Some places are measured by square kilometers. Some places are measured by the weight they hold in history. Sazan belongs to the second category. The Otranto Canal is the gateway to the Adriatic. In Vlora lies its key.

It is a small dot on the map. In geopolitics it is the southern gateway to the Adriatic. In Albanian politics it is the mirror where greed, power and fear meet. All three at once, without shame.

It is said that development is always good news. It is said that every crane is progress. It is said that every resort is well-being. It is said that every tower is modernity.

History teaches us something else. Not just any concrete builds a state. There is also concrete that covers up traces.

Organized crime doesn't just need ports and tax havens. It needs institutions that don't ask questions. Laws that are written for investment, not for the public interest.

Albanians, from across the ideological spectrum, liberals, nationalists, environmentalists and radical leftists. Tiktokists and conspiracy theorists together, are protesting every evening. They do not share the same ideology, but they share the same feeling. That of exclusion and abandonment by a self-serving political elite disconnected from the people.

This feeling is not limited to the formal parliamentary opposition. It extends to the entire political class. In Albania, we have had a non-transparent administration of public assets and favorable agreements only for special interests. Recent events are not an isolated case, but the latest and most visible symbols of this pattern.

Our problem is no longer simply and solely corruption. Our national identity is being alienated. The state has lost the ability to distinguish national interest from private interest. A state that does not distinguish between the two is no longer governed. It is simply administered as it can, not as it should.

This is no longer a debate about an island, a peninsula, a lagoon and a river. This is a debate about the model of the state. A serious state does not just ask how much will be invested. It asks who invests? It asks where the money comes from? It asks who benefits? It asks what the country loses when only the investor “wins”?

These are the questions that distinguish a republic from a territory. A serious state from a ridiculous state. Every nation needs courageous people who know how to say "no."

Albanians are not against development. They are against the idea that development can be built by weakening the law, by relativizing the public interest, by remaining silent in the face of legitimate questions.

Democracy is not measured only by elections. It is measured by the ability of citizens to tell the government that not everything is for sale. Is there a chasm between a state that develops its territory and a government that sells its territory?

At the heart of this anger being expressed on the streets lies an undeniable economic reality. Albania remains a poor country, with its development model heavily based on construction and tourism. This has produced a wealth concentrated in the hands of a narrow circle of people connected to power. Ordinary Albanians have been increasingly excluded from the real benefits of this growth.

In many cases, the cost of this model is twofold. On the one hand, high living and tourism prices have made the coast an increasingly inaccessible space for Albanians themselves. On the other hand, the tourism and construction sectors are increasingly relying on low-wage foreign labor. Meanwhile, a large proportion of Albanians continue to emigrate to EU countries in search of higher incomes.

Against this economic and social backdrop, the perception of endemic corruption and political favoritism in the management of public assets has further deepened the gap between citizens and this political elite. Debates on sensitive issues of justice and institutional integrity are indicative of a broader problem. They reveal the model of the functioning of the rule of law and the pace of reforms required in the process of European integration.

The protests are not just an isolated reaction, but a manifestation of a accumulated frustration with a closed development and governance model. This is the difference that is being made today. Not just in Sazan. Not just in Vjosa-Narta. But in the very idea of ​​what kind of Albania we want to leave to the generations to come. We must never forget that islands never betray their country. People, sometimes, do.