Montenegro's unfulfilled promise to minorities

In 2006, when Montenegro voted for independence, many Albanians voted with a specific vision: a civic, European-oriented state in which minorities enjoy genuine equality. The referendum promised not ethnic fragmentation, but a multinational democracy on the path to Europe. Two decades later, that vision remains partially realized, significantly delayed and - at key moments - still treated as a threat.

This essay examines what of that promise has been fulfilled through one revealing case: the agreement to build Velika Plaza, the diaspora letter that followed, and the silence that followed in response. In this gap between aspiration and response, we glimpse how far Montenegro has come - and how far it still has to go.

In terms of institutional measures, promises have not been broken, they are just incomplete. Montenegro has built an impressive framework for minority rights: constitutional protection, legal guarantees, minority participation in parliament and local councils. But there is a huge gap between laws on paper and their implementation. European Union monitoring reports describe the framework as ‘largely in place’ but ‘insufficiently effective’. This is the gap that defines the post-2006 experience: inclusion exists, but under certain conditions. Rights are written, but their implementation is negotiated.

Montenegrin authorities announced a major construction project on Velika Plaza, a valuable stretch of coastline, in 2025, for a UAE investor. However, the project was approved at the national level with minimal consultation with the local municipality that would be most affected – Ulcinj, a city with a majority Albanian population. The project, which would reshape the municipality’s coastline, tourism and environment, was carried out without the thoughtful local process required by civic governance and applicable European Union regulations.

In response, a coalition of Montenegrin Albanian diaspora in the United States drafted an Open Letter to Prime Minister Spajić. The letter was written respectfully, but directly: an important decision affecting a municipality with a majority minority population was approved without local coordination. The letter invoked the civic promise of the referendum. The letter called for transparency and inclusiveness.

The Prime Minister’s Office has not responded. This silence is worth addressing. It is not the silence of rejection, but the silence of a state that does not feel obligated to answer to its minorities. For the Montenegrin Albanian diaspora who had pinned their hopes on independence, this was particularly painful. They were not asking for special treatment – ​​just the courtesy of being consulted on something that would change the future of their community. The fact that this request went unanswered suggests that the state has not yet internalized that minorities have the right to demand explanations.

Around the same time last year, the screening of the film “Roda” was suspended at the Djada Film Fest due to tensions over the public use of the Albanian language and cultural symbols. In a state that claims to guarantee the rights of minority languages, public expression of minority identity can still cause friction. This is the most obvious indicator of incomplete normalization. Laws can protect languages. But in a truly civil society, language itself ceases to be exceptional. The sight of the Albanian flag or the sound of spoken Albanian becomes no more significant than any other symbol of a diverse population. In a state that claims to be on the European path, such moments, like those of 2025, still require intervention.

Montenegro's path to EU membership has been defined as technical - harmonizing laws, meeting criteria. But there is something deeper: a moral standard that the EU rarely puts forward so openly. The European Union will not admit Montenegro until it demonstrably protects its minorities. History has taught Europe that states that treat minorities as conditional members eventually degenerate into conflict. So when the EU pursues minority protection, it imposes a boundary condition for membership: a functioning democracy cannot tolerate the casual marginalization of minorities.

The Velika Plaza case, the silence on the diaspora letter, and the fragility of the use of the Albanian language in public spaces are all failures by this criterion. They show a state that has not yet internalized that the inclusion of minorities is not a favor, but a prerequisite for EU membership for Montenegro itself. In other words: Montenegro will reach the EU's doorstep by showing that it cares for the least of us. There is no shortcut to this.

There is an unexpected irony in this standard. The principle that a community is judged by how it treats its weakest members is not a modern European invention - it is a core value of Montenegrin tradition. The concept of “humanity and heroism” is rooted in protecting the vulnerable and defending dignity from oppression. The European Union’s moral standard is fundamentally in continuity with this historic Montenegrin value. Both sides say: the mark of a legitimate community is not the strength of its majority, but the security of its minorities. Both sides say that true dignity comes from living by principle, not from domination.

Yet contemporary Montenegro has not always recognized this continuity. For some, minority rights are treated as an imposition from Brussels. But the European Union does not impose a foreign value - it asks Montenegro to be true to its own historical standard. Here, the silence of Velika Plaza clearly reveals not only a failure to meet EU standards, but also a failure to remain true to Montenegro's deepest values. A state that ignores minority issues without answering them acts in violation of humanity and heroism.

Twenty years after independence, Montenegro’s promise remains incomplete. The institutions are in place. The frameworks are written. But the will to implement them consistently, to respond respectfully to minority concerns, to treat minority identity as a normal part of civic life – that work is yet to come. The Montenegrin-Albanian diaspora that voted in 2006 intuitively understood what their country must now learn: a community is defined not by the power of its majority, but by the way it treats those with less power.

A nation is not great because it has weapons or wealth, but because it cares for the powerless and respects the minority voice. That is the measure by which the 2006 promise will be judged - not by the laws that are written, but by whether Montenegro has learned to respond to the letters of its minorities and to treat the public expression of minority identity as something to be celebrated, not managed.

The author is a civil engineer.