By Ben Andoni
Day by day—even in the calm of this holiday period—we feel the grip of Prime Minister Rama’s increasingly autocratic tendencies tightening around the country. The extreme arrogance, the unchecked access of his inner circle to power and privileges, the near-absolute electoral “security,” his self-assurance that he’ll step down “when he pleases,” or his chilling remark that “you haven’t seen anything yet”—these, along with the servile adoration cultivated by those around him, reveal a regime steadily morphing into autocracy.
The obsession with endless tower construction and the grandiose ambition to leave behind a concrete legacy—visually dwarfing any opposition—is yet another aspect unsettling the Albanian public.
Today’s autocrats in the Balkans and Eastern Europe, among whom Rama is increasingly at the forefront, are facing ever more muted resistance from their citizens. Albanians, too, witness a disillusioned opposition incapable of mounting real resistance, while stories of cozy clientelist ties between Rama’s government and parts of that same opposition surface with disturbing frequency. At the same time, economic prospects continue to narrow, with power concentrated in the hands of a few closely tied to the ruling elite. Meanwhile, businesses suffer, agriculture teeters on the edge of collapse, and social inequality deepens in a country where education and society are in visible decline—pushing more and more Albanians to leave, this time without looking back.
Even the middle class is now fleeing. According to Albania’s Institute of Statistics (INSTAT), between 2012 and 2022, over 220,000 Albanians emigrated. In a recent online survey conducted via the ECR (Engaged Citizens Reporting) platform, out of 1,044 respondents, 94% held higher education degrees (478 had PhDs, and 57 were PhD candidates)—and nearly all of them wanted to leave. (Monitor, 2024)
Meanwhile, within the country, we see an imbalance: harsh, almost draconian crackdowns on informality—measures which, while welcomed by some, are conveniently framed as correcting problems that were, in fact, created under Rama’s own rule—and relentless propaganda aimed at mocking and discrediting all dissent, all in the name of his unquenchable thirst for power.
Today, Rama barely attends parliament, and when he does, it’s on his own terms. His former spokeswoman Spiropali—who might soon return to that role—speaks of him in absurd, grotesque terms, comparing him to Skanderbeg. The presidency, under Mr. Begaj, is practically silent, even when the moment calls for a moral voice. As for the Socialist Party, it can now only be remembered in the past tense: “Once upon a time.” The mass resignations across public administration revealed the inner logic of a Soviet-style detachment, with loyalty demanded above all else.
Meanwhile, ordinary citizens watch closely as the same names pop up in lists of beneficiaries from state contracts and economic favors—names tied not only to the ruling party, but even to segments of the opposition caught in the sticky web of shared interests. It’s only a matter of time before they start publicly accusing one another of corruption, as we’re already seeing with the unfolding “Bankers” scandal. What’s more alarming is how Rama treats the country’s economic situation. You need access to his circles to benefit—only to later realize that these same “friends” become beneficiaries of public projects. The architects behind Tirana’s monstrous urban developments are a living testimony to this political favoritism.
Institutions are now firmly in Rama’s grasp. There are no more independent figures to offer critique or even basic accountability. The last few weeks have shown their utter silence when asked for resignations—replacements were made en masse, without a whisper of resistance.
As if that weren’t enough, even the security institutions appear paralyzed in the face of rampant corruption and Rama’s unchecked power. The misuse of IPARD funds is just one of many indicators. And across the board, we see a civil society sector in desperate need of reform—plagued by the same old names and riddled with individuals living lavish lives off foreign grants while producing very little real impact for the people.
Of course, Rama didn’t find this political soil untouched. With the help of his own people—not a true political elite, which sadly never emerged in Albania—he’s exploited every institution and medium of social influence. He’s reinstated practices that normalize exclusion, antagonism, and division. And despite the many public signs of overlap between Rama’s Socialists and Berisha’s Democrats (PS and PD now belong more to history than to present-day politics), the defining narrative is one of “Us” versus “Them.” It’s reminiscent of the post-WWII period, which spilled so much blood but, above all, taught the world how dangerous it is to oversimplify complex societal challenges. Berisha may have started this trend, but Rama has institutionalized it—turning diversity into division and shattering any belief that we could build a functional, inclusive state.
And yet, ours is an era of paradoxes. A leader with openly autocratic tendencies like Rama knows well that foreign backing can be a source of absolute power. The summits held in Tirana have been turned into showcases for approval from top European leaders. (Although one meaningful gesture came from German Chancellor Friedrich Merz, who, during the official photo at the National Museum, shrugged and gestured: “You’ve won four times? Strange!”) Still, united Europe seems blind to what’s happening, and Rama has masterfully used the European integration narrative as a winning campaign slogan for 2025.
Today, with Rama, institutional checks and balances are practically dead. The opposition is fractured to the point of helplessness. The media is apathetic, suffocating under a regime with blatant autocratic tendencies. But autocratic power stands on fantasy, not fact. The democrat’s power is grounded in reality. This is why the struggle for democracy is so difficult, and why leaders like Rama manipulate people’s emotions to escape the real world and retreat into illusions. His autocracy is rendering Albanian democracy lifeless—and, frankly, absurd.
Very few have the strength to tell the truth: Where is he taking this country?
As the Polish Nobel laureate Czesław Miłosz once put it:
“In a room where people unanimously maintain a conspiracy of silence, a single word of truth sounds like a pistol shot.”
(Homo Albanicus)