Filip Çakuli has published an analysis marked by strong irony about the way protests are carried out in Albania, defending the right to protest while sharply criticizing verbal violence, banality and the habit of blocking the city in the name of political causes.
The right to protest, but not to hooliganism
In his text, Çakuli begins by clearly positioning himself in support of protest as a democratic instrument, even when participation is minimal. According to him, the problem begins when a protest slips into insults, swearing and behavior that has nothing to do with citizenship.
An episode involving a young girl who, according to the author, insults a woman in public is used as a starting point to raise concerns about the degradation of language and ethics in the protest space. At this point, the analysis is not concerned with the legitimacy of dissatisfaction, but with the way it is expressed.
The citizen pays the cost, the authorities continue their routine
One of the main targets of the analysis is the practice of blocking roads in Tirana. Çakuli presents this as a paradox of Albanian protest: anger is declared against the government, but the direct consequence falls on citizens stuck in traffic, on workers heading to their shifts and on parents moving with their children.
According to this satirical logic, the protest does not necessarily disturb those in power, who can continue their work as normal, while the city is thrown into gridlock. In the same vein, he also places the role of the police, described as a passive presence that manages the situation without resolving the clash between the right to assemble and the right to move freely.
From political argument to eggs, tomatoes and flour
The analysis also dwells on moments when political confrontation moves away from debate and shifts to symbolic acts involving food, such as eggs, tomatoes or flour thrown at MPs. Çakuli treats this as a sign of the impoverishment of public argument, where, according to him, the refrigerator takes the place of debate.
Through mocking comparisons, he describes a scene in which political representation is replaced by the spectacle of the crowd. In this part, the satire targets not only the protesters who use these forms, but also the overall level of political discourse that has normalized this behavior.
When a crowd is declared to be “all of Albania”
The core of the analysis lies in rejecting the claim that a protest, however large, can automatically speak in the name of the entire people. Çakuli mocks slogans that present a crowd as the unquestionable voice of every citizen in the country, pointing out that this bypasses the pluralism and real complexity of society.
At this point, he raises a direct criticism of the logic of the microphone as a political mandate. According to the analysis, someone may speak on their own behalf or on behalf of the group they represent, but cannot self-declare themselves the voice of all Albania. Beyond the irony, the message is clear: democracy is not measured in decibels, nor by blocking intersections.
In the end, Çakuli defends protest as a fundamental right, but rejects the idea that it can turn into a license to silence others, to occupy public space without limits and to speak in the name of a people who have not spoken with one voice.
The analysis comes as a criticism of the culture of spectacularized protest, where the loudest voice tries to present itself as the majority and where collateral damage to the ordinary citizen is treated as an unimportant detail.