As Western powers grow increasingly wary of the political toll of migration, the Western Balkans is quietly transforming into a strategic buffer zone — a space where powerful nations can outsource the challenges of managing migrants and asylum seekers. At the center of this shift are two neighboring states: Kosovo and Albania.
Their responses to migration management partnerships with the U.S., the EU, and the United Kingdom could not be more different — and more telling.
Recent comments from Anu Prattipati, chargé d`affaires at the U.S. Embassy in Pristina, signalled a major development: “Kosovo is the first country in Europe to accept third-country nationals deported from the United States.” While this might be hailed as a milestone in U.S.-Kosovo cooperation, it also raises a host of difficult questions: At what cost does Kosovo buy influence? And is this arrangement a genuine partnership — or a transactional deal born from geopolitical necessity?
This isn’t Kosovo’s first such agreement. In 2022, a controversial deal with Denmark allowed the Scandinavian country to rent prison space in Gjilan for foreign convicts.
The deal, worth over €200 million, raised eyebrows across Europe. Now, Kosovo is reportedly under consideration by the United Kingdom as a potential destination for offshore asylum processing centers — a policy that has come under intense legal scrutiny in Rwanda and elsewhere.
Kosovo’s President Vjosa Osmani has thus far avoided committing to the British proposal, citing legal and ethical uncertainties. Yet the question lingers: Is Kosovo
using its political vulnerability — including its limited international recognition — as leverage for financial and diplomatic gains? And if so, how sustainable is that strategy?
Analysts like Donika Emini argue that these arrangements boost Kosovo’s visibility but do little to advance its long-term integration into the EU or NATO. “They project Kosovo as a reliable partner, but not as a country with agency in shaping the global migration narrative,” she noted in an interview.
By contrast, Albania has taken a more calculated path. Its much-publicized agreement with Italy to process migrants on Albanian soil — specifically in Shëngjin and Gjadër — has already proven fraught. Over 70 migrants have reportedly been returned to Italy due to medical needs or legal decisions, sparking questions about the agreement’s legality, logistics, and long-term viability. And when the United Kingdom sought a similar deal, Prime Minister Edi Rama rejected the offer outright.
Why was Albania willing to work with Italy but not with the UK? Was it due to public opinion, perceived neocolonial undertones, or internal EU dynamics? Despite its NATO membership and candidacy for EU accession, Albania appears to be setting limits. But is this an assertion of sovereignty — or a diplomatic calculation to avoid becoming a “holding zone” for migrants Europe would rather not see? The Western Balkans as Europe’s Waiting Room Taken together, Kosovo and Albania offer a stark illustration of how the Western Balkans is being positioned as a geopolitical waiting room — not just for migrants, but for decisions Europe itself is unwilling to make. These deals are often made behind closed doors, with limited parliamentary oversight or civil society involvement.
Human rights organizations have raised red flags. Michael Bochenek of Human Rights Watch warns that such agreements risk turning countries like Kosovo into legal black holes: “People are held in detention without clarity about why they are there, with little legal recourse, and far from any support system.”
Similarly, Olivia Sundberg Diez from Amnesty International notes that these deals intentionally push migration management into jurisdictions with weaker legal safeguards. “These aren't just technical arrangements — they’re politically charged maneuvers designed to keep migrants out of sight and, often, out of rights.”
Nevetheless, Kosovo and Albania, both facing economic hardships, gain investments, jobs, and political leverage through these partnerships. But the returns are often ambiguous, and the moral trade-offs significant. What happens when financial incentives outweigh humanitarian considerations? Hence, these arrangements raise deeper questions about Europe’s commitment to human rights: If core EU nations are increasingly relying on poorer neighbors to handle migration, does that signal a shift from a rights-based approach to a purely securitized one?
Therefore, Kosovo and Albania may both be striving to strengthen ties with the West — but they are doing so in fundamentally different ways. One leans into every opportunity for alignment, while the other draws firmer lines. Yet both are operating in a precarious space, caught between aspiration and exploitation. Are they shaping their futures as strategic actors — or being shaped by global powers in ways they cannot fully control? And most importantly: who is watching out for the rights of those being processed, detained, or transferred across borders — often in silence?
These biliteral moves set a concerning precedent internationally. If Western powers can secure deals with Albania or Kosovo, who is next? North Macedonia? Tunisia? Ghana? The practice of “offshoring” migration not only erodes human rights but normalizes a two-tier system of international responsivity — where wealthier nations write the rules and poorer ones enforce them. Rwanda’s agreement with the UK has already sparked legal battles and international criticism. Transplanting similar policies into fragile democracies in the Balkans — still recovering from conflict and state-building — risks not just local instability, but a broader erosion of the global asylum system.
For the EU, these deals may win short-term political peace, but they cost long-term moral legitimacy. Can a union founded on human dignity truly afford to treat human movement as a problem to be outsourced? If Europe wishes to remain a beacon of democratic values, it must lead by example — not delegate ethical responsibility to its margins.
Written by our correspondent A.T.
