International law is not an abstract concept for the Western Balkans. It is a shield. For countries like Kosovo, unfinished, contested and still vulnerable, it makes the difference between sovereignty and exposure. Its borders, institutions and political survival depend not on power, but on rules.
I went to Kosovo a couple of weeks ago. It is one of the world’s youngest and smallest states, which emerged from war with Serbia after a U.S.-led NATO bombing campaign in 1999 halted the violence and forced Belgrade’s withdrawal. This was followed by the U.N. Security Council Resolution, which placed Kosovo under international administration and paved the way for its declaration of independence.
On the drive from Pristina airport to Prizren, past one of the former NATO and Kosovo Force (KFOR) bases where I was due to moderate an event, a taxi driver summed up Kosovo’s political reality in one sentence.
“We still depend so much on the U.S., and Trump is unpredictable. We are worried,” he said. “I think we need to give our prime minister, Albin Kurti, a stronger mandate and hope he will work with the EU more.”
Shortly after my visit, snap elections were held on Dec. 28, confirming Kurti’s dominance and reshaping Kosovo’s political landscape.
Kurti, a former student protest leader who was imprisoned during the Milošević era, has been in power since 2021. Despite open criticism from Washington, Kosovo’s voters handed Kurti an even stronger mandate at the polls, returning him to office with unprecedented support and signaling a growing willingness to defy U.S. pressure.
The Trump administration openly criticized Kurti’s refusal to comply with their proposals aimed at easing tensions with Serbia, including opposition to the creation of a Serb-majority association and resistance to quick deals that Kurti says are undermining Kosovo’s sovereignty.
Kosovo’s dependence on the U.S. is not accidental. Kosovo is, in many ways, a product of international law. NATO’s intervention created the legal framework for its political future. More than a decade later, the International Court of Justice (ICJ) ruled that Kosovo’s declaration of independence in 2008 did not violate international law. These processes did not resolve Kosovo’s status, but they gave it something essential: legal legitimacy.
For small states, legitimacy is survival.
This is why the current global moment is so unsettling. Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine has already destabilized Europe’s eastern flank and revived unresolved tensions across the Western Balkans. When powerful states bypass the U.N., marginalize the Security Council or reinterpret the rules governing the use of force, the consequences are felt first in regions like this one. The erosion of international law does not create a vacuum. It creates vulnerability.
Venezuela sharpens this concern. Regardless of the serious and well-documented accusations against Nicolas Maduro, international law does not permit military intervention or regime change simply because a government is authoritarian or widely condemned. Under the U.N. Charter, the use of force is lawful only in cases of self-defense or with Security Council authorization. When major powers signal that these constraints can be ignored or redefined, the damage extends far beyond Venezuela.
For Kosovars, who still live in fear based on the nationalistic rhetoric by the government in Belgrade, that, alongside its main ally, Russia, which still doesn’t recognize their existence, this is not theoretical. Its independence remains incomplete internationally. Its borders are still contested. Its security relies less on force than on legal recognition and multilateral guarantees. If intervention becomes a matter of political discretion rather than legal justification, then sovereignty itself becomes conditional.
This is a result of the unpredictability of the U.S. policy. The U.S. remains Kosovo’s most important ally, but recent years have shown how quickly priorities and tone can shift with changing administrations. Support that once appeared unconditional can become transactional. After Venezuela, the question is unavoidable: how credible can Washington remain as a defender of sovereignty and peace for small states already living under threat?
Kosovo must continue strengthening its institutions, rule of law, and democratic accountability at home. But externally, its most excellent protection remains a functioning international legal system reinforced through deeper integration with Europe. The same is true for the Balkans region as a whole.
If international law is no longer enforced consistently, small states cannot rely on goodwill or alliances alone. In a world where power increasingly replaces law, the question facing the Western Balkans is urgent. Who protects those whose existence depends on the rules being respected?
If power replaces law as the organizing principle of global order, the Western Balkans may once again become a test case for how little protection international rules truly offer to small states.
