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OP-ED

A politicians sprint in the bandit's Marathon

Politiko 2026-07-28 11:47:00
A politicians sprint in the bandit's Marathon

Alfred Lela

It is only proper to begin with the author of the act before turning to its commentators. Agron Shehaj made a gesture that explains not only himself, but, more importantly, the system of which he is a part. On a personal level, Shehaj behaved inside a state institution as though he were in his own company, unable to distinguish between authority and institution on the one hand, and financial power and personal wealth on the other.

At the systemic level, he simply copied Edi Rama—and all those now loudly condemning his behavior. In other words, he interpreted Albania's political and social reality according to the principle the Prime Minister himself once summarized as "KÇK": grab what you can and look back.

What makes Shehaj's action so disturbingly dangerous is that he acted exactly as Rama would—or, put differently, had he possessed the Prime Minister's power, he would have behaved in precisely the same way.

At its core, this strips his entire political narrative of the pillar on which it rests: we, the young, versus them, the old. His act was as childish as it was thuggish, though one cannot deny that it also carried the air of desperation. By grabbing the object and running off with it, Shehaj also exposed the impotence of opposition politicians inside a nest where everything operates solely according to the wishes and orders of Edi Rama.

Seen in that light, his action deserves some mitigation from the harsh "conduct grade" that the Socialist Party and several of the internet's echo chambers have been assigning him since yesterday afternoon. Equally important, however, is placing not only Shehaj's action but also the reactions to it in their proper context.

The Albanian Parliament, in most of its sessions, has become a pit stop for legal, ethical, and aesthetic transgressions. The Prime Minister treats the country's highest democratic institution as an antechamber to his personal whims, a place where he drops in for a political manicure and pedicure according to whatever mood strikes him. More than a few MPs owe their number of votes to factors inversely proportional to their command of the Albanian language—and of many other subjects taught in school. Many others sit in Parliament thanks to votes delivered through crime, prison networks, patronage systems, and similar mechanisms. The parliamentary majority views its time and function in the Assembly primarily as an opportunity to denigrate the opposition, constrain it, and reduce it to an accessory rather than treating it as an essential component of parliamentary democracy.

Against such a backdrop, Agron's sprint is little more than an unfortunate short étude in the long epic of the parliamentary majority's dog's feast—a culture of unrestrained excess and impunity. By inappropriately expressing his powerlessness, Agron Shehaj has himself become a reel—the very communication format he has so enthusiastically embraced.

As the saying goes: those who live by reels will fall by reels.

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