Albania - The Country

In just a few short years Albania has had the distinction of changing from a country with the most paranoid and overcontrolled communist state ever to a country without a state.

It was tricky, but Albanians have risen to the challenge to become Europe's most lawless people at the turn of the century. Hey, look on the bright side. A holiday in Albania means none of the usual hassle with the cops. The chances of being arrested for dope in Bajram Curri-zilch. The possibility of being stopped for drunk driving-less than zilch. You're a wanna-be aspiring arms dealer? An AK-47 assault rifle was going for about US$50 in Tropoje.

Yes, the country where everything and anything goes can be reached for as little as US$200-if you live in Europe. There is, however, a slight catch in all this, which I guess I better mention. Being a foreigner, unless you happen to know a couple of the local banditos, you stand an excellent chance of being fleeced. The minute you walk in the door or open your mouth the $ signs will start ringing for just about everybody there-except you. In a country where the cops are the bandits (in the north, anyway) you might find yourself buying dope one minute and then explaining to your dealer's superior (cop, that is) just what you're doing with a few grams of hash.

The crisis in neighboring Kosovo brought foreigners flooding into Albania. The capital, Tirana, suddenly had hundreds of smart land-cruisers driving up and down its dilapidated boulevards. The mafia licked its lips and relieved as many of the occupants of their cars as they could. The head of the World Bank was one of many who had his car stolen at gunpoint in central Tirana one fine evening. Western Europe sent a multinational police force to advise and help their Albanian colleagues. No match for the mafia, though, they too joined the list of people whose cars were stolen by gun-toting Albaniacs in central Tirana after dark. Albania's fun all began in January 1997, when the inevitable end of pyramid investment schemes vaporized more than half of the Albanian population's savings. Having no one to blame except their own greed and gullibility, the people quickly blamed the government. Soon the riots and the looting escalated into full-scale anarchy. The "Albaniacs" were born. Thousands of repressed, newly impoverished people attacked, looted and burned banks, jails, museums, government buildings and armories until all were picked clean or destroyed. And the fun has pretty much continued ever since.

The concept of law and order is a quaint and outdated notion in today's Albania. Crooks arrested by the police are quickly released by the courts, leaving Albania with the distinction of being the one European country where policemen keep a low profile, while Kalashnikov-wielding bandits drive around in stolen UN pickups. And it's been a busy and profitable year for the Albanian gangs, especially the guys in the north of the country. There have been refugees to fleece, guerrillas to supply, foreigners to rob, feuds to conduct and homes to loot. Who says crime is easy? But never fear, their mates in the south have been busy, too. There have been refugees to smuggle out, large amounts of drugs to deliver and officials to bribe and intimidate. You know things are on the downhill slope when the Albanian prime minister comes out with comments like "the only modern thing about the port of Durres is the way money is made in dishonest ways." And when the first word that NATO's supreme commander, General Wesley Clark, learns in Albania is "baksheesh," things are pretty rock bottom. With customs and harbor fees yet another outdated notion in the land of the Albaniacs, ships with heavily armed crews cruised into Durres, forcing officials and the rest of the unhappy gang to unload their wares at gunpoint. Fearing that Albania would become the laughing stock of Europe's policing fraternity, the government ordered commandos to take over the port in August 1999. With the police banned from the port, things have become trickier for the mafia, supposedly.

Its been boom time in Albania for much of 1999. Albanians might say that they hate Slobadan Milosevic, but they love the guy really. Slobo's rather silly notion that he could take on NATO in a game of "you hit me, I hit you" gave Albanians the chance to apply their "Albanian school of higher business" from theory into practice, sending the Albanian economy into a boom. Okay, Okay, so it was a boom for guns, drugs, refugee smuggling and banditry. But lets not be too finicky, now, shall we? It's all demand led and we're all supposed to support the free market these days.

A war to supply has kept the arms dealers busy, making more than a few millionaires in the country. Of the 1 million weapons and 1.5 billion rounds of ammunition looted in 1997, more than a few found their way to the Kosovo Liberation Army-for the right price-fighting the Serbs in neighboring Kosovo. Tons of weapons went by the tractorload to the KLA camps of Papaj and then Padesh in the far northeast of Albania. Naturally there were more than a few tiffs and arguments about who should be controlling the lucrative gun trade up in Bajram Curri, where scores tend to be settled firmly and permanently. Blood Feuds R Us. What do you do if your brother is shot dead in an ambush and you are the chief of police in Bajram Curri? Why, it's simple. You resign your post and go after the culprits. That, at least is the story of Fatmir Hakraj, who was chief of police and his brother was ambushed and killed. Going back to the police station, he resigned and walked out-wasting a fellow policeman, who was suspected of complicity in the murder, as he left the station. Then, so history relates, he zapped another eight people-one person for every bullet hole in his dead brother's body. Mission accomplished, he rejoined the police. That's the Albanian justice system for you. Er, quite.

There was a bit of a property boom, too. The en masse expulsion of as many as 700,000 Kosovar refugees from their homes, by the Serbs, sent real estate in Albania to its highest value since Albanians were allowed to own property. Thousands of tired, semistarved and beaten Kosovars found themselves on the other side of the border, wondering where they would be staying for the rest of their lives. At least in the short term they had nothing to worry about. In a spirit of true generosity Albanians vacated their homes for the fleeing and demoralised Kosovars. Their Albanian kith and kin were given a roof over their heads. And the price? Why, merely three times the normal rent! For the inhabitants of Kukes, in northern Albania, one of the most forgettable towns in existence, it was boom time with a vengeance. The traditionally richer Albanian Kosovars found themselves forking out DM1,000 a month for accommodations. A discount compared to the US$200 a night the international media were being charged. For those Kosovars that could afford it the price of a ferry ride-with false papers-from Vlora to Italy was a mere US$1,100.

As for Albania's more traditional hardworking bandits, there's a good chance that most of them will be nearing nervous exhaustion. The sudden influx of large numbers of journos, aid workers and the like left them horribly overstretched. Extra family members had to be called up to cope with the work schedule. It was tough, but they knew that they had their reputations to consider. Doubtless they will all now be having a well-earned rest. In an effort to clamp down on crime in the north of the country, the government sent a special forces unit to Bajram Curri. The commander of the unit asked permission to kill about 20 people leading the gangs. The government said "no" and the special forces all went home, leaving business as usual in Bajram Curri.

To be honest, Albania's bandits and gunrunners weren't the only people to benefit from the Kosovo crisis. Albania's economy in general got an unexpected boost from the bombing campaign and the influx of half Kosovos population. Albania's central bank has done a bit of adding up and reckons that the country has been left with a whole US$30 million more in its second quarter of 1999 (about the same Uncle Sam spends on one night of Baghdad pyrotechnics!). Aid agencies flooded to Albania to set up camps and hospitals for refugees. By far the best camp, with its own hospital, E-mailing system and meals three times a day, was the camp established by the United Arab Emirates. Other aid agencies were of a less orthodox type. The Islamic Revival Foundation, for example, had more than just food on the menu when Albanian police dropped round for a chat one day. Guns and bombs were found in one raid. Suspicious types began to hang round the U.S. embassy and memories of Nairobi began to make diplomats a leeetle bit nervous. Yes, you've guessed it: the Osmana bin Laden fan club had arrived in Albania to join in the fun. Having taken advantage of Albania's lax immigration regulations (most people want to leave, not enter), they asked directions to the U.S. embassy, no doubt wanting to inquire about travel to the States. Americans began describing themselves as Canadian and avoided the embassy. Meanwhile, back at the ranch in Tirana, what passes for government has been going about its daily business. In December 1998, former premier Sali Berisha took time out from calling the current premier, Pandeli Majko "mentally deranged" and sat down at a table with him. For his part, Majko temporarily stopped calling Berisha's Democratic party a "maternity ward for crime." How heartwarming.

Not that much has subsequently happened. The shrewder political analysts aren't putting any money on anything as radical as a normal government emerging. Ever. Not to say that the government has not been making the right kind of noises. In a visit to Tropoje the minister for jokes (law and order) declared that the government would "mercilessly . . . attack anyone who will dare cycle crime in this district." History does not relate what the local bandits had to say about this . . . that is, when they had stopped laughing.

On a more serious note, Albania is one of DP's tips for future Balkan wars. We all know that things are not cool in Albania just at the moment, but they could be getting even less cool (or a lot hotter) in the future.

By late October 1999, Pandeli Majko sensibly decided that he'd had enough as premier of the Albaniacs. What was it? The abysmal salary? He couldn't take the name-calling? Whatever it was, he resigned ostensibly to make way for a new coalition government. But the kids in his party (the Socialists) decided that they couldn't be bothered to include the Democrats led by Sali Berisha in anything as exotic as a coalition government. Berisha was not chuffed.

Of course, we at DP should point out that there is no such thing as a government in Albania.

But lets not travel down the path of abuse for its own sake, shall we? There are serious issues here. For Socialists, by the way, you should read "Tosks," being the ethnic boys and girls who live in the south of Albania. For Democrats you should read "Ghegs," being the kids who live in the north. And this is where things start getting complicated and going wrong. The Tosks and the Ghegs like each other about as much as Kosvovar Albanians like Serbs. And their respective leaders, Sali Berisha and former premier Nano, like each other even less on a personal basis. And there's nothing they get more kicks from than merrily feuding away.

So, what's all the hassle then? After all, they've had years to feud away to little avail. The hassle is that things have changed of late. By a small coincidence the Kosovar Albanians are also Ghegs, and now that there are no Serbs to boss them around people are getting a tad worried that they might start supporting their kith and kin in northern Albania against the southern Tosks. One minor clash might be all that is needed for third series in DP's ongoing saga of "Return of the Albaniacs." Stay tuned.