Albania's 'Flamingo Revolution' Challenges Trump-Linked Megaprojects

For twelve days running, as evening falls over Tirana, thousands of Albanians gather in Skanderbeg Square—a sprawling plaza of forty thousand square meters that once held towering statues of Stalin and the country's longtime dictator Enver Hoxha. They come at six o'clock, mostly young, carrying signs and flags, their voices rising in unison: Albania is not for sale. What began as an environmental alarm has become the largest protest movement the country has seen since communism fell in 1991, and it is aimed squarely at two luxury resort projects on protected wetlands—developments backed by Jared Kushner and Ivanka Trump, the son-in-law and daughter of the American president.

The target is Sazan Island and the Zvërnec peninsula, a corner of the Adriatic coast that shelters nearly two hundred fifty bird species, including colonies of flamingos that have become the symbol of the uprising. Ivanka Trump has called the area a beautiful private island in the Mediterranean. Environmental groups see it differently: a catastrophe in the making, a betrayal of the country's ecological inheritance. Ermal Progni, a twenty-nine-year-old volunteer with PPNEA, one of the movement's organizers, has been on the streets every one of those twelve days. He wears a shirt that reads "Flamingo Revolution" and carries a cork flamingo he has fashioned himself. "We never imagined revolution was possible here," he says, still seeming to absorb the weight of what is happening around him. "We couldn't even say the word."

But the protests have grown far beyond environmental concern. Demonstrators are demanding the resignation of Prime Minister Edi Rama, who has governed since 2013 and won reelection last year with enough support to secure a fourth consecutive term. The anger runs deeper than one project or one politician. It reflects years of accumulated frustration—the lack of transparency, promises of progress that never materialize, the harsh treatment of dissent. Klevis Nikoli, thirty-three, holds a four-meter banner reading "Rama resign." Ana Kodra, twenty-two, carries her country's flag on her back. "This is our home and we come to defend it," she says. By seven in the evening, a tide of placards and chants moves slowly toward the prime minister's offices, eight hundred meters away.

Rama has responded by minimizing the demonstrations, accusing international media of stirring hysteria, and mounting a fierce defense of the Trump-linked projects, which his government says represent a four-billion-euro investment. Political analyst Afrim Krasniqi suggests the prime minister is trying to win favor with the White House—despite the Trump administration having no formal connection to the developments—and to position Albania as a reliable Western ally. "He is trying to tell the United States and other governments: if you want something in Albania, I am your man," Krasniqi says. Rama argues the luxury hotels are a unique opportunity for a nation that is among Europe's poorest and where tourism accounts for more than a quarter of GDP.

The projects themselves have operated in shadow. In March 2024, Kushner posted images on Instagram showing a gleaming marina, enormous pools, and futuristic suites overlooking turquoise waters. The post came just a week after Albania passed a new law loosening restrictions on five-star resorts in protected areas. By December, the government designated a firm linked to Affinity Partners—Kushner's investment fund—as a strategic investor for Sazan. In April, environmental groups documented excavators and construction fencing already on site at Zvërnec, before any environmental impact assessment or building permits had been issued. In May, a video surfaced showing private security guards restraining a local resident who opposed the project. The images went viral. The outrage followed.

A special anti-corruption prosecutor has opened an investigation into possible irregularities surrounding the megaprojects, and construction work has halted. Rama called for calm, insisting there is no project underway, only a vision to transform Albania into the region's most attractive luxury destination. Yet the political climate has forced investors to break their silence. Asher Abehsera, one of Kushner's local partners, said he respects those who oppose the plans but asked citizens for trust and patience until details are revealed. The precedent is instructive: Kushner abandoned a similar project in Belgrade last year after sustained protests, a development that included plans for a Trump Tower and ended with the Serbian culture minister facing trial for alleged irregularities in approving construction on protected heritage land.

Kushner himself has stepped back from public view since the Flamingo Revolution erupted. After initial enthusiasm, he has gone quiet. The White House and Trump family have repeatedly denied any conflict of interest. Meanwhile, in Skanderbeg Square—where statues of dictators once loomed—young Albanians continue to gather. Past ten at night, the chants echo through central Tirana. Neighbors emerge onto balconies. Taxi drivers honk their horns. "Revolution, revolution, revolution," the crowd roars. Progni, who returned six months ago after four years in Germany, speaks of a generation refusing to leave. Kodra smiles and says: "Politicians tell us we stay home and do nothing. Well, look at us now." One banner reads: "The future belongs to the flamingos." For many here, that is what is truly at stake.