OP-ED

Edi Rama, this student of Elisa Spiropali

Edi Rama, this student of Elisa Spiropali

That Gentian Gaba

Instead of apologizing for the blockade of almost a third of the country and for the roads built with the care of children building sandcastles by the sea, Edi Rama chose today to mock the citizens, telling them that the roads are also falling apart in Portugal. So, instead of taking responsibility for the economic damage that the blockade of the axes causes to people and businesses, and explaining to Albanians why corruption has swept his government like a tide, swallowing up the billions that should have gone to roads that today lead nowhere, Rama makes it impossible for them to even respond in his imaginary world, after he blocked comments on his social network X.

The lesson from Rama is clear: the best defense is offense. Attack the opposition, even though he himself, when he was in opposition, was laughing at the roads being built with standards many times higher than those of the Renaissance; attack the critical media, despite SPAK showing us that those who are keeping quiet are the same as those who are taking money from his government that should have gone to asphalt; and, finally, relativize the drama of corruption that is leaving the roads to the roads, as a student of Elisa Spiropali, reminding us, as his minister used to do, that “these things happen in the world too.”

This great mockery of the citizens of this country is an indicator of the degradation of its power, now incapable of justifying the barbarity of corruption, proving that every second it remains in power is a second taken away from the life of a country that has lost all connection with the standards of good governance, accountability, and transparency.

For years, Edi Rama tried to build, through a million-dollar propaganda, the image of a modern and European leader. Today, in the eyes of Albanians and the whole world, he appears as an autocrat kept afloat by the dirty tricks of power: by parallel structures like those of organized crime (as the “Agasi” case proves); by the capture of the administration, overblown with patronages who serve the government and not the state; by dubious and corrupt lobbying and attacks through them on his opponents in Albania, as the McGonigal dossier proves.

Surrounded by files, cornered by the European Union, targeted by the Americans, he is letting out his last words from the only world where he still feels like a prime minister, the virtual one. But, annoyed by the "fly under the hat" and the civil revolt, he locks online comments with the naive hope that he can make non-existent a reality that has put him with his shoulders against the wall, as a result of his misdeeds, from which he cannot escape.

After a long "honeymoon" in the country's affairs, when with tricks, deceit, money, propaganda and lobbying he managed to overcome scandals that anywhere in the world would lead at least to the resignation of the prime minister, it seems as if he has been hit by Murphy's law, according to which "anything that can go wrong, will go wrong". This is how Edi Rama's affairs are going, because of the evil he has sown with his own hands and which he is reaping today, not as a student of Konica and Noli, as he likes to portray himself, but as a student of Elisa Spiropali.

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