When Power Blocks Rotation, Society Speaks: Peaceful Uprising as a Response to State Capture and Massive Corruption
Flamur Buçpapaj
History does not recognize crises without cause. It only recognizes societies that, after all institutional doors have been closed, are forced to speak with the last voice they have left: peaceful resistance. Peaceful uprisings are not extremism; extremism is the blockage of political rotation, the normalization of corruption, and the transformation of the state into private property.
For years, Albania has been living under an artificial stability, built on institutional control and the concentration of power in the hands of a few. On the surface, everything appears normal: elections are held, the parliament functions, laws are passed. Yet, in reality, political rotation has been paralyzed. Power no longer changes as a result of the citizens’ free will but reproduces itself through the administration, public funds, and the capture of justice. This is the point at which democracy becomes a formal procedure, and the citizen becomes a spectator.
In this context, calls for peaceful uprising articulated by Sali Berisha cannot be dismissed as mere opposition rhetoric. They reflect a structural crisis, where the parliamentary opposition is weakened, independent institutions are contested, and the vote no longer guarantees change. When institutional channels are closed, pressure naturally moves to the streets—not for violence, but for legitimacy.
Massive, systemic corruption deepens this crisis. It is no longer a matter of isolated cases but a model of governance where public contracts, concessions, natural resources, and strategic assets circulate within a narrow economic and political circle. A minority prospers, while the majority struggles. This is not stability; it is theft of the future. Albanian society pays the price of silence while propaganda tries to sell an illusion of normality.
The social consequences are evident: young people emigrate, trust in justice is minimal, and perceptions of equality before the law are shattered. Society begins to live with the belief that the rules apply only to the weak and that the law serves the powerful. In this climate, peaceful uprising emerges as a democratic survival mechanism. It does not aim for violent overthrow but for the restoration of fundamental rules: genuine rotation, fair elections, and institutional accountability.
This phenomenon is not unique to Albania. Worldwide history shows that major changes often come through peaceful resistance. Mahatma Gandhi did not topple the British Empire with weapons but with massive civil disobedience. Martin Luther King Jr. did not march for conflict but to defend citizens’ rights. Nelson Mandela achieved South Africa’s transformation without civil war, using sustained civil and political pressure. Movements like the Velvet Revolution and Solidarity demonstrate that regimes that appear unbreakable fall not to violence but to a loss of legitimacy.
These examples highlight a harsh truth: peaceful uprising works only when it is massive, organized, and inclusive. It requires discipline, determination, and participation from the entire society, not just small opposition groups. Without this, protests remain symbolic and can be easily criminalized by those in power.
Governments that criminalize peaceful resistance show fear, not strength. History shows that regimes that confuse control with legitimacy eventually collapse under the only force they cannot buy: mobilized citizens. In Albania, the moment has arrived when the people cannot remain silent. Peaceful uprising is not a threat—it is a call for rotation, justice, and hope.
Ultimately, the question facing Albania is not whether a peaceful uprising is justified, but how long a system that has lost the citizens’ trust can continue. Global history provides a clear answer: no power can survive indefinitely a society that has decided not to remain silent.
