When cardboard and arrogance become law.

2026-04-05 12:44:55 / IDE NGA GJERGJI NIKA

When cardboard and arrogance become law.

In the Vlora Municipal Council, a scene is being repeated that is unfortunately no longer a surprise, nor new, nor unexpected: the opposition raises legal, economic and social arguments, lists objections based on public interest, warns of consequences for the city and the finances of citizens, but in the end everything is drowned out by the noise of a banal and arrogant ritual: the mechanical raising of majority cards and the approval of unreasonable decisions contrary to the public interest.
Where reason should have spoken, numbers speak.
Where the law should have ruled, subordination rules.
Where Vlora should have been protected, power, corruption, and oligarchs are protected.
The question that naturally arises for citizens is: "Where does arrogance find this strength to violate the law without a trembling hand?"
Could it be from fear of the leader, who has turned voting in the council from an act of representation into an act of subordination? In many cases, councilors no longer seem like the voice of citizens, but like soldiers of a military detachment where a different opinion is considered treason. The card is not raised for conviction, but for political survival.
Or does this force stem from clientelistic capture, from those interests where an illegal decision is not simply a vote, but the return of a debt to those who feed the power? Because often the most dubious decisions have neither economic logic nor social need; they only have the heavy smell of favors, predetermined tenders, private interests and silent bargains.
There is another explanation: The snobbery that power gives you.
Long-term power creates the illusion of inviolability. It makes you believe that the law is for others, that institutions are useless, that citizens forget, that documents are lost or alienated, that firms disappear, that time erases everything. This is precisely where the most dangerous arrogance arises: "The belief that you can do anything and never be held accountable."
But sometimes, beyond fear, capture and greed, there is something more serious: political stupidity. That kind of blind self-confidence that makes some think that a numerical majority equals the right. And cards overthrow regulations, laws, procedures and public interest. That arrogance is an argument and breaking the law is “decision-making”.
How are they not afraid of justice?
Maybe because they have been accustomed for years to justice coming late or not coming at all.
Maybe because they have seen many bills that needed to be paid postponed.
Maybe because they believe that today's power is a guarantee of tomorrow's innocence.
But political and administrative history proves that: Every card raised in violation of the law leaves a mark. Every clientelist decision has a name, date, minutes, signature and responsibility. And when the political climate changes, when the balances shift, when justice awakens or when someone decides to speak, what seemed like force turns into proof.
In the end, the bill comes.
And it usually comes saltier than the momentary gain, despite the staggering amounts earned.
It comes as an investigation, as a file, as economic damage to the city, as a burden on taxpayers, as a moral stain, as a public shame. It comes as personal responsibility for those who thought that the majority card protected them from the law.
Vlora does not need a council that seals the whims of power, but for an institution that protects the city from its appetites.
To understand and remember that when arrogance rules over the law, democracy is lost — but above all, citizenship is lost.
And the citizen does not forget forever.

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