public figures are presented as part of a corrupt structure that must be challenged and delegitimized. For this reason, topics related to the confiscation of unjustified wealth, the fight against corruption and the punishment of elites perceived as beneficiaries of the system continue to have great mobilizing power in the political discourse of the LVV. It is precisely this emotional, moral and antagonistic dimension of political mobilization that makes the effect of traditional opposition criticisms, which are usually based on technical, administrative or economic arguments, quite limited. This is because the political conflict does not take place at the level of government performance, but at the deepest level of political identity and moral perception of society.
The religious dimension
If the class dimension of the LVV discourse is built on antagonism towards economic and political elites, the religious dimension displays another form of symbolic mobilization: the creation of a moral community based on faith, sacrifice and collective identity. In this context, politics is not presented only as a rational administration of the state, but as an ethical mission with a strong emotional charge and almost messianic elements. In this prism, the LVV political discourse towards opponents often contains a strong public moralization, which in some cases takes an almost dogmatic form. This does not imply religiosity in the classical sense, but a secularized structure of religious thought, where the division between the “righteous” and the “corrupt” acquires an almost absolute moral status.
Historically, the traditions of the Abrahamic religions have been built on three fundamental pillars: moral authority (often perceived as transcendental), the promise of ultimate justice, and the creation of a community of faith. Similar structural elements can also be identified in the way contemporary political discourses, including the LVV, are symbolically organized, albeit through secular and institutional means. In this context, the political leader is not perceived only as an institutional administrator, but as a bearer of moral authority; political justice is not understood simply as the neutral application of the law, but as an ethical correction of the social order; while supporters gradually form a collective solidarity that resembles communities of political faith.
An illustration of this logic is seen in the way in which reactions to allegations of corruption within the LVV are often relativized by referring to electoral legitimacy. In one public case, a party representative, asked about such allegations, responded by emphasizing that the party “has 51 percent of the votes”. This type of reasoning suggests that electoral legitimacy is perceived as a sufficient source of moral legitimacy, shifting the critique from the institutional to the moral realm. Here, what can be described as closed political solidarity is created, where loyalty to the political community takes precedence over universal institutional and legal standards. In this logic, power is not seen simply as a subject of law, but as part of a moral order that claims special historical and political legitimacy.
On a broader historical level, one of the classic interpretations of the transformations of political authority is found in Edward Gibbon's work The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire (which is soon expected to be translated into Albanian, as the first volume has been published in Tirana). According to Gibbon, the embrace of Christianity and the gradual transformation of the Roman worldview influenced the change in the relationship between power, the individual and moral authority. In this interpretation, the classical Roman universe, built on polytheistic religion and on the public authority of the state, gradually began to be replaced by a worldview more focused on the spiritual and individual dimension of faith. In the ancient polytheistic world, religious and political authority were integrated in the maintenance of public and cosmic order, through collective rites and practices. With the spread of monotheism, especially Christianity, the center of authority gradually shifted from public ritual to individual moral consciousness, creating space for figures who claim not only institutional but also moral authority. This shift is important for understanding modern forms of political mobilization with similar structural elements. In these models, the political leader is presented not only as an administrator, but as a bearer of moral truth; while society is divided into antagonistic categories: just and unjust, loyal and traitorous, pure and corrupt.
The Abrahamic traditions have developed this logic in different historical forms. In Islam, the division between Sunnis and Shiites became not only a theological distinction, but also a political and historical identity. In Christianity, the divisions between Catholicism and Protestantism produced distinct moral, political, and cultural structures. In this respect, Judaism represents a more special case within the Abrahamic tradition. Unlike Christianity and Islam, which developed strong universalist and missionary impulses, Judaism retained more the character of a historical and religious community linked to a specific collective tradition. However, Judaism also shares with them some fundamental structures: moral authority, the distinction between right and wrong, and the construction of a community organized around law and faith.
At this structural level, it is not the specific content of beliefs that changes, but the mechanism through which moral community is produced. This very mechanism of division between “us” and “them”, “right” and “wrong”, “believers” and “non-believers”, can also be identified in modern political discourses with a populist and mobilizing character. In this sense, the discourse of the LVV also functions on this moralizing logic: the opponent is presented not only as a legitimate political rival, but as a morally inferior figure, associated with corruption and the deformation of the social order. Thus, the political conflict shifts from a debate on public policies to a moral clash over political legitimacy and “purity”.
The Marxist dimension and class struggle
Classical Marxism, especially in its Leninist interpretation, is built on the idea that history moves through class conflict. In this logic, wealth appears as the oppressor, private property as an instrument of domination, and the state as the apparatus of the ruling class. However, in a broader historical perspective, the idea of conflict over wealth and the distribution of resources is not limited to Marxism as a 19th-century doctrine. Elements of this logic – namely the division between those who possess and those who are excluded from possession – can be found in various forms of social organization and ideological narratives long before modernity.
The mobilizing power of class struggle, even when not called by this name, has served as the basis of many historical conflicts. It can be traced from the ancient Sumerian city-states and their hierarchical structures to modern political formations. In many cases, the division between social groups has also taken on a moral and symbolic dimension, transforming economic inequality into ethically justified inequality. In religious tradition, this logic has often been expressed in narrative and symbolic form. For example, the biblical account of the murder of Cain by Abel in Christianity can also be read as an early metaphor for the conflict of inequality and structural jealousy between two social figures related by blood. In later history, examples of social conflict are often intertwined with both an economic and religious dimension. For example, during the St. Bartholomew's Day massacre, the violence between Catholics and Protestants in France was not only theological, but also linked to political tensions, debts, and economic rivalries in French society at the time. Similarly, during World War II, the destruction and persecution of Jews by the Nazi regime was linked not only to racial ideology, but also to the process of appropriation and redistribution of their property and wealth, transforming violence into an economic mechanism of dispossession.
On the other hand, in early modern Europe, divisions between Catholics and Protestants often included a social and economic dimension. Protestants, in many contexts, represented urban, commercial, and financial classes, while traditional Catholic structures were more closely associated with the aristocracy and feudal order. In this sense, religious conflicts often overlapped with economic transformations and the rise of new social classes.
Thus, although Marxism formalizes this logic in a structured theory of history, the idea of conflict between the haves and the have-nots appears in different forms in different historical periods, often expressed through the language of morality, religion, or political order. In this sense, even modern discourses on “elite” and “the people,” or on “the rich” and “the poor,” can be understood as continuations of a broader historical logic of mobilization through social and moral antagonism.
The manifestation of this class concept of conflict, according to the thesis elaborated above, is embodied in the rhetoric of the LVV against the oligarchs, “state grabbers” and the post-war elite. This rhetoric functions as an almost pure class framework, oriented towards the political mobilization of the broad masses against the consolidated economic and political elites, perceived as an obstacle to rational development and social emancipation. In this discourse, the political opponent is presented not only as wrong on a political level, but as structurally corrupt and linked to an unjust system of distribution of power and wealth. This constitutes one of the central premises of the LVV’s political logic: the conflict is not only over certain policies, but over the very moral and structural nature of the social order. For this reason, the efforts of the opposition, civil society or analysts to reduce the debate to the level of government performance or administrative failures are completely insufficient to address the essence of the political conflict. This is because the problem does not lie in bad governance, but in the way the narrative of political legitimacy and delegitimization in post-war Kosovo has been constructed by the LVV.
It is in this context that the narrative of the KLA, which occupies a central place in Kosovo's public and political discourse, must be seen. Interpretations of its role in the country's history are intertwined with debates over the political legitimacy of post-war elites, making it an important symbolic reference point in the construction of political and moral identities.
The narrative on the KLA
This diagnostic error is best seen if one carefully analyzes the narrative about the KLA. In fact, this constitutes one of the central dimensions that explains the way in which division and disunity are constructed and articulated as political logic in public discourse. This narrative can be summarized in a simplified formula: “The KLA was pure and noble, but its commanders became corrupt in the post-war period.” Such a formulation allows the preservation of the founding myth of the liberation war, while at the same time delegitimizing the political elite that emerged from it and that took institutional responsibility in the post-conflict period.
A similar Serbian narrative existed during the former Yugoslavia, but also during the bloody war for independence of Kosovo. According to this discourse, which was often articulated by Serbian state structures, the Albanian people were presented as essentially honest, but “misguided” by their political leadership. This logic of division between “good people” and “wrong leaders” appeared as a way to delegitimize Albanian political representatives, shifting the responsibility for the conflict from state structures to political elites.
At the end of the former Yugoslavia, the communist leadership in Kosovo realized that it had to become a more direct representative of the interests of its people and not simply a defender of the ideological system of brotherhood-unity, proletarian internationalism and the Yugoslav order. At this stage, this leadership was often given the epithet of “manipulator of the masses”. When the new political elite was created in Kosovo, led by the historical leader Ibrahim Rugova, Serbia for a certain period no longer maintained the direct discourse of “deception of the masses” in the same form, because there was no longer a need: the people and the elite had become one and there was no longer any room for distinction. This discourse was reactivated and further radicalized with the appearance of the KLA on the scene.
When blood began to be shed in Kosovo for liberation from Serbia, the Serbian army and police, with increased propaganda intensity, trumpeted throughout the villages of Kosovo the idea that the KLA leadership was “leading the people down the wrong path,” while the Albanian people themselves were presented as essentially peaceful and interested in a peaceful solution. In this way, the same narrative structure was constantly maintained: the moral division between the people and the political elites, where the conflict was delegitimized by being interpreted as the result of leadership manipulation and not as an expression of organized political will.
This LVV discourse is neither contemporary nor accidental. It has been nurtured over the years and is based on a political logic that aims to separate the history of the war from the post-war period, delegitimizing its key figures, former KLA commanders at all levels, who in this narrative are depicted as involved in corruption and post-war mismanagement. Among the primary justifications for this discourse, as often heard in public discourse by LVV lackeys and its wannabe intellectuals, are arguments such as “the KLA failed to protect the people”, “it was a marginal movement, led by people uneducated in military affairs”, or “the massacres and the war in Kosovo are exaggerated”, and similar ones. In this logic, these positions are presented as strong arguments in the critical discourse, based on a reinterpretation of the history of the war and its role in shaping the state of Kosovo. However, they directly clash with the collective historical memory and direct experience of Kosovar society, because, at the same time, the social reality of Kosovo remains deeply marked by the memories of the war: the monuments to the fallen, the commemorative ceremonies and the constant presence of the missing, who continue to be a daily part of the public and family space.
By maintaining a formal “respect” for the KLA, but shifting the criticism to its leadership and the new elite that emerged from it after the war, LVV constructs a narrative where the war remains sacred, while the post-war elite is presented as usurpers of this symbolic capital. In this context, it is presented as a structure that must be constantly opposed, through a simplified and mobilizing political vocabulary, which aims to be understandable to the broad mass of voters.
The nationalist dimension
No matter how pronounced it may seem, the nationalist dimension is the least present in the LVV discourse and, in all cases, the mobilizing effect on the ground of this dimension has remained limited in comparison to the class and moral narratives that dominate the LVV political discourse. Even when there seems to be a certain triumph of this dimension, which is perceived as such in the minds of LVV voters, such as the construction of bridges over the Ibar River, or the temporary non-voting of the “Srpska List”, such a thing carries no weight and has no substantial mobilizing effect. If there had been one, the appearance on the scene of the flirtations of the LVV leaders with the “Srpska List”, or the voting for the latter by the LVV leader and his flock with the national flag in front, would have resulted in a massive protest. After all, there would have been protests and violence as early as 2023, when the Ohrid Annex was approved, the most damaging thing in Kosovo's history since 1945.
That the nationalist dimension is completely irrelevant compared to the dominant class dimension becomes even clearer when viewed from a doctrinal perspective. In this sense, modern nationalism, in principle, is built on three pillars: the victim people, the traitorous elite and the savior leader. This is precisely where the way in which the LVV has constructed its political narrative stands out, which does not place itself on a classic nationalist axis, but on a moral and class axis. In this context, Albini does not appear as a savior leader in a nationalist battle, but as the leader of a political movement that uses the foundations of Marxist-Leninist class doctrine to build a “superior moral base”, producing a narrative of the victimization of the masses excluded from political processes, presented as poor and deprived in relation to the “thieves” who emerged after the war, and, finally, identifying the internal enemy on class criteria (rich versus poor). LVV has adapted this model to the Kosovar circumstances, presenting the people as betrayed, the state as captured, the elite as corrupt, and itself as an instrument of moral and political purification.
Like many populist movements, LVV and Albini have followed a similar trajectory: first, they have long created a sense of collective injustice (that “they stole our collective assets”, even though many of Kosovo’s industries and factories had ceased to function decades before the war; meanwhile, privatization has continued with high intensity and often without a clear addressing of the corruption that accompanies these processes today); they have identified the corrupt elite, which in this narrative is mainly associated with former KLA leaders (although in public discourse often any political figure exposed in the media or perceived as part of the establishment is labeled as part of the “commanders” or “thieves”); they have presented the people as moral victims, in need of a leadership that claims to possess political truth; they have built their own image as authentic interpreters of the popular will; and, finally, they have reached several stages of moral delegitimization of the opponent, where the opposition and any actor who does not conform to the LVV narrative becomes the object of political and digital attack.
Again on Kosovo's deja vu
According to any criteria for classifying political parties in the Balkans and beyond, LVV cannot be reduced simply to a traditional party, because it presents itself as a political structure with elements of secularized religious moralism, of pronounced class conflict, on which its entire mobilizing force is based, as well as of populist nationalism, where national symbols and causes are fictitious and serve only occasional agendas. It was understood that this does not necessarily imply classical Marxism in the economic sense, but a logic of moral delegitimization of the existing elite and political mobilization through class conflict, where the whole of society is divided into “us” and “them”, “friend” and “enemy”. For this reason, dealing with LVV’s programs and with how much Mr. Kurti has realized from his promises in the previous government is a Sisyphean task: the LVV vote is not based on Mr. Kurti’s good governance, but on the voters’ faith in the expropriation of the wealthy. This promise to expropriate the wealthy does not mean returning property to the poor or empowering the poor of Kosovo, inside and outside of it. The class promise is sufficient to be realized in the first dimension, that is, to expropriate the wealthy class and to despise the elite with the aim of subjugating them by the uneducated masses. For the LVV voter, it is enough that others are harmed, those who are the target of the leader, that is, the leadership of the KLA at all levels. In this sense, there is a parallel between the goal of the Special Court and the goals of Mr. Albin Kurti: leaving the KLA without leadership, erasing one of the most glorious histories of the Albanian people in recent times, and transforming the KLA into an amorphous structure without a head and soul. It was understood that the Special Court does not have class criteria for eliminating opponents; is based on legal criteria and official policies of punishment that the Kosovo Assembly itself has approved, while Albin Kurti is based entirely on the class dimension, seeking the expropriation of this leadership, not only property-wise, but above all moral and national. The result of both, however, remains the same: the delegitimization of a war for liberation and independence that Kosovars have waged under the leadership of the KLA.
I have often heard LVV exponents say that the KLA leadership was not legitimate because it was self-proclaimed. This thesis, in this analytical framework, does not stand as an independent argument, but as part of a broader approach that aims to review the sources of political legitimacy in post-war Kosovo. In this sense, it is argued that no war and no national heroism can be reduced to the logic of voting or to formal institutional representation: Skanderbeg did not fight on the basis of the vote, Adem Jashari too, just as neither Mustafa Kemal Atatürk in the case of Turkey, nor similar historical figures in other European contexts and beyond, acted on this principle. In this way, this discourse on “self-proclaimed” becomes part of the same broader process of the symbolic delegitimization of the KLA, where the main tension lies not in the historical facts themselves, but in the way in which the sources of moral and political authority are constructed and rewritten in the post-war public space.
(The author is the first president of the Constitutional Court and professor of law and international relations)
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