July 11, 2005, 8:06 a.m.
In Albania . . .

Friends, I'm writing you from Albania — actually, I'm writing you from the airport in Podgorica, Montenegro, but that's another story. I have just been in Albania, for the purpose of doing an NR piece. That piece will appear in our forthcoming issue. But I wanted to just scribble a few notes for you here.

(Does that split infinitive bother you? If so, stick to your Latin. We're writing English here!)

I've been traveling with Congressman Eliot Engel (D., N.Y.), two of his top staffers, and a group from the National Albanian-American Council. And what have they been doing? They observed elections in Albania, on July 3; they moved on to Montenegro, to have talks with various officials and citizens; and now they are going to Kosovo. I'm scooting elsewhere, from Podgorica.

You may ask how the Albanian elections went. The answer is, they went okay — but we'll have a better idea later. (Did I say I am writing on July 6? I should have.)

Longtime readers may remember a piece I did from, and on, Albania three years ago. It was called "European Communities" (and it involved Greece, too). Believe it or not, there is such a thing as an Albanian bug, and I caught it, on that first trip. Albania is an inspiring country: It suffered from the worst of Communism, for about 45 years. And the country has struggled to be reborn: It is, in fact, an emerging democracy, hoping for NATO and EU membership. Back in 2002, I met many intellectuals and journalists — and former political prisoners, some of whom had been kept in dungeons for 20 years. They seemed remarkably clear-sighted, and free of bitterness.

And Albania is famously — some might say notoriously — pro-American. How it would embarrass our Left (and does)! When Secretary of State Baker visited the country, as it was rising from the grave, they rushed and kissed his car. Other Americans have had only slightly less rhapsodic receptions. After World War I, President Wilson demanded Albanian independence; many people have never forgotten it. Then, too, there was the American war against Milosevic, which saved so many Albanian lives — lives of the Kosovar Albanians.

An Albanian writer said to me, in 2002, "We're so pro-American, our neighbors sneer at us as 'the Israel of the Balkans.'" I said — what else? — "Wear it proudly."

In any case, that was an inspiring visit, and for the past few years, I've had an Albanian flag flying ("flying") in my office. And now, like MacArthur, I have returned. (No, not like MacArthur, but in some fashion.)

Are you ready for some notes? All in our party have had a fruitful time. Congressman Engel is "Mr. Albania" in American politics, someone who has worked on Albanian issues his entire congressional career, and who has been to Albania five times. He's a celebrity not only in Albania, but in Montenegro, Kosovo, and Macedonia, where many ethnic Albanians live. This is of a piece with his unusual dedication to human rights.

He remarked at a dinner the other night, "President Clinton was called 'the first African-American president.' In a similar spirit, might I be called 'the first Albanian-American congressman'?" The Albanian Americans with him roared their approval.

These men and women from the Albanian-American Council are extraordinary. It's heartening to be around them. They were born in Albania, Kosovo, or one of the other countries; they have prospered in America, and are devoted to it; and they've never forgotten their homeland. They take natural pride in the rebirth of Albania. More than other Americans, they know what that nation has endured. And they know that the coming of democracy is something of a miracle.

It's easy to belittle "ethnic politics"; it should not be. If the fate of Albanians is a "special interest" — it's my kind of special interest.

So, should I make a few notes? Guess I will.

My first note will be a correction, or rather, an amendment — or an elaboration. Those Albanian-American businessmen who take pride in Albania? They not only take pride, they also help in any way they can: with political support, with investments. They keep a sharp eye on the rights of Albanians throughout the diaspora. In other words, they do more than cheer from the sidelines and sing old songs.

Many people like to point out that this intensely pro-American country — Albania — is a Muslim country. Some 70 percent of its citizens are Muslim (although these things are difficult to gauge: Religion was strictly banned in the country throughout the Communist period). Unfortunately, the Saudis have thrown some money around, and Islamic fundamentalism is a threat — some say the biggest threat the country faces. But for now, such fundamentalism is submerged.

Albania remains a poor country, but it is no longer the poorest in Europe: It is the second poorest, I understand, after Moldova. When I hear this — from Albanians — I'm reminded of the old story in the United States: Alabamians are grateful for Mississippi.

It's the worst journalist's cliché, but I will quote my cabbie — my cabbie from the airport. (That is an even worse cliché.) There are two big political parties here, the Socialists and the Democrats, and those parties are dominated by two big political bosses: Nano (the Socialist) and Berisha (the Democrat). My cabbie says, "They're like two big mafia families. And those men are the patriarchs."

Albania certainly seems to have a lively democracy, judging from the political posters, billboards, and banners about. There seems as much electioneering here as anywhere. Basically, the Socialists are campaigning on Continuity and Progress; and the Democrats are campaigning on Reform and Clean Hands.

The roads in Albania are quite bad — and my cabbie jokes about this, too. He says that you have to have a Mercedes here (some 90 percent of the cars in this country are Mercedes-Benzes, and they did not arrive here in the most legitimate way). With the roads as bad as they are, remarks the cabbie, you need a strong, rugged vehicle — to resist all the bumps.

Under Hoxha — the Communist dictator Enver Hoxha — cars were banned; only officialdom had them. There was also near famine in the land, for the last five years of Communism: but if we get into the bad old days, we'll be here forever. There is a very good book to be done about Albania under Hoxha — I mean a synoptic one. But would the truth be believed? Communist Albania was what is frequently described as "surreal."

By the evidence, there is a robust free press, with many newspapers and periodicals, all competing. An Albanian says to me, "I don't believe any of them. They all lie. They all support a particular point of view, or party." Well, that's not the worst thing in the world; in fact, it is typically European. A well-balanced media diet ought to afford a reliable picture of the current scene. Rarely are you lucky enough to find one-stop shopping, anywhere in the world.

Good thing we back at home have the New York Times!

(Relax, Impromptusites — that was a joke.)

Albania is wracked with crime, one of the chief challenges of the government, and, indeed, of society. Would you like to hear something charming from the U.S. embassy? It comes in an advisory (and an actually quite useful one — I don't mean to deride): "Caution should be exercised in bars in Tirana [the Albanian capital] — where violent incidents, some involving the use of firearms, do sometimes occur, particularly in the early morning hours."

Imagine!

Tirana and environs are full of ugly, Soviet-style buildings — this is, after all, a country only 15 years from deepest Communism. But the Albanians are doing something wonderful: They are painting the buildings in interesting colors, especially pastels. In some places, you get a taste of South Florida, or the Caribbean. To put a little soulfulness on a drab, Communist building: That is a supremely beautiful idea. Such paint needs to be applied politically and spiritually, too.

My impression is — and this is confirmed by locals — that Tirana has much improved in the three years since I was last here. Ugliness is reduced, enterprise is more apparent — and the people have a healthier aspect to them. I could be absurdly off base, but they seem less skinny. Even the dogs in the streets seem less skinny! (Not that they're ready to enter the Westminster Kennel Show or anything.) You see women in gay dresses walking with parasols down the street. Sometimes, for a stretch of 100 yards or so, you could well be in Rome. Frankly, for more than 100 yards, you could be in some of the less glam areas of Rome.

In all, this seems to be a country coming back to life.

And construction is everywhere: Greater Tirana can seem one vast construction project. And that is gladdening to see: There is so much construction to do.

I was slightly startled to see a store called Wehrmacht Shoes. What would you suppose that's about? (No, I didn't have a chance to go in — should have.)

I have noticed something that I noticed before, in 2002: Albanians, when speaking of Hoxha, will often say "he" and "him." No name; just pronouns. I was especially struck by this on my first trip; the name "Hoxha" had a certain, terrible potency; almost surely, that is lessening — but it's not yet gone. Of course Stalin, during his day and after, was often "he" and "him," too.

And then, in our own country, during the 1990s, we had "the Big He."

But we're not doing domestic politics now!

Friends, I will continue these notes tomorrow. Thanks for tuning in. Tomorrow, I pledge, will not be uninteresting.