Albanian Files Sent to SPAK: Secret 100-Year Plan Accuses Edi Rama

 The political storm surrounding The Albanian Files intensified on Tuesday as civil society activists and citizens gathered outside Albania's Special Anti-Corruption Structure (SPAK) to formally submit the 800-page publication alongside a petition signed by protesters. For those behind the initiative, the lavish architectural volume is no longer simply a book—it is what they describe as documentary evidence of a decades-long vision for reshaping Albania that was allegedly conceived without the knowledge or participation of the Albanian people. The submission comes amid the 32nd consecutive day of protests in Tirana, where demonstrations that initially focused on development projects have evolved into broader accusations of centralized decision-making, lack of transparency, and abuse of public trust.

 The controversial 800-page book The Albanian Files, which compiles long-term architectural master plans for Albania. Protesters and political figures have recently submitted the publication to the Special Anti-Corruption Structure (SPAK), claiming it serves as documentary evidence of centralized, non-transparent territorial planning.

During the gathering, activist Edison Lika described The Albanian Files as the government's "weapon of the crime," arguing that the publication openly documents what protesters believe to be a hidden strategy for transforming Albania's territory over the next one hundred years. According to Lika, the very existence of such detailed plans—compiled long before they became known to the public—demonstrates that crucial decisions affecting land ownership, coastal development, public spaces, and urban expansion were discussed behind closed doors rather than through democratic consultation. Addressing supporters, he declared that the book would ultimately contribute to the criminal prosecution of Prime Minister Edi Rama.

 An internal page from The Albanian Files displaying the project sheet for the Chilean studio ELEMENTAL, led by architect Alejandro Aravena. This section has become a focal point for critics who argue the documented timelines reveal early, personalized agreements for territorial planning in Albania.

Published by the internationally recognized Lars Müller Publishers, The Albanian Files brings together the work of approximately sixty internationally renowned architecture studios invited to envision Albania's future. Across roughly 800 pages, the publication presents sketches, concepts, master plans, towers, coastal resorts, infrastructure projects, and urban transformations extending far beyond ordinary government planning cycles. While long-term strategic planning is common in many countries, critics argue that what distinguishes this case is the allegation that such an extensive territorial vision was developed privately between foreign architects and the Albanian government without any meaningful public debate or parliamentary scrutiny.

For protesters, the controversy extends well beyond architecture. Their central accusation is that the future of privately owned land, protected coastlines, villages, and cities was effectively mapped for generations without informing the very citizens who would ultimately live with those decisions. They argue that Albanians discovered these plans not through official consultation processes but only after the publication surfaced online and began circulating among demonstrators. The grievance is therefore framed less as opposition to architecture itself than to a governing style they describe as opaque and highly centralized.

 The text from The Albanian Files in Albanian files1.jpg where architect Alejandro Aravena recounts being directly contacted by Prime Minister Edi Rama to initiate projects in Tirana. Protesters point to this passage as evidence of centralized governance, contrasting it with the principles of broad stakeholder consultation outlined on the right side of the page.

The symbolism surrounding the book has become particularly powerful because many activists see it as offering an unusually candid glimpse into how major projects originate inside the Albanian government. Rather than relying on leaked documents or anonymous testimony, they point to statements published by internationally respected architects themselves.

Among the most discussed passages is the account of Chilean architect Alejandro Aravena of the Elemental studio. In the book, Aravena recounts that Prime Minister Edi Rama personally contacted him after obtaining his telephone number through fellow architect Benedetta Tagliabue. Within minutes of receiving permission to share his contact information, Aravena says Rama personally invited him to Tirana to discuss potential projects. The architect describes subsequently traveling to Albania several times as work progressed.

For critics, the anecdote has become emblematic of what they call an excessively personalized model of governance, where major development initiatives begin through direct communication from the country's political leader rather than through transparent institutional procedures. The account has fueled accusations that Albania's urban transformation depends less on publicly debated planning mechanisms than on relationships centered around the Prime Minister himself.

Ironically, another section of the same architect's reflections emphasizes principles that many protesters argue were absent from the Albanian process. Aravena explains that successful architecture should begin by listening, understanding local realities, identifying problems before proposing solutions, and coordinating with all stakeholders because individual projects alone cannot guarantee the common good. Protesters argue that these very principles appear inconsistent with allegations that ordinary citizens were never meaningfully consulted before visions affecting the country's future were assembled.

The accusations therefore extend beyond allegations of corruption into broader questions about democratic legitimacy. Critics ask whether any government—regardless of political affiliation—can legitimately shape the territorial future of an entire nation for a century without openly involving its citizens. If decisions concerning coastlines, neighborhoods, infrastructure corridors, and urban density have already been envisioned decades in advance, opponents argue that future generations risk inheriting choices they never had the opportunity to debate.

Some protesters have gone further, portraying the publication as evidence of an unprecedented concentration of executive power. Their criticism is that Albania's development increasingly resembles a model in which one political figure acts simultaneously as national planner, chief urban designer, and final authority over strategic projects. The irony frequently raised by demonstrators is that while democratic governments are elected for limited constitutional terms, the territorial blueprint described in The Albanian Files appears to stretch across an entire century—as though one administration could confidently design the lives of citizens not yet born. Critics argue that no elected leader, however visionary, should be able to plan a nation's physical future with such permanence while those most directly affected remain unaware that the plans even exist.

Prime Minister Edi Rama has firmly rejected the allegations. Speaking during an episode of his podcast Flasim on 28 June, he stated that The Albanian Files is not his book and stressed that he wrote only its foreword. According to Rama, the publication is an independent project conceived and curated by researcher Anneke Abhelakh rather than a government document. He said he was invited to contribute an introductory text in his capacity as Prime Minister and expressed pride in having done so, while denying that the volume represents an official state planning document.

Despite that response, activists insist the publication raises fundamental questions deserving legal scrutiny. They argue that whether the book itself constitutes formal government policy is less important than what it reveals about the relationship between political power, international architectural firms, and decisions affecting Albania's land and public assets.

Separately, journalist Erald Kapri of the political party Mundësia announced through his official Facebook page that The Albanian Files had been submitted to SPAK as part of accusations directed against Prime Minister Rama, adding another political dimension to a controversy that continues to intensify.

SPAK has not publicly indicated whether the material submitted by activists will lead to any formal investigation. Until prosecutors assess the documentation, the allegations remain claims advanced by protesters and political opponents, while the government continues to reject accusations of secret planning or unlawful conduct. Nevertheless, The Albanian Files has rapidly evolved from an architectural publication into one of Albania's most politically charged documents, fueling a national debate over transparency, democratic participation, and who ultimately has the right to decide the country's future.