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It's March 1953, we're in Tirana, the capital of Albania. In the central square, a huge crowd stands strangely silent. Feet shuffle, coughs are stifled. In a corner, a military band plays a slow mournful song. Across from them is a giant bronze statue of the recently deceased Soviet leader Joseph Stalin. It's been placed here temporarily.
so that every man, woman and child in Tirana and the surrounds can pay their respects at his feet. A young woman walks up to the effigy to take her turn. Dressed from head to toe in black, she keeps her headscarf over her forehead, her shoulders slumped and her head bowed. In front of Stalin, she lowers herself to her knees. She then clenches her fist and raises it in a salute. As she gets to her feet, the next mourner steps into place.
But this is no spontaneous outpouring of grief. Since the Soviet strongman's death was announced, Albania has been in a period of enforced national mourning, led by the country's own dictator, Enver Hoxha. Attendance here in the square is obligatory. For 14 days, all cultural and entertainment venues will be closed. Official announcements will blare from tannoyes, as commemorative meetings are held in workplaces and schools.
Speeches praising Stalin will be pumped out on national television and radio. As the young woman leaves the square, she smiles at a man she recognizes in the line. His eyes narrow. She checks herself. Under Hodges' rule, the simple mistake of smiling on such an occasion could land her in prison or worse. Recognizing her fear, the man gives her just the slightest nod of reassurance. He won't say anything.
From Noiza, this is the second and final part of the Enver Hodja story. And this is Real Dictators. By 1953, Enver Hodja has ruled Albania for a decade. In that time, he's shed his past as a cultured middle-class teacher and become an uncompromising dictator. His Sigurimi, Albania's secret police force, have executed or imprisoned those who voiced the slightest hint of dissent.
But over the coming decades, as the economy dries up and supermarket shelves lie empty, the repression of ordinary people will become even more deeply entrenched. Hodja has tied Albania closely to the USSR. Since 1949, his country has been part of the Eastern Bloc, a member of the Warsaw Pact, and the Council for Mutual Economic Assistance, or Comecon.
Hoxha's regime has been largely dependent on the Soviet Union for its very continuance. When neighbouring Yugoslavia threatened to swallow up Albania, it was in part Hoxha's ties with Moscow that acted as a deterrent. Major policy decisions have either been handed down by the Soviets or have been given the Kremlin's backing. With Stalin's death, that centralisation of power in Russia will be challenged.
Many Eastern Bloc leaders will begin, tentatively, to exercise a greater degree of autonomy. But in Albania, while Stalin may be dead, Stalinization will remain. Professor Bernd Fischer: "Koča stayed with Stalin, I think partially because of self-preservation. In much of the rest of Eastern Europe, there was a process of de-Stalinization.
In Albania this didn't happen, basically because of the fact that Hoxha recognized that de-Stalinization would require sort of de-Hojja-ization as well. He tied himself so completely and the Albanian party remained Stalinist, I think, for 37 years after the death of Stalin. Stalin's demise triggers a power struggle within the Soviet Union. When Nikita Khrushchev emerges as the new premier,
It soon becomes apparent that he is not someone Enver Hodja can work with. Khrushchev's speech at the 20th Party Congress in 1956 makes it clear that he wants to distance himself from Stalin's excesses. He is no fan of domineering cults of personality. Hodja interprets Khrushchev's rhetoric as a personal threat, and he is right to. The Soviet leader advises him to reconcile with Tito's Yugoslavia, but Hodja refuses.
He still fears that Albania could be consumed by its more powerful neighbor. And Khrushchev's outspoken views have sowed seeds of dissent within Hodge's own party. There are some there who agree with Khrushchev when it comes to personality cults. At a conference in April 1956, the Albanian Minister of Defense, Bakir Boluku, launches an extraordinary attack on Hodge's policies and on his conduct.
Following Beluga's lead, delegate after delegate rises to their feet to accuse Hodja of holding party members and the population at large in contempt. Why have there been so many purges and executions? Why have so many loyal communists been dismissed from positions of influence? Why is there so little room for democracy within the party structure? Others call for free debate on the cult of personality question.
On the recent execution of Hoxha's former deputy, Kochi Zodze, and on the ongoing feud with Yugoslavia, Hoxha is on the ropes, but he thinks on his feet. He physically splits the rebels into two smaller groups, ushering them into separate rooms to keep them from talking to each other. He then addresses them in turn. With the first lot, he launches into a vicious rhetorical tirade, decrying their disloyalty and threatening to have them locked up.
But when it comes to the second group of rebels, he takes a softer approach. He doesn't yell. He even verges on contrition, or at least mild self-criticism, suggesting they might work together. His opponents are divided and conquered. Dissent has been turned into doubt and confusion. Sensing momentum in the conference hall has turned his way. Hodges stages his counterattack. He demands, on the spot, that the party adopts a resolution of full confidence in his leadership.
With this endorsement secured, he calls the meeting to an end, crisis averted. In the coming weeks, once things quieten down a touch, Hodja will have the rebellious voices arrested, for most. Their betrayal will be punished by execution. Over in Moscow, Khrushchev is furious. He wants Stalin's protégé in Albania dethroned. But Hodja has weathered the storm, even if it sent his paranoia skyrocketing.
In November 1960, Albania's leader travels to Moscow to attend an international summit of communist parties. By now, he is convinced that Khrushchev is out to liquidate him, so he is not taking any chances. He refuses to stay in the accommodation provided by his hosts. He will only eat food that has been prepared at the Albanian embassy. He has his groceries bought daily from local shops, rather than from the diplomatic store. At the meeting itself, he openly denounces Khrushchev,
He then leaves the gathering early. He refuses to fly home, fearing what might happen to his plane in Soviet airspace. He takes the train instead, stopping nowhere en route. Right now, Hodja trusts no one. Dr. Artan Hodja, no relation to the dictator. We have these strong leaders that have this constant fear of being overthrown because this has been the story of the Balkans during the 19th and 20th century.
And Verhoja is one of them, but in this area has always been the fear of the fifth columns, of a society that was not united around its leader. And as generally happens with dictators, they identify their power with that of the nation. So if they fall from power, their nature will be doomed. So in a certain sense, they have this idea of being somehow, let's say, deus ex machina, somehow representatives of God on earth.
and they hold in their hands the fate of their nation. After the falling out with Khrushchev, Hoxha's own cult of personality begins to grow out of all proportion. One of the unique things about Hoxha in comparison to some of the other Balkan dictators like Tito or Ceaușescu is that he basically became more extreme with age.
Tito was certainly as brutal as Hoxha in the early years, but he is essentially mellowed. Hoxha became increasingly paranoid and as he became increasingly paranoid, he also became increasingly brutal. An entire media industry is now charged with maintaining his image. Photographs are edited to make Hoxha look younger, fitter, stronger and with good reason, because Uncle Enver is not a well man.
He has type 1 diabetes, which does nothing for his moods, let alone his health. His personal chef has noticed that when his blood sugar drops too low, he becomes much more erratic, unpredictable and cruel. Serving him the right meal can literally save lives. But the job of the state's photo editors goes beyond disguising Hodge's sickly appearance. They're also tasked with airbrushing out anybody who's become persona non grata.
Photographs of Hodge's early years show him standing shoulder to shoulder with the original members of the Central Committee. Now, those same images are doctored. Henceforth, they will include only the handful of comrades who remained faithful, the ones who are still alive. By the end of Hodge's time in office, the same pictures will show him standing alone on the podium, with every one of those early allies erased from the record. And it's not just images.
Hodja will rewrite and republish Albanian history to put himself, the great leader, at the center of things. He kept rewriting the history of Albania. He was the main historian of Albania from 1945 to 1990. Even when he was dead, you know, everybody that was writing the history of communist Albania was actually just quoting him. He was the main writer and he kept rewriting the history of the country. Tito was a great friend of Albania and then became the greatest enemy of Albania.
Khrushchev was one of the greatest friends of Albania. Then again, he wrote the history by declaring Khrushchev the worst enemy of Albania. So he kept rewriting the history of the country. The only character that remained always positive, that was Stalin. In the early 1960s, as much of Europe is entering a period of rapid industrialization, increased productivity, and improved living standards, Albania's economy is faltering. Hoxha needs help.
Having distanced himself from Khrushchev's Soviet Union, in 1961 the dictator turns to Mao Zedong, the leader of the Chinese Communist Party. China follows its own socialist path, emphasizing self-reliance and independence, which suits Hoxha well. The two powers agree economic and military aid. This alliance with Beijing gives Hoxha strength in numbers.
In a speech, he declares: "We are not two million strong. We are one billion and two million strong." Impressed with China's self-sufficiency and perceived national unity, Hodja identifies a problem within his own country. To his mind, Albanian culture has been eroded. It needs to be strengthened. He initiates a sweeping cultural and ideological revolution.
seeking to diminish the last vestiges of the bourgeoisie and intelligentsia, and to purge foreign influences. The regime tried to find scapegoats because if the leadership had failed,
that would mean that communism was not scientific anymore. Because if Hoxha was going to accept his mistakes, that would mean that he would open the doors to many other mistakes that he had done in the past. So there was no escape from him. He could not accept mistakes. So then the regime was going to find a scapegoat. And those scapegoats, those many times, technocrats, specialists, engineers. So these were not people that were standing up to the regime, but they were just sacrificials.
What's important to realise is that Ember Hodger didn't just attack political enemies. He thrived on attacking people from all different walks of life. And he would promote people that he went to primary school with and then have them executed later for political slights.
So the idea of enemy was utilitarian, was very good for Hoxha, was useful because then any problem that would occur in the economy or the state apparatus, then by using the enemy, then he would find a scapegoat. And so the regime kept going because the enemy was useful for Hoxha. Even the Albanian language gets an overhaul. Foreign loanwords, especially from the Slavic tongues, are replaced with pure Albanian terms.
A strict system of censorship is applied to art, media. Anything that doesn't fit with Hodges' ideology is confiscated. Books are banned, monuments destroyed. Anyone found owning forbidden literature is punished in the harshest terms. Actors, artists, those who have the tools to really shape public opinion, people that could actually provide alternatives to those provided by the state.
And at the moment that artists did that in public, of course, the people at the grassroots level would immediately start emulating them. So the regime was swift in its response, purged them, and people got the message, don't do that. Keep your head low, bow your head, bow your back, conform, keep what you have, and try to be happy with what you have.
I have a friend whose name is Fatos Labonia. He was the son of a Politburo member, Tony Labonia, who was in charge of radio television and was one of the people that was purged.
And Fatos was arrested because the Sigurimi found some diaries that he had kept in the attic of his uncle's house. And the diaries contained notes on Western literature that he had read surreptitiously. And this was enough to send him to Spach, one of the labor camps. He ended up spending 17 years there.
"And just as he was about to be released, someone from that labor camp sent a letter to Hodja complaining about the conditions. And Fatos, because of the fact that he was simply part of this camp, ended up being sentenced to another 20 years." When it comes to Hodja's private collection, however, the same rules don't seem to apply.
Pogge's personal library is really quite fascinating. It's huge for one. These books included the whole library of classics, a library of world literature, including Dante and Shakespeare and Zola and Montesquieu and Rousseau and Diderot.
It also included books by people like Graham Greene and John le Carre. It included books by P.D. James and by Agatha Christie. So not only serious philosophy, but also sort of light reading. It included books on Christianity, on Islam. It included books by Sartre and Camus.
And the one thing it didn't include was anything written by either Marx or Lenin, which one might find surprising. That's one of the main markers of power, is the privilege of having the opportunity to consult and to see things that others don't. Because he could allow himself to see what the enemy was saying because he was then sure of censorship.
What the albini society was going to know or not. And those decisions went through himself. This is the true dictatorship. And dictatorship is because those who are in power never trust those common people. And so they decide for common people what to read and what not to read. Hodge's ideological revolution doesn't stop at controlling what the masses read. The state seeks to control what they believe as well.
The role of religion is something that is unique in Albania in many ways, at least when comparing Albania to the rest of the Balkans. Most of the rest of the Balkans have sort of a state religion, like Orthodoxy in Greece, Serbian Orthodoxy in Serbia.
Albania is unique in the sense that there were three different religions and the principal one, of course, was Muslim. So religion in Albania didn't play the sort of unifying role that it did elsewhere in the Balkans. Indeed, it was something that Albanian leaders from Zag all the way to Hoxha considered to be something of a threat to unity. And as a result, they attacked it.
By the late 1960s, Hoxha has already destroyed a number of religious buildings and monuments as part of his Cultural Revolution. Now he goes a step further. In 1967, he declares Albania to be the world's first officially atheist state. And we have to understand that Enver Hoxha took this step in the 60s after the split with the Soviet Union and with the whole Eastern Bloc.
In that moment, feeling himself under siege, he justified the destroy of all the centers that somehow connected spiritually the Albanians with the foreign world. On the other hand, atheism was very much also a war against what generally in Eastern Europe was called a war against superstitions. And that was how you were going to transform peasants into workers, peasants into engineers, by doing them with scientific outlook of the world.
Priests, imams and monks are arrested and subjected to show trials. Those who aren't executed are shipped off to labor camps, where they're subjected to intense ideological reprogramming. In Albania, mankind, not God, is at the center of the world, and one man in particular has the power to bend it to his will. It's the Faustian dream, and they did it through atheism.
However, when it comes to Albania, atheism is not just that, but is also an attempt to create a full rupture between the country and the rest of Europe. This rupture is certainly achieved by the early 1970s. And it's not just with Europe. After President Nixon's overtures, Albania's closest ally, China, begins pursuing diplomatic relations with the United States. Hoxha feels betrayed and threatened, with support from Beijing wavering.
His guarantor is no longer solid, and in Albania, queues for food and resources are now so long that people have taken to leaving rocks in the line to mark their place, so as to avoid standing for days waiting for a chunk of bread. In response to this uncertainty, Hodja orders thousands of bunkers to be built throughout the country, along Albania's borders, across the countryside, and also within the cities.
Tens of thousands of installations are dug into hills and valleys, designed to repel potential or imaginary invaders. To instill a sense of vigilance, Hodja organizes mass civil defense drills and battle simulations. Everyone, young and old, is obliged to take part.
In the simulated invasions, they would give a notice of what was going to happen, but you'd never know exactly when it would happen. You had to black out the windows, run down to the street. They'd separate the children from their parents because it's wartime, put the kids in trucks and drive them off to villages where they'd stay for days, not seeing their parents. The parents, depending on their profession, would have to go into the war schedule. Teachers would go to their underground bunker school and practice their wartime curriculum.
Perhaps to counterbalance the drills, to lighten the mood somewhat, Albanians are also compelled to take part in the annual Workers' Day parades. These are filmed and broadcast all over the country. Only those with bad biographies are excluded from the celebrations. On May 1st of every year, as Hodja looks on from a platform in Tirana Square, the parade marches before him.
Carefully vetted crowds fill the grandstands, overseen by the security services. The procession streams past, children dressed in uniform, white shirts and red scarves, march by first, raising and lowering their coloured placards, which combine to make up bigger images above their heads. Thousands of factory workers follow behind them, fists raised to Comrade Enver. The students come next, then the military,
Finally, the traditional dancers and singers. A host of red, white, and green balloons floats into the air. This annual public spectacle has become one of the rare times to see Hodger out in public. He spends much of his time now holed up in the block. It's a heavily fortified area in Tirana, where only the elite of the party, the Central Committee, are permitted to live.
Inspired in part by the Kremlin, it serves both as a fortress for the top brass and a safe space for them to explore things that the people are denied. It was made up of a series of fairly modest villas and then there was a common area where people would come and socialize and play games and they had their own shops of course where they could buy western goods which no one else could buy.
Bloc was the center of power. It was guarded by soldiers and poja's entourage, the closest associates of him, you know, were living next to him. So somehow he was keeping them close to himself. And then, of course, created a kind of a tight-knit community that held power. Their kids were married with each other. They also started creating this new leadership by Bloc.
So it would have been very hard for them to betray each other because they were all kind of related to each other through their kids and through their nephews.
The Central Committee in the Politburo, by the time we get to the 1970s, is made up of about 20 people who were related to one another. As people are purged and removed, Hoxha creates this clan of supporters who are, of course, completely loyal to him because of the fact that they recognize that they could be next. I mean, living in the block, you were sort of protected from the outside, but you weren't protected from Hoxha.
The quality of life in the enclave comes at a cost. Security here is tighter than anywhere. Surveillance more widespread. The risk of falling out of favor is also increased. Hoxha's aides tend to try to keep their distance from their boss. Hoxha, in a meeting of Politburo of the Obinu Liberal Party, he complained. He said to his peers, I feel totally alone. Nobody ever comes to my home. Nobody. Because everybody was afraid of him.
And so all the people kept distances with him. And the more they kept distances, the more paranoid he became. So these are people that live in solitude. And they are surrounded by the ghosts of the people that they have killed and by the potential ghosts of those who maybe they are going to kill in the future. It's a very Shakespearean, very Macbethian scenery.
He kept devouring his friends and his colleagues because he was afraid, because he lived in his solitude and he just suffered from paranoia because that was his path. Despite Albania's enforced isolation, as the 1970s continue it becomes harder to resist Western influences. Fear of the outsider is deeply ingrained. The Sigurimi seek to monitor anyone seen talking to the few foreigners who were permitted to visit the country.
They punish those caught wearing Western clothes. And yet, it's impossible to keep people in the dark completely. Albanians can still grasp that life in their nation is very different to what those in other parts of the continent are experiencing. They've seen the high-quality soles on the Italian boots that wash up on their shores. Some, especially in the coastal areas, are able to pick up broadcasts from foreign nations.
And these tell a very different story to the official government line. In the 70s takes place the boom in television. People could see inside their houses, inside their homes, they could see from the screens a totally different landscape, a totally different life from what was theirs. That was a much better life from the one that the Albanians faced in everyday life.
The more the regime tried to jam the Western TV channels, the more people found ways to go around it and find a way to see those transmissions.
The Albanian government ultimately found it impossible to prevent people from listening to the Voice of America on the radio or watching television. And it had the same effect that it did in the Baltic states of the Soviet Union. It basically demonstrated to people that the outside world wasn't exactly what the regime was telling them. So people could see soap operas like, for example, The Beautiful and the Bold.
could see Santa Barbara and many other soap operas that actually were much more powerful than any other means of propaganda that the West could actually deliver to Eastern Europe. So the thing is that then the people experienced this dual life. Inside their homes, they saw this different life and they were sad. However, when they went out, somehow they then performed, performed a different type of behavior. They somehow expressed themselves that they were with the party. They were with the leader. They supported him.
Hodja can't fail to see the effect this exposure to Western influence is having on his people. In December 1972, the annual music festival, Festival i Kongos, is broadcast as usual on state television. What's unusual is that this time, some of the performers are dressed like Westerners and they're playing rock and roll. Hodja won't have it. The two main organizers are summoned to a meeting.
Both men are dismissed from the party and sentenced to 25 years in prison for treason. But the regime can't undo the impact. Those quiet rumblings behind closed doors have become just a little louder. By the end of the 1970s, the relationship between Albania and China has been damaged beyond repair. The ideological differences between Hoxha and Premier Deng Xiaoping have been deepening since the death of Mao Zedong in 1976.
Hodja sees China's economic reforms as a betrayal of socialist principles. His split with China is more of a silent shift than a grand gesture, but its impact is no less significant. Albania's isolation is complete. Already ostracized in Europe, he has relied heavily on Beijing for military and financial aid for the past decade. But that is no longer forthcoming. There will be no more outside assistance on this scale.
Most significant trade deals have dried up. The cupboards are practically bare. The campaign for ideological purity has seen virtually every conceivable enemy of the state removed, and every foreign ally ditched. And yet, Hodger still feels threatened. His state of mind is not aided by his failing health. He's been living with diabetes since the 1940s, but he now has heart disease too, and his eyesight is worsening.
But who is left that could conceivably undermine him? Spies. He is convinced there are still traitors at the very top of the party, those who pretend to be loyal while doing the bidding of foreign masters. What follows is a purge, targeting the highest levels in military and government. Accusations of espionage, sabotage, and ideological deviation are levelled at some of Hodge's closest comrades, at his generals, his captains,
The inevitable executions follow. And finally in 1981, the closest comrade of all comes under scrutiny. The second most powerful man in Albania, Prime Minister Memo Cehu. Cehu has been by Hodja's side from the early days. He was the man who led the military campaign to seize Tirana from the Germans four decades ago. He helped bring Hodja to power.
In 1954, while Hoxha retained the position of First Secretary and de facto control of the whole government, Che was named Prime Minister under him. In Albania, marriage to the right sort of person is extremely important. A wise match ensures that families with so-called "good" biographies remain spotless. On the other hand, an unwise match can be extremely dangerous.
In the late summer of 1981, Hodja is on holiday on the Adriatic coast, in the city of Durres. Here, news reaches him that his oldest comrade-in-arms has announced the engagement of his middle son. A wedding in Cheu's family should be a cause for celebration. But then, Hodja learns the name of the intended bride, Silva Turgu.
Her uncle is a political prisoner who fled Albania in the 1950s, and he hasn't stopped denouncing Hoxha since. What was Mehmet Shehu thinking, allowing this union to take place, and why did he not consult Hoxha before agreeing to it? A few months later, in December 1981, Mehmet Shehu dies in mysterious circumstances. Officially, he commits suicide.
Chehu, the regime announces, had been plotting against Hodja and collaborating with foreign powers. Facing exposure and arrest, he has taken his own life out of shame. But not everyone believes this story. He basically was driven to suicide. His family was sent to prison camps. His wife ended up dying of a heart attack. One of his sons threw himself against the electrified fence and essentially committed suicide as well.
So this was unfortunately the usual result of running afoul of Hoxha. Following Cheu's death, Hoxha returns to his history books, painstakingly erasing his former ally from records of every meeting, every interaction, every decision. As with previous traitorous comrades, photographs of the two men together are doctored to remove the former minister. Hoxha can't let history show that he ever trusted the man. Before his death,
Mehmet Sheyhu is seen as Hodja's most likely successor. Now a new candidate must be found. The dubious honor falls to Ramiz Aliyeh, one of the few leading party members the dictator still believes to be loyal. Though Hodja refers to him as his young comrade, Aliyeh is already 56 years old. A party member since the end of World War II, he built his reputation in a department of agitation and propaganda. He's been a full member of the Politburo since the early 60s.
But Hodges' sudden confidence in him thrusts Alia into a new precarious position. His ailing boss is still limping on. Hodges' final years are spent virtually in isolation in the Tirana block. Alia must hope he can stay in favour until the music stops. April 8th, 1985. We are at Enver Hodges' villa in the capital. The veteran dictator is now 76 years old. A loud, insistent buzzer propels the duty nurse to his feet.
and sends him sprinting up the short flight of stairs to the room where Hodja is sleeping. When he gets there, Hodja's wife, Nijmere, tells him that comrade Enver would like to go out into the garden. The nurse looks across at the leader, slumped in his armchair, his eyes scanning constantly. They're the only part of his body that gives any sign of life. Hodja has been bedbound for months, too weak to speak more than a few words at a time, and unable to walk.
This will be his first visit to the garden since January brought snow to Tirana. Sulu Gradezzi, Hodja's official photographer, is called to join them. Just as he has done since 1963, Gradezzi will record this important moment in the leader's life. Unlike many of Gradezzi's snaps, the one he takes today will not be lost. 41 years since he came to power, Hodja is still at the top of the party. In this image though, he is not the man he has painted himself to be.
Propped up in his wheelchair, his face is deathly pale. Wild straggles of hair poke out from beneath his black beret. Three days later, on April 11th, 1985, Enver Hodja dies. For a man who wrote over 7,000 pages about his own life, he offers no final words. And at the end, not one of his old comrades is by his side. The news, carefully scripted, is announced on state radio and television.
After praising Hodja's leadership, the regime calls for unity. But the people of Albania are dumbstruck. After his long reign, they don't know how to react. As with Stalin's passing 32 years earlier, the nation is plunged into a strange, half-real state of mourning.
Contrary to what he wrote in his 13 volumes of memoirs, the Albania that Hodja leaves behind is in a desperate state. More isolated than ever,
It is by some metrics the third poorest country in the world. There is a lot of work to do if the country is going to rebuild, but it won't happen under Rami's Alia. The new leader plans to continue with much of what Hodja has put in place. In fact, when Hodja's coffin is lowered into the grave, Alia declares that there should be no date of death on the red marble headstone. There is just one date for Enver Hodja, he says, his date of birth.
And that is how it will always be. There is no death for him. Enver Hoxha is immortal. From 1986 until the early 1990s, under Alia's rule, the country will continue to struggle. Some political prisoners are freed. Limited political pluralism is allowed. But Albania remains a single-party state. Even as the revolutions of 1989 are happening across Eastern Europe, Albania largely remains in its bubble.
In fact, many Albanians don't even know that the Berlin Wall has fallen until weeks or even months after the event. Ramez Alia knows though: "If it was not for the fall of the Berlin Wall, it's hard to think that Albania would have switched and would have gone west. Albania and Romania were the last countries where communism fell." Alia may have continued national policy as Hodzi had wanted, but one thing he never learned from Uncle Enver was the ability to unite dissenting voices within the party.
By 1990 the country is well and truly in crisis, racked by supply shortages and hyperinflation, buoyed by the movements in the rest of southern and eastern Europe. Calls for pluralism and democratic reform are growing. The exiled diaspora plays a key role here, building reformist programs overseas. Students in particular find their voice. Volatile protests and demonstrations spill onto the streets. A new political consciousness is taking shape.
paving the way for a new democratic party to emerge. By 1991, pressure to change from inside is as great as pressure from outside. Ramiz Aliyev has no choice but to officially declare an end to one-party rule. In March 1992, the country's first multi-party elections for half a century take place. The Democratic Party of Albania takes most of the votes. Its leader, Salih Berisha, becomes the new president.
Nearly 50 years of totalitarian rule are over. Today, three decades on, Albania has emerged from Hodja's shadow and has re-engaged with the world. But still, the country struggles to come to terms with its past. Without an extensive truth and reconciliation process, moving on is easier said than done.
Hoxha had an afterlife, and that afterlife actually did take place, and people realized that that was the case. After communism and Hoxha's regime fell, there was this euphoria after the fall of communism that Albania was going to be a normal country. Well, that was not the case.
People thought that actually the country would catch up with the remaining part of Europe, but that was an illusion because there were very deep underground currents, tectonic shifts, and very entrenched ideas that people were not even aware of their existence. Everyone participated. That's the problem.
Enver Hoxha was a dictator, but the world is full of people who make choices for their families. But Albania is a very different situation because of the tiny population and everybody knowing each other and everybody kind of knowing what they had to do themselves to survive. It's not so easy to just say it was one dictator who caused all these things to happen and now everything's okay. The level of brutality was certainly unique, I think, in Eastern Europe.
Based upon the population, the number of people who ultimately were killed and the number of people who were sent to labor camps, the number of people who were sent into internal exile was huge. This is one of its endearing legacies, unfortunately.
Binia did not really have a democratic legacy before. Then Hoxha's right just strengthened and brought to the extreme this idea of hate towards the different, towards the political other. And that you can see today, that is still very present. Real Dictators will be back soon with the story of Oliver Cromwell.