Kosovo's Digital Diplomats

How an army of young people is convincing Facebook, Google, and other Internet giants to recognize one of the world's newest countries.

How do you put a nation on the world map? For centuries, statehood was achieved by spilling blood on the battlefield or by wheeling and dealing among diplomats in smoke-filled rooms. But young states are finding this is only half the story: Becoming recognized on the world stage isn't just about getting voting rights at the United Nations -- it's about winning over Internet giants like Google and Facebook.

Digital diplomacy, whereby diplomats engage with citizens, allies, even rivals online to debate and develop policy and respond to events, is a relatively new concept -- and one that is re-wiring traditional, often hierarchical authority structures. The United States was one of the first countries to subscribe to the idea: Online statecraft was pioneered during Hillary Clinton's time as secretary of state by Alec Ross, Clinton's senior advisor for innovation, and Jared Cohen, a member of her policy planning staff. According to the Brookings Institution, the State Department now has over 150 full-time digital diplomats. Britain and other EU countries have followed suit. And even Iran has put President Hassan Rouhani on Twitter.

But today, it is really small nations, particularly new ones struggling for attention, who are beginning to best use the Internet to their advantage. And Kosovo, steered by eager and resourceful young people who are redefining what digital diplomacy can mean, is leading the way. 

There's certainly plenty for Kosovo to fight for. Five years after unilaterally declaring independence from Serbia and being recognized by 106 U.N. members, Kosovo is still struggling for acceptance by the likes of Russia, China, India, and many other influential countries, some of which are contending with separatist regions of their own. Digital diplomacy could help Kosovo's cause by linking the country's diplomatic officials and citizens to like-minded people in other states, who might in turn apply pressure to their governments to recognize the newest Balkan country.

But there's an additional level to Kosovo's digital diplomacy: The country is being ignored by the likes of Amazon, eBay, Google, Skype, and Yahoo, which do not recognize Kosovo as independent on their sites. Thousands of other, less-known international websites, portals, and social media platforms also have not included Kosovo as a country in their drop-down menus used, among other things, to allow users to identify their locations and enter valid mailing addresses.

The widespread lack of online recognition burdens average Kosovars daily. For example, want to order a book from Amazon and have it delivered to your home in Pristina, Kosovo's capital? Because Amazon doesn't recognize Kosovo as an independent state, you need to put "Albania" as your country of residence, followed by "Kosovo Kosovo Kosovo" in the additional comments box, just to drill home the point that you don't actually live in Albania. And even then, orders end up disappearing in the bureaucratic cracks. Similar headaches abound with other Internet companies.

Kushtrim Xhakli wants to change this state of affairs. Achieving digital recognition, the young Kosovar entrepreneur says, is "about dignity and having a right taken for granted by people around the world."  A former advisor to Kosovo's education minister, Xhakli has pieced together a campaign that sets out to make digital ambassadors out of an entire generation of Kosovars. Over 70 percent of the country's population of two million is under the age of 30, and many of them are plugged in: At just below 80 percent, the country's Internet penetration rate is similar to those of Western Europe. Given the right tools, Xhakli believes, tech-savvy young people can help more conventional diplomats in suits and ties in their quest to win Kosovo recognition, while also making Kosovars' lives easier.

The particular tool he is championing is the new Digital Kosovo platform, which Xhakli helped conceptualize, code and design. Developed and run within the framework of the Pristina-based IPKO Foundation, an independent NGO of which Xhakli is a board member, Digital Kosovo initiative aims to enable Kosovars to utilize online services just like other Internet users across the world. Its website, up and running since September, contains ready-to-use templates based on scenarios where Kosovo is either absent or is listed as part of Serbia or Albania by a company or institution. Anyone can then personalize the template and send it directly to high-level decision-makers at the entity in question -- all within just a few seconds.

The templates are meant to put increasing pressure on major online companies, as well as airports, airlines, newspapers, and universities, that don't recognize Kosovo as independent. The ultimate goal is to make it possible for Kosovars to use the Internet for business, travel bookings, online shopping, and more.

Xhakli and his large army of online volunteers are already bombarding Google Maps with templated messages demanding that the system recognize Kosovo. Messages are also being sent to London and Sydney airports -- which have yet to add Kosovo to their websites -- and to the Brussels airport, where Pristina is still listed as being in Serbia, even though the map of Kosovo is demarcated from Serbia on the airport's information boards.

The backers of the Digital Kosovo platform -- which is funded by the Kosovo Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the British Council, and the Norwegian Embassy -- view this sort of digital diplomacy as cutting-edge. "Internet recognition of Kosovo is of huge practical and symbolic importance and it is unacceptable that Kosovo still doesn't appear on so many websites," said Myrna Macgregor, First Secretary at the British Embassy in Pristina.

Digital Kosovo claims that its blend of lobbying efforts and citizen advocacy has already brought about victories. In November, following a campaign of sending templated messages and communications with the company, Facebook recognized Kosovo as a state. (Previously, Kosovars wanting to create an account had to register as citizens of Serbia.) Digital Kosovo also says it has helped win over small companies, like MailChimp.

In addition to demanding that institutions recognize Kosovo online, Xhakli -- who, after a wide-ranging early career in telecommunications and energy, could now be called Kosovo's chief digital diplomat -- is working to improve perceptions of Kosovo through other digital avenues. Sometimes, this involves pin-balling across Europe: giving a talk at a tech conference or meeting with Ed Parsons, head of Google Maps. Last year, Xhakli also helped set up Wiki Academy Kosovo, which trained writers and editors to improve the quality and quantity of online content about Kosovo.

Kosovo's burgeoning success in the digital sphere could be a useful model for other nations seeking international recognition, be it South Sudan or Palestine -- which, unlike Kosovo, already has a top-level domain (.ps). That said, there are limits to digital diplomacy's reach. For instance, it can't solve Kosovo's problem of widespread corruption; the country is ranked 111 out of 177 states in Transparency International's Corruption Perception Index. It also can't remove deep-rooted divisions between ethnic Albanian and Serbian communities. Some observers consider both of these issues impediments to Kosovo's situating itself within the family of European states.

Yet even these problems could be eased in the future if digital awareness and savvy -- this time, on the domestic front -- lead to more open government and makes authorities more alert to abuses of rights, resources, and privilege.

"No one is saying this is a miracle," Xhakli says of his work, "but it is a way or re-imagining the future of democracy and statehood."



Israel's Kill List

Inside the Mossad's campaign to off its most dangerous foes, one by one.

"There'll be a summit conference in the sky," smiled an Israeli intelligence official Wednesday morning when he learned of the assassination of Hassan Lakkis, the Hezbollah commander in charge of weapons development and advanced technological warfare, in a Beirut suburb around midnight on Tuesday, Dec. 3. The killing of Lakkis is yet another in the latest in a long series of assassinations of leading figures in what Israeli intelligence calls the "Radical Front," which comprises two countries -- Syria and Iran -- and three organizations: Hezbollah, the Palestinian Islamic Jihad, and Hamas.

"We're talking about a number of organizations and people involved in nuclear and terrorist activity. [They] do it not only for their countries in various missions, but have created an international network -- the most dangerous and most efficient that I have met," the official added. The coalition's goals: "the construction of a nuclear bomb and of various missilery capabilities -- from very short to very long ranges -- and the implementation of suicide terror at the highest level." The Israeli goals: take these men out, one by one.

This isn't the first time Israel has faced very powerful enemies, of course. But Israeli intelligence officials think this may be the most diverse, most intricately woven set of foes the country has encountered. These foes range from those at the leadership level down to field operatives, according to Mossad and Military Intelligence Directorate (Aman) high-ranking officials. And it all involves deep, intimate cooperation that even spans the religious rifts between Sunnis and Shiites, driven by a single motive force: hostility toward the state of Israel.

Back in 2004, the Mossad began identifying various key figures within this Radical Front -- those with advanced operational, organizational, and technological capabilities. While other, better-known personalities in these extremist groups and their state backers dealt with strategy, these were the people who handled the details and the translation of strategy into actual practice.

The Israeli intelligence source, who dealt with the Radical Front, likens the anti-Israel coalition to SPECTRE, the fictional enemies of James Bond. With one difference: "SPECTRE usually did it for money." Israeli intelligence drew up a list of these men, each one the possessor of highly lethal skills that could be threatening to Israel, even if there had not been a coordinated network embracing of all of them. The list was headed by two men: Imad Mughniyeh, Hezbollah's supreme military commander, and Gen. Muhammad Suleiman, Syrian President Bashar al-Assad's head of secret special projects, including the building of a nuclear reactor, and the person in charge of Syria's ties with Iran and Hezbollah. As Meir Dagan, the former Mossad chief, told me: "Gen. Muhammad Suleiman was in charge of Assad's shady businesses, including the connection with Hezbollah and Iran and all sensitive projects. He was a figure Assad was leaning upon. And these days, he misses him."

After them came Gen. Hassan Tehrani Moghaddam, head of missile development for the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps and the export of missiles to Hezbollah, Hamas, and the Islamic Jihad; Mahmoud al-Mabhouh, the Hamas official in charge of tactical ties with Iran; and Hassan Lakkis (also spelled in FBI documents as Haj Hassan Hilu Laqis), who was identified by Aman in the early 1990s as Hezbollah's weapons development expert. In an article about Lakkis's death, Lebanon's Daily Star called him a "key figure in Hezbollah['s] drone program." The Israeli intelligence source continued the analogy with the Bond movies and called him "Hezbollah's Q."

According to his Aman file, Lakkis was active in the radical Shiite movement since age 19, enlisting shortly after it was established. He had a certain amount of technical education at a Lebanese university, but most of his skills were acquired from his experience in developing and manufacturing weaponry. Almost from the outset he was the top procurement officer and coordinator with Iran on these matters. Thanks to his efforts, Hezbollah became the most powerful terrorist organization ever -- even more powerful than al Qaeda in many ways -- with "firepower that 90 percent of the countries in the world do not have," according to Dagan.

As early as the mid-1990s, there were Aman officers who marked Lakkis as a potential target, believing that he should be eliminated. But Hezbollah was not a preferred target at the time and was considered more of a nuisance than a strategic threat. By the time that this changed in the 2000s, he was already taking extreme precautions to protect himself.

As I detail in my book, The Secret War With Iran, Lakkis was also wanted in Canada and the United States for running Hezbollah cells in those countries in the early 1990s. He had dispatched "elements with criminal tendencies there, and they were therefore happy to send them to North America so that they would not carry on such activities close to the organizations members" in Lebanon, according to a classified Aman paper. These Lebanese criminals settled in Vancouver, North Carolina, and Michigan, where they worked in the wholesale counterfeiting of visas, driver's licenses, and credit cards, raking in huge profits. Lakkis permitted them to skim off a fat commission, as long as most of the cash was used for the procurement of sophisticated equipment that Hezbollah was finding it difficult to acquire elsewhere, such as GPS and night-vision equipment and various kinds of flak jackets.

In the wake of information conveyed by Israeli intelligence, the FBI and the Canadian Security Intelligence Service mounted a number of operations against these cells, and their members either fled or were arrested and sentenced to long jail terms for offenses including illicit acquisition of weapons and conspiring to attack Jewish targets. Lakkis himself learned about the raids in time and canceled a planned visit to the United States. In the last telephone calls recorded by the FBI before the crackdown, Lakkis was heard rebuking the cell members for not doing enough for Hezbollah and enjoying the good life in America while the organization's members in Lebanon were being hammered by Israel.

With Israel's withdrawal from Lebanon in May 2000, Hezbollah's military buildup and preparations for a general campaign against Israel became central in the organization's doctrine. Lakkis functioned in tandem with and under the command of Hezbollah's military commander, Mughniyeh. The two were aware of Israel's sensitivity to casualties in its military and of the lack of preparedness on the Israeli home front for sustained bombardment.

They built a complex array of fortifications in south Lebanon with a double goal: surviving for as long as possible under attack from Israeli land forces, which they were sure would happen sooner or later, and preservation of their own ability to fire as many missiles as possible at Israeli communities.

The formula was a success. In the summer of 2006, Israel lost its war with Hezbollah, thanks, in part, to fortifications equipped with advanced gear like communications, command-and-control systems, and night-vision optics -- all of which Lakkis played an important role in acquiring. In effect, it was Israel, the strongest military force in the Middle East, that was badly defeated, failing to achieve any of the goals it had set itself.

On July 20, 2006, the Israelis tried to take Lakkis out with a rocket fired from an F-16 fighter at his apartment in Beirut, but he wasn't home and his son was killed.

The 2006 war (known as the "Second Lebanon War" in Israel, to distinguish it from the war Israel waged against the PLO in Lebanon in 1982) was the high point of the Radical Front and the coordination between the coalition's top members. Since then, the wheel has turned a full cycle. Mughniyeh was killed by a bomb in his car in Damascus in February 2008; Suleiman was shot dead by a sniper on a beach in Syria in August of the same year; Mabhouh was strangled and poisoned in a Dubai hotel room in January 2010; Moghaddam was blown sky high along with 16 of his personnel in an explosion at a missile depot near Tehran on Nov. 12, 2011. And on Tuesday night, two unidentified masked men cut Lakkis down in the parking garage of his apartment building in a suburb of Beirut.

Hezbollah was quick to point the finger at Israel; Israel was quick to deny the attack. If indeed the assassins belong to some elite intelligence organization, by now they are most likely to be out of Lebanon, away from Hezbollah's grasp. But this tactical success -- if you can call it that -- is not necessarily a strategic one in the Middle Eastern political arena. 

To play assassin is to challenge history outright. Some hit jobs proved effective in changing reality, but not all changed it in the manner the perpetrators had hoped for. Take the 1992 assassination of Hezbollah Secretary-General Abbas al-Musawi. Retaliation attacks on Israeli and Jewish targets after his death cost dozens of lives, and the more radical and more effective Hassan Nasrallah took over as the organization's leader. 

For these reasons, assassinations should be considered a last resort. The Radical Front is undergoing changes. Iran had to come to a difficult compromise with the West after many years of sanctions brought its economy to its knees. Hezbollah has taken both tactical and political blows since it openly sided with Assad in the Syrian civil war and sent its troops to fight alongside his.

"Now they're all together," said the Israeli intelligence official. Then he recited words from the Jewish religious blessing that's meand to be said on hearing that someone has died: "Blessed be the Judge of the Truth."

But sometimes it's better to let the Judge -- and History -- take its own course.