Every evening since May 30, thousands of Albanians have gathered below Prime Minister Edi Rama’s office in Tirana. This ongoing movement took a more confrontational turn in early July, openly calling for the removal of the head of government.
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Among the crowd, two elderly women can be spotted leaning on a stroller as they struggle to walk in step with the march. Nearby, several men are kneeling in prayer. Groups of students join the mass of protesters, while a father and son wave the national flag.
The initial spark of this anger was the construction plans of Jared Kushner, Donald Trump’s son-in-law, and his wife Ivanka, on the island of Sazan and in the coastal area of Zvërnec. Environmental organizations had long opposed these projects, but the situation erupted when footage of private security guards forcibly removing residents who opposed the arrival of machinery went viral.
For the citizens who have taken to the streets, the state’s silence in the face of violence, the lack of transparency, and the environmental damage are a mirror of Albania’s deep-seated problems. Successive governments have been mired in major financial scandals and corruption allegations. Yet a protest of this scale is rare in the Balkan nation of 2.4 million since the fall of communism and is seen as a sign of a revitalized civil society. “This is the first time we’ve seen so many different people together,” says Hyrmete Thaçi, 42, holding a green scarf. “Everyone has had enough now.”
From the tenth floor of her apartment, Elsida Hajdari looks sadly at the wave of construction that has transformed the landscape. “We used to see the mountains, now buildings have sprung up everywhere,” says the 39-year-old. Below their building still stand a few small houses with damaged roofs and worn-out electrical wires. This is precisely what drives her to join the protest every evening. Financial hardship has angered her whole family. Her daughter, Ebi, 15, complains that the cost of living doesn’t even allow her “to buy a lip gloss or go out with friends.” Elsida works in a call center for 800 euros a month, just above the minimum wage of around 500 euros. “Yet I have a degree in political science and speak three languages,” she adds indignantly. Her husband, Besmir Kraja, works as a cook and notes with concern the declining conditions in his field. “Now they bring in foreign workers at very low wages, who are kept in unlivable housing.”
Among the loudest protesters are young people aged 18 to 30. Pupils, students, recent graduates, or unemployed, they face a bleak future and an unemployment rate of 22% for the 15-24 age group. They are convinced that the state prefers to invest in tourism rather than higher education. Closely connected to social media platforms, the youth have been a key pillar in expanding the movement. Dea Vieri, 28, denounces the corruption that has permeated the country, a phenomenon that, according to her, extends beyond the political sphere. “Our generation is tired. You shouldn’t need connections to powerful people or have to pay to succeed,” she stresses.
Another concern for them is the seizure of territory by criminal groups, which are endangering still-pristine landscapes. “For us, nature is worth more than money,” says Ali Dizdari, a 21-year-old student. He refers to a law passed in February 2024 that favors strategic investments, including in protected areas at very low cost. Born after the overthrow of the dictatorship in 1991, many of these young people believe they have finally overcome fear. “The elderly still hesitate to oppose the authorities, because they carry the traumas of the past,” explains Mikaela Mahilaj, 33, a biologist.
But this perspective is tempered by the presence of a couple around seventy. The Ishmi spouses are among the thousands of Albanians persecuted by Europe’s most closed regime, that of Enver Hoxha. “Back then we were young and distributed anti-communist leaflets. We were caught and imprisoned together. I was pregnant there and lost my child,” the woman recalls in a restrained tone. Tireless, these “sworn democrats” march every evening with whistles and banners. Carrying the slogan “Edi Rama to prison,” they see in the four-term prime minister’s rule signs of a “return to dictatorship” and accuse him of a luxurious lifestyle, completely disconnected from the reality of citizens. On the pensioner’s placard it reads: “Edi Rama bought a bottle of wine for 33,600 euros. That’s 28 years of my pension.”
After the regime fell in the early 1990s, the population held great hopes for future generations. Fredi Muçi, a civil engineer for the state, and his wife Frosina, an architect for public institutions, sacrificed a great deal to finance their two children’s studies abroad. “All families made huge financial sacrifices for this,” Fredi says. Yet today, the family looks back with disappointment. “If we had known that even after 35 years the transition wouldn’t be over…” the 74-year-old pensioner notes. “Our system is not a democracy,” adds the 67-year-old former architect. In the end, only their son has returned to Albania, to get involved in politics with the left-wing party “Bashkë,” while their younger daughter only comes for holidays.
The couple Julian Bregu, 41, a former legionnaire in the French army now working in marketing, and his partner Enki Çokaj, 37, with whom he has an 8-month-old baby, had never before protested or voted. The deterioration of public services drove them to the streets. “I cannot imagine my child growing up in this system even in 20 years. The standard of education is poor and the public hospital lacks so much,” says Julian. Even though they know they belong to the top 10% most privileged in a country that remains among the poorest on the continent, Enki admits that “even for us, great sacrifices are required.” She is resolute: “If nothing changes for the better, we will leave. I refuse to see our son grow up in a country that doesn’t respect him.”
This civic wave, dubbed the “Flamingo Revolution” because of the lagoons where these birds breed and which are threatened by the Trump family projects, is also raising hopes among the diaspora. Krenari, 40, settled in the US since 2010, is part of the 1.2 million Albanians living abroad — over 44% of the population, according to World Bank data. He was forced to leave by corruption and now says: “If this protest succeeds, we will return without a doubt.”
Despite the pressure, from his office, Prime Minister Edi Rama remains steadfast. He has described the protesters as participants in “a hybrid war manipulated from outside” and, at a peak moment of the revolt, approved 4 million euros in public funds to set up a makeshift stadium for a concert by American rapper Kanye West, who has been banned from entering several European countries due to antisemitic statements. This decision, like the projects linked to the Trump family, has further infuriated the protesters.
