The more I read about Eastern and Central European countries during communist times the more I believe Poland was one of the best ones. Now, after reading brilliant reportage by Małgorzata Rejmer “Błoto słodsze niż miód” (“Mud sweeter than honey”, a reference to poems by two Albanian poets, Andon Zako Çajupi and Mitrush Kuteli), I see that communism in Albania was of the absolutely worst kind. In Poland, as in many other countries, jokes about communism were commonplace. In Albania, a mere suggestion that Yugoslavian wine tasted better than the Albanian one could lead to a decade of imprisonment. Poles could wear American jeans, listen to Western music, read Western literature and watch Western movies, they could - with difficulties, but still - travel. For Albanians even Chinese Cultural Revolution wasn’t radical enough and Enver Hoxha severed ties with all other communist countries. “Go to North Korea and you will see what Albanian communism looked like”, hears the author from one of the people she spoke to, and it’s easy to believe he is right.
Rejmer talked to hundreds of Albanians all over the country about the times everyone remembers with dread. Ordinary lives of ordinary people but here ‘ordinary’ means full of fear, pain, anger. Unspeakable violence and torture, in many cases decades spent in prison for treason: saying an innocent joke, listening to an Italian song, having a Christian cross at home, knowing someone who escaped to a better world. For years people were told to believe that “Albanians are the happiest nation in the world” and had no idea how people lived elsewhere: more comfortably, richer, more joyfully. My mum said that growing up in the 1960s and 1970s everyone in Poland knew that Albania was hell, that people were kept in labour camps, were dying of hunger. Albanian borders were surrounded by live wires and people were told (though some didn’t believe the propaganda) that the reason was to keep enemies away. But who would want to attack the poorest country in the whole Europe?
How does communism impact the society? One of Rejmer’s interviewees: “Imre Kertész said once that dictatorship lowers everyone to the level of a child who will do anything for mere survival, even collaborate with the tyrant. (...) Communist mentality got paired with neoliberal ideology which taught us that there is no society; there are only individuals, so I take care of my business and the market regulates everything. Some Albanians have emigrated but even in exile they haven’t been able to build a society. Why? Because Albanian communism was against the idea of a society. In a society we create something together, voluntarily, whereas in communism everything was forced upon us. And so we remain in this immature regress, not being able to learn responsibility for one another. All our lives we, Albanians, will be trying to grow up”. Many people the authors talked to moaned that even though communism ended in Albania, people still stick to the old system. No one has been punished for inflicting pain, no one was trialed for crimes against humanity. There is no democracy and no meritocracy in Albania: “People vote because some party members arranged jobs for them, because they got €50 from a politician, because everyone wants to benefit”. Over and over again bitter Albanians talk about lack of freedom then and lack of freedom now, complain about corruption, high crime rate, prostitution, abysmal inequality. They lament that communism created a weak man, who without any knowledge about the world focuses on exploiting others for their own benefit.
“Błoto słodsze niż miód” was unputdownable. Rejmer writes remarkably well and it is rare to find an author to whom people would open up so much. Many a time she played a role of a therapist, a confidante, and I imagine it was much easier for people to talk to an outsider (whose partner, however, is Albanian), to show her their diaries, photographs, share countless stories and cry together over tea and fruit cake. The scale of atrocities committed during communist times in Albania shocked me and the lesson learnt is grim. But it’s still a precious one, helping us all to understand the complexity of humanity.