For 35 years Albania’s public life has been dominated by what now looks alarmingly like a two‑party cartel: the Socialist Party (PS) and the Democratic Party (PD). What passes for debate in the Assembly too often resembles stagecraft — grandstanding, photo ops and procedural theatre — while the real machinery of power quietly adjusts the rules to lock out fresh challengers. The recent approval of a special commission on electoral reform is the latest, most brazen example.
At the start of the plenary session that established the commission, 113 deputies voted in favor and only three voted against — Agron Shehaj of the Mundësia (Opportunity) party, Erald Kapri and Redi Muçi. That near‑unanimity between the old giants should have set off alarm bells: when the two dominant parties combine their votes, they are not negotiating a healthier democracy — they are protecting a duopoly.
Agron Shehaj, chairman of the Mundësia (Opportunity) party, spoke bluntly after the vote: “The Electoral Reform Commission has one aim — to kill new parties” (Shehaj, 2025). His warning underscores the real concern among new parties: the amendments, including cutting the number of deputies from 140 to 100, are designed to prevent newcomers from gaining influence.
“This parliament, which over 35 years has driven out nearly half the population, is now targeting new parties instead of addressing real issues,” Shehaj added during the plenary session.
Shehaj argued that this reform has nothing to do with delivering fairer elections, but rather with entrenching PS and PD. “The big parties are united, and they are determined not to change anything for the better in Albania. They want to make sure change never comes,” he said.
This consolidation occurs alongside ongoing anti-corruption efforts by SPAK, led by chief prosecutor Altin Dumani. Shehaj commented on the significance of these prosecutions: “In the last three years, Dumani has done more than justice has done in the last 35 years. But some in parliament are silent because they were given political orders to keep quiet, and others blame Dumani for everything. That does not honor this institution” (Shehaj, 2025).
Despite the prosecutions, the two dominant parties continue to block systemic reforms, leaving parliament largely symbolic. Shehaj warned: “If this electoral reform passes as designed, new parties will never have a chance. The status quo will remain, and the Albanian people will keep being fed illusions while the same corrupt networks maintain control” (Shehaj, 2025).
The challenge now is clear: electoral reform should expand representation, not restrict it. According to Shehaj, “The question for Albanian voters is whether they will accept a parliament that stages debate but ensures no real change, or demand a system where new voices can compete on equal footing” (Shehaj, 2025).
The signals are discouraging. By cutting deputies and centralizing influence, PS and PD demonstrate a willingness to preserve their duopoly rather than fostering a democratic renewal. Shehaj and Mundësia remain among the few voices calling for genuine reform — but the political architecture favors entrenched incumbents, not challengers.
Parallel to this political enclosure is the complicated, uneven fight against corruption. The special prosecution (SPAK) under Altin Dumani has been aggressive in recent years, producing arrests and investigations at levels not seen since the transition. Those prosecutions are important; they have exposed networks and held powerful figures to account in ways that previously seemed impossible. But that necessary law‑enforcement momentum has also been cynically reframed by defenders of the old parties as a scapegoat for political problems — a diversion from structural shifts the parties themselves refuse to make. International observers have noted both the professionalism of recent probes and the persistence of systemic risks in Albania’s democratic ecosystem.
The spectacle in the Assembly — indignant speeches, staged confrontations, and then predictable cross‑party voting — feeds a comfortable cycle for the oligopolists. They can claim to be “reforming” while ensuring that any reform that could actually open space for challengers is either neutered or delayed until it becomes politically irrelevant. That pattern preserves privileges: access to state resources, control over major media outlets, and the ability to marshal public institutions in ways that tilt competition.
If the goal is genuine democratic renewal, the yardstick should be clear: reforms that increase transparency, broaden representation, and lower — not raise — the barriers for new parties and independent voices. Anything else is cosmetic. Cutting the number of MPs or rearranging lists while keeping broadcasting, finance, and administrative advantages concentrated in the hands of the two big parties will not produce change. It will merely recalibrate the same monopoly of power under a fresher label.
For now, citizens should watch the details of the “reform”: how mandates are distributed, how many deputies are proposed, how lists are structured, and whether the reform package is paired with real measures to equalize media access and campaign finance. If the reform reads like a power‑preserving manual for incumbents, it should be opposed as what it plainly is: a deliberate chokehold on political renewal.