The gunfire rattled throughout the capital as Albania’s armed revolt swept northward from the ravaged south. Almost overnight, the national police force, army and most of the government collapsed, leaving only chaos. In Tirana alone last week, at least 21 people died and 300 were injured, mostly from stray bullets. After government soldiers abandoned three state armories on the outskirts of the capital, thousands of residents–some as young as 8–carted off automatic rifles, hand grenades and fistfuls of ammunition. In the streets, people fired randomly, testing their new weapons. Tonin Pellumbi was at home in the suburb of Laprake when a bullet struck just above his hip. Said Vladimir Goga, a neighbor: ““Everyone is afraid, and there is so much noise.''
Those who could leave left. Italy evacuated about 1,000 nationals, airlifting some from Tirana’s football stadium. At the German evacuation field, two Albanian police vans began firing, engaging German troops in their first exchange of fire on foreign soil since World War II. Even as Americans fled in droves, U.S. Ambassador Marisa Lino took pains to assure the Albanians that they were not being abandoned. ““The United States of America is not leaving Albania,’’ she said on TV. ““I and some of my team will remain.’’ Tiny Albania, the poorest nation in Europe, is not strategically important to Washington. But instability there could unleash a tide of refugees–and spill into the southern Serbian province of Kosovo, where the majority of the residents are ethnic Albanians.
Still, no outside country offered to intervene. NATO rejected outright calls for help. ““I don’t believe there’s an outside force anywhere in the world that could impose order on every [Albanian] village,’’ said U.S. State Department spokesman Nicholas Burns. European leaders were more painfully ambivalent; at a meeting of EU foreign ministers in the Netherlands on Saturday, they reported ““solid disagreement’’ over whether to send in an international force. France and Italy favored intervention, while Britain and Germany were staunchly opposed. ““You have to ask whether you can really intervene whenever anarchy erupts,’’ said German Foreign Minster Klaus Kinkel. The only thing the European ministers could agree upon was that reviled Albanian President Sali Berisha should quit.
That is what the civilian militias now tearing up the country want, too. Though their revolt began in January as a peaceful protest against collapsed investment schemes, it has since escalated into an all-out attack on their authoritarian leader. But the country has slid hard and fast into anarchy, and there is no guarantee that Berisha’s resignation would restore calm. According to some diplomats, it could actually make things worse. Albania has virtually no democratic institutions in place. The opposition is splintered and has been harassed by Berisha for years. Because Berisha has governed by micromanaging, his departure would leave a power vacuum. Albania’s revolt is aimless and diffuse. At times last week, the country became a rioting crowd, its citizens caught up in the melee without knowing–or caring–why.
For most, the main goal now is merely survival. Dogged by persistent gunfire, prison guards abandoned their posts last week, freeing not only political prisoners but also violent criminals. That spurred a mad hunt for weapons. ““The prison was opened, so who is safe now?’’ asked Artan Yderizi, a 20-year-old student who bought an automatic rifle from some children for less than $2. Many took advantage of the anarchy to loot clothing shops. On Kavaja Street, Tirana’s most affluent shopping area, stores removed their inventories and barricaded their doors. But the chief concern of most residents was finding enough food. Terrified residents looted Tirana’s flour depots and hauled away 100-pound bags. ““We have to take this to survive,’’ said Zenun Hoxha, a bedraggled 45-year-old. At the last remaining bakery, people waited in a long line to take home a few loaves of bread. Riza Lahi, a retired military pilot, carried home bags of feta, olives and frozen hamburgers. ““I just spent all the money I had in my pocket,’’ he said. ““I love my motherland, and I don’t want to leave. But I’m waiting to see what happens.''
Already, more than 1,000 Albanians– including former defense minister Safet Zhulali and President Berisha’s children–have fled to Italy. In the port city of Durres, thousands stormed a Greek frigate that had come to evacuate diplomats. The flood of refugees understandably makes Albania’s neighbors nervous; in 1991, more than 40,000 Albanians flooded Italy in the wake of communism’s collapse. The Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees pleaded with neighboring nations to have mercy. ““We are asking these governments not to send Albanians back because it is a crisis situation,’’ said spokeswoman Maki Shinohara. Envoys were sent to Greece and Italy to help set up refugee camps.
By Saturday, there were small signs of improvement in Tirana. People shopped. Uniformed police walked the streets. Newly appointed Justice Minister Spartak Njela announced that the government had set up special highly paid police units to disarm gunmen. Tanks rumbled through Tirana, their hatches occupied by men pointing their automatic weapons skyward. No one knew exactly who they were, but they appeared to be part of the force working to restore peace. Still, government appeals for people to turn in their weapons went largely unheeded; at one collection depot, a single 80-year-old man handed in an automatic rifle he had taken. With nearly half a million automatic weapons still out there, Albania has a long way to go.
