By Blendi Kajsiu
At first glance, the concept of a “liberal dictatorship” appears paradoxical. For us, it’s nearly impossible to separate liberalism—understood as respect for procedure, personal freedoms, human rights, opposition (minorities), separation of powers, and free elections—from democracy.
And yet, historically, these two concepts have not always been fused. On the contrary, influential liberal thinkers like John Stuart Mill and Alexis de Tocqueville viewed democracy with a degree of fear—as a potential source of majority tyranny and a threat to liberalism. In the 19th century, liberalism and democracy were still regarded as distinct political ideologies. In fact, 19th-century Britain was a deeply liberal but only minimally democratic political system. There existed a strong respect for personal liberties, press freedom, the separation of powers, and an independent judiciary. But democracy was limited to a very narrow electorate.
Today, our political system finds itself in a similar—though not identical—situation, where democracy is gasping for air on the threshold of the Prime Ministerial Republic, leaving behind a liberalism that, in the absence of democracy, merely serves to consolidate prime ministerial dictatorship. We are, then, in the paradoxical position of an Albania that has never experienced this much liberalism and this little democracy at once.
To be clear, when I say Albania has never been more liberal, I do not mean that liberalism has triumphed politically or socially (or that Rama is more liberal than Fatos Nano). Human rights violations by our state administration—in employment, daily life, pretrial detention, and property rights—remain alarming. Arbitrariness continues to dominate Albanian citizens’ lives, and freedom remains a distant dream.
Nevertheless, compared to our recent past—without even mentioning communism—Albania has made significant steps toward a more liberal political system. The separation of executive and judicial power, and the latter’s relative independence from politics, while far from perfect, is today more real than ever. The arrest of such a large and high-ranking number of ruling-party officials is unprecedented, carried out by a judiciary that may be flawed but is no longer merely an extension of the executive.
Respect for opposition, protest—both political and civic—freedom of speech, and the ability to criticize those in power are today far more consolidated than they once were, despite lingering issues. The idea that protesters could be openly brutalized by the government is now almost unimaginable, though it was once tragically real. Electoral processes today are also, in many respects, far superior—not only compared to the 1990s, but even to elections held in the 21st century. Consider the opening of ballot boxes in the most recent parliamentary elections, and compare that to 2009, when the government refused to open a small portion of boxes that could have changed the outcome.
Of course, our electoral processes still suffer from many issues: misuse of the state apparatus, pressures, criminal influence, and clientelism. But the fact that small, under-resourced parties managed to secure over one hundred thousand votes in the last elections demonstrates a significant procedural improvement—at least formally—compared to the past, when their votes were outright stolen through collusion between the two main parties.
In short, the formal and procedural improvements of our political system—those associated with its liberal dimension—are now a tangible reality.
Yet since the fall of communism, never have we had less democracy in Albania than we do today—whether at the central level, local level, or within political parties. This is the paradox of the liberal dictatorship built by Prime Minister Rama—with critical help from Berishism and our media system.
The term “dictatorship” comes from the Latin dictare—to dictate. Today, governance in Albania is almost entirely dictated by Prime Minister Rama, both at the central and local level. His recent decision to dismiss all municipal directors in PS-controlled municipalities shows that local governance no longer exists. What remains is only Rama’s power.
This is a power unchecked and unlimited—not just by local governance but also by Parliament or even the Socialist Party. The 2008 constitutional changes and closed party lists have turned Parliament and the Socialist Party into extensions of Rama’s will. The Presidency and Council of Ministers, once vital institutions, have become ghostly shells in the Republic of Rama. Parliament, the Socialist Party, and certainly the Council of Ministers no longer function as forums for debate, correction, or deliberation. Socialist governance has now been reduced to the diktat of Prime Minister Rama.
Considering the vast parliamentary and local power currently held by the Socialist Party, we are de facto in an authoritarian—not democratic, collegial, or transparent—regime.
More worrisome is that this authoritarianism is hardening into a full political dictatorship, as it has filled and embodied what Claude Lefort once described as “the empty place of power.” In democracies, unlike totalitarian or monarchic regimes, the seat of power remains empty—it is not identified with the ruler, as it is cyclically filled and emptied by different representatives. But in Albania, that place is now full and embodied by Rama—today and, seemingly, tomorrow.
Following the most recent elections and the Democratic Party’s failure to reform, Rama’s continued rule for another term appears inevitable. The parliamentary majority that brought Rama to power has morphed from a fluid democratic entity into a frozen block, immune to electoral change.
Meanwhile, Rama himself has frozen into his dual role as PS leader and Prime Minister. The annihilation of local democracy eliminates the political nursery where new leaders or movements are typically born. In most democratic countries, political alternatives emerge and gain traction locally before moving to the national level. Vetëvendosje won Pristina before claiming national power. Rama himself built his political profile as mayor of Tirana before aiming higher.
By destroying local democracy, Rama has demolished one of the most fertile grounds for renewing Albanian politics. Even if a new political force were to win a major municipality today—like Tirana, Durrës, Shkodra, Vlora, or Elbasan—it would be nearly impossible to govern meaningfully because local powers have been entirely stripped away, as journalist Mero Baze rightly notes.
This lack of local democracy, combined with internal party dictatorship, reproduces a political desert where Rama comfortably dictates from his private socialist oasis. It is no coincidence that Rama has dismantled the two bridges that allowed him to evolve from public figure to political leader: local democracy and party democracy. He has done so in order to become an unchallengeable leader both within and beyond the Socialist Party.
Under such conditions, liberal reforms—those that strengthen the rule of law—do not threaten but rather legitimize Rama’s political dictatorship. It is a regime that relies more on propaganda than on overt repression against the opposition, media, or judiciary.
In other words, violence and intimidation are not the main instruments maintaining Rama’s power—even though isolated incidents occur, such as the clash with Panorama newspaper owners.
This is what makes Rama’s political dictatorship unique: its liberal dimension, which renders it imperceptible to the European Union and distinct from Maduro’s regime in Venezuela, Orbánism in Hungary, or Erdoğanism in Turkey. Rama does not jail journalists. He does not rewrite the Constitution to capture the judiciary (as Venezuela, Hungary, and Turkey have done). On the contrary, he changed the Constitution to increase judicial independence.
Rama’s dictatorship does not openly violate political rights or repress opposition protests—save for occasional exceptions like restrictions on parliamentary inquiry committees. He does not pressure courts to decide who gets the opposition’s official party seal. Nor does he brand opposition members as enemies of the people, as do Maduro, Orbán, or Erdoğan. Instead, he mockingly calls opposition voters “suckers” and urges them to wake up from their Berishist slumber and vote socialist.
This is precisely why warnings about Rama’s power fall on deaf ears in the European Union. For the EU, liberalism—understood as rule of law, opposition tolerance, and relatively free elections—is synonymous with democracy. A liberal dictatorship is, to them, inconceivable.
How can Albania be less democratic than before, when its elections are freer, freedom of speech is greater, fewer journalists are imprisoned, the judiciary is more independent, and more high-ranking officials are being prosecuted for corruption than ever before?
The idea that liberalism can serve a political dictatorship is unthinkable for the EU—simply because totalitarian party rule, elimination of local democracy, and total political stagnation do not exist in EU member states.
But in Albania’s context, such phenomena transform political liberalism into a tool for entrenching and legitimizing Rama’s political dictatorship.
Rama’s generosity toward Berisha—giving him space in Parliament even after his legal mandate expired, his restraint during protests that attack police hoping to provoke violence, or his tolerance of Berisha-aligned TV stations with questionable funding—stems from one simple political calculation: none of it threatens his power.
Berishist protests over stolen elections, recycled anti-government speeches, and opposition-family-run media pose no threat to Rama. On the contrary, they serve as proof of the opposition’s bankruptcy and his own liberal tolerance for dissent.
This is why Rama can easily tolerate a stronger SPAK and the hits it deals to the Socialist government. He remains unshaken in the face of a pathetic Berishist opposition and the self-destructive antics of small parties.
In fact, judicial reforms and the rise of SPAK not only bolster his liberal credentials domestically and internationally but also deepen his internal hold on power. The arrest of a sitting prime minister remains nearly impossible anywhere—including in consolidated democracies.
Thus, even high-profile arrests of Socialist officials only widen the gulf between Rama’s political permanence and the transience of every other Socialist figure.
Put differently, due to the deep deformation of our political system—both centrally and locally—Rama’s liberal governance has only served to reinforce and mask the absence of democracy, thus cementing his political dictatorship.
We are now dealing with a liberal dictatorship, where democracy—as a space for alternatives, participation, and accountability—has withered away not through repression, but amid improvements in liberal procedures like elections and separation of powers.
This does not mean Albania doesn’t need more liberalism—quite the opposite. We need an independent Parliament to check the executive, and broader oversight powers for opposition-led inquiry commissions.
But such liberal reforms cannot topple Rama’s dictatorship as long as liberalism stops at the gates of political parties.
Our political parties today are deeply totalitarian spaces where procedures, elections, and statutes exist only to legitimize and entrench the leader’s grip.
Even the Party of Labour held internal elections—but not to choose among alternatives, only to confirm Enver Hoxha’s leadership, just as is the case today with Rama and Berisha.
It is nearly impossible to build a liberal democracy with totalitarian parties that function solely by the will of their leaders. Leaders who eliminate democracy within their parties will, inevitably, do the same outside them.
It is no coincidence that Albanian democracy has been reduced to hollow electoral procedures that only reproduce the same majority—and nearly the same opposition.
The death of internal party democracy has also destroyed external democratic spaces—those where the prime minister’s diktat could be challenged, or governing alternatives could be proposed.
I’m referring not only to Parliament and local government, now mere extensions of the prime minister, but also to the media landscape.
It is nearly impossible today to hold a meaningful debate in our media on Rama’s economic development model—which centers on “strategic investors” (billionaires and oligarchs)—if that debate doesn’t happen within and between political parties.
One need only observe the shameful silence of the media surrounding the tourism development plans for Sazan Island to grasp the problem.
It’s even harder to challenge this model—where strategic investors, not citizens, farmers, or rural development are at the center—when local governance is completely impotent and disconnected from communities.
After stripping all local powers, the prime minister simply gifts rivers, pastures, meadows, and shorelines to strategic investors—ignoring the needs and voices of local communities, which are unrepresented both by mayors and by anonymous municipal councils chosen from closed party lists, utterly disconnected from citizens.
This is why internal party democracy and local governance are public issues, essential to the quality of our democracy—not just matters for party militants or dry topics for administrative reform.
They must not and cannot be left solely in the hands of party leaders.
There are many international practices where the internal electoral processes of parliamentary parties are overseen by national electoral institutions.
It is a grave mistake to see the Democratic Party’s failure to reform as simply a problem for Democrats, or the transformation of the Socialist Party into a political barracks as just a Socialist concern.
We cannot—and must not—normalize the conversion of PD and PS into private properties of their respective leaders.
Such a political standard destroys our most valuable public good: democracy—at both the local and national level.
A political system without local democracy, where Argita Berisha might lead the PD and Linda Rama the PS, cannot produce democracy, competition, or political alternatives.
At best, it can produce a liberal dictatorship—like Rama’s.