After months of political deadlock, on August 26, Dimal Basha was elected Speaker of the Kosovo Assembly. This followed nearly 60 failed attempts, until a Constitutional Court ruling on August 8 limited Vetëvendosje (VV) to prosposing each candidate only three times. After none of the three ministers proposed by VV secured enough votes, and following the Democratic Party of Kosovo’s (PDK) request that an MP outside the resigning Government be nominated, VV put forward Basha. He was elected on the second attempt with PDK’s support.

Since this impasse has wasted Kosovo more than half a year, it was expected that with the election of the Speaker of the Assembly, public opinion would shift to the next step in forming the Government and state institutions. But that did not happen. Social networks were flooded with insults against Basha — insults that took a racist turn, making the color of his skin the main topic, accompanied by derogatory comments. The irony is that Basha does not belong to any of the Roma, Ashkali or Egyptian communities; he is Albanian.

In fact, he was not immune from these derogatory expressions, such as “magjup,” “gabel,” or “gypsy” despite being part of the Albanian ethnic group, to which it is known he belongs. The color of his skin alone was enough for public opinion to strip him of his political responsibility, burdening him with the weight of racism that the Roma, Ashkali and Egyptian communities endure every day. This is not the case, for example, with state representatives from the Bosniak community. They are identified by their ethnic origin, but because they are white — and white state representatives represent the norm — their skin color is never questioned. This shows that appearance and skin color, regardless of ethnicity, can serve as a basis for institutionalized contempt and racialization, often even disguised as collective “criticism.”

The use of racist insults, however, is not “criticism” of an individual; rather, it denigrates the identity of entire communities that have historically been oppressed. Such insults send a message to thousands of citizens from the Roma, Ashkali and Egyptian communities. It is as if they are being told that no matter how much they work, study, or contribute to this country, you will always remain “the other” – unworthy of leading it.

In Kosovo, the president or prime minister usually represents the majority and comes from the ranks of the Albanian community, while non-majority communities, according to the Constitution, have guaranteed seats in the Assembly and Government. For example, for the first time since Kosovo’s declaration of independence in 2008, between 2021 and 2023, Bekim Arifi from the Ashkali community served as Deputy Speaker of the Assembly.

In addition to the positions guaranteed for communities in the Assembly, every government mandate has included deputy ministers, advisors to the Prime Minister, and ministers who have represented the voices of these communities and worked for their integration into society. In the Kurti Government (2020–2024), for the first time, there was a minister from the Egyptian community, Elbert Krasniqi, who continues to serve as acting Minister of Administration and Local Government (MLGA). However, even this representation — having a minister from a non-majority community in government — is a constitutional requirement.

However, although the Constitution of Kosovo guarantees seats for representatives of non-majority communities, it does not prohibit members of these communities from holding higher representative positions, whether as president or mayor. According to the Constitution, every citizen of the Republic of Kosovo has the right to be nominated and the right to be elected. For example, the President of the Republic of Kosovo can be any citizen of the Republic who has reached the age of 35. There are no conditions or ethnic affiliation requirements for exercising this position.

But the question arises: what would happen if one day a Roma, Ashkali or Egyptian were to lead the state – not as a deputy for non-majority communities, nor as an advisor for their “integration,” but as Speaker of the Assembly or President of Kosovo? Are we ready to imagine such a reality, and then create it? Or does this persistent framing of the “other” as less valuable ultimately undermine the very democracy in which we claim to live?

“Present” in symbolic activities, but without executive power

The local elections of October 12, 2025, in Kosovo are a good opportunity to reflect on the representation of the Roma, Ashkali and Egyptian communities in decision-making structures. According to data published by the Central Election Commission (CEC), a total of 93 political entities have been certified for this year’s local elections: 32 parties, two coalitions, 32 citizens’ initiatives and 27 independent candidates, with 5,626 candidates running for local positions. Of these, 206 are running for mayor, while 5,420 are running for Municipal Assemblies.

However, not a single candidate for mayor comes from the Roma, Ashkali or Egyptian communities. One of the main reasons is the limited real chance of winning for people in these communities. They are well aware that, due to prejudice against them and ethnically driven voting, the likelihood of an Ashkali, Egyptian or Roma candidate securing a municipality is very low.

In the Municipal Assemblies, members of the Roma, Ashkali and Egyptian communities do participate, but their representation is ensured mainly through community-based parties and initiatives rather than through the major political parties. According to the CEC, a total of 129 candidates from these communities are running in this year’s elections, spread across eight municipalities — even though these communities live in 26 municipalities of the Republic of Kosovo. Specifically, the candidates represent two Egyptian parties, two Roma parties, one Ashkali party and one Ashkali community initiative.

None of the major parties has included a representative from the Roma, Ashkali or Egyptian communities as a candidate for the assembly. This absence is not due to a lack of capacity, but is clear evidence of the ethnic division of parties at the local level, as if each community is forced to be represented only by its own party.

In some municipalities, according to the Law on Local Self-Government, specifically Articles 54 and 56, communities are entitled to the positions of deputy chair of the municipal assembly and vice-chair for communities, in municipalities where at least 10% of citizens belong to non-majority communities. In certain cases, even when the percentage of non-majority communities in a municipality has not reached the 10% threshold, municipal mayors have nevertheless appointed vice-chairs from among these communities.

However, most of the time, these positions have been more “decorative” than executive. They are described as decorative because the responsibilities attached to them are often limited to symbolic activities and protocol meetings, keeping community representatives “present” at the municipal level but without tangible political influence.

Even civil society representatives from the Roma, Ashkali and Egyptian communities often describe these roles as limited, emphasizing that representatives of non-majority communities primarily collect information about the demands and needs of their communities and convey it to their Albanian leaders — without holding any executive power or direct influence over decision-making regarding those needs.

The Law on Local Self-Government also reinforces the distinction between the roles of deputy mayors of municipalities and deputy mayors for communities: the deputy mayor has executive powers and can act in the mayor’s absence, while the deputy mayor for communities remains mainly advisory. The latter only offers suggestions on issues affecting non-majority communities, without any decision-making responsibilities or executive authority.

The lack of real powers for representatives of the Roma, Ashkali and Egyptian communities has profound structural consequences, turning representation into an illusion that creates the appearance of inclusion while effectively reproducing political marginalization. This means that the needs of these communities are addressed indirectly, often filtered and diluted by the interests of the majority, instead of the communities themselves articulating and advancing solutions. The long-term consequences of this practice include a lack of trust in institutions, the perpetuation of inequalities and the risk that these communities will remain dependent on the “mercy” or will of the majority. Such a system not only undermines social cohesion but also contradicts the principles of inclusive democracy, because political equality cannot be reduced to mere physical presence in institutions without real power to influence decision-making.

Democracy is measured not only by elections and rotations of power, but also by the ability to vote for someone with a program and vision — someone who sees beyond color, surname, or background. In the United States, the election of Barack Obama as President twice, between 2009 and 2017, did not eliminate racism, but it showed the world that democracy can prevail over prejudice. A similar example occurred in London, when Sadiq Khan, the son of immigrants from Pakistan, became mayor of a metropolis of over nine million inhabitants.

For many, especially those from stigmatized communities, these moments represent recognition and hope for a more just and representative future. When Kosovo reaches the point where Roma, Ashkali or Egyptians have greater political and public representation, it will not be a victory for individuals from non-majority communities alone, but a victory for Kosovo itself — in the battle against racism.

Feature image: K2.0

This article is funded by the European Union and the “SMART Balkans – Civil Society for Shared Society in the Western Balkans” regional project implemented by Centar za promociju civilnog društva (CPCD), Center for Research and Policy Making (CRPM) and Institute for Democracy and Mediation (IDM) and financially supported by the Norwegian Ministry of Foreign Affairs (NMFA).

The content of this article is the sole responsibility of the project implementers and does not necessarily reflect the views of the European Union, the Norwegian Ministry of Foreign Affairs (NMFA), Centar za promociju civilnog društva (CPCD), Center for Research and Policy Making (CRPM) or Institute for Democracy and Mediation (IDM).

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