The Veliaj case and Albania’s justice reform at a crossroads: the need for checks and balances

In the days following the arrest of Tirana Mayor Erion Veliaj, there has been a whirlwind of debates, legal arguments, and political accusations. Yet, amid all the noise, one particular moment recounted on the country’s premier talk show, Opinion, stood out.

A journalist—one of those the Prime Minister calls “special journalists” because they always seem to be in the right place at the right time when SPAK makes an arrest and mysteriously receive information about cases before even the suspects themselves—offered an eye-opening anecdote. She described how, when officers from the National Bureau of Investigation (BKH) entered Veliaj’s office to detain him, one investigator reportedly told him something to the effect of: “Either you come willingly, or we’ll take you like we took Ilir Meta.”

For those unfamiliar with how Ilir Meta was taken, it was a dramatic scene straight out of Narcos: Mexico. The former President was stopped at the entrance to Tirana, violently yanked out of his car, manhandled by masked men in civilian clothes, surrounded by unmarked vehicles, and dragged away in what seemed more like a kidnapping ambush than a law enforcement operation. Even those who strongly believed Meta should face justice were unsettled by the manner in which it was carried out.

That a law enforcement officer felt comfortable enough to openly reference Meta’s arrest as a precedent—and to use it as a threat—suggests something deeply concerning: that such displays of force are no longer exceptions but part of a culture that has taken hold within SPAK. And if such treatment was extended to Veliaj, one of the most high-profile figures in the country, what does that say about how lesser-known individuals are handled?

SPAK’s mission to combat corruption and impunity enjoys widespread public support. Albanians have long yearned for justice, and when high-profile figures that were long seen as untouchable began to face investigations, there was a sense of long-overdue accountability. However, over time, alongside the good news, a pattern of troubling allegations began to emerge—stories of arbitrary phone confiscations, aggressive, indeed coercive, questioning tactics, and a broader atmosphere of fear that carried uncomfortable echoes of dark times Albanians had begun to forget.

It is often said—half in jest, half in truth—that when the head of SPAK walks into a room of public officials, “you can see the white of their eyes.” The remark perfectly captures a growing perception: that prosecutors are feared, and fear has begun to replace respect for the legal process. Many institutions now report facing significant challenges in public procurement and tendering, as employees feel intimidated and fearful of making decisions.

But this is not how a modern European justice system should function. Many Albanians remember the authoritarian years of the early 1990s, when people feared surveillance, repression, and arbitrary detentions. Some older Albanians even recall the paranoia of the communist era, when people were careful about what they said on the phone and instinctively lowered their voices at home, fearing their words could be overheard and used against them.

But Veliaj’s case has also brought to the fore another concern: selective justice. His lawyers have argued repeatedly that the charges against him lack a strong evidentiary basis and that the case is being pursued with unusual speed and aggression. Meanwhile, far more serious cases remain stalled or gathering dust in SPAK offices.

One striking example is the investigation into the January 21 killings, in which four unarmed protesters were shot dead by security forces in 2011. Despite its significance, it remains stuck in judicial limbo. Indeed, SPAK did not even want to investigate the case until forced to do so by an ECHR ruling, followed by a ruling by the Albanian Constitutional Court. Why?

Likewise, the same SPAK that scans the media and social media for any hints on which to base new investigations did not react at all when an American businessman involved in the Gërdec operation gave an interview in which he spoke about the alleged role of Shkëlzen Berisha—son of former Prime Minister Sali Berisha—in the Gërdec arms explosion that killed 26 people in 2008. It has still said nothing. Why?

The perception that SPAK applies one set of standards for Socialist officials and another for the opposition is deeply damaging. If justice is to be credible, it must be seen as impartial. Unfortunately, it is a perception that has gained unstoppable momentum, now that even the Prime Minister has publicly raised it.

Adding another layer of controversy, reports from the courtroom indicate that Veliaj directly accused the lead prosecutor in his case of having a personal conflict of interest. He reportedly told the court that the prosecutor had twice approached him for a construction permit. Apparently, the mayor granted one permit but denied the second, after which the prosecutor warned Veliaj that he would not forget this.

Documents appearing to support this claim have circulated in the media. If true, this would be scandalous: how can a prosecutor with such an obvious conflict of interest be entrusted with such a major corruption prosecution? At the very least, if true, this incident underscores the urgent need for greater scrutiny of how SPAK prosecutors are assigned and how potential conflicts of interest are handled.

While SPAK does enjoy massive support, there is a growing sense that its current approach is less about due process and more about setting public examples. Several legal experts have repeatedly suggested that investigations are being rushed to produce arrests, and courts are under pressure to hand down convictions to maintain SPAK’s momentum.

But Albania’s justice system cannot be built on the principle that someone must be punished, even if the case against them is weak, just to send a message. If SPAK fails to distinguish between genuine corruption and politically convenient prosecutions, it has already failed.

The justice reform was built with immense political backing from the Albanian people, the Albanian government, and international partners. But in ensuring SPAK’s strength, too little thought appears to have been given to oversight and accountability. As the Prime Minister himself once said when discussing corruption, “Even if you take a German and put him in an office in Albania, he will become corrupt. It’s not the individual—it’s the system that prevents corruption.”

This wisdom appears to have been overlooked when SPAK was established. There seems to have been a strange, ungrounded assumption that its prosecutors and investigators would be immune to the same pressures, biases, and weaknesses that have affected every other institution in Albania. The failure to implement proper checks and balances on SPAK’s power is now coming to the fore.

The most consequential development surrounding Veliaj’s arrest is that it has shattered the perception that SPAK is beyond criticism. For the first time, Socialists—from the Prime Minister to the rank and file—who had long remained silent and never commented on SPAK and its investigations out of party discipline, are openly voicing concerns and anger about SPAK.

And let’s be clear: SPAK has never had the support of the opposition. At present, the backing of its most crucial international supporter appears uncertain. This is a precarious moment, both for SPAK and for Albania as a whole. If SPAK loses credibility, it will not be just another institutional failure—it will mark the collapse of a reform that was meant to reshape Albania’s future.

For those who fought for justice reform, there is a heavy responsibility to ensure that SPAK does not become what it was meant to replace. If Albania is to be truly democratic, its justice system must be powerful—but it must also be fair, accountable, and beyond reproach.

At this crossroads, the survival of Albania’s justice reform depends not on who is investigated next, but on how justice is served.