By Ben Andoni
The drafting of candidate lists for MPs by the two main political parties in the country, followed by the tricks of the new and smaller parties, foreshadows the level of the 2025–2029 legislature. The closed lists—from which a large portion of MPs are selected—and the indirect support of certain individuals in the open lists, make our parliament a nearly appointed institution, shaped by the will and desires of the respective leaders of the Socialist and Democratic parties, Rama and Berisha.
This is a concern that no longer gets addressed—firstly, because the 2008 constitutional changes, regardless of how they’re interpreted today, are fiercely protected by both Socialists and Democrats; and secondly, because it’s nearly impossible to alter a course that has suited so well the amalgamation clinging to parliament.
The list drafting process, grudges, the obsession with being included at all costs, ideologically unanchored moves by many representatives, the names and supposed political attributes in the closed list of the DP, the composition structure of the “Glorious Albania” coalition, the so-called ‘renewal’ and inclusion of insignificant individuals in the closed PS list, and the chaos of names in the new parties’ closed lists have amplified a concern that’s becoming grotesque for the public: the people who represent us are far below the expectations that Albanians have for their leaders.
And when you consider that our parliament has 140 seats, mostly occupied by individuals we don’t know and whose contributions—beyond raising their voting cards—are virtually nil, the perception arises that this parliament must absolutely be reduced. It should better serve the public and address national concerns more professionally, aligned with the country’s various areas of interest, and should also reflect the country’s demographics. Officially, Albania has 2.4 million residents, but the opposition claims that once in power, it will file a lawsuit against the census results, which they claim actually show fewer than 2 million inhabitants.
A parliamentary reform is more than necessary if our country wants to realistically address its different challenges—especially the heavy commitments ahead with the opening of various integration chapters, a process that is progressing at an unimaginable pace for Albanians.
In the communist parliament before 1990, 250 MPs would raise their cards in unison, representing every social stratum—from workers and peasants to top academics and intellectuals. They convened rarely during the legislative term, approved everything, and this inertia continued until 1992, when the MPs themselves made a good move by cutting the number to 140.
In terms of size and representation, experts have found that this number is excessively inflated and costly compared to many European countries and beyond, when it comes to population-to-MP ratios in respective parliaments. This is also reflected in quality, which leaves much to be desired.
“The current legislature, according to periodic reports by ISP, has shown significant weaknesses in the quality of parliamentary life, the level of engagement, and the constitutional role of Parliament. Numerous incidents, collective expulsions, harsh rhetoric, the absence of dissenting voices, tailored laws, abuse of office, lack of transparency and accountability, and the crisis of trust in parliament were features even of the 2024 parliamentary sessions,” cites one of the latest reports from the Institute of Political Studies.
To be more concise: the Albanian parliament is too large for 140 representatives. Not only could the financial burden of maintaining them be redirected elsewhere, but the inefficiency of the many unqualified characters, whose only contributions are empty words and incompetence, makes it all the more excessive.
The demographic argument supports this idea even further, since there are far fewer Albanians in the country today, and many more ready to leave. This hemorrhaging exodus cannot be stopped by muted lawmakers whose main job is to wait for the next text from the party leader, and most often the next order to charge into parliament against anyone.
So parasitic, blind, and often blockheaded is this mass of nobodies that, due to militant loyalty, they’ll probably be reelected—while we should instead have secured seats for people like Alimehmeti, Tabaku, or Erion Braçe, and a few others.
The most active individuals should undoubtedly be in the representative group of political parties, while those with no ideas should have been penalized by the parties themselves when drafting the new lists. That is, of course, if there were a shred of political morality and respect for the country. But who dares say this to Berisha?! Dash Sula is still struggling with the biggest paradox of his life: left out of the candidacy even though he won the primaries—like many others. Can anyone dare to stand up to Rama’s shadow and do the same in the SP?
Hence, the cynicism of Rama and Berisha went even further: “The Socialist Party, in an effort to maximize votes—regardless of personalized practices, clientelist influences, and the non-meritocratic closed-list system—placed government members and individuals with no political profile in safe spots”; while “the main effort within the Democratic Party was to preserve the status quo, granting immunity and safety to politicians and party leaders under investigation, those with legal troubles, or with minimal public support,” cites the Institute of Political Studies.
What could perhaps give a “touch” of sublimity and real engagement would be to reduce the number of MPs in parliament—thus trimming away the parasites—so that it might even fit once more in its original home: the building ironically repurposed by the communist regime as the Puppet Theater.
In fact, the building holds great historical value, as its architecture was a kind of reflection of the changes happening in our city, which officially became the capital in 1925 following the 1920 proposal. Back then, it first served as the Officers’ House and later as the first Parliament of Albania, where plenary sessions, government meetings, diplomatic receptions, and even concerts were regularly held.
It was one of the first administrative buildings in Tirana, built in a European style. After the war, it was used for Soviet children. Even Rama’s instincts may have picked up on this, when during the inauguration of the recently restored building by UNOPS, he declared: “I apologize, because today [the children] have come to the Puppet Theater and didn’t come to see puppets like me on stage—but if they considered me a puppet, I might feel a bit better, because otherwise, I’d feel a bit worse. This used to be the Albanian Parliament. I hope you grow up watching as little of the Albanian Parliament as possible—until the day you can’t avoid it anymore.”
And the Prime Minister, with his instincts, is never wrong on this idea—because, the way he and Berisha have turned parliament into a circus… this solution might actually be worth it. (Homo Albanicus)
