Last fall, I found myself in conversation with a well-known architect in New York City when their phone began incessantly buzzing. After glancing at the notifications, they let out a laugh and remarked, “The Albanian Architecture Army chat is active again. It seems Edi has new projects for us.”
This Edi is Edi Rama, who has been serving as the Prime Minister of Albania since 2013. Under his leadership, Albania has experienced a rapid transformation from its communist past, showcasing a variety of impressive architectural projects. The capital city of Tirana features twisting skyscrapers, award-winning public squares, and striking coastal resorts, with even more ambitious designs in the pipeline, all compiled in a substantial new publication titled The Albanian Files.
The renovation of Albania is, interestingly, partly managed through a WhatsApp group known as the “Albanian ArchArmy,” which includes some of the world’s most renowned architects. This platform serves as a space for sharing accomplishments, celebrating new initiatives, and commending the Prime Minister for his audacity and vision. One architect from New York likened the scenario to a superhero film, suggesting that when Rama signals, top architects rush to provide innovative designs. Some might even envision the Albanian double-headed eagle lighting up the night sky as they respond.
Despite the secrecy of the WhatsApp group, The Albanian Files serves as an alternative insight. The book is a noteworthy artifact, both intentionally and unintentionally. In his introduction, Rama describes it as “a valuable behind-the-scenes account” of a movement that is “elevating Albania in a way that few anticipated.” It serves as a comprehensive directory of aspirations, featuring plans from 60 international architectural firms—none of which are Albanian—for over 500 projects throughout the nation.
However, to Rama’s detractors, the book represents an 800-page, 2.2kg collection of concerns. Critics highlight issues such as the lack of transparency in decision-making, the destruction of cultural heritage, forced displacements, and the infringement on protected natural areas. Additionally, they raise alarms about the involvement of Albania’s construction sector in money laundering for organized crime. The publication includes firsthand accounts from architects detailing their experiences, with one opposition member labeling it a “smoking gun,” although there is no indication that the architects themselves have engaged in any unethical practices. Rama is indeed correct that many of the projects featured are news to local residents, who have expressed their outrage.
During a fervent protest in June outside a venue in Tirana where many architects featured in the book had gathered for a high-profile event, placards proclaimed “Starchitects go home!” and “Where is the public?” Tickets to the architecture festival, titled “Landscapes of Abundance,” were priced at up to €200, which is significant in a country where the median monthly income is around €700. This event coincided with widespread protests against plans to develop the Zvërnec nature reserve and the nearby island of Sazan into a luxury resort, with backing from the Trump family.
Referred to as the “flamingo revolution,” in regard to the delicate ecosystems critics argue will be compromised, these protests have persisted for over 120 days, with growing demands for Rama’s resignation. Architecture has unexpectedly found itself at the center of this turmoil.
“It feels like living in an autocratic regime,” remarked Lorin Kadiu, the director of Citizens.al, an investigative news outlet that has been monitoring construction endeavors in Albania since 2018. “Not only is there a lack of transparency, but it seems we are all compelled to conform to the aesthetic preferences of a single individual. The entire nation is being reshaped according to his vision.”
Rama, who has a background in painting, initially gained acclaim as the mayor of Tirana in the 2000s. He made headlines by transforming dull Soviet-era buildings into vibrant, colorful structures. This artistic initiative was well-received, and Rama earned recognition for his unconventional approach.
However, many of his previous supporters now believe that his architectural aspirations have overstepped boundaries. An open letter distributed during the protests criticized the “art-washing of bulldozer politics” and questioned the architects present about whether they enjoy the freedom to operate in Albania in ways that would be challenged or prohibited in their home countries. Of the architects who responded to inquiries, only one stated they do not engage in any activities in Albania that would be disallowed elsewhere, acknowledging that “the freedom in Albania is certainly enticing, which increases personal accountability.”
As Rama pointedly notes in his introduction to The Albanian Files, architects are drawn to work in Albania due to the “freedom from ‘no’ in all its manifestations.” The book is filled with ambitious plans for untouched coastlines, lush forests, and unspoiled sand dunes and lagoons. For instance, in Gjipe, regarded by many as the last untouched beach in southern Albania, the Dutch firm MVRDV has proposed a mirrored glass hotel that would span the gorge, described as “a jewel on the coastline.”
This follows their design for an apartment tower in Tirana that resembles the head of Skanderbeg, Albania’s national hero, which has drawn comparisons to Rama himself. In the protected dune region of Rana e Hedhun, esteemed Portuguese architect Álvaro Siza has envisioned a hillside development that includes a cable car and a beachfront tower.
Further along in the book, Swiss architect Valerio Olgiati presents a series of concrete towers emerging from the shoreline, featuring defensive windows that suggest preparation for potential sea invasions.
The coastal transformation continues with luxury yacht designer Luca Dini from Florence, whose studio aims “to astonish even the most discerning.” He offers stunning illustrations of his visions for Albania’s architectural future.
