TIRANA TIMES EDITORIAL
In the middle of the pandemic situation, as the sun had still to go up in a sleepy Tirana, there were some people who had been up all night. The policemen and the employees of the local authorities who would go on to demolish the National Theatre buildings, after kicking out the few resisting artists inside, had been given orders to act at all costs. This had to be a swift, aggressive, all-in operation to end the saga of the resistance against the plans to raze the theater to the ground, a resistance that had transformed with time to become a symbol of resistance against the regime itself.
The story that came to this sad, ugly, arrogant end, started years ago when the theater is marked for demolition to pave the way for a corruptive project that would give one private company license to build the new one alongside several high towers in one of the most desired high market value sites in the capital. The story reeked so badly of corruption, of illegal means and murky interest that it ended up being rejected by the EU itself. Those who had made plans to profit were not happy. But they also never let it go.
Throughout this time a size shifting group of artists, cultural heritage connoisseurs and civil society activists protested vehemently and creatively against these plans. They called upon citizens to look at this development as the apex of a trend of authoritarianism that cares for no rules, for no dissent voices and that is ready to forcefully grab whatever they want. They became a real nasty thorn at the side of power. They were a constant nagging reminder that civic conscience can prevail even in dire propaganda poisoned soil.
Well no longer! As the theater was being turned into ruins, the police flexed their muscle well to round up, beat and intimidate enough people. Caught in shock and despair, they looked to no avail for a reaction from the international community. There was none.
The theater issue is important for many reasons. This includes the sentiment of the artists that were against its demolition and which reserved respect. It is about the expertise of historical and cultural heritage which deserved its own share of respect. It is also about respecting the procedures and the transparency of local government but most of all this is about grand corruption and the ultimate failure of the basic way a state should function. The curtain has fallen to reveal a terrible truth. That Albania is now a country bereft of all rules, of the minimum respect for democratic due process, bereft of hope.
There will be many people who will be surprised why this majority and this government did not settle for something softer, for a new building somewhere else, for a transformation of the old theatre into a simple museum that would respect the wishes of the artists and those who vouched for its values as cultural heritage. Wouldn’t that be the sensible, mature thing to do? It would cost the government nothing. On the contrary it would make them look better. When the most powerful side makes a compromise it shows grandeur, it shows respect.
Well this is not how power works. Power yields nothing. Power does not make concessions. Power does not need excuses. Power shows no weakness. Power will kick you when you let your voice out and then will kick you some more on your way to the police station.
Of course power is at the moment unyielding with no constitutional checks in place, with a justice system up in the air and in disarray, with a weakened opposition outside of the parliament, with a President whose very existence seems to legitimize rather than thwart the power and finally with most media captured by the commercial interests of those who cozy up to the administration. Power is invincible with the parliament of the country inhabited with propaganda dolls and a few discredited figures that pretend to be an opposition.
The smoldering ruins of a small, unpretentious building look around with sadness now, the echo of the death of hope ringing through the town. All power rests in one place, all attempts at resisting are futile, all logic of legality, of rule of law, of checks and balances, of democratic due process, all buried under the ruins.
In the current conditions there seem to be only two options left: leave en masse, or stay and fight to get the conditional order back. Albanians seem to have chosen the first one. For the moment that is why power also feels invincible. There is something about the semblance of invincibility though. It is always an illusion.
