In 34 years, citizens have been told: Wait a little while, we are building the state… but what was built were only villas, resorts, and the wealth of politicians; citizens have grown old waiting for the state.
Paradox 1:
Students earn diplomas that serve them for emigration.
Lawyers lobby more than they defend.
Political parties have turned into interest groups with logos.
Health centers are inaugurated in villages where there are no longer people.
Honest people live worse, the knowledgeable are valued less, the honorable are mocked more.
Good is seen as naivety, evil as cleverness.
Votes mostly go to a relative who has a good job, or the hope that an uncle will get a high position.
The country is no longer seen as a home, but as a transit station.
If you ask any young person what they choose between a German or British passport and a successful justice reform, most hardly dream of the latter.
Emigration has reached its peak causes: people don’t leave because of physical poverty, but because of moral disgust.
They leave because Albania is no longer a country to dream of, but one to merely endure, and leaving is the unexpressed revolt.
If you think: Where is the best neighborhood doctor? Germany. Where is the nurse who would come even at three in the morning for your son? Italy. Where is Besi who would fix your phone, TV, radio, computer? In the USA.
Even those who stayed here are only physically here because they live in the TikTok of Italy-England-America, in the YouTube of Switzerland and Austria, and in the dreams of Germany and the Netherlands.
Emigration is not just money sent back; it’s a wound that bleeds when mothers cry silently every night because their children couldn’t get permission, when children grow up with the voice and face of WhatsApp, when grandparents die alone because everyone is working abroad.
The country is blessed, everyone says, only God hasn’t made a Facebook status since 1990.
Silence is a way of life: “What’s it to you, what do you gain, don’t get involved, nothing changes” — verses of submission.
You can see injustice every day but move on with a “What can we do, brother?”
Religion, family, society are parts of the same symphony of silence.
Everyone stands in line shouting “Justice,” and when their turn comes… “Please be anonymous.”
And here we have the new Albanian: gentle on the outside, broken inside.
For 34 years, evil has gained status; it no longer looks bad when the corrupt always climb the career ladder, the thief is always declared a visionary, the deceivers often become leaders, the servile are absolutely “good boys.”
Paradox 2:
We have learned to endure, not to change.
Change now seems risky, used to the evil we know, even though it is bad.
We don’t want to change because it comes with responsibility, while as we are it’s enough to complain, accuse, and blame others.
To want change you must speak out, risk, show yourself, confront, fail, be attacked… it’s easier to say “there’s nothing we can do” than “enough is enough.”
We are philosophers of “it can’t get worse,” not “it must be much better,” so we advise “don’t get involved,” “don’t feel,” “that was fate”… a collectivization of the mediocre lower middle.
We still don’t have the culture of courage: we don’t think whether it’s right, but whether I gain or if it harms me.
“He doesn’t speak, but what’s it to me,” courage replaced by calculation, but if you get personally harmed, you revolt enough for even the Eskimos to hear.
Evil has become part of us; it no longer shocks, scandalizes, provokes reaction, or shakes us… we just purse our lips, say it’ll last three days, sip our coffee, light a cigarette. Move on!
We call it normal that the minister’s son has a construction company, that the deputy’s daughter wins tenders, that the director’s son-in-law gets concessions, that someone’s nephew opens three businesses without knowing 4×7… the family system has gotten into our blood, and we don’t demand the institutional system. Young people, don’t get discouraged, you are not incompetent, but with us, success is not merit, it’s inheritance.
There’s not only inheritance of wealth but also the threads and networks of friendships and deals; you don’t need an Oxford diploma, but an uncle in the municipality, you don’t need experience, but a brother-in-law in procurement, don’t bother with ideas, meet the aunt on the third floor of the ministry.
Corruption is genealogical.
Who was “big” in communism is still big, or it’s their heirs and branches. They are the same, only with different logos, expensive clothes, and polished democratic vocabulary.
In Albania, access to evil is inherited, while wealth is the only form of “parental love.”
The successful are those who lower their heads, not those who raise their voice; the system has the power to turn against you by convincing you that you are the one to blame.
Albania is full of the resigned: with a glass in hand and a cigarette that doesn’t go out, with cynical smiles, with humor and revolt… on social networks, with the crushing expression “it’s not worth it, this country can’t be fixed,” no longer speaking, no longer protesting, no longer suing, no longer demanding rights, just accepting evil as inevitable.
They inherit the threads and wealth, others inherit the departure to their children; when told “don’t speak what you want,” “don’t oppose,” “don’t ask,” “don’t dream of another Albania,” “study hard, leave for Germany.”
They prepare their children to inherit the wealth; most prepare them to leave the country, not to face it.
They prepare their children to take everything in hand; most prepare them to give up.
Growing up with dignity, working with dedication, speaking with courage is a slow self-destruction, not because you are surrounded by enemies, but because everywhere around you are the resigned. And when the resigned become the majority, evil walks and lives among us as normal.
Hope
A new generation, perhaps raised far from Albania, but with an untamed love for the country kept alive by their parents, who doesn’t sit in offices waiting for a turn for some favor, who goes to job interviews without a friend’s phone call, who doesn’t take selfies with power even though they can, who doesn’t recite and sing along with evil treating it as good.
That generation that does not see evil as a bridge to benefit themselves and their family but as a wall that must be knocked down and broken together with their peers.
That generation that doesn’t seek power tomorrow but over time, because they know that evil has deep roots, but they don’t tire, don’t surrender, don’t remain silent. That generation learns, studies the laws, understands the system, understands people, does not get disappointed immediately, knows the monster to be defeated and does not capitulate.
That clean, well-educated and properly schooled generation that speaks up when it sees injustice, that does not ignore or embrace corruption, that when it sees oppressors and ignorant people raised does not applaud them but shouts at them, that does not put on a show with itself like its predecessors, that does not allow everything to be sold while it takes a needle’s point for itself, that does not see honesty as a burden and words as a luxury.
That generation will teach children to stay, not to leave, to seek justice even for strangers more than for small personal gain, not to cling to power like a fly to honey.
That generation will surpass all previous generations because it will overcome the mentality of the bowed head, silence, and hope by standing in line.
That blessed generation will see Albania as a project, not as inheritance, and they will make that project beloved and livable, not so much physically but much more morally.
It is that generation that will see itself as citizens, not as “boss rulers,” that will not pride itself on the wealth gained from the seat given by the people, that generation will understand that the country does not need many leaders but fewer deceivers. That generation will not see the vote as a lottery ticket for personal problems, but as a mirror of conscience, as representation of values.
Of course, they will be mocked, laughed at, underestimated, told “idealistic and utopian children who don’t understand life,” but then they will be feared, because that generation does not hide, does not buy itself, does not shrink or purse its lips, does not recite under the leader’s smile.
And maybe then, even thousands of capable but friendless young people, thousands of others bent early by ideas of enrichment, robbery and careerism without merit, will gather together and decide: This country is not to leave, it is to be made. Come, let’s clean it up and make it. It has happened elsewhere, it will definitely happen in Albania too.
Arizaj është gazetar me një eksperiencë të gjatë në median shqiptare.
Ai ka drejtuar një sërë gazetash të përditshme dhe së fundi i fokusuar në zhanrin e analizave.
Edmond Arizaj është diplomuar pranë Universitetit të Tiranës në degën Gazetari.