Albania: Europe's Last Marxist Holdout

At the time of my visit,Albania was the last state in Europe where unreformed Communism ruled, but then it has always been something of an oddity. The Communists came to power in 1944, led by Enver Hoxha (pronounced Ho-ja). At first they allied with the Soviet bloc, but Hoxha (1908-1985) cut off all links with Moscow in 1960 because of what he saw as Khrushchev's revisionism. Rela tions with China replaced the Soviet connection from 1968 to 1978, but after that the country was kept in isolation. To the Western visitor, Albania has the appear ance of a living museum, with the only signs of the 20th century provided by a scattering of imported goods. Very few people have been allowed in or out, although, since my visit, several thousand Albanians have illegally crossed into Greece. Tourists are stared at by curious locals. Some of Hoxha's policies were as much bizarre as repressive: religion was banned, beards were made illegal, and until 1989 listening to Western The author, a journalistwith an American news agency, remainsanonymousto protectsourcesin Albania.

pop music was an offense. In 1965 a government decree banned individuals from having "inappro priate names and offensive surnames from a polit ical, ideological, or moral standpoint." Trying to escape was a capital crime. On the day before my trip, the newspapers reported that two men had been shot while attempting to flee, and their bod ies put on show as a gruesome warning. Other policies clearly demonstrated Hoxha's paranoia. Driving through the country, one sees the landscape littered with concrete pillboxes, built in the 1960s to defend against imperialist attack. Radio Tirana, whose transmissions could be heard in Britain, offered vehement denunciations of both superpowers as well as of many other nations. No Signof Wealth The country is breathtaking in its lack of devel opment. All the roads are narrow and pitted, and it was no pleasant motoring experience touring the country in an old bone-shaker Czechoslovakian bus. Private cars are illegal too, so the few rusting Ladas seen on the roads are driven by the police.

The only other vehicles seen are prewar Chinese trucks, which seem to form the backbone of the transport system. Farm animals wander over the roads at will. To get around, ordinary people ride donkeys or bicycles. No hint of affluence lightens the picture of poverty. There are no smart shops or houses. Buildings look cheaply made, with irregular bricks and uneven concrete. The countryside is beautiful but somewhat bleak, craggy, and sun-hardened, with little foliage. The striking thing is the lack of 129 The statue of Enver Hoxha, which dominated the center of Tirana, was toppled by the people in a February demonstration. evidence of human industry. There are odd pieces of rusting farm machinery, but the overwhelming picture is of a peasant society,with rows of workers toiling in the fields. There are small towns every few miles, but none take up more than a few hun dred meters of roadway.

The other bizarre sight in Albania is the Marxist iconography. In Berat, in the south of the country, "ENVER" is carved in huge letters into a distant mountainside. In Gjirokaster the same letters dec orate the hillside, but this time on stilts, Holly wood-style. Statues of Lenin (and until recently, Stalin) still adorn town centers. In the center of Tirana stands the Enver Hoxha Museum, a huge glassand steel pyramid, dedicated to glorifyingthe life and works of the Albanian dictator. My young friends resented these symbols as much as they resented the system. "Stalin, Lenin, Hitler, Hoxha, all the same," said one as he ticked off the names on his fingers. Another of their friends, they told me with glee, had attacked a stat ue of Stalin during the uprisings in June 1990. With Communist governments overthrown in all the other Eastern European countries, the Albanian dictatorship has stood alone and vulner able. Last June, thousands of young people in Tirana scaled the walls of foreign embassies to escape to the West. Five thous.and were allowed out to Italy. At the same time, demonstrations erupted in Shkoder and Kavaje.

The regime denounced the escapees as "crimi nals," and fired on them with live ammunition. My young friends told me that 100 people were shot dead in Tirana, and then hurriedly buried in a mass grave. In Kavaje, a 22-year-old man was shot dead by troops after making a victory sign with his fingers. Since then, walls around the embassies have been fortified, and armed soldiers posted outside. I tried to walk past the Turkish Embassy, but was ushered out into the road by a scowlingguard. Riots and demonstrations have erupted several times since early December. Some demonstrators have been given 15-and 20-year prison sentences. The Albanian Communists are worried that their fate might be the same as that of Nicolae Ceausescu and his officialsin neighboring Roma nia. Chairman Ramiz Alia, who took over when Hoxha died in 1985, is trying to improve the regime's image. Locals are now allowed to talk with tourists, and more visitors are admitted. Alia hopes to have Albania admitted to the Interna130 THE FREEMAN • APRIL 1991 tional Monetary Fund and the Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe (CSCE), and to establishdiplomaticlinkswith Britain and the United States. Some private markets have been legalized, where half the profits go to the state and halfto stall-holders.

But, my youngfriendspointed out, the changes were limited, cosmetic, and grudging, and the country remained essentially an unreformed Marxistdictatorship.Theywerenervousaboutthe secret police (sigurimi),and constantly checked that we were not followed. According to their count,one-thirdof the pedestriansin Tiranawere either policeor sigurimi. Their caution became even more understand ablewhentheytoldme that theyknewofsomeone who had been given a 25-year sentence at the prison camp in BernI for expressinganti-Marxist politicalopinions.At BernI,they explained,pris oners are forced to dig coal,and are often buried alivein poorlysupportedmine shafts. According to the International Society for Human Rights,there may be up to 50,000political prisonersin Albania.The difficultiesinconfirming any such estimate are that there is so little access to the country, and that people who escape are rarely willingto endanger their relativesby going publicwithwhat they know.

Even so, somedetailsare known.Humanrights groupsreport routinetorture, imprisonmentwith out fairtrial,and executionfor anti-stateactivities. The Albanian government is one of only three ever to be publicly sanctioned by the United Nationsfor its record on humanrights. I was quite sickenedto learn that at Sarande,a resort town where I strolled along the waterfront in the sunshine, there is a jail for political dissi dents. Outside my hotel in Sarande was the smartestAlbaniancar I saw, a well-polishedMer cedes-Benz.It was undoubtedlythe property of a senior official,holidaying next door to a prison campof his government'smaking. As with Ceausescu'sRomania,there are plenty of socialistsin the West prepared to see no evilin their praisefor Albanian socialism.Writtenwhile Hoxha still ruled, AlbaniaDefiantby Jan Myrdal and Gun Kessleis an adulatoryaccountofa work ers' paradisefightingto retain independencefrom the alien and corruptinginfluencesof the outside world. ChristopherBrown,writingin the suppos edly moderate British socialist newspaper Tribune (June 9, 1990), eulogizes the simple life enjoyedby Albanians,freed fromthe pressuresof materialism. This article, incredibly, makes a virtue out of things that most reasonable people would consider appallinglimitations~of freedom: the banning of private cars, the illegalityof reli gion, and most contemptiblythe refusal to' allow people to leave. One can only hope that when all the outragesperpetratedbythe Albaniandictator ship have finallybeen revealed, these apologists will be calledto account.

SimmeringDiscontent There are good reasonsto think there will be a revolution in Albania. According to our tour guidesthere is no unemployment,but this claim became patently ridiculous as in every town we saw large groups of working-age men milling around at all timesof the day. Of the three youngmen I talkedwith,two were unemployed,and in their estimation the propor tion was one in five. Theywere numbinglybored, and passedthe time listeningto poor qualitycas settes of rock music and consideringtheir situa tion. Unemploymentleads to discontentand pro videsthe time to plan insurrection. Ironically,the Albanian governmentmay have hastened its own demise by allowingin tourists. Albanianpeoplecan now comparetheir own situ ation with that of people from free Europe, and can learn more about the worldoutside. My 20-year-oldacquaintance told me bitterly, "When I see a tourist I see a free man. He can leave."The obviouspassionof his wish for liberty was moving. He declared that he would rather sweepthe streets in America or Britain than stay in Albania.

Muchofthe conversationwithmy hostsconsist ed of comparisonsof what could be earned and what could be bought in Albania and the West. Theytoldme that the bottleofhard liquorI shared withthem costthe equivalentof a wholeday'spay. A sweater costs two weeks' money, and to buy a bicyclerequiresfive yearsof saving. "Myfather earns'fourpacksof cigarettesin one day-how much are you paid?" one of them asked. I grappledwith the problem of converting my daily earningsinto cigarettes,guessingat 100 packets,whichmade him gasp in disbelief. Officially,all Albaniansare paid500-1,000lek a ALBANIA: EUROPE'S LAST MARXIST HOLDOUT 131 Aging Chinese trucks are the backbone of the Albanian economy. month, which at their exchange rate converts to about $25-$50, but since locals were reluctant to take the currency there is good reason to think that the rate is an artificial one. When tips were in order, no one would take lek, but would take small items like chewing gum. The official rate was recently devalued to give 20 lek to the dollar, but on the black market a dollar exchanges for about 100 lek.

There is also very little to be bought with lek. There are few goods, and those on sale are shoddy. Many Albanian men look identical because they wear the same state-issue brown trousers and jack ets. There appear to be only three or four different styles of men's shoes. The house I visited was cramped, kept as homey as it could be, but obviously lacking in material comforts. The only modern item, and what seemed to be the most prized possession, was a cassette player sent by the brother of one man who had escaped to Italy through the embassy. Albanians have television that broadcasts from 6 to 10 EM., but my friends preferred their rock music to what they denounced as "Red propagan da." I offered to send a rock music magazine, but they told me it would be stolen by the bureaucrats who open the mail. Education and health care are ostensibly free, but in reality bribes ensure that some are more equal than others. When I asked my friends why they didn't study at the universityas they were clearly bright enough-they smiled and indicated empty pockets. In the Peoples Socialist Republic of Albania, the only affluent people are the Com munist officialswho, my friends told me, "live like Americans. "

For all the squalor and repression, I found it heartening that the young Albanians I met had not been crushed or molded. They were lively,intel ligent, and held no illusions about the government. They seemed to believe more passionately in indi vidual liberty than most people in the West could appreciate. I told them I would visit again when Albania is a free country, and they smiled at the thought. D 132 Do Wars Cure Ailing Economies? by Mark Ahlseen T he military action in the Persian Gulf has rekindled the belief that war can stimulate the American economy. No one, to be sure, is claiming that this is an acceptable trade off-American lives for American prosperity but it is argued that this positive effect cannot be ignored. After all, didn't World War II pull the United States out of the Great Depression? The World War II mobilization did, to be sure, put people back to work-some into the armed forces, some into war production industries.