By Ben Andoni
It is not only through his governance, his behavior, his excessive arrogance, or the pathetic monologues on his personal podcast — where one often struggles to understand who the guest is and why they are there — that Rama disappoints people. He has become exhausting simply in the way he administers his power.
His autocracy is no longer merely annoying or tiresome; it has become torturous, especially now that Albanians can no longer get answers about their everyday lives. His supposed battles with institutions — lately with the judiciary — are not the normal tensions that democracy requires. It is obvious they serve only his political survival and the interests of the clique that surrounds him. His vision has long drifted away from reality.
Could he, under similar circumstances, have become a “good” autocrat — someone who, through a firm hand, might reduce informality and bring prosperity and peace to Albanians? It seems impossible, at least for him. Even more so when he speaks to people. In many public appearances — and especially in those rare moments when he is not traveling abroad — the ‘socialist’ prime minister constantly speaks in the name of the people and for the people.
Before him, his predecessor Berisha did the same — coming from communism and reinventing himself as a democrat. Even more than both of them combined, though with fewer public appearances, did Enver Hoxha, the absolute communist leader whose cult was unquestioned. And before him stood King Zog I, who once promised Albanians he would wear their peasant shoes and resist fascist Italy at their side. History unfolded differently. A few hours after the invasion, the king fled to save himself, driving a car gifted by Hitler, with his newborn son, toward the southeastern border.
The poverty the Italians encountered later became part of their propaganda narrative, undermining today’s myths about Zogist prosperity. After World War II, the communists left the country in unimaginable economic misery and psychological emptiness — images that still scar the collective memory of the early 1990s. Berisha then guided the state toward the shameful collapse of 1997–1998, when beyond the pyramid schemes, Albanians fell victim to greed and a collective fantasy of easy wealth without work. Rama inherited this troubled state years later and tried to reform it, yet step by step has failed, despite the promised “European rhythm.”
Today, daily pressure on citizens is exhausting, and segments of the administration behave blindly and abusively. Corruption remains a painful subject, but no longer even qualifies as news. Young Albanians are emigrating in despair, to the point that by 2050 those over 65 may make up 26.4% of the population.
Economists calculate that every 10% increase in the pension-age population reduces GDP per capita by nearly half that figure. The reasons are simple: fewer young, educated workers mean lower productivity and slower development — the classic model of underdeveloped countries. Growth projections, even when announced with optimism, serve only a small group who benefit from them. Albania’s economy is expected to grow by 3.1% in 2026, according to the World Bank, despite global trade problems. Supposedly, this will reduce poverty through consumption, investment, and tourism income. So far, it has not. The tourism model, many specialists warn, risks turning Albanians into servants on their own property.
So the question naturally arises: what does Rama need all this power for, when the well-being of his citizens remains so fragile? Publicly, the answer is EU integration by 2030. Berisha once made similar promises — NATO membership and visa liberalization. And then another question follows: why confront institutions when serious accusations surround his own officials? Why play with precedents like the “Balluku” case? Why clash with the justice reform while claiming, “We will not touch SPAK”?
The answer seems simple: he has created, knowingly or not, systemic corruption — where laws and rules are crafted for the benefit of a few people who refuse to relinquish control. The bitter truth is that many citizens have surrendered and now see mass corruption as “normal.”
Let us look at the other side: could Rama ever have been a good autocrat? History offers rare examples — Atatürk, Deng Xiaoping — leaders who used authority for national transformation. Rama’s model, however, has created a society living in constant anxiety over jobs and financial security. His system lacks accountability. Everything depends on him and his circle. Control has become psychological, pushing Albanians toward economic stagnation and loss of freedom.
Orwell once warned that the idea of a benevolent dictator is a myth: such a thing does not exist. Rama’s modern defenders try to justify him by pointing to the weak opposition and repeating the tired phrase: “But who else could replace him?”
Literature identifies three pillars of autocratic regimes: control of the people (which he has), management of the opposition (often through favors and employment), and loyalty of the elite. A recent report in Brussels, based on interviews with Albanian civil servants, described an alarming situation inside our state administration.
Could this government contain elements of a “good dictatorship” where people might thrive? Such arguments may work in theory or art, but not in Rama’s Albania. This condition is becoming a spiritual prison for many — a silent dictatorship where escape seems impossible.
As for Rama’s supposed “perfection,” it is unimaginable in someone more concerned with personal cult and international image than with governance itself. As Aldous Huxley once wrote:
“A perfect dictatorship would have the appearance of a democracy, a prison without walls in which prisoners would not even dream of escaping.”
Rama failed to become even that — not because he didn’t want to, but because he lacked the formation, the culture, and above all the structures needed to build a functioning state. In these structures his government failed most. He thought of himself, while Albanians scattered across the world.
The benevolent Albanian autocrat is nothing but an illusion — a bedtime story told by those who soothe Rama today and who will be the first to forget him tomorrow.
(Homo Albanicus)