Kosovo has a government again, but it does not yet have political stability. On Sunday, September 13, parliament re-elected Albin Kurti as prime minister by 62 votes in the 120-seat Assembly, ending one phase of a long institutional stalemate while opening another. The vote gives Kurti the narrow majority he needs to govern, yet the country still lacks an elected president, the opposition is preparing a Constitutional Court challenge to the government’s legality, and a carefully negotiated compromise intended to prevent another election has begun to unravel.

The paradox is stark. Kurti can point to a fresh parliamentary mandate and to the fact that his Vetëvendosje movement again finished first in the June election. His opponents can point to repeated elections, collapsing cross-party trust and a government formation process they say breached constitutional and procedural rules. Between those positions sits a country that has spent much of the past 18 months cycling through elections, caretaker arrangements, parliamentary boycotts and constitutional disputes.

For the European Union, which wants Kosovo to build durable institutions, implement rule-of-law and economic reforms and normalise relations with Serbia, the latest government vote is therefore only a partial breakthrough. The immediate question is whether the Assembly can now elect a president without triggering yet another dissolution. The broader question is whether Kosovo’s political class can move from tactical victories to a functioning system of government capable of delivering reforms that voters and international partners have been waiting for.

A government vote that solves only half the problem

Kurti’s government won the confidence of 62 deputies, one more than the 61 votes required for a majority in the 120-member Assembly. That is enough to place an executive in office. It is not enough, by itself, to resolve the constitutional bottleneck around the presidency. Reuters reported that major opposition parties, including the Democratic Party of Kosovo and the Alliance for the Future of Kosovo, boycotted the session, while the Democratic League of Kosovo abstained. The opposition argues that the process used to establish the new government was improper and has said it will seek review by the Constitutional Court.

Those objections matter because the court has repeatedly become an arbiter of Kosovo’s political disputes. Earlier this year, the country’s inability to elect a president produced competing interpretations of constitutional deadlines and dissolution powers. The Constitutional Court intervened after then-President Vjosa Osmani moved to dissolve parliament, temporarily freezing the process before ruling on the constitutional sequence. The episode demonstrated that Kosovo’s political crisis was not simply a contest between parties; it was also a dispute over the rules by which institutional deadlock should be resolved.

The new government now enters office under a similar cloud. Its supporters argue that the June election returned Vetëvendosje as the largest force and that Kurti has assembled the votes necessary to govern. The opposition’s case is that a numerical majority does not cure what it sees as procedural defects in the route used to reach the confidence vote. Until the court rules, that disagreement will hang over the executive even as ministers are expected to resume normal government work.

That uncertainty is politically costly. A cabinet that must simultaneously govern, defend its legitimacy and negotiate a presidential settlement has less room to focus on legislation, economic reform and foreign policy. It also gives every parliamentary dispute a constitutional dimension. In mature political systems, a narrow government majority can still produce stability if parties accept the rules and institutional outcomes. In Kosovo, the rules themselves have become part of the contest.

How Kosovo arrived at its fourth crisis in less than two years

The current impasse cannot be understood as a single failed negotiation. It is the cumulative result of a sequence of inconclusive elections and unsuccessful attempts to build consensus. The February 2025 parliamentary election weakened Kurti’s once-dominant position and opened a prolonged struggle over government formation. A snap election in December 2025 gave Vetëvendosje a stronger result, but that did not resolve the separate requirement to elect a president. When parliament failed to choose a successor to Osmani in March 2026, the country was again pushed toward dissolution and another election.

The June 7 vote was therefore Kosovo’s third parliamentary election in roughly 18 months. Vetëvendosje again emerged first, with about 43 percent of the vote in near-complete results reported by Reuters, but without an outright majority. Certified seat figures later gave the party 53 deputies. The Democratic Party of Kosovo and the Democratic League of Kosovo remained substantial opposition forces, leaving Kurti dependent on allies and minority representatives to reach the 61 votes needed for a government.

Low turnout underscored growing public fatigue. Reuters reported participation below 37 percent in the June election, a warning sign in a country where repeated voting has failed to create a durable political settlement. Voters were being asked to decide again, but the underlying parliamentary arithmetic had not changed enough to guarantee that politicians could solve the institutional questions that elections alone could not.

That distinction is central to the crisis. Elections answer who has the strongest mandate. They do not automatically answer how parties that distrust one another will cooperate when the constitution requires broader agreement. Vetëvendosje can win pluralities or even commanding leads over rivals and still lack the supermajority or quorum needed for certain institutional decisions. Opposition parties, meanwhile, can be too weak to form a government yet strong enough to block procedures that require cross-party participation. The result is a system in which everyone possesses a veto over something but no one possesses enough power to govern the entire institutional architecture alone.

The presidency is where the arithmetic becomes unforgiving

Kosovo’s president is largely a ceremonial head of state, but the method of election gives the office enormous importance during periods of political fragmentation. Article 86 of the constitution requires the president to be elected by secret ballot in parliament. In the first two rounds, a candidate needs two-thirds of all deputies, or 80 votes. If no candidate reaches that threshold, a third round is held between the two leading candidates, and the requirement falls to a majority of all deputies, or 61 votes.

The difficulty lies not only in the final number of votes but in the validity of the earlier rounds. Constitutional Court jurisprudence has required at least two-thirds of deputies to be present and vote in the first two rounds. That gives an opposition bloc the ability to stop the process by denying the necessary participation. The third-round safety valve cannot simply be reached if the first rounds are not validly constituted.

This is the mechanism that transformed the presidency from a ceremonial office into the centre of a national crisis. A government can survive with 61 votes. A presidential process, at least initially, requires 80 deputies to participate and a candidate to secure two-thirds support. In a deeply polarised parliament, attendance itself becomes a political weapon.

If the third ballot also fails to produce a president, the constitution requires dissolution of the Assembly and new elections within 45 days. In other words, failure to agree on a head of state is not an isolated institutional embarrassment; it can reset the entire parliamentary system. Kosovo has already experienced how quickly that constitutional trigger can turn a dispute over one office into another national election.

That is why the presidency dominates every calculation in Pristina. Kurti’s 62-vote government majority gives him control of the executive. It does not give him the 80-deputy participation threshold needed to carry the country safely through the presidential process. Unless more opposition lawmakers enter the chamber and support, or at least enable, the vote, Kosovo remains vulnerable to another dissolution.

The Sejdiu compromise was supposed to break the cycle

At the end of August, Kurti’s Vetëvendosje and the opposition Democratic League of Kosovo announced what initially looked like the political compromise that could finally end the deadlock. The two parties agreed to support Bekim Sejdiu, a law professor and former diplomat with experience in public institutions, as a joint candidate for president. Reuters described the agreement as a potential route out of the impasse, with the expectation that support from minority representatives could bring the numbers close to the constitutional threshold.

The deal was significant because the LDK was not joining Kurti’s government. It was attempting to separate the presidency from the broader struggle over control of the executive. That model offered a way for the party to remain in opposition while helping create functioning institutions. In theory, it was exactly the kind of limited cross-party bargain Kosovo’s constitutional architecture requires: cooperation on the state while competition continues over the government.

But the agreement quickly fractured inside the LDK. Six of its 18 deputies publicly refused to support Sejdiu. LDK leader Lumir Abdixhiku identified Avdullah Hoti, Hykmete Bajrami, Armend Zemaj, Kujtim Shala, Arben Gashi and Janina Ymeri as dissenters. Their objection was not presented simply as a personal rejection of Sejdiu. It reflected a deeper argument over whether helping elect the compromise candidate would, in practice, stabilise Kurti’s hold on power.

Former prime minister Avdullah Hoti said his opposition was based on political and institutional principle, arguing that the president should be a unifying figure who commands consensus beyond party interests. Abdixhiku, by contrast, argued that preventing another election and restoring institutional functionality was itself a national responsibility. The split exposed a fundamental dilemma for opposition parties: when does institutional cooperation become political rescue for the government they oppose?

Kurti said the agreement remained valid despite the defections. Yet the arithmetic changed immediately. Vetëvendosje’s 53 seats, the LDK deputies still backing the deal and minority representatives were no longer sufficient to guarantee the 80 votes or participants required in the first two rounds. Local reporting placed the remaining support around the mid-70s. What had looked like a credible consensus candidate again became hostage to a handful of votes.

A rebellion inside the LDK reveals the deeper problem

The six dissenting LDK deputies have become central actors in a national constitutional drama, but their rebellion is also a symptom of broader fragmentation inside Kosovo’s established parties. Abdixhiku’s leadership has faced internal criticism before, and the Sejdiu deal intensified arguments over the party’s direction. Some members see institutional compromise as evidence of political maturity. Others see it as conceding too much to Kurti after months of accusing him of concentrating power and marginalising rivals.

That internal conflict complicates negotiations because party leaders cannot necessarily deliver every vote they appear to control on paper. A deal between Kurti and Abdixhiku is only as strong as the willingness of individual deputies to honour it. In systems where presidential voting is secret, party discipline is further complicated by the possibility that lawmakers can defect without immediately revealing how they voted.

The LDK split also makes it harder to define what a “consensus candidate” actually means. Sejdiu was selected through talks between the largest governing force and a major opposition party. Yet if a significant minority within the LDK rejects both the process and its political consequences, the candidate may be consensual at leadership level without being consensual in parliament.

For Kurti, the temptation will be to portray the six holdouts as responsible for the danger of another election. For the dissenters, the temptation will be to argue that the government is using the threat of dissolution to force acceptance of a political arrangement they consider flawed. Both narratives contain a measure of political logic. Neither, however, changes the constitutional numbers.

The practical challenge is therefore to find additional deputies willing to participate in the process. That could involve renewed talks with the LDK rebels, outreach to the Democratic Party of Kosovo, negotiations with the Alliance for the Future of Kosovo, or new understandings with minority representatives. Each path carries political costs, and each potential partner will know that its votes have become disproportionately valuable.

The opposition’s court challenge could redefine the next phase

Even if Kurti succeeds in building a presidential majority, the opposition’s planned Constitutional Court challenge means the new government’s formation will be examined through a second legal lens. The Democratic Party of Kosovo and the Alliance for the Future of Kosovo boycotted the government vote and have questioned the legality of the process. The LDK abstained, reinforcing the absence of a broad political consensus around the new executive.

The merits of the challenge will be for the court to determine. It would be wrong to treat the opposition’s accusations as established constitutional violations, just as it would be premature for the government to treat its 62 votes as eliminating every procedural concern. Kosovo’s recent history shows that the court is willing to intervene when institutional actors disagree about deadlines, dissolution powers or parliamentary procedure.

The court’s role is politically sensitive because every ruling affects the balance between parties. When judges uphold a procedural objection, government supporters may see legal formalism obstructing a democratic mandate. When judges reject an opposition challenge, critics may fear that parliamentary majorities are being given too much latitude. The legitimacy of the constitutional order therefore depends not only on the content of rulings but on all parties accepting that disputes must be resolved through institutions rather than permanent boycott.

A prolonged legal process could also consume valuable time. Kosovo needs a president, a government capable of passing legislation and a parliament able to work consistently. If the executive spends the autumn waiting for judicial clarification while presidential negotiations stall, the practical effect will be another period of limited policymaking even if the formal institutions technically exist.

Kurti remains Kosovo’s dominant politician, but dominance is not the same as control

Albin Kurti has repeatedly demonstrated that he remains the strongest individual political figure in Kosovo. Vetëvendosje has won election after election, and rivals have struggled to build an alternative coalition capable of displacing him. His supporters credit him with asserting Kosovo’s sovereignty, challenging entrenched elites and taking a firmer line toward Serbia, particularly over the authority of Pristina in the Serb-majority north.

His critics see the same style very differently. They accuse him of polarisation, insufficient consultation, strained relations with Western partners and a tendency to treat institutional compromise as weakness. The repeated deadlocks have sharpened those criticisms because Kurti’s electoral strength has not translated into a durable consensus on the presidency or on the broader rules of political cooperation.

That is the central political contradiction of his current position. Kurti is strong enough to remain prime minister and to shape the national agenda. He is not strong enough to eliminate the need for rivals. Kosovo’s constitution makes certain decisions deliberately dependent on broader participation, and the country’s fragmented parliament ensures that opposition parties retain leverage even when they cannot form a government.

The June election illustrated the limits of electoral dominance. Vetëvendosje finished far ahead of its rivals but still lacked a majority. Kurti could build a 62-vote coalition for government, yet the presidency demands a wider bargain. The next phase will test whether he can shift from mobilisation and confrontation to transactional compromise without alienating supporters who value his refusal to yield to established parties.

It will also test whether the opposition can distinguish between holding the government accountable and preventing institutions from functioning. Boycott can be a legitimate political tactic, especially when parties believe procedures have been violated. Used repeatedly, however, it can turn parliamentary absence into a substitute for political negotiation and deepen the public’s sense that elections change little.

The European Union has money and credibility tied to Kosovo’s reforms

The stakes extend well beyond domestic party politics. Kosovo wants eventual membership of the European Union, and Brussels has repeatedly linked progress to functional democratic institutions, rule-of-law reforms, economic modernisation and normalisation of relations with Serbia. Political paralysis slows all of those processes.

The financial incentives are substantial. In April, the EU began transferring €61.8 million in pre-financing to Kosovo under the Reform and Growth Facility, part of the bloc’s Growth Plan for the Western Balkans. According to the EU Office in Kosovo, that pre-financing represented 7 percent of a total €882.6 million in grants and favourable loans potentially available to Kosovo through the end of 2027. The programme is explicitly conditional: money is released as agreed reforms are implemented.

Kosovo’s Reform Agenda includes 111 steps covering the rule of law, governance, economic development, the green and digital transitions and human capital. The structure of the facility means delay has a measurable cost. Reform steps are tied to financial allocations and deadlines. A parliament consumed by government formation, presidential ballots and court disputes has less capacity to pass laws, oversee implementation and deliver the benchmarks on which future payments depend.

The EU’s broader Western Balkans facility is worth €6 billion between 2024 and 2027, combining grants and highly concessional loans. Its political purpose is to accelerate convergence with the single market before accession. For Kosovo, the €882.6 million indicative envelope is especially significant relative to the size of the economy. IMF analysis has described it as the largest allocation in the region as a share of GDP.

This creates a direct link between institutional stability and living standards. The debate in Pristina may revolve around quorum, procedure and presidential arithmetic, but the consequences reach infrastructure, business investment, digitalisation, education and public finances. Every month of paralysis carries an opportunity cost that is ultimately borne by citizens rather than politicians.

EU integration also runs through Belgrade

Kosovo’s European path is complicated by a second unresolved political problem: relations with Serbia. Belgrade does not recognise Kosovo’s 2008 declaration of independence, and normalisation between the two remains a central condition for both sides’ progress toward the European Union. Russia and China also do not recognise Kosovo, while five EU member states have withheld recognition, limiting the country’s ability to translate its pro-Western orientation into full international integration.

Kurti has taken a hard line on sovereignty, particularly in northern Kosovo, where a large Serb community maintains close political and economic ties to Serbia. Supporters say previous governments tolerated parallel structures that weakened the authority of the state. Critics, including at times Western governments, have argued that unilateral actions by Pristina increased tensions and made EU-mediated dialogue harder.

The government’s domestic legitimacy therefore matters internationally. A prime minister who enters talks with Serbia while facing legal challenges at home and a possible presidential crisis has less political space to make compromises. Opposition parties can accuse him of lacking consensus; supporters can accuse opponents of weakening Kosovo at a sensitive moment. The result is that internal deadlock and external diplomacy reinforce one another.

The EU has maintained a significant presence in Kosovo, including its rule-of-law mission EULEX, whose mandate runs until June 2027. In July, the Council appointed veteran German diplomat Dirk Schübel as the EU’s new special representative for Kosovo, with a two-year mandate beginning on September 1. His arrival comes at a moment when Brussels needs not simply to encourage dialogue with Serbia but also to push Kosovo’s leaders toward basic institutional functionality at home.

Repeated elections are producing diminishing democratic returns

Elections are the foundation of democratic legitimacy, but repeated elections can become a sign that the political system is failing to convert votes into government. Kosovo is approaching that danger. Three parliamentary elections in roughly 18 months have not resolved the central dispute over how power should be shared when no party controls enough seats to dominate every institution.

The June turnout below 37 percent should be read in that context. Low participation can have many causes, including migration, registration patterns and voter mobility, but after a succession of elections it also reflects fatigue. Citizens may reasonably ask why they should return to the polls if the next parliament is likely to reproduce the same coalition arithmetic and the same presidential confrontation.

A fourth election would not necessarily produce a clearer answer. Vetëvendosje could gain seats, lose seats or return with a similar plurality. The opposition could improve its position without becoming capable of forming a government. Unless one bloc wins a decisive majority or parties change their willingness to cooperate, another ballot could simply restart the cycle with different percentages.

That is why the next days matter more than they might appear. The problem is no longer primarily electoral. It is institutional. Kosovo’s political class needs to demonstrate that it can use negotiation to solve questions that voters cannot solve for it. A democratic system requires both competition and compromise. Kosovo has had plenty of the first and too little of the second.

What the opposition must decide

The opposition parties now face a strategic choice. They can continue to deny Kurti the broad legitimacy he seeks, challenge the government in court and refuse to facilitate the presidential vote. That approach could force another election and perhaps weaken Vetëvendosje if voters blame the government for continued instability. It could also backfire if voters conclude that the opposition is obstructing institutions despite lacking an alternative governing majority.

The other option is selective cooperation: contest the government while enabling the presidency and other constitutional institutions to function. The LDK leadership’s Sejdiu agreement was an attempt to pursue that path. Its internal rebellion shows how difficult the distinction is to sustain. Cooperation can easily be portrayed by rivals within an opposition party as surrender.

For the Democratic Party of Kosovo and the Alliance for the Future of Kosovo, the same calculation applies. Participation in a presidential ballot could help Kosovo avoid another election while leaving them free to oppose Kurti on legislation, budgets, foreign policy and governance. But if they believe the government was formed illegally, facilitating the next institutional step before the Constitutional Court rules may appear to legitimise a process they reject.

There is no cost-free option. The opposition’s strongest leverage comes precisely from the fact that Kurti needs wider participation. Using that leverage to secure institutional or policy concessions is normal parliamentary politics. Using it indefinitely risks making deadlock itself the opposition’s principal source of power.

What Kurti must decide

Kurti also faces a choice between political maximalism and institutional bargaining. With 62 votes, he can govern. To elect a president and stabilise the state, he needs more. The easiest political message would be to blame six LDK rebels and other opposition parties for any failure. The more difficult task is to offer terms that make cooperation defensible for those parties before their own voters.

That may require concessions unrelated to the identity of the presidential candidate: guarantees over parliamentary procedure, committee leadership, legislative consultation, the sequencing of reforms or the government’s approach to politically sensitive projects. None of those possibilities is inevitable, and any agreement must remain within constitutional boundaries. But coalition systems often function through precisely this kind of negotiated exchange.

Kurti’s supporters may resist such bargains, especially after repeated electoral victories. Yet the constitution does not award complete institutional control to the party that finishes first. It requires different majorities for different decisions. Governing within that structure means recognising that a mandate to lead is not a mandate to bypass opponents.

The prime minister’s long-term political interest may also favour compromise. If another election is triggered, he could again emerge first, but he would enter the campaign after yet another period in which government was unable to deliver reforms. Electoral dominance is valuable only if it can eventually be converted into policy achievements.

The constitutional court may become the country’s most important political institution again

The planned challenge to the government formation process ensures that judges will remain central to the next phase. This is not unusual in a young constitutional democracy, but repeated reliance on the court to settle political disputes carries risks. Courts can interpret rules; they cannot manufacture trust between parties.

Earlier rulings on presidential elections have shaped the quorum requirements that now give opposition attendance such importance. This year’s dispute over parliamentary dissolution showed again how constitutional interpretation can determine whether Kosovo goes to the polls. A new case over government formation could clarify another contested area, but even a definitive judgment will not solve the political need for a presidential majority.

That distinction should temper expectations on all sides. If the court validates the government, the opposition will still possess parliamentary leverage. If it finds a procedural violation, the political parties will still need to construct a lawful path forward. Judicial review can define the field; it cannot play the game for them.

A test for Europe’s enlargement strategy

Kosovo’s crisis is also a test of the European Union’s approach to the Western Balkans. Brussels has spent years arguing that enlargement should be driven by reforms, democratic resilience and measurable institutional progress. The Growth Plan adds a stronger financial mechanism, rewarding governments that deliver specific benchmarks before formal membership.

That model depends on functioning domestic politics. Reform agendas are not self-executing. They require ministries to draft measures, parliaments to pass laws, regulators to enforce them and courts to adjudicate disputes. A country trapped in caretaker government and repeated elections cannot absorb the full benefit of even well-designed European incentives.

At the same time, the EU must avoid reducing Kosovo’s political crisis to a technical problem of compliance. The dispute involves genuine questions of democratic legitimacy, opposition rights, constitutional procedure and the distribution of power. Brussels can encourage compromise and attach money to reforms, but agreements imposed primarily to satisfy external deadlines may prove fragile if parties do not believe they are politically sustainable.

The appointment of a new EU special representative gives Brussels an opportunity to reset its engagement. The immediate priority should be practical: support a constitutional, inclusive path to electing a president; encourage all parties to respect the Constitutional Court process; and keep reform funding tied to transparent benchmarks rather than political favour.

Four scenarios now confront Kosovo

The first scenario is the most stabilising: Kurti and Abdixhiku repair the Sejdiu agreement, additional deputies participate, and parliament successfully completes the presidential election. The new government then survives the opposition’s legal challenge or adjusts to whatever procedural guidance the court provides. Under that outcome, Kosovo could finally move from institutional formation to governing.

The second scenario is a broader compromise around a different presidential candidate. If Sejdiu cannot attract enough support, parties could search for another figure acceptable to Vetëvendosje, the LDK and at least part of the wider opposition. This would be politically difficult because abandoning Sejdiu could be portrayed as a defeat for the leaders who negotiated his candidacy. Yet a new name may be easier than forcing a fractured agreement through parliament.

The third scenario is prolonged limbo. The government remains in office, court proceedings continue, and presidential negotiations drag on without a decisive vote. This may avoid immediate dissolution but would preserve the uncertainty that has already delayed reforms and weakened public confidence.

The fourth scenario is another snap election. If the presidential process fails in the manner contemplated by the constitution, the Assembly can be dissolved and voters summoned again within 45 days. That would be Kosovo’s fourth parliamentary election in less than two years. It might change the numbers. It would not guarantee that the political culture of compromise had changed with them.

A narrow victory, a wide responsibility

Sunday’s vote allows Albin Kurti to say that Kosovo has a government and that the largest party has again translated its electoral lead into executive power. That is not a trivial achievement after months of paralysis. A functioning cabinet matters for budgets, public services, security policy, European reforms and international diplomacy.

But the celebration must be limited. Sixty-two votes solve the government question while leaving the presidential question unresolved. The LDK compromise has fractured. The opposition is going to court. The possibility of another election remains embedded in the constitution. The European Union is waiting for reforms tied to hundreds of millions of euros in financing. Serbia remains an unresolved strategic challenge. And voters are showing signs of exhaustion with a political class that repeatedly asks them to vote without producing durable institutions.

Kosovo’s next political breakthrough will therefore not be another election victory. It will be an agreement. The country needs a majority that can govern, an opposition that can oppose without paralysing the state, and a presidential process broad enough to survive constitutional scrutiny. That requires restraint from Kurti, responsibility from opposition leaders and willingness from individual deputies to distinguish party advantage from institutional survival.

For Europe’s youngest state, the lesson of the past 18 months is becoming difficult to ignore: democratic legitimacy is created at the ballot box, but democratic stability is built afterward. Kosovo has repeatedly demonstrated that it can organise competitive elections. The harder test is whether its leaders can accept that no election result relieves them of the need to negotiate.