WHEN NESTS TURN INTO CASTLES

- A breeze to awaken minds and a candle to light the future -

In 1990, the communist system collapsed. The United States and Western Europe celebrated a great historical victory over the East. Borders were opened, walls were torn down, and millions of people set out in search of a new life. The world seemed to be entering another era, where freedom would be stronger than borders and peace more powerful than interests.

But while some celebrated the victory, others had begun to think about the future.

One of the greatest human movements of that period was the migration of a large number of Jews from Europe and the former Soviet Union to Israel. They were driven by the call to join the country they considered their homeland. Israel’s population grew significantly. From around 4.66 million inhabitants in 1990, it has surpassed ten million today.

Up to this point, we can speak of a human movement, a life choice, a people seeking to build their own future. But I want to look at something else too. I want to see what happens when a country grows, when it seeks new spaces, and when its needs begin to clash with the space and rights of its neighbours.

An image from nature comes to mind. Bees have a rule of their own: a hive cannot live indefinitely with two queens seeking to rule the same space. When the time comes, one must leave and create another colony. But man is not a bee. He has a mind, a conscience, and laws. Yet, when the ambition for power and territory becomes stronger than conscience, even human societies begin to behave as if the world were a borderless space for their desires.

A growing family needs a bigger house. That is natural. But they cannot walk into their neighbour’s house and say: our family has grown, so I need your room!

And when I look at what has happened in the Middle East, my question becomes even more pressing.

Israel has not stopped at the space it had in its beginnings. It has expanded its territorial control, kept Palestinian territories under occupation, appropriated the administration of the Syrian Golan Heights, and extended its military presence into areas of Syria and Lebanon. Meanwhile, the Palestinians continue to live under the weight of a conflict that has altered their lives, their homes, and their future.

I do not want to deal with wars here, with politicians’ statements, or their justifications. I want to look at the map and ask: where does an expansion begin, and where might it end? How far can territorial ambition go when it meets no resolute counterweight?

But my thoughts do not stop at the Middle East. They travel towards the Mediterranean.

When I see the interest in properties, islands, coastlines, and important spaces in various countries of this region, I cannot be satisfied with the explanation that it is all done for tourism, business, or a better life. That may be the case in many instances. But I ask: have we ever considered what significance these settlements might take on decades from now?

What looks like a holiday home today could become an important point of influence tomorrow. What looks like an ordinary investment today could take on a different significance tomorrow. A group of properties, a new settlement, a connection forged with a strategic point, might not hold the same meaning for the future as they do for us today.

I am not saying that every purchased property is a military base. I am saying that we must learn to look beyond the facade of a building and beyond the price of a plot of land. Because history has shown us that influence is not always built with armies. Sometimes it begins with money, with relationships, with properties, with the settlement of people, and with interests that, little by little, become part of a country’s life.

Greece, Malta, and Albania are part of this space that worries me. In these countries, we hear about property purchases, civic reactions, interest in coasts and islands, and relationships that deserve attention. I do not want to judge every person who buys a house or every investor who comes from abroad. But I want to ask those who bear the responsibility of leading these countries: do you only see what is being sold today, or do you also think about what it might represent tomorrow?

And now we come to our own home, to Albania.

We have a small country, but one with great wealth. We have coastlines, ports, islands, mountains, plains, and spaces that are not just natural beauties. They are part of our lives, our history, and our children’s future.

It worries me when I see that land can be treated as an ordinary commodity, when a piece of national wealth is seen only as an opportunity to fill today’s coffers. It worries me when leaders think of momentary gain and forget that their decisions could have consequences for generations yet unborn.

Is it not strange that a man builds a house for his children, yet a state can make decisions that make their future more difficult?

Land is not just property. It is living space, it is security, it is identity, and it is sovereignty. Whoever loses the ability to decide over their own space risks losing a part of their freedom as well.

Perhaps someone will tell me that I am looking too far ahead. Perhaps others will say my concerns are exaggerated. But I prefer to look far ahead and be wrong in a prediction, rather than not look at all and one day face a reality I can no longer change.

I do not want Albania to close its doors. I want it to open them with a clear mind. I want investments, development, friendship, and cooperation. But I also want a state that knows what it must protect, what it can give, and what it must not allow itself to lose.

Because it is not a given that every new nest will be merely a shelter. Sometimes, as time passes, it can take on the appearance of a castle. And when castles are built around a country, then that country should have thought about its own security beforehand.

I am not writing to declare enemies. I am not writing against a people, a religion, or a nationality. I am writing against blindness, against shallow thinking, and against those who see the homeland only through the profit of the day.

I am sending a breeze to clear clouded minds. Perhaps it will not change the direction of the great winds, but it might help someone see more clearly. I am trying to light a candle, not to illuminate the whole world, but to show in which direction the darkness might lie.

Because tomorrow does not begin tomorrow. It begins with what we accept, with what we sell, with what we allow, and with what we lack the courage to question today.

Land may have a price, but the homeland is not a commodity. Property can change hands, but sovereignty must not be sold.

The time has come for a civic and national awakening. Not against the world, but in defense of our home.

Keep evil away from my home! And my home is the homeland.