A-Infos (en) Italy, FAI, Umanita Nova #21-26 - Flamingo Revolution. Albania: Flamingos Call for Revolt (ca, de, it, pt, tr)[machine translation]

No one would have imagined that two places, until a few months ago 
virtually unknown to the general European public the island of Sazan and 
the Narta-Zvërnec lagoon could become the center of the most significant 
popular mobilization Albania has seen in recent years. --- On one side, 
Sazan, the military island overlooking the entrance to the Strait of 
Otranto. On the other, Narta, a coastal lagoon home to one of the 
largest flamingo colonies in the Adriatic. Two places separated by 
dozens of kilometers, but united by the same destiny: to become the 
heart of gigantic tourism and real estate projects promoted by the 
investment fund linked to Jared Kushner, son-in-law of US President 
Donald Trump.
These projects have rapidly generated very different concerns. For some, 
the issue is the protection of fragile ecosystems and protected areas. 
For others, it is the progressive privatization of territories 
considered common goods. For others, the affair represents yet another 
episode in a long history of administrative opaqueness, intertwining 
political power and economic interests, and transformations imposed from 
above without the true involvement of local communities. Among the more 
radical sectors of the protests, geopolitical interpretations have even 
emerged that see the operation as a form of economic colonization and 
strategic control of the territory by foreign interests. The planned 
investment on Sazan Island is sometimes described as a sort of symbolic 
"conquest" of a space considered part of Albanian national identity, to 
the point of evoking, in some slogans and comments, the theme of 
colonization present in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.
Interpretations aside, however, the most significant fact is another: in 
the space of a few days, a protest born to defend a lagoon and an island 
has transformed into an open challenge to the entire Albanian political 
system.
The spark ignites in Zvërnec. The appearance of fences and barbed wire 
in the areas affected by preliminary work sparks the first 
demonstrations. When images show citizens dragged to the ground by 
private security personnel while the police largely remain on the 
sidelines, the outrage spreads far beyond environmentalist circles and 
reaches a much wider audience through social media. From then on, the 
mobilization grows day by day. The initial local initiatives are joined 
by demonstrations in Vlora, Durrës, Shkodër, and finally Tirana. The 
squares fill up, especially with young people. Many do not belong to any 
political party. Many had never participated in a demonstration before. 
Others follow the events from abroad and help spread the word among the 
vast Albanian diaspora spread across Europe and North America. While the 
government continues to present the affair as a simple dispute over 
tourism investment, a growing segment of Albanian society begins to see 
it as a symptom of a much deeper problem.
What is striking is not only the number of participants, but the very 
nature of the demonstrations.
Those who observe the images from Tirana do not see the traditional 
backdrops of party mobilizations. Political flags are almost absent. 
Albanian flags dominate, along with homemade signs and the flamingos 
that have become symbols of the protest. Here and there, European Union 
flags can be seen, a few banners from the One Piece manga universe, and 
a very rare US flag carried by isolated groups, but no symbol capable of 
dominating the square.
Dominating the square are not the traditional symbols of the left or the 
right, but rather two seemingly distant images: the black eagle of the 
Albanian flag and the flamingo of the Narta lagoon. The eagle evokes a 
national community scattered between Albania and the diaspora. The 
flamingo evokes the defense of a territory threatened by speculation. 
Together, they describe a movement that seeks to reconcile belonging, 
the environment, and participation without fully recognizing itself in 
traditional ideological divisions.
This is probably the most interesting aspect of the mobilization.
Environmentalists, students, feminist groups, civic associations, 
returning emigrants, and ordinary citizens gather in the same space, 
without any organization appearing capable of imposing a common 
political line. Even the main opposition parties' attempts to establish 
themselves as leaders of the movement seem to arouse more mistrust than 
enthusiasm.

Neither Rama nor Berisha.
If the defense of the Narta Lagoon and Sazan Island was the initial 
spark, the real change emerged in the streets of Tirana. As the days 
passed, the slogans changed. Alongside demands to halt real estate 
projects in protected areas, slogans began to appear that questioned the 
entire Albanian political system. The most frequently chanted chants 
didn't just call for the resignation of Prime Minister Edi Rama. They 
challenged a political era that, in the eyes of many protesters, had 
lasted over thirty years.
"Rama në burg, Berisha në burg" became one of the most repeated slogans 
during the marches. The formula is significant. For over three decades, 
Albanian political life has been dominated by the alternation, conflict, 
or coexistence of the same ruling groups. On one side, the Socialist 
Party led by Edi Rama, in government since 2013. On the other, the 
Democratic Party of Sali Berisha, a central figure in Albanian politics 
since the 1990s. In the protests, however, this opposition is 
increasingly perceived as a false alternative.
In speeches from the stage, in interviews conducted by local media, and 
on signs displayed during the demonstrations, the idea recurs that both 
government and opposition are responsible for the country's current 
situation. Corruption, youth emigration, rising living costs, the 
housing crisis, and land privatization are blamed not only on the 
current government, but on the entire ruling class that has governed 
Albania since the end of the communist regime until today.
This is likely why the mobilization also poses challenges for the 
parliamentary opposition.
Initially, Sali Berisha observes the demonstrations cautiously. Later, 
he attempts to align himself with the protesters' demands and supports 
some of their environmentalist demands. The reception on the streets, 
however, remains cold. Anti-Berisha slogans continue to resonate 
alongside those against Rama, signaling a mistrust that appears 
difficult to overcome. For many participants, the problem is not just 
about who governs today, but the political model that has consolidated 
over the years.
The demands made during the demonstrations reflect this approach. 
Alongside the cancellation of projects in protected areas, there are 
demands for greater transparency in public decisions, more effective 
controls against corruption, oversight of the ruling class, and, in some 
interventions, even the possibility of a technical or transitional 
government. Naturally, the protests are far from homogeneous. Different, 
sometimes even incompatible, sensibilities coexist within them. 
Environmentalists, feminist groups, civic associations, nationalist 
groups, social activists, students, returning emigrants, and ordinary 
citizens share the same space without necessarily sharing the same 
vision of the future. What unites them, at least for now, is above all a 
rejection. The rejection of a politics perceived as distant, 
self-referential, and incapable of offering prospects to a generation 
that continues to see emigration as one of the few ways to improve their 
living conditions.
From this perspective, the Flamingo Revolution seems to express 
something that goes beyond the environmental issue alone.
The defense of the Narta Lagoon becomes the language through which a 
segment of Albanian society attempts to talk about itself, its 
expectations, and its relationship with power.
It's difficult to understand today what young Albanians really have in 
mind when, in the streets of Tirana, they obsessively chant "Revolution! 
Revolution! Revolution!" Many of them probably can't define it 
precisely. Perhaps they don't even know it yet. But after years in which 
European politics seems to have stopped even imagining change, hearing a 
new generation pronounce that word so stubbornly still has a particular 
effect. It brings to mind the idea that the future hasn't yet been 
completely decided. Naturally, the crucial question remains open: Are we 
witnessing a mobilization destined to fizzle out in a matter of weeks, 
or the birth of a new collective entity?

Building a Movement
Whether the Flamingo Revolution will leave a lasting mark on Albanian 
political life will depend on a very concrete issue: its ability to 
transform from a protest into a movement. Demonstrations can fill the 
streets for a few days or weeks. It is more difficult to build tools 
capable of surviving the initial outrage and ensuring the continuity of 
collective action. It is precisely in this context that the Albanian 
situation becomes particularly interesting.
One of the most significant aspects is the speed with which the 
mobilization began to equip itself with its own communication and 
coordination tools. The main websites, social media accounts, and 
platforms dedicated to the Flamingo Revolution appeared once the 
protests were already underway. They did not precede the mobilization: 
rather, they were its product. During the first few days, the website 
The Flamingo Revolution was also created , which collects a chronology 
of events, demands, a calendar of initiatives, and documentation 
materials. On the website, the movement explicitly defines itself as 
characterized by "decentralized leadership," a phrase that seems to 
describe the reality observed in the streets quite well. Thus far, no 
recognized leader has emerged capable of monopolizing the protests. Nor 
has an organization openly claimed ownership.
Alongside environmental activists, there are feminist collectives, civic 
associations, citizen groups, diaspora representatives, and smaller 
political organizations. Among these are groups like Lëvizja Bashkë , 
which openly support the mobilization but, at least for now, appear 
unable to dominate it.
The role of the diaspora also deserves attention. In the space of a few 
days, demonstrations and solidarity demonstrations appear in numerous 
European and North American cities. London, Berlin, Madrid, Milan, Rome, 
Padua, Boston, and other cities are hosting initiatives promoted by 
Albanian communities living abroad. For a country that has experienced 
significant emigration for decades, this is far from insignificant. Many 
of the young people protesting in Tirana today have friends or family 
who live and work outside Albania. The environmental issue is thus 
intertwined with broader issues: emigration, the housing crisis, the 
rising cost of living, the difficulty of building a future in one's own 
country, and the growing perceived distance between governments and the 
governed.
Even in the field of communication, as already mentioned, interesting 
elements are emerging. Alongside the official channels of mobilization, 
a network of creators, photographers, journalists, influencers, and 
videographers has developed, helping to document events and disseminate 
them well beyond the confines of the streets. Websites linked to the 
Flamingo Revolution even include sections dedicated to these public 
figures, a sign of recognition of the role they play in the movement's 
growth. Not all the profiles cited are activists. Alongside journalists, 
environmentalists, and creators, there are also bloggers, photographers, 
entertainment personalities, travel influencers, and figures from the 
world of communication and entertainment. Rather than a traditional 
leadership structure, a widespread communication community seems to be 
emerging, capable of rapidly connecting activists, the diaspora, and 
public opinion.
However, the crucial question remains. The streets exist. The slogans 
exist. The symbols exist. A communication network is beginning to 
emerge. Less clear is whether assemblies, territorial coordination 
groups, collective decision-making tools, and forms of organization 
capable of lasting beyond the emergency are also emerging. This is where 
the future of every movement is played out.
Recent history is full of mobilizations capable of filling the streets 
yet failing to outlast their own growth. Others, conversely, have 
managed to transform a protest into a lasting experience of 
participation and self-organization. Albania today appears to be in 
precisely this transition.
Perhaps this is also why Edi Rama has reacted so harshly against 
influencers and creators who have chosen to side with the protests. In a 
mobilization without recognized leaders, the ability to narrate events, 
disseminate images, and build consensus can become a political resource 
as important as a traditional organizational structure. And precisely 
for this reason, it represents a battleground that extends far beyond 
social networks.

When the Territory Rebels
What is emerging from the Albanian streets is not just the defense of an 
ecosystem.The strength of theFlamingo Revolutionlies not only in the 
protection of a lagoon or a few flamingos. It lies in having transformed 
a territorial issue into a collective demand for the right of 
communities to participate in the decisions that affect them. It's a 
dynamic we've already seen, in different forms and languages, in many 
other places in Europe: from the Susa Valley to the Strait of Messina, 
from Salento to Notre-Dame-des-Landes. These very different contexts 
share the emergence of movements challenging major projects, tourist 
developments, or territorial transformations presented as inevitable and 
decided without the real involvement of the affected communities.
In all these cases, the conflict wasn't just about an infrastructure, a 
construction site, or a specific project. Behind the contested project, 
a deeper question emerged: who decides the future of a territory, and in 
whose interest?
In Albania too, day by day, the debate seems to have shifted from the 
Narta and Sazan project to the country's development model. It's no 
longer just about resorts, investments, or luxury tourism. We're 
debating the relationship between citizens and power, between local 
communities and large economic interests, between democracy and 
decisions presented as inevitable.
From this perspective, theFlamingo Revolutionappears less like a Balkan 
exception and more like a new manifestation of the long period of social 
and territorial conflicts that has swept across contemporary Europe. 
From the struggles for territorial defense to the recent student 
protests in Serbia, similar questions emerge about democratic 
participation, political representation, and the ability of communities 
to truly influence the decisions that shape their future. These 
movements are very different, often lacking a single ideological stance, 
but united by the conviction that territory is not a mere commodity and 
that the communities that inhabit it have the right to participate in 
the decisions that shape its destiny.
Perhaps this is the question the Flamingo Revolution also poses to those 
observing from across the Adriatic: not whether Albania is for sale or 
not, but whether we are still capable of imagining that there exist 
places, landscapes, common goods, and communities that cannot be 
evaluated exclusively in terms of income, profit, or tourist appeal.
Between Narta, Ostuni, and the Susa Valley, languages, laws, and 
governments change. The questions remain surprisingly similar: who 
decides the future of the territories? In whose interest? And what space 
is left for those who inhabit those territories every day? Perhaps this 
is why the cry of "Revolucion!" resounding today in the squares of 
Tirana speaks to us too. Because the questions that permeate this 
mobilization participation, self-governance, bottom-up control of 
collective decisions are the same ones that anarchist federalism has 
always attempted to answer.
We don't know what the fate of the Flamingo Revolution will be. It could 
quickly fade away, transform into a new collective entity, or flow back 
into the traditional dynamics of Albanian politics. But one thing has 
already happened: a lagoon populated by flamingos has managed to bring 
back to the streets a word that seemed to have disappeared from the 
European political lexicon: Revolucion. And, with it, the question of 
who has the right to decide the future of a territory and a society.

Totò Caggese

https://umanitanova.org/flamingo-revolution-albania-sono-i-fenicotteri-a-chiamare-alla-rivolta/
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