On the edge of a lagoon in southwestern Albania, connected to a small island by a wooden footbridge, stands a 14th-century monastery that has outlasted empires. The waters around Zvërnec are a protected wetland, home to migratory birds and one of the last stretches of undisturbed coastline in a country that has watched its natural heritage erode alongside its institutions. When plans emerged to build a luxury resort on this land, tied to an investment linked to Jared Kushner, people came out to protect it. Their anger was real, and it was right. But it was also the match, not the fire.

The Kushner project is not the cause of what is happening in Albania. It is a symptom. A resort of this scale could put Albania on the global tourism map, and the economic argument for investment in a country where tourism already accounts for around 22 percent of GDP is not nothing. But the environmental concerns raised about Zvërnec are legitimate and deserved a serious, transparent public process. What happened instead was the same thing that always happens: national laws quietly amended, a parliamentary majority used to push it through, and the public left with no meaningful say. That pattern—not the project itself— is what broke something open.

Since coming to power in 2013, Edi Rama's government has promised transformation, modernization, and a clear path to the EU. There have been achievements, particularly in infrastructure and urban development, but these have been overshadowed by a series of scandals involving corruption in tenders, oligarchs linked to the government, and a complete lack of transparency.

The establishment of the Special Structure against Corruption and Organized Crime (SPAK) has only confirmed what many suspected, with former ministers arrested, the former mayor of the capital city arrested, senior officials investigated, and hundreds of millions of euros in taxpayer money tied to figures from within Rama's own government. For many citizens, these are no longer isolated incidents but symptoms of a deeper systemic problem.

The concerns extend beyond corruption alone. Costly infrastructure projects, opaque concessions, the concentration of economic interests, and the perception that political power serves narrow networks rather than the public good have fueled a growing sense of disillusionment. Each new scandal reinforces the belief that accountability remains elusive and that institutions are unable or unwilling to provide meaningful oversight.

Yet Albania's crisis is also shaped by the weakness of the opposition. Sali Berisha, its central figure, carries decades of political baggage. For many Albanians, he remains a symbol not of renewal but of a political system that has long failed to deliver genuine change. Questions surrounding political influence, family interests, and the absence of a compelling vision have left many citizens feeling unrepresented by both sides.

This is the heart of today's protests. Albanians are tired of corruption in government, but equally frustrated by an opposition that has failed to present itself as a credible alternative. The political class that has dominated the country for decades no longer inspires confidence.

The protesters are not in the streets because of Jared Kushner or Trump. They are in the streets because their government has failed to deliver, and because the alternative has failed to offer anything better. They are demanding justice, accountability, and a political class that actually governs in their interest.

What they seek is not merely a change of government, but a change in the way the system itself functions. And that demand speaks to something much larger than Albania. One of the central challenges facing democracy today, globally, is that it is not enough to be democracy in name. It has to deliver. When citizens come to believe that their leaders are at best incompetent and at worst running an insider's game, the door to populism swings open and authoritarian alternatives gain ground.

Democracy does not lose to authoritarianism only on the battlefield. It loses when it stops working for the people it is supposed to serve. What is happening in Albania is a warning, but it is also something more hopeful: citizens who have not given up, who are still in the streets, still demanding better, still insisting that their democracy be worth the name. That is not a crisis for democracy. That is democracy fighting for itself.

Rudina Hajdari is Acting Program Director at the Institute for Global Affairs, where she leads the International Democracy Fellowship. She is a former member of the Albanian Parliament and has served on the U.S. House Foreign Affairs Committee. The Institute for Global Affairs is a nonprofit housed at Eurasia Group.