Not an Elite, But a Class: The Hollowing Out of Albanian Power

In the annals of European history, Albania has produced figures of genuine intellectual and scientific weight. Sotir Kuneshka, the physicist who studied at the Sorbonne and built the foundations of physics education in his country, represented something that has now become almost extinct: a technical elite defined by expertise, not connections. Today, the term "elite" in Albania has become a misnomer. What exists instead is a political-commercial class—a self-perpetuating group whose power rests not on achievement or knowledge, but on control of public money, institutional capture, and an intricate web of family relationships that has replaced meritocracy with dynastic rule.

The Illusion of Renewal

The transition from communism to democracy was sold as a break with the past. The nomenklatura would be swept away, and a new generation of leaders would rise on the basis of talent and vision. What actually occurred was more subtle and more insidious. The old communist elite did not disappear; it transformed. The 2008 agreement between Edi Rama and Sali Berisha, struck in the aftermath of the Gërdec tragedy, is now widely identified as the moment when this transformation was cemented. It was a cynical bargain that prioritized political survival over justice, signaling to society that power could step on blood if it guaranteed control.

This system created a new rule: obedience is rewarded, not competence. The message to Albanians became clear: do not try to be capable, do not try to be honest, do not try to think differently. If you succeed, it is not through your own efforts but through the patronage of those above you.

Science and Education: Havens of Corruption

Nowhere is the hollowing out of genuine elite status more visible than in the institutions of science and education. These are meant to be the repositories of a nation's intellectual capital—the places where the next generation of leaders, researchers, and thinkers are formed. Instead, they have become family businesses.

At the "Eqrem Çabej" University in Gjirokastra, the Democratic Party documented in March 2026 a sprawling system of nepotism. A vice-rector, who also serves as president of the municipal council, has two sisters-in-law and two first cousins employed as lecturers. A former rector has a son and daughter-in-law as professors. Another former rector, now vice-rector, has a wife as head of the history department and a son as a professor. The dean of natural sciences has two daughters as professors and a nephew's daughter-in-law as a lab technician. Five members of the Shehu family work in the administration. This is not a meritocracy; it is a family compact.

The University of Medicine in Tirana offers a similar story. When former rector Arben Gjata left his position, his wife, Margarita Gjata, was elected dean—without competition. The pattern is consistent and systemic. Over 90% of university leaders—rectors, deans, department heads—are now "pre-determined" by the ruling party, with no competition and zero transparency. Academic integrity has been further compromised by reports of "massive plagiarism" among university leaders, with rectors elected despite involvement in plagiarism scandals.

Professor Lush Susaj, speaking at a protest in Tirana in June 2026, put it bluntly: "Intellectuals are not given a chance." He accused the system of prioritizing "the party's nepotism and scoundrels" while universities have become "havens of corruption."

The Technical Class: Captured and Replaced

The pattern extends beyond universities into the technical and IT sectors. The National Agency for Information Technology (AKSHI) has been at the center of major scandals, including the investigation of the brother of Albania's ambassador to the EU as part of a "criminal group" that allegedly siphoned tens of millions from secret tenders. In another case, the husband of a senior ministry director benefited from a tender awarded by a council chaired by her direct superiors.

What is happening is the systematic replacement of technical competence with political loyalty. Environmental engineers, for example, are often hired as freelancers by local authorities. Their professional success depends not on their technical skills but on their "social relational capital," "partisan engagement," and "political loyalty." They are expected to provide "technical credit and scientific legitimacy" to projects backed by the executive. Even the current Health Minister, Ogerta Manastirliu, who is a certified environmental engineer, illustrates the "porosity" between this expert segment and the political elite.

These are not elites—they are functionaries whose primary qualification is loyalty to the system. They owe their positions to political connections, not to their knowledge or achievements.

The Economic Dimension: A Single Billionaire and No Scientific Class

The global ranking of Albania's wealthiest figure highlights the disconnect. In 2025, Samir Mane—founder of the BALFIN Group—was the only Albanian on the Forbes billionaires list, ranked 2,356th globally with an estimated net worth of $1.4 billion. His path from refugee in 1991 to a business empire in retail and real estate reflects one kind of success story. But the system produces economic success for a few while systematically excluding genuine technical and scientific talent from the public sphere.

When Prime Minister Edi Rama spoke at the "NanoBalkan 2025" nanotechnology congress, claiming Albania "dares to lead at the forefront of science and technology," the gap between rhetoric and reality was stark. As former minister Ermelinda Meksi put it, this is a "facade." Even a cybersecurity expert in the diaspora "received no response, not even a rejection" when offering his services to the state. The state does not want competence; it wants obedience.

The Ultimate Risk: A Captured State

This system has consequences that extend far beyond nepotism and corruption. It is creating what the political opposition has called a "narco-authoritarian model"—a state captured by a network of political, economic, and criminal interests that function as a single mechanism. The opposition has documented how tenders in the defense sector have become "a family business for those close to the government." Public funds meant for farmers (€33 million in EU agricultural funds) have been unlawfully spent, with politically connected figures as beneficiaries—including relatives of Socialist Party MPs, oligarchs tied to strategic investments, and even figures linked to crime.

The defense "was it your money?" is not just evasion—it is a reflection of a system where public money and criminal money have become indistinguishable. The currency exchange offices used to launder drug money, the construction projects financed by suspected cocaine trafficking proceeds, the state agencies that distribute EU funds to politically connected families—these are all part of a single system of extraction.

Conclusion: Not an Elite, But a Class

An elite is defined by excellence, expertise, and achievement in key fields—science, education, technology, culture. Albania today does not have such an elite. What it has is a political-commercial class whose power rests on control of public money, institutional capture, and family connections. This class is not competing in the world of science, technology, or education—it is competing for control of state resources.

The consequences are profound. A nation that cannot produce genuine elites in science and education cannot innovate, cannot compete globally, and cannot build a future that is not simply a repeat of its troubled past. As one commentator put it, this system is creating a structure "so that tomorrow it will have the country's economic aorta in its hands and strangle the throat of any government that comes tomorrow."

Albania's ruling class is not an elite. It is a closed system of extraction, reproduction, and control. And until that system is broken, the country's best minds will continue to leave, its institutions will continue to decay, and its future will remain hostage to a past that refuses to die.