We used to go to the village almost every day; the broad fields of the cooperative by the Vjosa would honor us whenever the master of the house stood up and invited us in. Had not others also written that our people in the countryside addressed the leader with “bread, salt and heart”? I have read that somewhere, and not so rarely I have had to confront the naivety of those who believed it blindly. But now we are drawing very close, and even an ordinary conversation can overturn many prejudices. Raising the simplest questions disrupted the calm of the propaganda’s optimistic сценарios. The villager no longer speaks as he once did in ready-made phrases. He looks you straight in the eye and asks about bread, about land, about sweat, about the future of the children. In many areas of the country poverty has become so visible that it can no longer be covered by statistics, declarations or slogans. It is a poverty felt in clothing, in homes, in tools of work, in the absence of hope. And when hope fades, a person begins to become silent, but not reconciled. The time has come to speak to the village differently. Not with orders, not in the language of committees, not with dry schemes that have no connection to the earth. The village knows very well what it has lost and what has been promised to it. It knows better than anyone the weight of a wrong decision, because it pays for it with its daily bread. Therefore our message must also be simple: the land must be returned to the one who works it, work must be rewarded, and economic freedom must not remain a beautiful phrase in meetings. The Democratic Party has the moral and political duty to address the village without demagoguery. We do not go there to make grand promises, but to listen and to tell the truth. The truth that without property, without a market, without freedom of decision-making and without legal security, the village cannot rise. The truth that the current system has exhausted it, impoverished it, and made it insecure. The truth that no one can any longer ask the villager for endless sacrifices in the name of a ruined ideology. Today, as the country stands before elections and before a new historical test, the village remains one of the keys to tomorrow. There lies a great labor force, a strong national memory, and an undiminished desire for justice. Whoever understands this understands Albania. Whoever deceives the village deceives the country’s future. Our message to the village is therefore a message of responsibility, respect, and trust in the working man. Democratic Albania cannot be built without the village, nor against it, but together with it.

Two days before the PPSH congress The tensions of Albanian political life come once again into focus. The PPSH congress is expected to take place at a time when the country is undergoing profound changes and when citizens’ trust in the old structures has fallen sharply. This makes the gathering not merely an internal party event, but also a public test of its ability to break with the past. Many observers believe the congress will be forced to give clear answers to issues that can no longer be postponed: political responsibility for the economic crisis, the role of the state apparatus in keeping privileges alive, and its relationship with the newly emerging pluralism. If these questions are avoided with vague formulas, then the congress risks looking like an attempt to buy time rather than to bring about fundamental change. On the other hand, public opinion also expects concrete signs of internal reform. General statements are no longer enough. The country has entered a phase in which words are measured by their consequences and in which every evasion of political responsibility produces fresh distrust. It is precisely this distrust that has pushed part of society to seek other alternatives and to support opposition forces. Two days before the congress, the main question remains this: will there be a will for real change, or will everything close with a formal ritual of self-justification? The answer belongs not only to the delegates; it will be felt throughout the country’s political climate.

New political developments and the movements of well-known figures are drawing public attention. Atif Lion arrived in Albania at a moment when the political climate is tense and when every visit takes on special significance. His presence was widely commented on, especially in circles that connect this move with future electoral developments and efforts to strengthen political influence. There was no shortage of speculation about the purpose of this arrival. Some saw it as a personal initiative, others as a contact with various political and social actors. However, what stands out is the fact that Albania is entering a phase in which the presence of well-known figures and their public movements are being read as part of a broader picture of transformations. It remains to be seen what concrete weight this visit will carry. But the very arrival of Atif Lion is a clear indication that our country is emerging from isolation and becoming part of a more open political and public communication.

Today, on 2 June 1991 at around 5000, former politically persecuted persons gathered in front of the PD headquarters to protest against the government’s indifference toward them. According to the declarants, promises of compensation, employment and rehabilitation have remained unfulfilled, while living conditions for many of them have become unbearable. Those present called on state institutions to take concrete measures and not to use them any longer as political symbolism without solving the real problems. The declaration stressed that respect for their sacrifice must be expressed through laws, guarantees and dignified treatment, not empty words. At the end, a call was made for the issue of former political prisoners to be treated as a test of the democratic sincerity of the new Albanian state.

The origins of closed doors and of the monopolization of the future have begun to shake. In the everyday vocabulary of citizens, words that once were used with fear are entering: freedom, alternative, choice, responsibility. Hope is no longer just a private feeling, but a social energy that pushes people to seek change. In this sense, hope is not an illusion. It is grounded in the experience of recent months, in the courage of those who spoke out, in the steadfastness of those who did not submit, in the conviction that the future can be built differently. This is precisely where its moral force lies: hope gives a person dignity and makes society less afraid. But hope also requires action. It is not enough to say that times are changing; institutions, laws, habits of fear, and mechanisms of injustice must change. If this does not happen, then the word risks being emptied of meaning. That is why for us hope is closely linked to civic action and political responsibility. This is why we believe hope should not be extinguished, but organized. It must take shape in the vote, in free speech, in public courage, and in faith in the truth. Only then does it become a force for change and not merely a temporary comfort.

The PD is growing

Deputy chairman of the Orthodox Church of Tirana.