Elections under the shadow of clientelism and fear in the Fier region

2025-05-01 08:53:31Politikë SHKRUAR NGA GJERGJ EREBARA
Elections under the shadow of clientelism and fear in the Fier region
Graffiti on garbage cans in Lushnja. Photo: Gjergj Erebara

"What do you say?! You're dreaming with your eyes open?!" This was the answer this journalist received from a group of elderly people who were playing dominoes in the center of the village of Libofshë in Fier, to the question of whether there was anyone who was both employed in the public administration and also a supporter of the opposition.

“Even when they put them to work, they put them to work to get them out of the Democratic Party,” added the pensioner, who, like many others BIRN spoke to in many villages and towns in the Fier region, declined to be cited by name, due to what could be considered a climate of fear and terror from the socialist electoral machinery.

Meanwhile, in Divjaka, a relatively wealthy agricultural town about an hour north, some of the activists of the Democratic Party, in opposition for 12 years, laughed out loud when asked about the same thing, as if they had heard the biggest surprise in a long time.

The laughter was interrupted by Aurel Malko, candidate for MP and leader of the opposition in Divjaka, who said that the opposition also counts supporters among public administration employees, although the latter "rarely dare to express themselves publicly."

The use of public administration and public sector jobs to hire militants and employment in exchange for family or even extended family votes is not new in Albania.

In the decades since the fall of communism, public administration jobs, especially leadership positions, have changed hands every four times that political power has changed, as various parties have risen and fallen, through the misuse of the state structure for votes and the loss of access to this structure. As a result of the previous administration’s regular dismissals to create vacancies for militants of the party that came to power, taxpayers have been forced to pay hundreds of millions of euros in damages for court decisions of unfair dismissals.

However, things seem to have gone to extremes in recent years, as an army of the ruling party, described by the prime minister as “patronageists” and by citizens and opposition supporters as an “army of spies,” appears to systematically control public sector employment, leaving nothing out of the mechanism of votes for jobs, with the result that citizens feel insecure about their livelihoods or those of their families or extended family networks, are afraid to speak out critically or dare not express support for any other party, be it from the main opposition or from the smaller parties competing in the elections. This climate of pressure seems to have killed politics as politics to replace it with a giant system of clientelism, clientelism that uses a fluctuating dose of threats with bribes.

“I was fired early on,” says Tomorr Abdurrahmani, an opposition activist in neighborhood no. 2 of the city of Fier, who worked as an electrician at a pumping station during the current opposition government. Since the change of power twelve years ago, he has been living on a partial disability payment at work.

“The people in general are on the streets,” says a friend of his, also an opposition supporter, who works as a daily wage laborer in construction, “but the opposition supporters even more so.”

Historical division

Fier is the second largest region in Albania after Tirana, with a voting population of around 400,000 and 16 of the 140 seats in the Albanian Parliament. The Socialist Party has always had an advantage, typically winning 9 of the 16 seats, leaving 7 seats for the opposition parties. A deeper result for the Socialists was only recorded in 2017, with 10 seats.

Fier's leftward tilt seems to be partly linked to the legacy of the communist era, when the oil industry and other related industries offered comparatively higher wages than in the rest of the country for urban areas, and partly to the trauma of 1997, when, after the collapse of fraudulent financial schemes, which the DP government failed to stop in time, the government responded to citizen protests with attempted police and military repression, which sent the country into chaos and caused over 1,800 violent deaths.

“We vote for the left because at least it took the weapons out of our hands so we wouldn't kill each other,” an elderly man in the village of Struma, in the hills at the foot of Mount Shpirag, told this journalist.

The social relations created by the dictatorial state of the communist era have also created two support bases for opponents of the Socialist Party, which is widely seen as the heir to the Party of Labor. One group consists of the descendants of families settled in the former marshlands and in the city of Fier itself in the 1930s, after violence against Albanians in the former Yugoslavia, when tens of thousands of people were displaced to settle in various areas of the Western Lowlands in Albania. The second group of opponents of the SP are the group of Albanians who were forcibly expelled from Greece at the end of World War II, namely the Cham community. Both of these groups were disadvantaged and persecuted during the communist era, which is reflected in today's voting.

The support of these groups for the Democrats is not unconditional, however. The general perception is that this type of voter, although very reluctant to vote for the SP, should have an additional reason to go to the polls in support of the opposition.

The Socialists, for their part, in Fier as well as throughout Albania, enjoy a number of loyal supporters who are willing to vote for them no matter what.

“He votes for the Party even if it takes away his pension,” says a retired teacher as he gestures towards another retired teacher with whom he is playing chess in the village of Babunje.

“Communism has injected you,” he added, addressing his friend directly, who was dismissing suggestions that the current government is corrupt by saying, “everyone steals.”

The syringe in question is called "self-denial," a principle developed among societies that have lived under totalitarian regimes, in which the individual is indoctrinated to think about the good of the group, regardless of personal interest to the point of self-sacrifice. It is different from altruism, which suggests helping others without harming oneself.

Support for the Socialists can never be taken for granted. After the SP received 104,000 votes in the 2007 elections, the Fier region gave it almost 92,000 in 2021. In short, about 13,000 voters changed their minds for it. The votes of the two opposition parties, the SP and the LSI taken together, increased by about 9,000, which suggests that a significant portion of those who voted for Rama in 2017 voted against him in 2021.

Old age and poverty

Albania as a whole has aged dramatically over the past decade, with emigration eroding the younger age group and decreasing the birth rate, leading to a dramatic increase in the number of elderly people relative to the total population. But while the Tirana region continues to attract young people from all over the country and the population is somewhat more balanced, in other regions, the situation seems more dramatic. In Tirana, the population over 65 years old constitutes 16% of the total population, while in Fier, 24% or almost one in every four citizens belongs to the third age group.

This is the generation that has lived half its life under communism and half in transition. Their pensions are paid by an ever-decreasing number of Albanians of working age, if they have one at all. Pensions start at 9 thousand lekë for those who have no years of contributions, and continue up to 40 thousand, for the few who have had full years of work, both during the communist era and in the post-communist era. The number of the latter seems to be small, since the average urban pension is 19 thousand lekë, while the rural one, a little more than 9 thousand lekë.

And if the situation looks bad, the outlook is even bleaker.

The pension scheme that Albania uses was conceived, under accusations of behaving like a socialist, by the German statesman Otto von Bismarck. This scheme imagined a world in which four people work and from their contributions pay a pension, which should be equal to 70% of the salary that the pensioner had when he was employed. Depending on the contributor-employee ratio, the retirement age can be increased to reduce benefits and consequently the working time can be extended to increase contributions. Or you can increase the percentage that is withheld from the salary of contributors or reduce pensions in relation to salaries. Albania has done all of this in four "reforms" undertaken, in 1995, in 2001, in 2006 and, most recently, in 2015. As a result, the 750,000 employees with an average gross salary of 83,000 lekë pay 25% of their salary to finance the pensions of around 700,000 pensioners.

Currently in Albania there are slightly more than 1.1 employees per pensioner, which necessarily makes pensions very low. But if you belong to the generation of Albanians who are now 45-65 years old, know that you are part of a generation that today numbers 681 thousand individuals. Your pension will have to be paid by one of the 517 thousand Albanians who are now from zero to 18 years old. If we assume that the new generation of Albanians is all employed 100%, which is out of the norm, each of them will have to pay approximately 1.3 pensions.

This has not stopped political parties from making fantastic promises about high pensions.

“400 euro average pension, only with EDIN,” says a Socialist Party election ad, in which the figure 400 euro is in gold, as is commonly used in casino Jackpot advertisements. “Minimum pension of 200 euro for everyone,” says Berisha.

After all, while pensioners are, nationally, 20% of the population, among Albanians over 18 years old, that is, among Albanians who have the right to vote, pensioners constitute 35%. While in Fier County, the resident voting population over 65 years old constitutes 41%.

“I will give the seventeen votes I have in my family to Arlind Qori,” said a pensioner in the park in the center of Lushnja on a sunny afternoon, as he expressed his belief that with the left-wing politician, whose activism has so far managed to turn political attention to this part of society, pensions could be increased. Qori’s supporter had a pension of 28,000 lek after over 40 years of full contributions to work collecting agricultural products. But he was the only one BIRN spoke to who thought pensions could be increased or on whom Qori’s message had worked.

"They're lying to us," replied another pensioner, asked while playing dominoes in Fier, whose pension, 40,000 lek, came after full years of work in the oil industry.

“They don’t even care about our votes, let alone increasing our pensions,” said a farmer in Libofshë, who supplements his village pension of 9,000 lek by continuing to work a plot of vineyards and olives. “That’s how they get the votes they need,” he added, referring to the patronage system, as a huge portrait of the Socialist candidate, Ceno Klosi, looked on silently from the second floor of a building.

The retired chess teacher in Babunje blamed the low pensions on the reform of the first Democratic Party government in 1995. He added, however, that he had complained about the pension to Erion Braçe, without receiving a response.

An elderly man in Struma said that he had used the voluntary insurance scheme for farmers, a scheme subsidized by general taxation at the rate of 80%, and now enjoyed a pension of 22 thousand lek. But pressed further, he added: “Nobody here can live on a pension alone, or on farming alone. The children from emigration supplement us.”

The land can't help much either, he explained, since his family's 15 dunyas have been divided into five plots since the 1991 land reform, with the largest plot being 4 dunyas. "We plant it for the sake of planting, but it's not like we can live on it," he explained.

Meanwhile, in the center of Fier, on Monday evening, April 28, the Together Movement candidate, Mirela Ruko, tried, without much success, to leave an impression on a group of pensioners who were skeptical that anything could be done.

A woman had a pension of 9 thousand lek, after working part-time in a garment factory.

“Good for bread, but when we get sick?!” she asked rhetorically. “Because a person gets sick, and the doctor wants money,” she added. Candidate Ruko tried to console her by telling her that, even if you have a salary, a visit to the doctor or to the laboratory for analysis is difficult.

As the group of elderly people got up to leave, the elderly woman with a 9,000 lek pension ironically commented on the political offers: "Soon we will be eating with a gold spoon," she said.

Freedom issue

About two hundred meters away from the “Lëvizja Bashkë” stand, but in a different universe, the “Mundësia” Party stand is attracting voters with the telemarketing model. Candidate Frida Mavriqi, a journalist who has worked as a news presenter and who is also the spokesperson for the “Mundësia” Party, is finishing a video addressed to immigrants, in which the party’s message, which consists of calls for a small state and “a country that gets by with work,” is repeated. The party was founded and led by Agron Shehaj, a successful businessman who was previously a member of parliament for the Democratic Party, and in these elections has managed to attract attention with Trump-like statements about “closing public television” or for a “small state.”

Mavriqi gets a little confused when asked about such practical matters as healthcare.

“Do you think healthcare should be paid for by general taxation or out of pocket?” I ask. “Out of pocket,” he says. “What about the poor?” I ask. “No, not for the poor,” he says without further explanation.

“Mundësia” has managed to penetrate society, apparently thanks to its chairman’s frequent appearances on television and the amounts of money spent from Shehaj’s personal pocket, with structures set up all over Albania. His message in support of individual freedom, in an era when the state is little more than a system of socialist patronage, does not seem out of place nor does it seem ineffective to the public. The fate of the party is still hanging in the balance because, regardless of how it performs in the elections, it is likely that Shehaj’s pocket is not deep enough to sustain a party forever.

Individual freedom in the era of patronage is actually an issue that also concerns many others, ordinary people or politicians, on the left or the right.

“Inshallah, he won’t take it, because he made it a dictatorship,” says a young man who returned from emigration from Dërmenas, a village just outside Fier. “Let whoever wants to take it, but not him,” he added, referring to Rama.

Gerard Komini, a civil engineer and candidate for the Euro-Atlantic Coalition, also says he entered the campaign out of concern that freedom is slipping away from Albanians. He recounts his first experience, when he became involved in the 2018 student protests, when his parents in Fier were made clear by state leaders that their son was among the anti-government protesters.

“My parents supported me,” he said, “and that made me think about my right to protest.” “People here are afraid, they are threatened every day with their livelihood,” Komini added.

Among the small group of “Lëvizja Bashkë” activists, many do not live in Fier, a city where there are practically no employment opportunities outside the public sector. Some work in Tirana, two others are expected to leave Germany where they work to contribute to the campaign for a few days. Spiro Goga, a retired electrician, supports “Lëvizja Bashkë”, having previously supported the Socialists.

"He didn't do anything," he says of Prime Minister Rama.

Elis Baba, an architect with his studio in Tirana, has been separated from campaign work in Fier.

“If you want proof that the country has fallen into dictatorship,” he says, “go out to Skanderbeg Square and see that grotesque building in the shape of Skanderbeg.” “It’s a monument to dictatorship,” he added.

"Instead of moving forward, we are returning to primitivism."/reporter.al


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