Today, in the name of freedom and democracy, the death penalty is called barbaric, and European democrats describe it as a relic of dark times. Yet not so long ago, public executions were a common part of life. This happened not only in Eastern countries, but also in Western Europe, this cradle of modern civilization. In France, execution by guillotine was abolished only a few years ago. One of the countries where public executions and the death penalty formed a bloody ritual was 18th-century England. In London alone, an average of more than 50 people were executed every year, not counting those hanged on gibbets or beheaded. In this country, known as the land of freedom, stealing a loaf of bread was enough to end up at the gallows. Women who killed their husbands were sentenced to be burned alive. The laws were so strict that the number of capital offenses kept increasing without pause. These people were killed not only for serious crimes, but often even for minor offenses. For this reason, many contemporaries called that order a demonic system. It produced not only crime, but also spectacle. People gathered in the squares to watch hangings and beheadings as if it were a fair. In these circumstances, a man named John Howard[?] and later other reformers began to call for change. They condemned filthy prisons, inhuman trials and state revenge. Gradually, this system began to wobble. The ideas of the Enlightenment, liberal thought and the Industrial Revolution changed society. But the memory of those victims remains a testimony to the terror that the state can produce when it is not controlled by law and morality.

Here is the world in miniature. Within its walls are people without a name, without dignity and without hope. They are imprisoned not only by the bars, but also by the system that has stolen their lives. Here, a human being is no longer a person, but a number. This scene, illustrated by a hand firmly holding a frightened bird, symbolizes the fate of the individual under totalitarian oppression. The person is squeezed, deprived of breath, his will broken. He is taught to keep silent, to tremble, to wait for the next order. Instead of trust, there is fear. Instead of law, arbitrariness. Instead of justice, punishment. People without a master are the people whom the system has left without protection, without justice and without a voice. "This place has a master"

As with the totalitarian state, its closed ideology seeks to present itself as infallible. When asked to account for the failures in agriculture, the answer comes in the form of excuses, not arguments. This is also evident in the PPSH’s stance toward calls for an open debate on the crisis in the countryside. Albanian agriculture is in a serious state. Villagers face shortages of seed, tools, fuel and the freedom to decide about their own production. The land has been neglected, yields are falling, while propaganda continues to speak of imaginary successes. The demand for debate is not a provocation, but a civic duty. Only by accepting the truth can the path to salvation for the countryside be found. Refusal to debate is a refusal of responsibility. It shows that the party has neither the will nor the courage to confront reality. In this situation, the need for deep reform in agriculture becomes even more urgent. The countryside can no longer be sustained with orders and failed plans. It needs property, market, initiative and respect for work.

Brothers and others It is already clear that the real democratic movement cannot remain shut inside a hall of rallies and declarations. It must open new doors, meet different social groups, talk with concrete people, listen to their hardships and give them a voice. One such door is the world of former political persecuted people, of people of faith, of those who were oppressed for their beliefs, for their background, for their free word. Our democracy remains incomplete if it does not manage to embrace these people and recognize their wound. Likewise, every door opened toward the poor, the youth, women, workers and peasants is a door leading toward the consolidation of a free society. Democracy must not remain the privilege of minorities who speak beautifully; it must become the daily breathing of the majority. This is another test of our political seriousness. To know how to listen, to know how to unite, to know how to forgive, but also not to forget. Because without memory there is no lasting freedom, and without justice there is no true democracy.

(Continued on page 2) Our transition will make sense only if people feel that their lives can change. It is not enough to bring down fear; trust must be reborn. People need concrete hope: work, bread, security, dignity. Hope does not come back through slogans. It comes when words match deeds, when promises are accompanied by solutions and when the citizen feels that the state is no longer against him. Otherwise, despair can turn into apathy and apathy into a loss of faith in democracy. To return hope to people means opening the way for their participation, encouraging work and initiative, protecting the weak and establishing justice. Only then will Albania begin to breathe freely.