What happened in Albania’s Parliament last week was more than a political skirmish. It was an assault on the very essence of parliamentarism. In a scene without precedent in the country’s 35 years of political pluralism — and arguably rare even in the wider history of parliamentary life — the legislature approved Prime Minister Edi Rama’s fourth government and its four-year program within minutes, without a single debate.
The spectacle began with Rama inviting “Minister Diella,” a pre-recorded artificial intelligence avatar, to address the chamber. The stunt, widely mocked as propaganda, was immediately followed by a rushed vote. Opposition deputies were denied the chance to speak;some threw copies of the Constitution toward the Prime Minister’s bench in protest. For the first time since the fall of communism, Albania’s government program was endorsed without parliamentary scrutiny.
This was not simply the arrogance of a majority. It was the expression of overwhelming numbers: a Socialist supermajority strong enough not only to pass laws but, if it wishes, to amend the Constitution. It was also the product of elections on May 11 that the opposition denounced as a farce and that the OSCE/ODIHR found to be profoundly unequal. In such conditions, the opposition regards both Parliament and the new government as illegitimate.
Yet numbers and procedure are only part of the story. In essence, the deliberate exclusion of the opposition — the refusal even to stage a debate — reveals the deeper transformation of Albania’s political system. The government and Prime Minister appear to control everything: Parliament, the Presidency, and even the Constitutional Court. The legislature, once the arenaof fierce and noisy confrontation, has been reduced to a chamber that simply stamps decisions. In this sense, the Albanian Parliament of 2025 resembles less the parliaments of NATO member states and far more those of authoritarian regimes. It looks closer to Belarus than to Brussels.
The parallel with Albania’s tragic parliamentary history is unavoidable. For over 40 years under communism, Albania had a parliament without an opposition — a body that met only twice a year to approve whatever the Party decided. Those who dared to challenge this system paid with their lives. Musine Kokalari, a courageous intellectual who opposed Enver Hoxha, was executed. Shefqet Beja, one of the few opposition deputies in the immediate postwar period, was hanged. For decades, Albania endured the ritual of a legislature stripped of meaning.
Since the fall of communism, post-1990 Albania has been defined by constant conflict between government and opposition. That conflict often created paralysis and instability, but it always preserved one essential fact: debate. However bitter and noisy, Parliament remaineda forum where power had to face at least the words of its adversaries. Last week, even that minimum condition was erased.
This act is therefore unique not only in Albania’s post-communist history but also, arguably, in the broader history of parliamentary systems. To approve a government program without debate, to silence the opposition completely, is to cancel the very purpose of a legislature.
The implications extend beyond Albania. The country is a NATO member and aspires to join the European Union. Yet what unfolded in Tirana’s chamber looked less like the parliament of a democracy seeking accession and more like the stage-managed assemblies of regimes hostile to democratic values. That the European Union’s reaction was limited to regret that the public had been “deprived of debate” illustrates another uncomfortable truth: Brussels appears to be negotiating with a “virtual Albania,” opening and chapters on paper, while closing its eyes to the real Albania, where institutions bend to one man’s will, corruption is endemic, and organized crime permeates the state.
For 35 years, Albania’s democracy has survived through turmoil, boycotts, and confrontation,but never before had a government dared to erase debate itself. By doing so, Rama and his majority not only weakened the opposition but hollowed out parliamentarism. The result is a legislature that no longer functions as a check on executive power, but as its extension.
The defining image will endure: ministers sworn in, a brisk walk from the Presidency to government headquarters, while inside Parliament an AI avatar stood in for real discussion. Albania has reached a moment when its Parliament — the heart of its democratic life — has been canceled
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