By Albert Vataj
On May 21, 1973, deep in the mines of Spaç—where the weary souls and bloodied bodies of political prisoners faced daily forced labor, starvation, and systematic humiliation—one of the most dramatic acts of resistance against Albania’s communist regime erupted. This revolt was not a random act or a sudden outburst; it was the result of a collective experience of suffering, accumulated in the consciousness of those who had refused to submit—persecuted for their thoughts, for free speech, for rejecting the dictatorship.
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| Re-education Department No. 303 in Spaç, Mirdita |
Everything began when Pal Gjergj Zefi, sentenced to ten years in prison for agitation and propaganda, completed a month in isolation. Instead of descending obediently, he climbed to the rooftop, holding an iron rod in hand, and threatened any guard who approached. This solitary act of physical defiance against absolute power triggered a chain of solidarity among the other prisoners. For the first time, in an organized and public manner, they challenged the authority of the camp, the State Security, and the regime itself.
Symbols of Courage
In those fiery three days, from May 21 to 23, Spaç transformed from a prison of suffering into an arena of the Albanian spirit’s freedom. In the absence of guards and police—who had temporarily withdrawn—the prisoners raised the national flag without the communist red star. This deeply symbolic act directly challenged the myth of the totalitarian state. That improvised flag atop one of the dormitory rooftops represented a spirit that had not died, an ideal that could not be crushed: a free Albania, an Albania like the rest of Europe.
For the first time, witnesses say the cry “We want Albania to be like all of Europe” was voiced—a slogan that would become emblematic for generations after the fall of communism.
Suppression and Punishment
The authorities reacted swiftly. Military forces, reinforcements from Tirana, State Security, and an entire apparatus of violence were deployed to crush the revolt. Once control was reestablished, the retaliation began.
Dozens of prisoners were arrested; 66 were re-sentenced to many more years in prison, and four were sentenced to death and executed:
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Pal Gjergj Zefi, the instigator of the revolt,
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Skënder Daja,
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Hajro Pashaj,
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Dervish Bejko.
Their executions remain shrouded in mystery, and it is believed that their bodies were buried in a mass grave along the Tirana–Elbasan road—without names, without markers, but with an eternal name in the conscience of the Albanian people: martyrs of freedom.
Under the Gaze of the Dictatorship
In a secret report compiled by Commissioner Shahin Skura and Commander Haxhi Goro, the “serious and extraordinary event” is described with bureaucratic zeal and accusatory language. They attempt to downplay the political motives of the revolt and to blame a few isolated individuals. But what truly happened at Spaç was a reflection of a deeper revolt: the uprising of man against captivity, of thought against dogma, of hope against terror.
Memory and Meaning Today
The Spaç revolt is not just a dark chapter of communist repression but also a peak of moral resistance, a symbol of unbreakable human spirit. It stands as evidence that even under the most inhumane conditions, there comes a moment when a person says: enough! In that word begins the revolution of conscience, of freedom, and of dignity.
On this anniversary of the Spaç Revolt, we remember not only the four executed martyrs but all those who said no to dictatorship at the cost of their lives. Though the revolt was suppressed, it was never extinguished. It shines as a torch of remembrance, a vow that history can no longer ignore:
Albania will be like all of Europe—free, democratic, and dignified.