Albania Between Silence and Submission: What Arben Ahmetaj’s Interview Reveals About a Captured State
Flamur Buçpapaj
The recent interview with Arben Ahmetaj, former Deputy Prime Minister and former Minister of Finance of Albania, should be read far beyond the confines of personal defense or domestic political controversy. It represents an alarming document for international observers monitoring democratic developments in the Western Balkans. What emerges is not merely the testimony of a former high-ranking official, but the exposure of a governance model in which power is centralized, accountability is largely symbolic, and citizens are excluded from meaningful decision-making.
At its core, the interview points to the existence of a captured state—one in which institutions function less as guardians of the rule of law and more as political instruments. When a former finance minister speaks openly about internal pressure, political intimidation, and the absence of institutional independence, it raises serious questions about the actual state of democracy and legality in Albania, a country that remains an official candidate for membership in the European Union.
The Citizen as a Passive Subject
What makes this interview particularly troubling is not only what is said, but what is implicitly revealed: Albanian citizens are treated as marginal actors in the power equation. Elections are reduced to ritual, while real political decisions are made behind closed doors. In such a system, formal freedoms exist on paper, but political emancipation remains elusive.
This model of governance produces a society marked by fatigue, disillusionment, and disengagement, where mass emigration becomes a silent political act. People are not merely leaving because of economic hardship, but because they no longer believe that change is possible within the system itself.
The Normalization of Fear and the Culture of Silence
One of the most disturbing elements to emerge from Ahmetaj’s interview is the normalization of fear as a governing tool. Fear of losing one’s position, fear of selective justice, fear of political isolation—these mechanisms create an environment in which obedience replaces legality. In such systems, individuals act not according to principles, but according to survival instincts.
This phenomenon is not unfamiliar in post-authoritarian societies. What makes the Albanian case distinctive, however, is that this model continues to operate decades after the fall of communism and under constant international supervision and support.
Responsibility of Political Elites—and the International Community
Ahmetaj’s testimony does not absolve him of responsibility. On the contrary, it highlights the collective accountability of a political elite that has built and sustained this system. Yet it also raises an uncomfortable question for the international community: has technical assistance and reformist rhetoric been sufficient in the face of a deeply personalized and centralized power structure?
If Albania is assessed primarily through the lens of short-term stability rather than democratic substance, there is a real danger that a form of “soft authoritarianism” will consolidate itself under the banner of reform.
From Formal Citizenship to Political Agency
The most powerful message of this interview is not despair, but urgency. A society that accepts injustice as normal risks inheriting it as destiny. Democracy is not exhausted at the ballot box; it requires active participation, transparency, and the courage to challenge power.
If Albanian citizens continue to be treated as spectators in a closed political game, the question is no longer whether democracy is failing—but whether it ever truly existed in practice.
Ahmetaj’s interview should serve as a warning signal—not to rescue individuals, but to reassess a system that risks reducing citizens to decorative figures within the state. In a Europe that claims shared democratic values, silence in the face of such signals is not neutrality; it is complicity.
