By Muriel
In a democracy, protests are the voice raised when institutions are not heard. In Albania, the danger today is not the protest itself. The danger is what happens when the government decides not to listen at all and responds with contempt.
When the prime minister describes the protest as an “outpouring” and reduces civic anger to an insult, he is not simply engaging in political polemics. He is setting a dangerous standard: that discontent be treated as shame, not as a signal; that the citizen be anathema, not listened to. At that moment, the problem is not just style. The problem is the state, because a state that speaks to its citizens with contempt gradually begins to seem alien to its citizens.
This is where the clearest, purest, and most difficult to ignore counter-response comes in: “I am not an ‘outcast,’ Mr. Prime Minister. I may love this country more than you do, but I want it to be fair, with good education, decent healthcare, equal opportunities.” This is not a slogan. It is an act of moral accusation against a government that confuses force with right and patience with submission.
And then comes the question that cannot be drowned out with jokes: what is called “European” here? Is a government that calls the square “street” European, while itself is accompanied by the shadows of street politics, by people and structures that are publicly spoken of with fear and suspicion? If the “street” was the citizen who demands accountability, then what should be called the government when connections with “gangs” are rumored, when fear is used as the silent language of order, and when insults take the place of arguments?
The opposition calls this phase “the last mile” and warns of continued protests, claiming that it is not a personal or party issue, but “civic conscience.” Let us take this claim seriously: the proof is not loud voices, but discipline; not spur-of-the-moment shots, but persistence; not spectacle, but the objective. And the objective must be one and the same: accountability.
Because the essence is neither the rhetoric of the opposition nor the nerves of the prime minister. The essence is a crisis of trust, and a widespread perception that decision-making does not always serve the public interest, but a network of economic and political interests that makes power seem “untouchable.” When citizens believe that competition is a facade, that the law is selective, and that propaganda covers up the truth, then democracy begins to empty from within.
And here another simple question arises, but devastating for any government: the ministers who come out one after the other on charges of corruption, Is this Europe or robbery? When you hear rumors of staggering wealth, of endless apartments, of luxury that no state salary can explain, the "European" standard is not to mock those who raise these questions. The European standard is for institutions to investigate, for documents to be clarified, and for those who cannot justify their wealth not to be protected by the government for a single day.
Here is the key point: the answer cannot be destruction, nor chaos. Violence does not solve corruption; it covers it up and gives the authorities an alibi to shift the debate to “order and security”. But it is equally true that institutional stubbornness, the refusal to take political responsibility, to remove suspected officials from public office, to stop the language of contempt and to cooperate unconditionally with investigations, raises the social temperature and increases the risk of escalation. Therefore, the urgency is not to shout louder; the urgency is to act: to hand over the “looters” and those suspected of corruption to justice, to remove them from office, to open the documents, to end the political shield.
Therefore, citizen pressure must be maximal, but wise and invincible: clear, measurable, documented demands; massive, peaceful and disciplined protests; “light” on every interest and decision through transparency, monitoring and legal means; daily political cost to arrogance and propaganda; and, finally, turning the revolt into a democratic decision.
If the government ignores these demands, the answer is not violence, but even greater citizen pressure: more organized, more documented, more massive, and more disciplined, until accountability becomes mandatory or change comes by vote.
Because in a climate of deep distrust and serious accusations, when the government can provide neither transparency, nor calm, nor respect, there is an institutional way out that lowers the temperature and returns the country to the rules: resignation as an act of political responsibility and paving the way for a technical government with a limited mandate, which guarantees free and democratic elections, with equal rules, transparency and serious monitoring. This is not a luxury. It is the cleanest way to avoid holding the country hostage to a collective nerve that is fed every day by contempt.
Albania does not need a prime minister who wins the “debate” with insults. It needs a state that wins trust with evidence. If the government is going to be called European, let it behave like one: with accountability, with standards, with justice that does not fear anyone, and with respect for the citizen who only wants one thing: a fair Albania, with good education, decent healthcare, and equal opportunities.
