Thieves' poker and the croupier who knows no law

 

By Luciano Boci

There are games that take place in the dark, with marked cards, secret codes, and bought witnesses. But the game that has been played for years at the table of Albanian power has transcended even the rules of classic thieves' poker.

Here, theft is called “governance,” bluffing is called “vision,” and the dealer calls the thieves “strategic partners.”
Two names sit at the main table.

Erion Veliaj, with the Tirana Municipality papers in one hand and the victim's manicure in the other.

And Edi Rama, with the papers of the government, the party, and half the state stacked next to him, as if he had earned them through merit and not through institutional blackmail.

Justice should stand before them, not as a player, but as an impartial croupier: to deal the cards according to the rules, control the game, and punish cheating.

But the Albanian croupier does not know the law. Or, more precisely, he pretends not to know it.
The rules of this table are what Veliaj tries to impose. He has built an empire of asphalt and concrete, where every interest is a valuable card and every square meter a bet placed on the backs of citizens.

The incinerators, tenders, undeclared assets, and the network of captured directors
are not isolated episodes.

They are hands in the same game. They are part of a system that has turned Tirana into the mayor's personal casino.
Veliaj plays bluff. When he is caught, he releases messages, audio and video.

Then he erases, manipulates, or denies them. When the facts surround him, he increases the propaganda. When the evidence becomes overwhelming, he multiplies the victimization. When he loses one hand, he tries to buy time for the other hand.

Each of his projects is a bet that Tirana pays off, with higher taxes, concrete, traffic, polluted air, and plundered public spaces.

The other player is Edi Rama.
He is not content just to play. He seeks to own and de facto owns the table, the hall, the cameras and the rules of the casino.
The prime minister who promised “renaissance” has turned the state into a political casino, where he decides who wins, who loses, who is investigated, who is amnestied and who is left out of the game.

Rama keeps Veliaj at the table not because he trusts him, but because he needs him.
He needs him as an accomplice, as a political hostage and as a perpetual debtor.
There is no loyalty between them. There are only files, interests and mutual fear.

Each knows the other's cards. Each knows what is hidden behind the bluff. Each understands that the fall of one can reveal the entire game.
That is why Rama does not remove Veliaj completely from the table. He weakens him, humiliates him, uses him and keeps him dependent. Because a free Veliaj can speak, while a captured Veliaj continues to serve him.

Every time justice seems to be approaching the pinnacle of power, Rama intervenes with a public statement, a new "reform," a coded threat, or a blow to the next prosecutor. And the game resumes as if nothing had happened.

He behaves like a player who knows that no one will remove him from the table, because he has appointed the judges himself, seized the institutions, and extended political control over every link in the state.

But the most tragic character in this farce is the croupier. The so-called "new" justice system led by SPAK.

She sees the marked papers. She hears the deals under the table. She knows the realtors. She counts the money. She has before her the tenders, the incinerators, the building permits, the communications and the hidden assets.

However, it continues to deal the cards, as if the game were fair.
SPAK has taken several "steps".

It has interrogated, searched homes, seized phones, collected documents and filed charges. But every time the investigation approaches the door of high power, it steps away because a wall, a legal lock, political pressure and institutional fear are thrown at it.
Prosecutors who dare are isolated. Those who remain silent are promoted. Those who touch the branches are allowed to continue. Those who try to reach the trunk are warned to stop.

So justice no longer protects the rules of the game. It protects the table.

The croupier sometimes closes his eyes, sometimes delays his hand, sometimes hides the decisive card, and sometimes gives players time to change their bets. He is no longer an impartial arbiter. He is the guarantee that the game continues without affecting the real owner of the casino.

However, there is one rule of poker that Rama, Veliaj, and their dealer have not fully read.
The public cannot remain a spectator forever.

The Albanian citizen has realized that the table is full of thieves, that the cards are marked, and that the dealer has been bought. He has realized that, regardless of which player gets the hand, the loser is always the same, the citizen.

He loses taxes. He loses property. He loses the city. He loses the state. He loses faith in justice.
But there comes a moment when the public no longer accepts to pay for the game of others. It rises from its chair and overturns the table as it is doing in the square.
Then bluffs, propaganda, marked cards and secret agreements are no longer valid.