By Ben Andoni
The “Flamingos” protest in Tirana has successfully crossed the forty-day mark. In recent days, however, the greatest effort has been directed not toward addressing its demands but toward extinguishing it and, above all, delegitimizing it. On one side stands the symbolism of the flamingos and the sustained expression of civic sensitivity; on the other, the image of a protester being dragged along the ground in Zvërnec—an act that will long be remembered as a symbol of the harsh language of power and the profound lack of empathy displayed by the Rama status quo.
It is striking that those confronting the protesters are representatives of a left-wing government—a political force that, in principle, should serve as a shield for the vulnerable, protect property rights, and uphold transparency. Yet the origins of the protest now seem largely forgotten, much as the original causes of the Novi Sad protests (the deaths of citizens in a tragic accident) and those in North Macedonia a decade ago have faded from public memory. Today, the primary focus is on the continuation of the protest itself, while the diminishing authority and legitimacy of certain individuals involved have become a significant obstacle.
As the Albanian protest gradually loses momentum, it appears that anthropologists, rather than political scientists or government officials, will have more to examine. Indeed, protests across the Balkans have often attracted greater interest from anthropologists and ethnographers than from political scientists—dating back to the work of Edith Durham in these very lands.
Anthropologists tend to study cultural systems of survival and the expression of individual identities, whereas political scientists focus on democratic transitions and their various stages. Through these transformations, they seek signs of democratic development, innovations in governance, the possibility of free elections, and broader democratic practices. Yet despite these expectations, autocrats remain in power, while hybrid and authoritarian systems continue to dominate. This landscape is visible across the Balkans—in Podgorica, Belgrade, Tirana, Pristina, and Skopje alike.
This is precisely why anthropology becomes increasingly important: it seeks to understand how societies adapt to the considerable gap between protest itself and the actual possibility of political change. In Tirana’s case, the recurring romanticization of revolution is both outdated and dangerous. One only needs to recall the slogans used after the Second World War, when promises of building a “New Albania” ultimately led the country to the brink of collapse while eliminating many intellectuals whose only aspiration was to live in a normal society.
The “Flamingos” protest has not yet succeeded in becoming a genuine movement—not merely because of its numerous protagonists, but also because of a reality repeatedly observed throughout the Balkans: lasting movements require a certain degree of centralization, logistical support, funding, and, above all, a coherent communication structure rather than the fragmented and often chaotic approach seen so far.
The examples are clear. Long-lasting protests in Romania, Bulgaria, North Macedonia, and Serbia all escalated into more radical forms, yet ultimately failed to overcome aggressive state machinery. The irony is that the political West largely observed these developments from a distance, just as it now watches the “Flamingos” as another exotic eruption against injustice and corruption—without truly taking them into account.
The “Flamingos” have nevertheless demonstrated to Prime Minister Edi Rama and his circle that many things are fundamentally wrong, beginning with his own leadership: how a left-wing leader treats the country’s public assets, interprets environmental concerns, and fulfills obligations related to European integration.
Paradoxically, instead of a meaningful response—or even a simple mea culpa—recent days have been marked by visible satisfaction over the apparent weakening of the protest and the comforting conclusion that meaningful political change remains far away. This, too, is a subject well suited for anthropological inquiry in post-communist societies such as Albania: the persistence of mental confusion and ideological uncertainty.
Government officials have increasingly attributed the protest to foreign influence. A single public statement by one of the protest’s most active initiators, Arben Kola—who reportedly declared, “There are Greek and Serbian groups within the protest; we will reveal their names”—was enough to provide the Prime Minister with an opportunity for political retaliation. Only hours earlier, the Minister of Interior had announced the expulsion and declaration of persona non grata of an individual alleged to have connections with Iran.
The list of such developments is long, but what is particularly troubling is the growing hybridization of attacks and the manner in which pressure is now directed toward businesses and public appeals surrounding Kanye West’s planned concert in Albania. Whether or not his visit is appropriate is another discussion entirely.
Renowned American filmmaker Oliver Stone portrayed the entire structure of Ukraine’s Euromaidan protests in 2014, showing how numerous ideological factions—including ultra-nationalist groups—competed for prominence. Through the documentaries Ukraine on Fire (2016) and Revealing Ukraine (2019), directed by Igor Lopatonok and featuring Stone’s interviews with figures such as Vladimir Putin and Viktor Yanukovych, he explored many aspects of what could be described as the anthropology of contemporary protests.
Despite the tragic killings of both protesters and police officers, Stone argued that provocateurs associated with external actors and pro-Western factions deliberately fired upon crowds in order to maximize chaos and force Yanukovych from power.
Today, those events belong to history, as do the protests that later unfolded in North Macedonia, Bulgaria, and, more recently, Serbia. What protesters in Albania must recognize is that society is confronting consequences, while the causes remain far deeper: injustice, underdevelopment, informality, and the broader geopolitical arena in which larger powers pursue their own interests.
This helps explain why the desire for change and the exposure of injustice have so far failed to produce meaningful political transformation. It even appears as though political regimes in Tirana, Skopje, and especially Belgrade have learned to welcome protests because they eventually absorb them into their own political calculations, leaving outcomes fundamentally unchanged. In Tirana, the protest merely unsettled the authorities temporarily while allowing Rama to assess which members of his own political circle could withstand the pressure.
This is precisely where anthropology becomes indispensable. Today’s government appears to operate through a strategy of deliberate delay—a phenomenon that might be described as the paradox of “Change Without Change.” Protesters are permitted to express accumulated frustration and anger against corruption, yet the deeply entrenched networks of patronage within the state remain untouched.
Added to this is what may be called the “politics of nostalgia.” Anthropologists have fertile ground here to explore the disappointment with democratic promises and the widespread feeling of a stolen future. Many protest slogans openly express precisely these sentiments. Beneath them also lies a subtle but persistent nostalgia for the social security once associated with the former socialist state.
Above all, however, the “Flamingos” will provide anthropologists with valuable material for decoding the extraordinary metaphors found in memes, as well as the multitude of grievances that continuously replace one another within the protest and increasingly shape the identity of today’s Albanian citizen.
It is here that a rich field of study emerges—not a revolution painted in bold ideological colors, but one shaded in the soft pink of flamingos. Politicians observe it with cold calculation and cynicism, assuming that it will end just as it began. And from their perspective, they have reason to feel satisfied: they have weathered yet another political wave that nearly overwhelmed them.
For anthropologists, however, the “Flamingos” will come to symbolize something far more significant about the new Homo Albanicus—an individual destined to confront the upheavals of a world that no longer seems capable of finding calm.