The crisis in relations between the two countries, sparked by boats crossing the English Channel with allegedly increasing numbers of Albanians, is reflected in the caliber of officials, military and political, visiting the British mission. Lt. Gen. Stuart Skeates, the Afghanistan veteran now leading efforts to curb crossings, flew in last week. This week the Home Secretary, Suella Braverman, is due for a visit that it is hoped will defuse the furor sparked by her description of Albanians as an “invasion” of the UK. On Thursday, as the row escalated and Albanian Prime Minister Edi Rama compared the British government’s rhetoric to “screams from a madhouse”, workers were repainting pot barriers outside the King-Smith embassy. But the real focus of the dispute that prompted London to send its delegations is not in Tirana, but almost 100 miles to the north-east, in the poverty-stricken highlands of Albania, where many still dream of reaching Dover in the dinghies Braverman is determined to stop. . Once a dumping ground for convicts and political prisoners during Albania’s communist era, it is on this harsh terrain, overlooking the so-called “cursed mountains” of the Albanian Alps, that those lucky enough to have a job eke out a living. average pay of just 270 euros per month. Era Koleci, 24, from the mountain town of Burrel: “Most of my cousins are in Britain.” Photo: The Observer In the town of Kukës, which took in thousands of Albanian refugees during the 1999 Kosovo war – almost all of whom arrived on foot with little more than the clothes on their backs – young men and women were reported to be taking intensive English language classes. first step in what will often be dangerous attempts to join friends and family in Britain. Social media platforms used by smugglers operating across the Channel have played up recent weeks of political unrest in the UK as the perfect time to risk the crossing. “Many of the Albanians who went initially [to the UK] they present themselves as Kosovar asylum seekers,” says Dr Ilir Gëdeshi, the country’s leading migration expert, explaining the region’s unusual ties to Britain. Gëdeshi, who directs the Center for Economic and Social Studies in Tirana, has spent the better part of three decades since post-communist Albania opened up to the outside world studying migration flows. Braverman’s portrayal of his countrymen as hardened criminals has clearly hurt. “This talk of invasion, of gangs, is very wrong,” he says. “If there was no economic crisis in Greece or Italy, a lot would still be going there. What is clear is that in the north it is poverty, the lack of any hope, that is behind this latest wave.” Almost all of the 12,000 Albanians estimated to have entered the UK this year are believed to be from the northern highlands. Most of them will not have been educated beyond primary school, according to Gëdeshi. The mayor of the northern town of Hass has vowed to erect a statue of Queen Elizabeth II in gratitude for what Britain has brought to his region in the form of remittances from workers. Northern Albania was left to its own devices even as Enver Hoxha, the Stalinist dictator who came to power in 1944, tried to transform the country. A southerner, Hoxha had little confidence in the tribal tribes of the north. So as the highlands emerged from nearly five decades of communist rule in the early 1990s, visitors were greeted by a squalid world of idle factories, bare-brick blocks of flats, bandits and vendettas. The town of Kukës in northern Albania. Photo: Shaun Walker/The Guardian The optimism brought about by the construction of an international airport in Kukës, an 8,000-seater football stadium and new roads failed to foster a sense of personal opportunity. “Most of my cousins are in Britain,” says 24-year-old Era Koleci, from the northern town of Burrel, in the trendy cultural center where she now works in the capital. “I personally don’t want to leave, but that’s how it works,” he says. “Get cousins. Three of my own cousins have gone in the last three months. They spent £3,000 each for the boat passage. My mom says they got there safely. If they can live a good life, why not?’ Kolecsi, who studied business administration, is one of the young Albanians who want to give back to their country. In the state-of-the-art offices of the National Youth Congress, where staff are moving up after Tirana was awarded this year’s European Youth Capital title, there is much more. “Over 1,000 youth delegations from all over Europe visited us this year and were amazed by our passion and all the work we do,” says 28-year-old Dafina Peci, the conference’s general secretary, lamenting the stereotypical image of Albanians in Britain. “Our vision for the future, but there is a big contradiction in our country and a big difference between urban and rural areas.” Peci is typical of a younger Albanian generation calling for improved governance. “I think our biggest problem is our unwillingness to talk honestly about the things that should concern us as a society,” he says. “It’s appalling to be portrayed as a nation that allows illegal immigration when we all know that leaving your comfort zone, your language, your family — all the memories you’ve ever known — involves a level of desperation.” Archie Bland and Nimo Omer take you to the top stories and what they mean, free every weekday morning Privacy Notice: Newsletters may contain information about charities, online advertising and content sponsored by external parties. For more information, see our Privacy Policy. We use Google reCaptcha to protect our website and Google’s Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply. In a country with a smaller population than Wales, it is said that every family in Albania now has a member abroad. Successive polls have shown that at least 60% want to leave. While poverty may be the driving force behind migration in the north, in Tirana it is education and a desire for lives free of cronyism and corruption that push people abroad. The rise in asylum applications from graduates determined to continue their studies abroad is of particular concern to Gëdeshi, who fears an unprecedented brain drain. “Everyone wants to leave,” says Arta Giorgi, who is 47, speaks three languages and has three degrees, but is currently tempted by doctors’ offices. “Corruption is like a cancer here. To get a job in the public sector you have to promise to bring 1,500 votes – and I’m not kidding, they have people counting them,” he says. “I have no friends in Tirana because everyone has left. In January I plan to move to America as well.” Dafina Peci: we all know that leaving your language, your family, means a level of desperation.” Photo: Helena Smith/The Observer In a country once as isolated as Albania, the advent of democracy has resulted in a seemingly vibrant embrace of capitalism. Large steel and concrete skyscrapers rise above Tirana’s Skanderbeg Square. SUVs and fast cars cruise down boulevards lined with bike lanes. a host of restaurants and cafes serving imported produce and fine wines have sprung up, and plans are underway to create a state-of-the-art museum and theater. But the virtuous circle that many expected from the advent of democracy seems to have escaped Albania. Skyscrapers and other symbols of capitalism are, many say, a symbol of the money laundering of the illegal profits of the drug trade. In a move that has sparked outrage at a time when property prices have risen by more than a third, the government has signaled that an amnesty could be granted for owners of major bank holdings in exchange for a one-off 10% tax. “While the rest of the world moves in seconds, we seem to move in hours,” says Enkelda Hakrama, a science student. “If I didn’t have a baby boy I would have left for sure.” Klajdis Rama, an IT major, agrees. “I’m 18 but I already know I want to be in the UK or the US,” she says. “Albania has no future. If you want to live well and want to be paid more, you don’t live here.” Experts attribute the exodus to a period of economic transition that took too long – exacerbated by dashed hopes of joining the EU, a move that would have eased foreign investment. And they fear that if it continues, an economy that is already among the poorest in Europe will get worse. “For some time now, businesses have been complaining that they can’t find employees. Now they say they can’t find buyers,” says Ornela Liperi, editor-in-chief of Monitor, the country’s leading economic magazine, who describes the tourism industry as the only bright spot. “Albanians see the skyscrapers and all the rest, and it makes them angry because they know that none of this is going to make their lives better.”
