When caretaker Prime Minister Albin Kurti unveiled his proposed cabinet on October 26, one name stood out from the usual rotation of Kosovo’s politics: Sejnur Veshall, a Roma candidate nominated for a ministerial post, that of Regional Development. It was a quiet political milestone — the first time a member of Kosovo’s Roma community was poised to enter government at that level, and only the second time in the country’s history that someone from such a profoundly disadvantaged background had been nominated for minister.

Yet the symbolism was undercut by circumstance. Kurti’s proposed government failed to secure the votes needed for approval, raising an awkward question: how genuine was this gesture of diversity in a cabinet that was never likely to pass? Was Veshall’s inclusion a sign of future commitment, or a fleeting attempt to project inclusivity in a government unlikely to endure? Whether Kurti himself — or Glauk Konjufca, the former speaker whom Kurti later proposed as prime minister in a last bid to form the government — would return to that promise if given another chance remains uncertain. 

For now, Elbert Krasniqi, from the Egyptian community, continues to serve as the acting Minister of Local Government Administration — a position once seen as a milestone in Kosovo’s pursuit of inclusion, at least in terms of representation. His appointment was widely celebrated as proof that voices long excluded from power were finally visible within the country’s political hierarchy. 

Since his appointment back in 2021, when Vetëvendosje (VV) started its mandate, expectations were high but measured. No one believed that a single minister, or a single mandate, could undo generations of structural inequality — in housing, employment or access to public life. Those problems are deeply rooted, and no cabinet reshuffle could solve them overnight.

The limits of Krasniqi’s position were clear from the start. The Ministry of Local Government Administration was never designed to advance social justice. It is a technical institution, responsible for coordinating municipalities, managing budgets and overseeing local governance. It is a ministry that neither directly confronts inequality nor speaks to the daily struggles of marginalized communities. Its structure is built for administration, not redistribution.

That doesn’t mean ministers from disadvantaged communities should only lead ministries connected to social issues. But when someone from such a background reaches this level for the first time, expectations inevitably grow. People who finally see themselves represented hope that their concerns will be heard and reflected in national decisions.

In reality, those hopes often collide with the limits of the position itself. The ministry Krasniqi leads focuses on administration rather than reform. Still, for many, his appointment carried the hope that visibility would bring change and that inclusion was moving beyond rhetoric. The distance between what a position allows and what a community needs remains at the heart of Kosovo’s struggle with representation.

The same dilemma now surrounds the proposed appointment of Sejnur Veshall, a young Roma activist from Prizren and former Deputy Minister of Culture. 

Inclusion as a performance, not a policy

Before coming to power, Albin Kurti built much of his political message around rejecting what he saw as the superficial forms of inclusion practiced by earlier governments. He often criticized the idea that simply appointing a few minority representatives could be equated with genuine equality. In the rallies I attended, Kurti often said his vision was different: “inclusion of people, not politicians”, unless those politicians were genuinely skilled and capable.

In power, that line has started to blur. 

Kurti’s government has faced the same temptations he once criticized — to treat diversity as a numbers exercise. A ministry here, a deputy post there, appointments presented as progress. The difference between representation and reform, between identity and merit, is once again fading.

The experience of Sejnur Veshall shows what this looks like in practice. 

At 28, Veshall represents a new generation of Roma professionals seeking to build a stronger presence in public life. His nomination to lead the Ministry of Regional Development is significant — both as a source of pride for the community and as a test of how inclusion is understood in practice. Regional development is not a ministry of advocacy. It deals with economic planning, investment programs, regional coordination and donor partnerships that shape the country’s long-term development. The role requires administrative skill, policy knowledge and management experience that are usually gained over many years in public service.

Appointing someone still early in their career to such a demanding position raises difficult questions. It is not about whether Veshall deserves the chance, but whether the government has learned to balance symbolic representation with the requirements of effective governance.

In the early stages of the Kurti-led government, Veshall served as Deputy Minister of Culture — one of the youngest people in the cabinet and a rare Roma voice in national politics. His appointment was seen as an encouraging step. But not long after, he was quietly dismissed and replaced without explanation. The government gave no reason, and speculation quickly spread.

What actually happened remains unclear. But when a young and visible official is removed without explanation, people inevitably draw their own conclusions. Within both political and Roma community circles — where networks are small and news travels quickly — many believed that Veshall had lost the support of his party leader, Erxhan Galushi from the Progressive Movement of Roma of Kosovo (KRAP). As one insider put it, “he was thrown under the bus.”

The episode also raises a broader question: what happens if the same pattern repeats? If, in the future, the current Roma political leader, Albert Kinolli, were to decide that Veshall — now a member of the United Roma Party of Kosovo (PRYK), which won the community’s reserved Assembly seat in the last elections — no longer fits the party line, would the government again choose political convenience over professional integrity?

His dismissal was more than a personal setback; it showed how fragile minority representation can be when it depends on party approval rather than performance. If a Prime Minister who once preached that inclusion must be based on skill and integrity is willing to dismiss a qualified young Roma deputy without explanation, or later to replace him for intra-party comfort, then what credibility remains in that moral vision?

These moments highlight a wider problem in Kosovo’s politics: the lack of purpose in representation. Too often, the position itself becomes an achievement. Success is measured by who gets the seat, not by what they do with it. Communities are told, “We have a minister now,” as if that alone brings progress. But representation without results feeds into frustration and reinforces the idea that minorities can hold office but are not able to influence decisions that might contribute to the progress of their communities.

For Kosovo’s democracy to mature, minority politics must move beyond representation and take on real responsibility. Inclusion cannot rest on loyalty or emotion; it requires competence, accountability and results. Minority parties should broaden their focus beyond ethnic lines and build policies that address shared priorities — employment, education, housing — linking their communities’ needs with Kosovo’s national agenda. Appointments should be based on merit, not obedience, since political loyalty fades while public trust endures.

Kurti could also return to the principle that once defined his message: inclusion of people, not politicians. The presence of Roma, Ashkali and Egyptian leaders in government is a long-overdue step, but visibility alone is not progress. Kosovo needs institutions that practice fairness and leaders who govern for all, understanding that equality is not decoration but a foundation.

Leadership is not a privilege; it is public service that demands skill, integrity and humility. The real test for any government — including Kurti’s — is whether professionalism will outweigh political convenience. If it does not, inclusion will remain a performance, not a policy.

Still, Veshall’s nomination deserves recognition — both as personal achievement and as a symbolic step forward for the Roma community. But it also serves as a reminder that public office is not a prize but a responsibility. Inclusion will only become real when holding power ceases to be a matter of belonging and instead becomes a matter of transforming representation into genuine progress.

Feature image: Majlinda Hoxha/K2.0

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