In Pristina, weeks after a war crimes court in The Hague sentenced former President Hashim Thaci to 25 years for crimes committed during Kosovo's war of independence, the streets filled with a grief that looked like rage. Protesters who see Thaci and his fellow Kosovo Liberation Army commanders as national heroes demanded that parliament strip the court of its power — and when police intervened, the confrontation drew blood on both sides. The moment captures a tension as old as liberation itself: the distance between what a people must do to become free and what justice, arriving later, decide
Kosovo protests erupt over war crimes court limits as Thaci conviction sparks fury
At least 17 people injured in clashes between police and protesters, including six police officers; three protesters detained.
A nation deciding whether to forgive its own liberation fighters
Mark
Why did people take to the streets over a court verdict that had already been handed down?
Mimi
The verdict was the spark, but the real issue is what it represents. Thaci and the others convicted are seen as heroes who won Kosovo's independence. The court felt like an outside power punishing them for it.
Luke
But the court was established by Kosovo itself, under international pressure in 2015. That's worth noting—this isn't purely external judgment.
Mimi
True, but that doesn't change how it feels to many Kosovars. The court is in The Hague, staffed by international judges. When it convicted their leaders, it felt like the world was saying their war was criminal.
Mark
So the amendments—capping sentences at 15 years, allowing amnesty—those are a way to take back control?
Mimi
Exactly. They're saying: we'll decide how to handle our own history, not The Hague.
Luke
But Prime Minister Kurti didn't support the second vote. That suggests there's real disagreement even within Kosovo's government about whether this is the right move.
Mimi
There is. Kurti seems to believe the court serves a purpose, even if it's unpopular. But he's in the minority.
Mark
What happens next if the amendments don't pass?
Luke
That's unclear. The convictions stand, the appeals continue, but the political pressure won't disappear. This is a long-term tension.
Mimi
And if they do pass, the court's authority essentially collapses. That's why the international community is watching closely.
O Pulso
- Weeks after the Specialist Chambers convicted former President Hashim Thaci and three others to a combined 81 years for war crimes, public fury in Kosovo reached a breaking point.
- Protesters stormed the streets outside parliament and government buildings; police answered with tear gas and water cannons while demonstrators hurled stones and firecrackers, leaving at least 17 people injured and three detained.
- Lawmakers took a first reading of amendments that would cap sentences at 15 years, allow presidential amnesty, and let convicts serve time inside Kosovo — measures widely understood as tools to undo the Thaci verdict.
- Prime Minister Kurti's party refused to support a second vote that same day, fracturing parliament and leaving the amendments in limbo between nationalist pressure and international obligation.
- With Thaci's appeal still pending and Kosovo's institutions visibly divided, the country faces a defining choice between honoring an internationally mandated court and protecting the men many citizens regard as the architects of their freedom.
In Pristina, weeks after a war crimes court in The Hague sentenced former President Hashim Thaci to 25 years for crimes committed during Kosovo's war of independence, the streets filled with a grief that looked like rage. Protesters who see Thaci and his fellow Kosovo Liberation Army commanders as national heroes demanded that parliament strip the court of its power — and when police intervened, the confrontation drew blood on both sides. The moment captures a tension as old as liberation itself: the distance between what a people must do to become free and what justice, arriving later, decides to call those acts.
On a Monday in Pristina, weeks of simmering anger over a war crimes verdict finally spilled into the streets. Protesters gathered outside Kosovo's government and parliament buildings demanding that lawmakers dismantle the authority of the Specialist Chambers, a court based in The Hague that had just convicted former President Hashim Thaci on charges of murder, torture, and illegal detention stemming from his role as a senior Kosovo Liberation Army commander during the 1998–99 war with Serbia. Thaci received 25 years; the four defendants together drew 81. When police moved to clear the crowds, the confrontation turned violent — tear gas, water cannons, stones, and firecrackers. At least 17 people were injured, six of them officers. Three protesters were detained.
For many in Kosovo, the men convicted were not criminals but liberators — fighters who had led the nation to independence. The verdicts felt less like justice than foreign judgment imposed on national heroes. That morning, parliament had taken a first step toward pushing back, approving an initial reading of amendments that would cap sentences at 15 years, grant defendants the right to appeal to Kosovo's own Supreme Court, allow sentences to be served inside the country, and give the president power to issue amnesty. The changes were designed not as minor reforms but as a mechanism to effectively nullify the Thaci conviction.
The path forward, however, was fractured. Prime Minister Albin Kurti called the amendments rushed and poorly conceived, and his party withheld support for the second vote needed to pass them. The Democratic Party of Kosovo — Thaci's former political home — had introduced the legislation, and the parliamentary split laid bare how deeply divided Kosovo's leadership had become.
The Specialist Chambers had been established in 2015 under international pressure, meant to deliver accountability for acts committed during and after the war. In Kosovo, it had become something else: a symbol of outside authority overriding a nation's own story of itself. With appeals still pending and parliament at an impasse, the real contest is no longer only in the courtroom. It is inside Kosovo's own institutions — and, as Monday's clashes made plain, in its streets.
In the center of Pristina on Monday, the streets filled with anger that had been building for weeks. Protesters gathered outside Kosovo's government and parliament buildings demanding that lawmakers pass a law to strip power from a war crimes court operating in The Hague. When police moved to clear the crowds, the confrontation turned physical. Officers deployed tear gas and water cannons. Demonstrators hurled firecrackers and stones. By the time the clash ended, at least 17 people had been injured—six of them police officers. Three protesters were detained.
The timing of the protest was no accident. Just weeks earlier, the Specialist Chambers court had convicted Hashim Thaci, Kosovo's former president, along with three others on war crimes charges. Thaci received 25 years in prison for crimes including murder, torture, and illegal detention, offenses he allegedly committed as a senior commander of the Kosovo Liberation Army during the 1998-99 war with Serbia. The combined sentences for all four defendants totaled 81 years. In Kosovo, many saw these men not as criminals but as fighters who had led the nation to independence. The convictions felt like a betrayal.
That same Monday morning, lawmakers had taken a first step toward changing the rules. They approved an initial reading of amendments to the law that created the Specialist Chambers in 2015. The proposed changes would fundamentally reshape how the court operates. Prison sentences would be capped at 15 years instead of the longer terms the court could currently impose. Defendants would gain the right to appeal to Kosovo's Supreme Court. Sentences could be served inside Kosovo rather than abroad. And the country's president would gain the power to grant amnesty to anyone convicted. These were not minor tweaks. They were designed to undo the Thaci conviction and others like it.
But the path forward was uncertain. Prime Minister Albin Kurti, whose government held significant power, expressed doubt about the amendments. He told parliament the proposed changes were rushed and poorly thought through. More significantly, Kurti's party declined to support a second vote on the legislation that same day—a vote that would be needed for the amendments to pass. The Democratic Party of Kosovo, Thaci's former political home, had introduced the amendments, and the split in parliament revealed how fractured Kosovo's leadership had become over this question.
The Specialist Chambers itself existed because of international pressure. Kosovo had agreed to establish the court in The Hague to prosecute former KLA fighters for crimes allegedly committed during and after the war. The court was meant to deliver accountability for acts that had occurred decades earlier. But in Kosovo, the court had become something else: a symbol of outside judgment being imposed on national heroes, of the international community prioritizing justice over the country's own sense of itself.
Thaci and his three co-defendants have appealed their convictions, meaning the legal battle is far from over. But the protests and the parliamentary maneuvers suggest that the real struggle is not in the courtroom. It is in Kosovo's own institutions, where lawmakers must decide whether to honor the court's verdicts or dismantle its authority. The clash on Monday—the tear gas, the stones, the injured officers and detained protesters—was a visible expression of that deeper conflict. Kosovo is one of Europe's poorest nations, and it is now deeply divided over whether its former liberation fighters should face justice or be forgiven.
Citações Notáveis
We consider these moves to amend the law on the Specialist Chambers rushed and insufficiently analysed and thought through— Prime Minister Albin Kurti
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Leia o original em The Straits Times ↗