Albania’s Great Cannabis Conundrum: The Art of Arresting the Wrong People

 Albania, a picturesque land of mountains and sea, has somehow mastered the art of irony, especially when it comes to its infamous cannabis “eradication” efforts. A place often ranked as the most corrupt in Europe, Albania’s authorities have perfected the craft of looking busy while accomplishing very little—unless you count arresting small-time offenders as a monumental achievement.

 

Take the recent “high-stakes” operation in Durrës, where a 24-year-old, Erald Koliqi, was apprehended by the heroic Sector for Narcotics Investigation and the Special Eagles Unit. His crime? Possessing cannabis divided into neat little doses, along with the high-tech arsenal of two mobile phones. Truly, the stuff of major drug lords. The police, ever vigilant, issued a triumphant press release detailing their feat. No mention, of course, of who supplied Koliqi or the thriving construction boom in Tirana that’s allegedly fueled by drug money. But hey, at least they nabbed someone, right?

Meanwhile, out in the countryside, cannabis plantations flourish during cultivation season. Police raid and burn these fields with great fanfare, boasting about their war on drugs. Yet, curiously, the masterminds behind these operations remain as elusive as Albania’s EU accession. Instead, the justice system focuses on teenagers caught with a few grams for personal use, branding them as the face of organized crime while the real bosses are busy laundering cash through luxury apartments and trendy cafes in the capital.

It’s almost comedic—if it weren’t so tragic. For every small fry paraded in front of cameras as a supposed victory, whispers grow louder about untouchable oligarchs and corrupt officials profiting from the drug trade. Arresting someone like Koliqi doesn’t disrupt the system; it sustains it. It offers a smokescreen of “law enforcement” while the true criminals build empires in plain sight.

The hypocrisy is staggering: a country claiming to fight drug trafficking but seemingly unwilling—or unable—to target the top players. Instead, it arrests young men with little means and less power, offering them as sacrificial lambs to maintain the illusion of justice.

So here’s to Albania, where irony reigns supreme. A nation that claims to be fighting corruption and crime but seems more interested in silencing the symptoms than curing the disease. After all, why solve a problem when you can just pretend to?