Bojana Vuletić

Rama described the square as a “television studio for the algorithm.” Eight voices involved in the protest tell Faktoje how work is divided on the ground, where different approaches clash, and what may come after day 51. Author: Jona Cenameri The original article was published on Faktoje, you can read it here. Photo: Jona Cenameri “The square is simply a television studio for the algorithm. It is the place where material is filmed to feed the algorithm and justify it,” Prime Minister Edi Rama said on June 20 during a meeting of the Socialist Party Parliamentary Group. Rama argued that the algorithm rewards conflict, outrage and intimidation, while describing the protest in these terms: “A protest is no longer a protest. It is a stage, a marketplace, a marketplace of emotions, clicks, morality, and even careers.” On July 11, during a conversation with young people in Jalë, the prime minister added nuance to this position. “I did not say that the algorithm was the reason for the protest,” Rama said. He acknowledged that the protest had causes rooted in citizens’ everyday lives, but argued that the algorithm amplified noise, dissatisfaction, manipulated videos and fake news, which, according to him, “pour fuel on a fire that was not started by the algorithm, but by people.” Rama added that the algorithm was not the organiser of the protest and that a distinction had to be made between “where the protesters’ genuine motivation ends” and where manipulation by other actors begins. On July 19, protesters gathered in Tirana for the 50th consecutive day to demand Prime Minister Rama’s resignation. The nightly protest in the capital, which began as a reaction to violence and in defence of Zvërnec, has continued without interruption since May 31, 2026. What is happening? To understand what is happening beyond the content circulating on social media, Faktoje interviewed eight people involved in the protest in different ways. Their accounts do not represent the entire protest and do not claim to summarise the views of every participant. They are some voices among the many voices, groups and currents that coexist in the square. Nevertheless, they help shed light on the origins of the discontent, the way the protest is organised, the role of digital platforms and the debates over how it should continue. Zvërnec For environmental expert Olsi Nika, the events in Zvërnec were “the last straw,” though not necessarily the only event that could have triggered such a reaction. According to him, the spark could just as easily have come from the dragging of a woman in Rrjoll, the protest by mussel farmers in Butrint, or an issue such as the treatment of cancer patients, among others. “The glass has to fill before it overflows. This was the drop that made it overflow,” Nika says. He considers it significant that the spark this time was environmental, since interventions in the territory and protected areas had long generated dissatisfaction but had never before provoked such a broad reaction. For Nika, Zvërnec should not be seen only as the place where the episode that triggered the protest occurred. He describes it as “one of the most representative images” of the problems created during Albania’s transition. In his view, “Zvërnec brought together unresolved property disputes, the dominance of private interests, the role of private security and the lack of an immediate institutional response.” He sees the fence and the violence against the protester as “symbols of a relationship in which the citizen is confronted not by institutions, but by private interests operating on the ground.” Nika also criticises the way part of the media covered the event and the protest. According to him, the incident in Zvërnec initially did not receive the attention it deserved, while later coverage focused mainly on the microphone and the speakers outside the Prime Minister’s Office, leaving out other voices from the square. “Zvërnec is a mirror that showed how things are done in Albania,” he says. According to Nika, the protest quickly moved beyond its initial environmental cause. Photo: Jona Cenameri The leadership Those interviewed generally agree that the protest is not being directed by a single hand. “Is there one central organiser? No. Are there groups coordinating in order to contribute? Yes, and there are several of them,” says Migen Qiraxhiu, activist and co-founder of Civic Resistance. According to him, one of the reasons the protest has maintained participation is the belief among citizens that they are not being used to serve a single individual or political force. Within the protest, Qiraxhiu says, there are young people who take care of the children’s area, students who create installations and placards, the drum and flamingo group, people who manage the sound area, and young people who organise the march after the formal part of the protest outside the Prime Minister’s Office ends. “The protest has many voices, many groups and many forms of contribution, and that is precisely one of its greatest strengths,” Qiraxhiu says. Natasha Paja, a designer and member of the Trivet Art group, describes the organisation through the concrete division of tasks. “Someone makes sure the microphone runs smoothly, someone takes care of the children’s creative corner, someone handles the rhythm of resistance, someone else the chants. There are people who contribute to communication with the diaspora and a group that takes care of the evening march,” she says. According to Paja, the organisation is horizontal: people become involved wherever they are able to contribute, without a leader who has the legitimacy to make decisions on behalf of the entire protest. Entela Ndrevataj, a feminist activist and member of the Feminist Collective, a voluntary and autonomous community, also says the protest does not have a classical structure, but that this is precisely what has created space for different groups. “The square is a shared space and, as such, no group has imposed itself over another,” she says. For Ndrevataj, corruption is also “intertwined with an authoritarian and patriarchal way of exercising power, where decisions are made from above and public wealth is treated as private property.” The flamingos Sokol Çunga, an activist, historian and translator, participates as an individual rather than as part of an organisational structure. He describes the protest as sincere and articulated not only through the microphone, but also through placards and the flamingos. When it comes to the level of coordination, Çunga is more sceptical. “The only coordination I see is the time and place, and ‘who is going to transport the flamingos?’” he says. According to him, the crowd changes every day in form, size and composition and does not come to the square under direction or with a completely unified goal. For this reason, Çunga does not believe that the protest, as a single body, can draft detailed political or institutional plans. “The next steps remain simpler and more tangible: every day on the boulevard!” The organising group Unlike participants who see only dispersed coordination, Ilir Xhemalaj, activist and founder of the National Union of Telephone Operators, says that from the first day there has been a group of activists responsible for the smooth running of the formal part of the protest. According to him, the group is made up of environmental activists, trade unionists, oil workers and people from other fields. They take care of the sound system, the speakers and the organisation of the gathering outside the Prime Minister’s Office. “The sound system comes at a cost, which all of us activists have paid out of our own pockets,” Xhemalaj says. He explains that, apart from several intellectuals who were invited at the beginning, the other speakers wait their turn to take the microphone. “The only criterion for speakers is to wait your turn. One person comes off, another goes on, and everyone speaks about their own views and concerns,” he says. According to Xhemalaj, the group’s responsibility ends when the speeches finish. The march that follows and other actions may be organised by different people and are not automatically decisions made by the same group. For Xhemalaj, the importance of digital platforms has been undeniable. “It is precisely social media that has made it possible for this protest to function, develop and grow in size. Gen Z has managed to use social media very effectively to call on people to come out into the square,” he says. Photo: Jona Cenameri The algorithm Migen Qiraxhiu turns the prime minister’s argument about the algorithm in the opposite direction. According to him, Rama had no problem with the algorithm when digital communication kept attention focused on the government and on Rama himself. “The problem begins when the algorithm is no longer on his side. The algorithm does not create events by itself; it follows the interest, reaction and attention generated by a real event,” Qiraxhiu says. In his view, the protest “has taken not only the square and the public debate, but the algorithm as well.” Arnen Sula clarifies that the organisation he leads is not part of the protest’s organisational structure and that he participates as a citizen and activist. “Every protest is measured by the people who take part in it, not by algorithms,” Sula says. “Digital platforms can help with organisation and communication, but they cannot replace the physical presence of citizens.” According to him, when citizens continue to come to the square for weeks, it shows that there is a concern that cannot be reduced to a social media phenomenon. Olsi Nika interprets Rama’s focus on the algorithm as an attempt to avoid responsibility for the causes that produced the protest. “To deny that there is a protest when people are in the square, when the protest is being covered across the media and when there is an extraordinary outpouring of anger online as well, and to call all of this simply an algorithm, is a tactic belonging to a failed strategy,” he says. The microphone The very element that Xhemalaj presents as organisational work, the sound system and the speaking order, is viewed sceptically by Olsi Nika. Nika says that the people around the microphone represent only one part of the protest. “Both technically and physically, there is another protest where the microphone can no longer be heard,” he says. According to him, the cameras’ focus on the improvised podium creates the impression that the speakers represent the entire square, while leaving out participants standing farther away and their reasons for protesting. Nika also sees the microphone as carrying the risk of personal protagonism and the controlled release of revolt. “I consider the microphone to be the instrument that kills the protest and kills the revolt,” he says. For Xhemalaj, the sound system is necessary infrastructure for giving different groups and citizens a voice. For Nika, focusing on the microphone can create a hierarchy of visibility within a protest that presents itself as horizontal. Politics There are also activists and representatives in the square with political affiliations. Emiljando Kita, an activist with Together Movement (Lëvizja Bashkë), says he supports the demands articulated by protesters, from the repeal of the contested laws to the resignation of the prime minister. “When people take to the streets, coordination happens naturally because the objective is shared,” he says. The protest has also brought representatives and activists from other political forces into the square, including the Opportunity Party (Partia Mundësia), the Albania Becomes Movement Party (Partia "Lëvizja Shqipëria Bëhet") and the Democratic Party (Partia Demokratike), the latter mainly through its youth members. Migen Qiraxhiu argues that one reason the protest has not become fully identified with any single political force is that its messages have been critical of the two main political figures of Albania’s transition, Edi Rama and Sali Berisha. The “National Assembly” The clearest disagreement over the future of the protest concerns the idea of creating a “National Assembly” or citizens’ assembly. Ilir Xhemalaj says the initiative is not intended to speak on behalf of the protest or to establish parallel institutions. It is meant to serve as a space where citizens and intellectuals can offer ideas about how the protest should continue. Xhemalaj clarifies that the Assembly has not yet been created; only a few meetings of the working group for its formation have taken place. “We are preparing for a marathon, we are preparing for a long battle, and naturally we need everyone’s ideas,” he says. Other protesters view the initiative with reservations. Migen Qiraxhiu says he had joined a WhatsApp group where the idea was being presented, but left after reading the materials. He considers it legitimate to create new initiatives, including organisations or political parties, but opposes any claim to speak on behalf of the entire protest without a clear mandate. “Every initiative has the right to organise and propose ideas, but it must be clear that it represents only its founders and supporters, not automatically all protesters,” he says. Arnen Sula also believes that a National Assembly could create the perception that one group is assuming representation of a square that has no centralised structure. Natasha Paja calls the initiative “an old method for an old concept,” while Entela Ndrevataj says that, at this stage, the square should remain the main space and that one group should not place itself above the majority. For Sokol Çunga, the information circulated about the initiative was unclear and gave the impression of a chaotic process. He does not believe that such an assembly could confront the existing political forces and sees mass, peaceful protest as the main instrument. Olsi Nika is more critical. He regards such structures as parallel ones and argues that change should come through existing mechanisms: the vote, parliament, the justice system and the media. According to him, the energy of the square should exert pressure on these mechanisms to function, rather than replacing them with a structure that has no mandate from all protesters. Photo: Jona Cenameri What comes next After 51 days of protest, those interviewed do not present a single strategy. Their positions can broadly be divided between continuing pressure in the square, moving towards institutional action, and the need for more structured organisation. Sokol Çunga calls for a continued daily presence on the boulevard. Natasha Paja also sees the square as the priority, but says that work should continue in parallel on legal aspects, communication with European institutions and actions in other parts of the country. Entela Ndrevataj believes it is still too early to create a movement with a leadership and formal representation. She proposes closer cooperation among legal, media and environmental experts while preserving transparency and the horizontal character of the protest. Arnen Sula places emphasis on sustainability and on linking public pressure with justice institutions. “The protest cannot replace justice, but it can support it by demanding accountability and by not allowing issues to be forgotten,” he says, mentioning SPAK and other responsible bodies. Migen Qiraxhiu proposes legal initiatives, institutional requests, monitoring, documented reports of wrongdoing and stronger mechanisms of civic oversight. “The wounds of 36 years of transition cannot be healed in 43 days,” he says. For Qiraxhiu, one of the most important outcomes of the protest could be a change in the relationship between citizens and those in power: from citizens asking politicians for photographs to citizens filming them and demanding accountability. Ilir Xhemalaj calls for broader organisation, stronger links with regions outside Tirana and with the diaspora, and preparation for continuing through the summer. “The protest will continue without stopping until September,” he said during the interview, describing the summer as the main challenge to maintaining participation. Emiljando Kita sees the way forward as a combination of pressure in the square, political action and legal complaints. Olsi Nika offers the most critical assessment of the stage the movement has reached. According to him, the protest clearly knows what it does not want, the government and the current way in which power is exercised, but has not yet managed to articulate with equal clarity the political and institutional model it wants to build. “The protest is dead; long live the protest,” Nika says. He calls for lawyers, economists, journalists, analysts and experts to reorganise so that the energy of the protest can be transformed into argument, institutional pressure and concrete action. According to him, the protest could enter a phase in which it is “smaller in numbers, but much stronger in argument,” a process he believes could take shape in September. Social media Social media has played an important role in the mobilisation, growth and visibility of the protest. None of the voices interviewed denies this. But behind the online content there is also real organisation, even if it remains dispersed and without a single centre of leadership.

After the adoption of Law No. 21/2024, Rama said the amendments were “100% aligned with the European Union.” Today, his position has changed. Author: Jona Cenameri This article was originally posted on Faktoje, you can read it here. Photo: Jona Cenameri The Law on Protected Areas, which Prime Minister Edi Rama has defended for more than two years as an instrument for balancing nature conservation with economic development, will now be revised to bring it into line with European Union standards. The announcement was made on July 14 in Brussels, during the ninth Albania-EU Intergovernmental Conference, at a time when the repeal of the 2024 amendments had already been included among the five formalised demands of the protest that began on May 31. European Commissioner for Enlargement Marta Kos said that, before the protests began, the European Commission and the Albanian government had agreed that the 2024 amendments to the Law on Protected Areas would be repealed during 2026, along with the Law on Strategic Investments. According to Kos, the changes are necessary for the closure of negotiations on Chapter 27, which covers the environment and climate change. Rama intervened to draw a distinction between repealing the Law on Strategic Investments and revising the Law on Protected Areas. Regarding the latter, he insisted that there was “nothing to repeal,” describing it as one of the government’s best laws. At the same time, however, the prime minister acknowledged that anything within the law that does not comply with European standards would be changed, and that the law would be adjusted until it reached “100%” compliance with those standards. This wording contrasts with the statements made by Rama and then Minister of Tourism and Environment Mirela Kumbaro when the legal amendments were proposed and adopted. “We do not accept moral lectures” Rama’s defence of the amendments was already evident in December 2023, when the initiative was still under discussion. During an event dedicated to the Vjosa National Park in December 2023, Rama explained that the revision of the legal framework had been driven by requests from municipalities and by pressure for economic development. According to him, a “harmonious balance” had to be found between nature conservation and development. The prime minister also said that Albania needed luxury tourism, saying that such investments would generate higher revenues that would also benefit ordinary citizens. Faced with criticism from environmental experts, Rama said the government would not accept “moral lectures” on how it should treat nature. He repeated this position in March 2024, just weeks after the amendments had been adopted. Rama said that, considering what the government had done over the previous 10 years for nature and cultural heritage, no one was in a position to lecture it. He presented high-end tourism as a way to increase revenues without relying solely on a higher number of tourists, arguing that success depended on achieving a balance between protection and development. The law was “100% aligned with the EU” The amendments were adopted by Parliament on February 22, 2024, through Law No. 21/2024. Following a reaction from the Delegation of the European Union, which said it would closely monitor the implementation of the new provisions, Rama stated that the government was “100% aligned with the European Union.” According to him, the amendments strengthened the path towards sustainable development and would help Albania become a high-end tourism destination while simultaneously protecting biodiversity. Then Minister Mirela Kumbaro also defended the law. She said the amendments did not harm the environment and did not violate EU directives. According to her, there were “red lines” that would not be crossed, while any interventions allowed under the law would be ecological, environmentally friendly and controlled through strict rules. The official position in 2024 was, in essence, that the amendments did not weaken territorial protection and were in line with European obligations. Photo: Jona Cenameri The protest and the defence of the law The protest that began on May 31, 2026 brought the law back to the centre of public debate. Alongside opposition to the tourism project in the Pishë Poro-Nartë area, one of the first demands was the repeal of the amendments adopted in 2024. In his first reaction following the protest, Rama gave no indication that the government intended to step back from the law. On June 1, he said the government had not removed any territory from protected areas and that the protection categories had been brought into line with the highest international standards. According to him, Pishë Poro was a Category V protected landscape, where nature protection did not exclude development. His position became even firmer on June 9, during a meeting with journalists and media representatives from EU countries. Rama said that no one could lecture the government on the environment and described as a “lie” the claim that the law had been amended in order to pave the way for the project linked to Jared Kushner. According to him, the 2024 amendments were intended to clearly define the activities permitted within the different categories of protected areas. The prime minister insisted that, under European standards as well, a protected landscape is an area where construction may be permitted. He said the aim was for the project to serve as proof that nature and development could coexist. Rama did not present the law as an act that needed correction in order to comply with EU standards. On the contrary, he argued that both the amendments and the classification of the area were based on European standards, while dismissing as a “lie” the claim that the law had been changed specifically for the project. The Revision The first change in the language used by Rama appeared on June 18, following the adoption of a resolution by the European Parliament. Rama rejected the claim that the resolution represented the protest’s first victory. He said protesters had already had their “victory in their pocket” before the demonstrations began, because environmental protection was already a government priority. At the same time, however, he acknowledged that the amendments to the Law on Protected Areas were part of the EU negotiation agenda and that, during the analytical process with the European Commission, any provision that did not comply with European criteria and standards would be identified. The July 14 statement took this acknowledgement further. Rama publicly said that the law would be adjusted until it achieved full compliance with European standards. “As for the Law on Protected Areas, we have nothing to repeal, even though there has been a resolution in the European Parliament calling for this. In fact, we will revise this law on the basis of all European standards and we will change anything within it that is not in line with European standards…” Rama said. Rama continues to defend the law as one of the government’s best and rejects the term “repeal.” However, his acknowledgement that the law may contain provisions that are not compliant with EU standards marks a shift from the unequivocal defence he offered in 2024 and during the first days of the protest. The case of the Law on Strategic Investments is different. As early as February 2026, before the protest began, it had been announced that the current law would expire on December 31, 2026, and that the government was preparing a new legal framework.

In its sixth week, the protest against the project in Pishë Poro-Nartë has entered a more fatigued, but also more hard-edged phase: participation fluctuates, political demands are becoming more visible, the issue has returned to the European Parliament, while tensions with the police and disagreements over how the movement should continue have made the protest more fragile, but it is still there. Author: Jona Cenameri This article was originally posted on Faktoje, you can read it here. Photo: Jona Cenameri In the sixth week of the protest, two young people who have been there since the first days happen to catch each other’s eye and smile. Without saying much, like people who know they are tired, but also know they have not given up. Because after 38 days, the protest against plans for a tourist resort in the protected Pishë Poro-Nartë area is no longer measured only by the number of people in the square. It is also measured by those who arrive late after work, those who stay for only a few minutes, those who ask each other, “Were you here yesterday?”, and those who have left the country but continue to support the protest through social media. When the protest began on May 31, no one could have predicted that July, instead of finding Albanians on the beaches, would still find them in the square. But by its sixth week, what began as a rebellion against a project in Zvërnec that had yet to receive final approval had evolved into a broader revolt against the way public decisions are made, the way common property is treated, the way the state treats its citizens, and the way those in power respond when challenged. “It has changed a lot,” says a middle-aged man, summing up the protest in one sentence: “From resistance to a single project, it has become a determined protest against a distorted model of governance.” At first, it was Zvërnec. It was the images of the fence and the bulldozers, the confrontations with residents and activists, and the sight of a Zvërnec resident being dragged away by private security personnel in front of the State Police. It was the debate over the protected area, the legal amendments, the lack of transparency and the fear that one of the country’s most important ecosystems was being opened up to intensive construction. Then the revolt moved to Tirana. Tirana It began on May 31, while on June 1, International Children’s Day, the crowd initially appeared uncertain, mixed together with another protest taking place in Skanderbeg Square. Gradually, through chants and announcements over a megaphone, the direction became clear: those protesting for Narta were to head towards the Ministry of Environment. They were protesting against what they saw as a “project advancing without transparency and at the expense of public assets.” There was no single leader, no podium controlling the crowd and no single message. People had come out because of Zvërnec, but they were also talking about corruption, emigration, pensions, healthcare, the lack of prospects for the future, the media, the police, the government and the opposition. The chant that closed the first night was simple: “More of us tomorrow!” During the first days, the protest took on the face of Gen Z. Instead of traditional political placards, the square filled with memes, anime references, television catchphrases, Spotify screenshots, AI-generated illustrations and flamingos that quickly became a symbol of the movement. TikTok, Instagram and the protest seemed to have merged into one. A video became a story, a placard became a meme, one friend invited another, and a repost brought dozens of new young people into the square. In those days, the protest had humour and rhythm. Its chants were harsh, but its form was light. There was anger, but also playfulness. There was patriotism, but also irony. There were flags, drums, songs, placards and endless photographs taken on young people’s phones. “The protest was magnificent during the first three days,” says a 20-year-old student from Tirana. But according to him, something changed when the protest began to take on a more structured form. “The moment they installed the sound system, it turned into a party rally. And let’s not even get into the level of some of the people who go up there and speak. Get rid of the sound system. Give the protest back to the people, not to a hierarchy,” he says, asking not to be identified by name. The debate This is one of the debates that has continued within the protest itself. Should it remain a protest that leads itself? Or should it have a structure, clearly articulated demands, speakers and representation? In the first days, the absence of a leader was one of its strengths. By the sixth week, that same absence has also become a dilemma. Photo: Jona Cenameri The demands From its earliest days, the protest had five articulated demands. Protesters called for the resignation of the government; the repeal of the status and legal framework related to strategic investors; the cancellation of the so-called “Mountain Package”; the repeal of the amendments to the Law on Protected Areas; and the repeal of amendments to the Cultural Heritage Law, which they argue put the country’s natural and historical heritage at risk. Initially, the demands were linked to the environmental cause, cultural heritage and a development model that protesters viewed as being geared towards private interests. But as the days passed, they expanded. The platform On the 23rd day of the protest, the organising group presented broader political demands. These included the resignation of the prime minister and the government, the establishment of a non-partisan transitional technical government with a 12-month mandate, constitutional and electoral changes, the retention of the original demands concerning the contested laws, and the drafting of a new social contract between citizens and the state. It was the moment when the protest attempted to translate itself into a more comprehensive political platform. A few days later, a group of 13 signatories issued an ultimatum in the name of the “coordinating group.” The question mark But in the square, this did not resolve the question of representation. For many protesters, the ultimatum exists more on social media and in media reports than in the everyday reality of the protest. Ask people in the square and not everyone knows it exists. Not everyone knows what it contains. Not everyone knows who signed it. And not everyone feels represented by it. In the square, each person still seems to arrive carrying their own concern. A resident talks about Zvërnec and about the fear that one day they may no longer recognise their own home. An activist talks about the Law on Protected Areas and about laws being changed without citizens being heard. A young person demands Rama’s resignation because he no longer feels represented. A citizen standing opposite the police talks about a state that is supposed to protect him, but which many protesters experience instead as a wall. Someone else criticises the media because they feel that what happens in the square is not reported the way it looks from inside the protest. A young woman talks about her sister not receiving the healthcare she needs and about the exhaustion of an entire family. A parent talks about education, about children and about the question of what kind of country is being left to them. A pensioner talks about financial hardship and growing old without dignity. So although the protest now has written demands, a political platform, an ultimatum and a group of signatories, it has not yet transformed into a single political body. The organisers speak in the name of the protest. But the square continues to speak in many voices. The demand that has not changed In the evenings, however, the demand heard most loudly remains the resignation of Prime Minister Edi Rama. It is repeated through the sound system, by the crowd, on placards and by the groups that march every night outside the Prime Minister’s Office. Zvërnec was the spark. But it is no longer the only reason people are taking to the streets. One young woman, an emigrant living in the European Union, says she has to leave again in the third week of July. But since the protest began, she has put her other commitments aside and remained in the square indefinitely. She says she will come back again. Another young man, a content creator living in London, continues to support the protest on Instagram after having to leave Albania. A man in his thirties from Tirana jokingly called himself a “deserter” because he had gone away on holiday for a few days. Others come every other day. Some cannot make it at the beginning and join later. Some stay for only a few minutes. The diaspora Participation peaked over the weekend of June 20 and 21. During those days, the square was fuller, the energy stronger and international attention more visible. People from the Albanian diaspora, as well as from Kosovo and North Macedonia, were there to join the protest. Photo: Jona Cenameri The European Parliament Members of the European Parliament visited Albania, spoke at the protest, met citizens and also held meetings with the Minister of Environment. In June, the European Parliament adopted a resolution on Albania calling for an immediate moratorium in the Vjosa-Narta area and a review of the legal amendments concerning protected areas, while expressing concern over developments in the area. On July 1, the “Flamingo Revolution” returned once again to the European Parliament, this time through a discussion organised by MEP Pasquale Tridico of The Left group, titled “Democracy, Rule of Law and Civic Participation in Albania.” Members of the European Parliament, representatives of left-wing parties from several European countries and participants from Albania attended the meeting. The issue of Vjosa-Narta was discussed in connection with democratic standards, the rule of law, civic participation, emigration and Albania’s relationship with the European integration process. For several days, it seemed as though Pishë Poro-Narta had become a public test of Albania’s relationship with the environment, democracy, the European Union and private interests. The fluctuations But after the peak, participation began to fluctuate. It was the end of June. Then came July. The heat, beach season, holidays planned long in advance and accumulated exhaustion all began to take their toll. The protest has now lasted more than a month and entered its second. It no longer has the same momentum every evening that it had at the beginning. There are fewer humorous placards. There are fewer people who come simply out of curiosity. “There is more violence now,” says a young professional in her twenties when asked how the protest has changed. And July changed the tone. Clashes outside parliament On July 2, the second protest near Parliament was marked by violence. Afterwards, participation increased again, this time driven not by enthusiasm, but by anger. For several days, protesters marched towards Police Station No. 3, where detained protesters were being held. In the square, chants directed at the police became harsher. The relationship between citizens and the State Police, already strained since the beginning of the protest, appeared to have broken down. A video went viral on social media showing a woman standing face to face with a police officer positioned near the Prime Minister’s Office. She was holding a placard that read: “I am disappointed in you.” Representatives of the governing majority used the violence of July 2 as evidence that the supposedly “peaceful” protest had finally shown its true face. Protesters, on the other hand, saw this as an attempt to delegitimise the entire movement through a single incident. Prime Minister Edi Rama, who at the beginning had extended an invitation for a public meeting with a group of protesters, later defended the project and has frequently attacked the protest, public figures who support it and individual participants associated with it. The Zvërnec protest is not only a confrontation with many of the country’s problems. It has also become a moment in which everyone’s public stance is being measured. Photo: Jona Cenameri Who spoke? Who remained silent? Who took a position? Who stepped back? And who will be remembered for it? On July 4, the prime minister’s birthday, the protest once again took on a satirical form. Cakes carrying different symbolic messages were brought into the square. Songs were sung. The daily demand for Rama’s resignation was repeated once again. A symbolic political coffin for Rama also appeared in the square, an image that was strongly criticised by representatives of the governing majority. The contradictions By the sixth week, however, the contradictions have become more visible. The protesters oppose violence, yet some of them are increasingly saying quietly that chants alone may no longer be enough. Among groups of young people, questions can now be heard that were not voiced so openly at the beginning. Are the repeated chants “Rama, resign,” “Your time is up,” and “Rama in prison, Berisha in prison” simply lulling the protest into passivity? Should the tactics change? Is the government simply waiting for summer, the holidays and exhaustion to take their toll? Will everything eventually fade away without producing any result? Placards have also invoked the memory of January 21, the Socialist Party protest held when it was in opposition, the clashes, the burning cars, Tirana in flames and the four citizens who were killed. For some protesters, that memory raises the central question facing the movement: How is change achieved in a country where those in power do not step down simply because people demand it? By its sixth week, the protest is no longer the same crowd that once enthusiastically chanted: “More of us tomorrow!” It is something more tired now. But it is still there.

The protests against the project in Zvërnec did not remain solely an Albanian domestic story. Across the Western Balkans, they became linked to a range of narratives: alleged regional coordination, foreign funding, geopolitical theories, supposed support for Albin Kurti, and false videos that had not been filmed in Albania. Author: Jona Cenameri The original article is published here. Photo: Jona Cenameri What connects the student protests in Serbia with the protests against the project in Zvërnec? According to the Serbian tabloid Informer, “an important role was also played by Faktoje journalist Jona Cenameri.” But how? At the end of June, the Serbian outlet published an article claiming that Cenameri’s participation, as the only Albanian journalist present, at the Novi Pazar Youth Summit, her reporting on the protests in Tirana, and posts on her private social media accounts were evidence that she had played a role in connecting Albanian protesters from the “Flamingo Revolution” with the so-called “blockaders” in Serbia, a term used by the Serbian government and pro-government media to describe students who organise blockades as part of anti-government protests over the past two years. The narrative also mentioned articles that Cenameri had written about the “Flamingo Revolution” for Faktoje, where she works as a journalist, as well as her social media reporting on the issue. However, the claims were not accompanied by evidence. The SafeJournalists Network responded to the case, explaining that the summit was a regional event organised by the Youth Initiative for Human Rights Serbia, focused on democracy, human rights, media freedom and regional cooperation. According to the network, Informer had constructed an unfounded narrative by speculatively linking the journalist’s participation in the event, her professional reporting and her public posts. Cenameri rejected the allegations, clarifying that she had attended the summit as a journalist and invited speaker, not as a protest organiser or representative of any political movement. The articles published by Faktoje about the protests are part of her regular journalistic work at the organisation and are intended to provide impartial, fact-based reporting on political and social developments in Albania. Reporting on the protests in Tirana represents only one part of her coverage of current affairs in Albania and, above all, does not imply involvement with or support for any of the parties concerned. Accordingly, Faktoje clearly distances itself from any insinuation, speculation or unfounded claim seeking to link journalistic reporting carried out by its staff on behalf of the organisation with the organisation, support or coordination of political activities or protests, either inside or outside Albania. The reporting The Informer case was not the only one. Monitoring of media coverage and social media posts across the Western Balkans shows that the protest that began in Zvërnec was interpreted in different ways once the story crossed Albania’s borders. In some countries, it was portrayed as part of a coordinated regional protest network. Elsewhere, it was used to fuel geopolitical narratives or domestic political debates. In several cases, it was also accompanied by claims and videos that were later verified as false by independent fact-checking organisations. The “blockaders’ recipe” and the international funding network In Serbia, Informer and Alo portrayed the Albanian protest as part of the same model as the Serbian student protests. Their articles used the phrase “blokaderski recept”, the “blockaders’ recipe”, claiming that the protests in Tirana were being organised by the same infrastructure that, according to them, had organised the protests in Serbia. Another recurring narrative concerned foreign funding. Long-term funding received by Albanian environmental organisations such as PPNEA and EcoAlbania from EU programmes, the World Bank, the Critical Ecosystem Partnership Fund (CEPF), and other international donors was presented as evidence of a coordinated political operation, without providing evidence that those funds had been used to organise the protests. The protest in Albania was also used to revive debate over Jared Kushner’s project in Belgrade. The articles argued that Albanian protesters were following the same model that, according to them, had led to the failure of the Trump Tower project in Serbia, effectively turning the Albanian protest into an argument within Serbia’s own domestic political debate. This narrative was taken further by Informer’s editor-in-chief, Dragan J. Vučićević. He claimed that “some people from Serbia are also involved in the organisation, preparation and conduct of the violent demonstrations in Albania,” adding that “their bosses move them around as needed.” No evidence was presented for this claim either. From regional comparisons to geopolitical theories In North Macedonia, the Albanian protest circulated mainly through social media posts, where it was used as a point of comparison in domestic civic and environmental debates. One post asked why Albanians had been protesting for days against the transfer of an island to the Trump family, while Macedonians were not reacting over Lake Treska near Skopje, which, according to the author of the post, was being handed over to businessman Samir Mane. Along similar lines, another post called on citizens of North Macedonia to protest “like in Albania” against corruption and crime. In other posts, the Albanian protest was presented as an example of civic mobilisation. One stated that “Albania is on fire” and praised Albanians for taking to the streets against the project linked to Jared Kushner and Ivanka Trump. The post claimed that protesters had “burned the prime minister’s house.” Photo: Jona Cenameri In fact, the footage accompanying the claim was unrelated to the recent protests over Zvërnec. It showed Molotov cocktail attacks during earlier Democratic Party protests outside the Prime Minister’s Office. Alongside such comparisons, more speculative narratives also circulated. One media portal framed Jared Kushner’s investment as a choice between an “economic boom” for Albanian tourism and a “strategic geopolitical operation” aimed at securing military and energy control over the Adriatic. The article claimed that Sazan Island, because of its position near the Strait of Otranto, could serve as a strategic point for controlling maritime, commercial and energy traffic towards Central Europe. Another post linked the project to Gaza, sarcastically suggesting that, after being unable to build a luxury resort there, the Trump family had found its way to Sazan Island in Albania. Meanwhile, an analysis written in conspiratorial terms linked the project to Jared Kushner, the Trump family, George Soros, the “deep state,” Israel and “powerful families” across the Atlantic, claiming that major international deals and hidden interests lay behind the controversy over Sazan. None of these claims was accompanied by evidence of a geopolitical operation, military control or an international conspiracy behind the protests in Albania. “We want Albin Kurti” In Kosovo, the narrative took a different direction. Although media attention was primarily focused on the electoral process, several online profiles and portals shared videos from the Tirana protest with captions such as: We want Albin Kurti,’ protesters in Tirana chant” or: “Albania is calling for him: We want Albin Kurti.” In fact, the protesters were not chanting the name of Kosovo’s prime minister on duty. The chant heard in the video was: “Your end has come!” It was directed at Albania’s political class. Because of the similarity in sound, however, the chant was presented in these posts as an expression of support for Albin Kurti. The claim was not reported by professional media outlets in Albania or Kosovo, but circulated mainly through unofficial pages and social media accounts. Video from Spain presented as Albania’s “flamingo revolution” In Montenegro, the main piece of disinformation circulating online involved a video that was claimed to show crowds taking part in Albania’s “Flamingo Revolution.” Social media posts presented the footage as showing thousands of Albanian citizens protesting against the tourism project linked to Jared Kushner. Some captions also included the slogan: “Israel, get out! Our land is not for sale!” This framed the protest within narratives opposing foreign investment and claims that Albanian land was being sold off. In fact, the video was not filmed in Albania. Photo: Jona Cenameri Raskrinkavanje.me verified that the footage showed supporters of the Spanish football club Deportivo de La Coruña celebrating the team’s return to La Liga. Protests in Albania illustrated with footage from Spain and Poland In Croatia, another piece of false content circulated under the caption: “Albania, protest against Trump’s investment.” The video shared on Facebook consisted of two separate clips: one showing a crowd near a beach and another showing a large gathering in a city square. According to the accompanying description, the footage showed protests in Albania against the investment linked to Trump and Kushner. However, verification by Faktograf.hr found that neither clip had been filmed in Albania. The first was recorded in Galicia, Spain, during celebrations by Deportivo de La Coruña supporters, while the second was filmed in Kraków, Poland, during a gathering of Wisła Kraków supporters. One protest, multiple narratives From Serbia to North Macedonia, Kosovo, Montenegro and Croatia, the protests against the project in Zvërnec were accompanied by a range of claims: allegations of regional coordination and foreign funding, geopolitical theories, calls for civic mobilisation, misinterpretations of chants from the crowd, and the use of videos that had not been filmed in Albania. Once the story left Albania, it was reshaped across the region according to the domestic issues and political debates of each country.

Author: Silvia Fabijanić Conflicts or rebellion against authority do not necessarily have to be violent. Nonviolent resistance does not seek victory over the enemy but the overcoming of injustice, thus a real solution and thereby the liberation of both those affected by the injustice and the opponents."1 It is about shaping actions that seek to stop wrong and harmful policies as they are being implemented, not an abstract idea that peace is "built" by the very act of resistance. Nonviolent movements throughout history have opened up space for reflection and the reshaping of social structures, often questioning relations between power, material inequalities, and dominant social norms.  During the 1990s in Serbia, public space was dominated by fear, war propaganda, and the onset of armed conflicts. While much of society passively observed the events of the war, the organization Women in Black appeared on the streets of Belgrade. Their activism was based on the clear conviction that war is wrong and must be publicly and consistently opposed while it is happening. Women in Black had no institutional power or weapons, but they possessed a strong political stance and a visible, symbolically powerful presence in public spaces, which makes their activism particularly significant. This paper focuses on the work of Women in Black during the 1990s because of the specific historical and political context, marked by war, nationalism, and strong repression. Although armed conflicts did not take place on the territory of Serbia, the state was directly involved in the wars in the territory of the former Yugoslavia. A socio-political framework characterized by propaganda, militarization, and political control was established. Under such circumstances, nonviolent resistance takes on a special gravity and risk. Photograph from the Women in Black archive, documenting the “Stop the Genocide in Gaza” protest held in Belgrade in May 2026 Years later, during 2013 and 2014, in Ukraine, under conditions of peace and without armed conflict, the pro-democracy protest movement Euromaidan emerged. The protest movement began as a response by the people to the decision by the then-President of Ukraine not to sign an agreement with the European Union and to turn the country's policy toward Russia. The movement started as a peaceful protest but later escalated into a violent conflict. This paper focuses on the role of women during the nonviolent period of Euromaidan. During Euromaidan, women stepped out of socially imposed traditional roles and actively participated in political and social changes. Although the historical, political, and social contexts of the Women in Black and the women during Euromaidan differ, they are comparable in the way women enter the political sphere nonviolently through public activism during times of profound political and social change. Neither the Women in Black nor the women during the (nonviolent) part of Euromaidan were overshadowed by men; rather, they sought to be equal to men.  We live in patriarchal social structures that systematically diminish or ignore women's overall contributions. Does women's activism in nonviolent movements serve as a corrective to social invisibility, rather than as an affirmation of difference? Based on this thesis, the paper focuses on the actions of Women in Black during the 1990s and on the participation of women in the nonviolent part of the Euromaidan protests. Although they operate in different historical and political contexts, this paper aims to present their nonviolent resistance, the motives that drive them to enter the public sphere, the risks they face, their level of visibility, and the contribution they have made to society through their nonviolent actions.  This paper is based on a qualitative analysis of secondary sources. The analysis was conducted using thematic analysis of scientific, media, and audiovisual sources.  NONVIOLENT RESISTANCE AND THE ROLE OF WOMEN IN SOCIAL MOVEMENT  A passive attitude toward injustice in society is considered a greater problem than violence itself. Passivity represents implicit support for the violent structures of social power. Nonviolence is not a sign of weakness, but a conscious and deliberate abstention from violence while actively fighting against injustice. Nonviolent resistance does not seek victory over the enemy but the overcoming of injustice, thus a real solution and thereby the liberation of both those affected by the injustice and the opponents.2 It is useful to point out that nonviolent resistance is not the same as pacifism. Pacifism is a moral conviction, while nonviolent resistance is a strategic choice. People choose it because they think it will make it easier to win, not necessarily because they "love peace."3  Nonviolent movements offer various methods of action, from public protests and strikes, through boycotts and symbolic actions, to information campaigns. Their main characteristic is that they do not create moral constraints4 or other forms of obstacles.5 The accessibility for participation enables mass mobilization of citizens.  Compared to violent methods, nonviolent resistance also demonstrates strategic effectiveness. Empirical data confirms that nonviolent campaigns are twice as likely to succeed (53%) compared to violent uprisings (26%), and they also leave behind more stable and democratic societies.6 The first key reason is the aforementioned mass participation, and the second is "political jiu-jitsu." It is a mechanism in which brutal repression of peaceful protesters backfires, destroying the authorities' reputation.7  It is precisely in these mechanisms of mass participation and strategic countereffect that women are a key strategic advantage. Since women make up approximately 50% of the total population, their active involvement in resistance movements is a crucial factor in achieving critical mass. Without women, a movement cannot reach the critical mass needed to exert effective pressure on the regime's "pillars of power." The presence of women on the front lines in 99% of cases directly undermines the regime's patriarchal authority and forces security forces to question their loyalties.8On the other hand, violence directed against unarmed women dramatically increases the moral and political cost of repression.9 That women's participation is not just a statistical figure but a reality is demonstrated by the Women in Black organization in Belgrade and the massive turnout of women at the Euromaidan in Ukraine. Although they may seem difficult to compare due to different political and social circumstances, the bridge connecting them is their entry into the public sphere through nonviolent resistance.  WOMEN IN PEACE INITIATIVES IN THE BALKANS DURING THE 1990S: THE CASE OF SERBIA AND 'WOMEN IN BLACK'  The political context of 1990s Serbia was marked by strong militarism and nationalist homogenization of society, as well as the breakup of SFRY10. Slobodan Milošević11used mass rallies to consolidate his power and create an atmosphere in which any voice of reason was branded "treasonous." Although the first multi-party elections were held, the system was not truly democratic. A strong retraditionalization of society occurred. The war discourse required men to be warriors and women to be "mothers of the nation" who would bear new soldiers and remain silent. 12 The political crisis of 1990 was merely a prelude to the armed conflicts that would follow on the territory of Croatia and Bosnia and Herzegovina. Serbia found itself in the paradoxical position of a state with no war on its own territory, yet simultaneously carrying out mass mobilization and sending resources to the battlefields. In such a specific context—where the war is waged 'in the name of the people,' but not on their territory—a strong internal resistance emerges in the form of the organization Women in Black.  Women in Black is an activist group and network with a feminist-anti-militarist orientation, composed of women and men from different generations and ethnic backgrounds, with varying levels of education, social statuses, lifestyles, and sexual orientations. The organization grew out of earlier feminist initiatives, including Women's Studies and anti-war centers13, in response to the militaristic regime of Slobodan Milošević and the start of the war in Croatia and Bosnia. In Belgrade, on October 9, 1991, the organization began its weekly "vigil."14Every Wednesday on Republic Square in Belgrade, they stood in silence, dressed in black, holding banners. They used the traditional Eastern European/Christian custom of wearing black for the deceased, but gave it a new meaning: mourning the victims on "all three sides," which was a radical act because the regime only recognized Serbian victims. The silence served as a shield against the aggressive, male discourse of war. They chose silence as a rejection of speaking unnecessary words that prevent and hinder reflection on oneself and others. 15 They used black clothing as an "instrument of reason" and a method for their nonviolent entry into the social sphere. Through their engagement, they consciously distanced themselves from socially gender-imposed female roles and "sending sons to war," instead articulating their resistance as an independent political choice. This approach represented a radical critique of the very foundations of society, as they recognized militarism and war as direct extensions of patriarchal power structures. It was a direct blow to the very core of nationalist ideology. The members of the organization stated: We are a group of women who stand in silence and in black every week to express our disagreement with the war. We decided to show what the female side of this war is. Women in our countries wear black to express their sorrow for the deaths of their loved ones. We wear black for the deaths of all the victims of war. We wear black because people have been driven from their homes, because women have been raped, because towns and villages have been burned and destroyed."16 In addition to showing solidarity with the victims of war, the Women in Black also organized safe spaces for all men who refused military service. By practically protecting these men, they opposed the militaristic regime and shielded individuals from the state's repressive apparatus. "Women in Black also set up in a rented apartment that became a refuge for opponents of conscription and deserters. When the wars began, it is estimated that 300,000 Serb men of military age went into exile rather than fight. Providing emotional, moral, and political support to these men who refused to participate in the fighting was one of the practical ways the women acted on their feminist and anti-militarist ideas. Some of these men, in turn, became valued members of the organization." 17 Because of their views, Women in Black were subjected to various forms of attacks. The attacks included verbal and physical assaults on the streets, both during and outside of street actions, destruction of the organization's property, death threats against members, organized witch hunts and calls for lynching, and sexist outbursts. The use of sexist insults served to reduce their political message to "female hysteria" or moral depravity. Regime media called them "traitors," "foreign mercenaries," and other derogatory names and conducted media campaigns against the members. Almost no street action by Women in Black went by without physical and/or verbal attacks.18The attacks were not spontaneous actions or random incidents but were organized and systemic acts aimed at discrediting, isolating, and intimidating the members. In addition to random passersby, they were often attacked by organized groups such as members of paramilitary formations or far-right extremists. The sources of repression were society and the state apparatus. They were "traitors" because they rejected national homogenization and spoke publicly about the crimes being committed at the time by their own nation. One of the members stated: "We protested in the street and exposed our bodies [using the body as an integral part of the political message] against the regime…people would come up to us who spat on us, pushed us, pulled our hair, and yelled that we were traitors.." 19 Police officers would often stand by while passersbys attacked the women, intervening only when the situation escalated. Sometimes, the police officers themselves would hurl insults at the activists. The police's lack of reaction to these events indicated how complicit state authorities were in restricting the right to freedom of assembly.20  By standing in black, remaining silent, showing courage, and engaging in nonviolent action, they became highly visible in the public sphere of Serbian society in the 1990s. Women in Black were the first to show that it was possible to "take to the streets" in a strictly controlled regime. Their concept of long-term persistence (standing every week for years) is proof of the "possibility of nonviolent resistance" even under the harshest conditions. In doing so, they proved that a 'minority' movement can become the 'moral compass' of a society, ensuring that a critical voice is heard even in moments of greatest silence. They created a recipe for nonviolent resistance and perseverance.  After the end of all the armed conflicts in which Serbia was involved, Women in Black did not stop their work. They shifted their focus to confronting the past, being in solidarity with all victims of war, honoring the victims by visiting war crime sites, and insisting that the crimes not be forgotten and that Serbia's institutions confront what was done.21  From the 1990s to today, the government in Serbia has changed, but the deep-seated mechanisms of the system have remained the same. After the collapse of the overhang at the Novi Sad train station (November 1, 2024), which killed 16 people, a new turning point was reached in Serbian society. A new wave of nonviolent resistance has begun, initiated by students demanding accountability for the deaths of 16 people and a change in political leadership. At the time of writing, the protests are still ongoing. The organization Women in Black has offered its full support to the students. In the new nonviolent resistance on the streets across Serbia, female students are not just participants; they actively take part in the blockades and are also targeted by police intimidation and physical and verbal attacks by the authorities.  WOMEN AS AGENTS OF NONVIOLENT RESISTANCE DURING EUROMAIDAN  On November 21, 2013, in Ukraine, protesters gathered on the main square in Kyiv to protest President Viktor Yanukovych.22 At that time, Ukraine was at a deeply divided crossroads between European integration and a renewed strong bond with Russia. Uncertainty about the country's future direction was caused by President Yanukovych's sudden withdrawal from Ukraine's Association Agreement with the European Union. For some Ukrainian citizens, membership in the European Union represented the only hope of bringing prosperity to Ukraine.23Aside from the latter reason, discontent among Ukrainian citizens had been smoldering for years. The causes lay in the oligarchic-clan system of power, corruption that permeated every sphere of society, and distrust in state institutions.24All of these were key drivers that brought the people of Ukraine onto the streets and sparked the Revolution of Dignity, better known as Euromaidan. Depending on the authors, the uprising can be divided into two phases: the first phase, which began in 2013 with peaceful student protests in Kyiv, and the second phase in 2014 when the protests spread across the entire country, and police repression turned them from peaceful demonstrations into mass violent protests.25This paper is based on the nonviolent part of Euromaidan and at a time when there is no immediate danger of war.  Although Ukraine has experienced earlier revolutions, during Euromaidan women nonetheless transitioned from the role of "helpers" to that of "creators" of the revolution. "Women of Euromaidan" do not operate as an organization, like Women in Black, and therefore cannot be precisely defined. They are a generation of women who simultaneously navigated imposed traditional roles and actively participated in other protest roles, thereby permanently redefining public space in Ukraine. Their presence was multifaceted, and they occupied a space that was often under the strict supervision and regulation of male protesters. Although the media often emphasized the male aspects, women made up a huge part of the movement. At the very beginning of the protests, women made up as much as 44% of all participants.26According to the research, the motives for participating in the protest were multiple and often overlapping. The most common motive was opposition to corruption and human rights violations (60%), solidarity with the protesters (32%), the fight for a better future for their children (27%), and a sense of civic duty and helping society (24%).27  Many women embraced traditional female roles and were often seen by fellow protesters, as well as the broader public, as aides to the male protesters rather than as revolutionaries in their own right.28Their reproductive work—such as cooking, cleaning, laundry, and logistics—was often undervalued and considered less important than the "real" fighting on the barricades.29 In the post-Soviet context of Ukraine, such work in the private sphere (associated with women) is considered less prestigious and rarely receives public recognition compared to "real" work in the public sphere. However, although at the start of the protests women were pushed into traditional roles, they took on the roles which marked the beginning of their growing visibility within the patriarchal environment. Women began offering legal aid to protesters, organizing public lectures and documentary film screenings within the camp, patrolling barricades, distributing food and providing medical assistance, participating in negotiations, providing informational support, and handling logistics.30Ukrainian women thus fought for and occupied spaces traditionally reserved for men in the public sphere of a patriarchal society. Thanks to their participation in the Euromaidan protests, they became equal partners who shaped the protest and occupied male public spaces, unlike in earlier revolutions.31  The most prominent example of their organization was the founding of the Euromaidan SOS initiative.32The leaders of the initiative were women, most of whom were human rights activists.33Within the framework of the initiative, they coordinated activities, monitored cases of abuse, and ensured access to legal protection, thereby shielding individuals from the state's repressive apparatus.  In addition to their involvement in mixed-gender collectives, they also operated through independently organized initiatives. They founded independent Women's Battalions ("Women's Sotnya") with the aim of making women's contributions visible and as a direct initiative by feminists appalled by the revolution's sexism. The most famous was the "Olga Kobylianska" Women's Battalion.34Although it was called a "battalion," it was not a military or violent formation, but rather an independent women's initiative focused on self-defense, guard duty, and organizational support within the nonviolent protest movement.  The activists organized special actions like "Women's Solidarity Night" to draw attention to their contributions, marching through Euromaidan with instruments and chanting "Freedom, equality, women's solidarity!". Their actions provoked hostile reactions from some protesters; they were told, "You're provocateurs! What are you doing?" and their banners were torn down.35Examples of sexism and misogyny were common. In the kitchens, you could find signs like: "Dear women, if you see trash - clean it up, [male] revolutionaries will be pleased," and there were also ads looking for "young women to create a positive atmosphere."36There was also strong rhetoric among the male protesters and their "concern for women" that aimed to keep women away from "danger zones," not viewing them as capable of making decisions on their own.37  One of the more creative nonviolent actions by the protesters was the "Mirror Action." It was a powerful tactic in which protesters held torso-sized mirrors with the message "God, is that me!" as a counter-response to the police shields. The idea was for the police to see their reflections in the mirrors and confront their own actions. In addition, the protesters offered tea to the police officers, played their national anthem, and attached flowers to the officers' shields.38  Unfortunately, clashes with the police soon broke out, and Euromaidan became a violent protest. The police's violent crackdown on the protesters led to a large number of injuries and deaths, the radicalization of the protesters, and ultimately the flight of President Yanukovych. "I realized that this was serious, that the state had now turned against its own people."39It was precisely this realization of a state attacking its own citizens that was key to mobilizing women who had not previously considered themselves politically active. However, during Euromaidan, women in Ukraine had already shown how important they are in the public sphere through nonviolent engagement and participation, and how they can stand on equal footing with men.  After Euromaidan in 2014, there was the Russian annexation of Crimea40and the war in Donbas.41Tensions continued over the following years, until the end of February 2022, when Russia launched a full-scale invasion of Ukraine, which remains an ongoing conflict. Unlike the Women in Black who were active in Serbia in the 1990s, a territory where no war was taking place, the women of Ukraine find themselves in a situation where an armed conflict is currently being waged on their territory. Thus, due to the newly emerged political and social circumstances, Ukrainian women have developed the view that defending the country is a prerequisite for preserving women's rights. They believe that a Russian victory means the end of human rights and feminist achievements in Ukraine, and therefore, defense (which includes both men and women) is necessary.42 

Author:Jona Cenameri The original article is published on Faktoje, you can read it here. Photo: Jona Cenameri When, on one of the days the self-proclaimed “Flamingo Revolution” protest made its way towards Rinas airport, many were asking: who led the protesters there? For an Albanian student living in France who returned specifically to join the protests in Tirana, the question goes deeper: what made hundreds of young people walk for hours, in the middle of the night, without feeling tired? “I came from France for this protest and bought a one-way ticket. Until something is achieved, I will stay here,” she says. Since May 31, the protest, which began in opposition to interventions in Pishë Poro-Nartë and out of concern for protected areas, has grown into a broader expression of civic discontent. People in the square talk about nature, but also about laws, institutions, corruption, young people leaving the country and the lack of confidence that Albania can change through conventional political ways. For the student living in France, the protest is no longer simply a daily event beginning at 7 p.m. It has become a state of mind that continues even after the crowd disperses. “I go home after the protest and I can’t sleep until the early hours of the morning because of the adrenaline: what should I do, what can I do? And the next day I wake up ready to go again,” she says. She describes the energy that has swept through the protesters as a “collective current”-a feeling that, according to her, makes people lose track of the hours, the exhaustion and the distance they have travelled. That, she says, also helps explain the long night towards Rinas. According to her account, the initial plan was for the march to continue as far as the area near the Rinas overpass and then turn back. But at some point, the crowd took on a different momentum. Some wanted to stop; others wanted to continue. Among the protesters were women, parents, 10-year-old children and many young people. “We sat down on the ground. There were women, children, parents and lots of young men. Then a group came up from behind saying, ‘Keep going, keep going,’” she recalls. That, she says, was when tensions began to rise-not necessarily out of a desire for violence, but through a mixture of adrenaline, exhaustion and anger. Several young women moved to the front in an effort to calm the situation and prevent a confrontation with the police. “We girls positioned ourselves at the front to manage the situation. We had no intention of physically confronting the police,” she says. According to her account, most protesters wanted to keep the demonstration peaceful. She says that at the end of every evening there are young people who feel an urge “to do something” because they “don’t want to end the protest without having done anything concrete.” But she adds that this is precisely where an internal effort has also emerged to keep the protest away from violence. “There are young men who, at the end of the protest, feel an urgency to do something. They don’t want to leave the protest feeling that nothing has been done, but the spirit we have is wonderful,” she says. Another young woman from Tirana measures that night in steps: 36,000. She says they walked there, while on the way back protesters returned by car, taxi, or with other participants who organised rides to pick people up. By the time her group reached its destination, she estimates that several hundred people were there. For some protesters, the march towards Rinas was not simply an unexpected change of route. It was a way of showing that their anger was no longer merely symbolic. “We simply want to show that we are angry, and our anger makes us walk a long way,” says another young woman who also took part in the march. Photo: Jona Cenameri The purpose That sentence shifts the focus away from the chronology of a road blockade and towards the psychology of the protest. The young protesters do not describe the walk as an adventure, but as a need to make their discontent visible. For them, the kilometres themselves become a form of political expression. The night at Rinas, however, also came at a cost. The blockade of the Tirana-Durrës motorway and later the road leading to the airport caused traffic congestion and frustration among citizens who were left stranded. Tirana Police announced that criminal proceedings had been initiated against 19 protesters, who were not detained. According to police, they had organised and encouraged the blocking of the road towards Tirana International Airport “Mother Teresa.” This development turned Sunday night’s march into a point of debate both within and outside the protest. Some saw it as a mistake. Some as a provocation. Some as a betrayal. Others as a sign of a lack of coordination. The student living in France says she does not know the people whose names have appeared in the media and that she has tried to stay away from debates about divisions within the movement or possible political interests. “I don’t know anyone. All these names people keep mentioning, all this talk about divisions and everything else-I’ve tried to stay away from it. I haven’t got involved in those discussions. I was simply one of those people who got swept up in it, so to speak,” she says. No stopping Despite the controversy, the protest did not stop. Young people returned to the square once again. For some of them, this is proof that the movement is sustained not only by organisation, but by a shared sense that something has to change. Angjelo, another protester, says the movement has restored a sense of hope among young people that many of them had already lost. “We had already packed our bags. In our minds, we had already accepted that we would leave the country to work abroad. It is precisely this protest that is giving us hope that this country can still be fixed,” he says. Soana, another young woman taking part in the protest, sees the movement’s strength in its continuity. “What keeps me going is the idea that change does not happen on its own. Something that requires long-term consistency also produces long-term consequences,” she says. For the student living in France, the end of the night at Rinas brought relief because there had been no confrontation. But it was not the end of the road. She says she is reading, staying informed and learning about laws, independent institutions, referendums and concrete ways of turning the revolt into tangible results. To some extent, that is what many of the protesters have been doing over these days. “For me, the key point is strengthening the law and independent institutions,” she says. The night at Rinas remains a contentious episode: for the police, a matter under investigation; for citizens caught in the blockade, a disruption; and for the protesters, a mixture of exhaustion, anger and the belief that physical sacrifice can itself become a political message. But for the student who travelled from France with a one-way ticket, that night is not measured only in kilometres. It is measured by the question that, according to her, many young people are asking themselves after every protest: “What else can I do?”