On October 17, 2025, the heart of Tirana, Albania’s bustling capital, pulsed with the chants and songs of thousands of Kosovo war veterans and their supporters. They had gathered for a single, urgent cause: to protest the ongoing prosecution of former Kosovo Liberation Army (KLA) fighters by a European Union-backed court, which many in attendance denounced as biased and unjust. The demonstration, which filled the city’s iconic Skanderbeg Square, was a vivid reminder of the enduring wounds and divisions left by the 1998-99 war for Kosovo’s independence from Serbia.
According to reporting from the Associated Press, the crowd included demonstrators from Kosovo and across Europe, all united in their support for the arrested former leaders of the KLA. The atmosphere was charged with emotion and symbolism. Albanian and KLA flags fluttered above the crowd, while some veterans donned their old KLA uniforms, joined by younger supporters eager to show solidarity. Songs celebrating the KLA and the struggle for freedom echoed through the square, underscoring the deep sense of pride and grievance felt by many present.
The protest was organized by the veterans’ association OVL-UCK, with the full backing of Albania’s government and Prime Minister. The event’s motto, emblazoned on banners and repeated in speeches, was unambiguous: “Freedom has a name. Justice for the liberators.” A large poster hung from the podium, bearing the photos of the detained leaders and the slogan “Heroes of war and peace.”
At the center of the controversy are four prominent figures: Kosovo’s former President Hashim Thaci, former Parliament speakers Kadri Veseli and Jakup Krasniqi, and ex-lawmaker Rexhep Selimi. All have been in custody since 2020, facing serious charges at the Kosovo Specialist Chambers in The Hague, Netherlands. The indictments include allegations of murder, torture, and persecution of civilians during and after the war—a conflict that cost approximately 11,400 lives, the vast majority of whom were ethnic Albanians. The war ended only after a NATO bombing campaign forced Serbian troops to withdraw, handing control of the territory to the United Nations and NATO.
The court itself is a product of a 2011 Council of Europe report, which alleged that KLA fighters trafficked human organs from prisoners and killed both Serbs and fellow ethnic Albanians. However, as noted by the Associated Press, the sensational organ harvesting claims have not appeared in any formal indictments issued by the court. Instead, the focus has remained on war crimes and crimes against humanity.
For many in the crowd, the prosecutions are seen as a betrayal of the sacrifices made for Kosovo’s independence. Hysni Gucati, head of OVL-UCK, captured the prevailing sentiment in his address: “Albanians do not trust the Specialist Chambers. Processes at The Hague are biased and unfair.” His words, reported by AP, drew loud applause from the assembled veterans and their families. Gucati himself is no stranger to the court’s reach; he and another KLA official have previously been convicted of witness intimidation and obstructing justice by the same tribunal.
The demonstration also attracted significant political support. Alfred Moisiu, Albania’s 95-year-old former president, was among those present. He did not mince words in his call for justice, declaring, “They have been detained without evidence, on fabricated charges.” Moisiu’s presence, given his stature and age, lent gravity to the proceedings and reflected the broad base of support for the accused within Albania and Kosovo’s Albanian community.
Despite the passionate rhetoric, the rally remained peaceful throughout. There were no reports of violence or unrest, a testament to the organizers’ emphasis on dignity and discipline—a point noted by multiple news outlets covering the event.
The Kosovo Specialist Chambers, though physically located in The Hague, operates under Kosovo law and with international judges and prosecutors. Its creation was intended to address concerns about witness intimidation and the inability of local courts to fairly adjudicate cases involving high-profile KLA members. But for many Albanians, the court has come to symbolize what they see as selective justice, disproportionately targeting those who fought for Kosovo’s freedom while, in their view, neglecting crimes committed by Serbian forces during the war.
The broader political context only adds to the tension. Kosovo declared independence from Serbia in 2008—a move recognized by the United States and most Western countries, but steadfastly rejected by Serbia, Russia, and China. The legacy of the war and the unresolved status of Kosovo continue to fuel distrust and periodic flare-ups in the region. As recently as this year, diplomatic efforts to normalize relations between Kosovo and Serbia have faltered, with both sides trading accusations and warnings.
The protest in Tirana was not just about the fate of four men on trial in The Hague. It was a collective expression of frustration, pride, and unresolved trauma. For the veterans and their supporters, the KLA’s struggle is inseparable from Kosovo’s identity and right to self-determination. Any attempt to recast the war as a series of criminal acts, they argue, risks undermining the legitimacy of the independence movement itself.
Yet, the court’s defenders insist that accountability for wartime abuses is essential for long-term peace and reconciliation. The Council of Europe and EU officials argue that justice must apply to all sides, and that the crimes alleged—including murder, torture, and persecution—cannot be ignored, regardless of the perpetrators’ former status as freedom fighters.
Two other former KLA members have already been sentenced by the Specialist Chambers, reinforcing the court’s willingness to pursue convictions. But the most high-profile cases, involving Thaci, Veseli, Krasniqi, and Selimi, remain unresolved, with their trials ongoing since 2020. The outcome could have profound implications for Kosovo’s political landscape and its relations with both the EU and neighboring Serbia.
As the sun set over Skanderbeg Square, the demonstrators slowly dispersed, their banners and flags packed away. But the message they delivered—of solidarity with the accused and deep skepticism toward international justice—will linger long after the crowds have gone. The struggle over how the Kosovo war is remembered, judged, and reconciled remains very much alive, echoing through the streets of Tirana and beyond.