The Hidden Cost of Freedom: How Kosovo’s Urban Chaos is Eroding Our Health

Kosovo is free and independent, but the price of this freedom, unfortunately, is our health. As a society, we are paying a steep toll for the rapid, unregulated urbanization that has transformed our cities and towns. The consequences are not just visible in the concrete jungles we’ve built but are deeply etched into our physical and mental well-being.

For those of us in professions like architecture and urban planning, the transformation of our neighborhoods is both a professional and personal struggle. We witness the loss of green spaces, the rise of poorly designed post-war architecture, and the absence of public areas where communities can thrive. When we lose the human scale in our cities, we lose our humanity.

But this isn’t just an issue for urban planners. It’s a crisis that affects everyone. Older generations mourn the loss of the neighborhoods where they grew up, where children played freely in courtyards and streets. Younger generations, who moved to cities in search of better opportunities, now realize they’ve traded clean air, organic food, and tight-knit communities for polluted skies, stress, and isolation.

The health statistics are alarming. Kosovo has seen a worrying rise in cancer cases, particularly among the young. Mental health issues like anxiety and stress are on the rise, as are fertility problems, obesity, developmental delays in children, and a startling increase in autism and ADHD diagnoses. Are these just coincidences, or are they linked to the chaotic, unregulated construction that has defined post-war Kosovo? The answer is painfully clear.

Here’s how our “development” is destroying our health:

1. Concrete Overload: The Death of Green Spaces

Entire neighborhoods are now dominated by high-rise buildings crammed into every available plot of land. What were once small homes with spacious courtyards are now towering structures with no room for greenery. Narrow streets, once filled with the laughter of playing children, are now clogged with parked cars. Public spaces? They’re an afterthought. We prioritized construction coefficients over livability, and now we’re paying the price.

Why does this matter? Because living in a neighborhood where construction never stops takes a toll on both physical and mental health. Lack of sunlight, greenery, and open spaces lowers Vitamin D levels, increases cortisol, and leads to depression, chronic stress, anxiety, and frustration. Children, confined to their apartments due to the lack of safe outdoor spaces, are glued to screens. The result? A surge in psychological and speech therapy clinics, and parents who are emotionally and financially drained. Mental health care in Kosovo is treated as a luxury, not a necessity, in a country where most people lack health insurance.

2. Car Dependency: A Nation Stuck in Traffic

Kosovo is a nation obsessed with cars. Over 400,000 vehicles enter and exit Prishtina daily, just from one point. While many rely on public transport out of necessity, they endure overcrowded buses and long commutes. The culture of giving up seats to the elderly, pregnant women, or those in need has all but disappeared among the younger generation.

And it’s not just the cars. For 25 years, Kosovo has been a construction site: trucks, cement mixers, and building materials are everywhere, with no end in sight.

Why does this matter? Air and noise pollution have dire consequences for human health, including asthma, chronic bronchitis (a prominent pulmonologist in Prishtina diagnoses 90% of his patients with this), infections, lung cancer, heart attacks, and strokes.

3. The Missing Tradition of Public Spaces

Kosovo has no preserved tradition of public parks or green spaces. For 500 years under Ottoman rule, such spaces didn’t exist for everyone—only for men, and even then, they were limited to marketplaces, religious sites, or administrative buildings. When socialism introduced public spaces, they were more for show than for use, often filled with flowers and trees but reserved for protests rather than relaxation. For Kosovars, the closest thing to a public space was the local café, where people gathered to plan and mobilize for a free Kosovo.

Even today, when the university campus is open and accessible, you’ll find people in the cafés below, cars parked in the underground lot nearby. The concept of public space as a place to relax and breathe fresh air is still foreign to us.

4. Infrastructure or Underground Chaos?

We marvel at how people can live in places where apartments are so tightly packed that windows can’t even open. But we rarely think about what’s buried underground to support these buildings: water, electricity, internet, sewage systems, and more.

With climate change bringing extreme heat and heavy rainfall, Kosovo is facing a future of floods and water shortages. When temperatures soar above 40°C, the lack of trees and the overwhelming concrete will make life unbearable. And when the floods come, we’ll be left with no clean water to drink. Kosovo already has the lowest water reserves in the region.

The Bigger Picture

This isn’t just about construction. Add political and economic instability to the mix, and you’ll understand the collective frustration of Kosovars. Ignorance, as they say, is bliss. Perhaps that’s why we’re declared the “happiest people in the region” every year.

But reality isn’t pessimism—it’s a call to action. If we don’t address these issues soon, we’ll be left eating concrete—and each other. And no amount of help from America or the European Union will save us.

It’s time to rethink what development means. It’s time to prioritize health, well-being, and sustainability over profit and unchecked growth. The freedom we fought for shouldn’t come at the cost of our health.


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