Omnipotence for the hour

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This is the story of a young man who one day was granted unlimited power for one single hour. How or why this happened is not important. What’s important is that it did happen. Now, this young man happens to live in Albania, or Tirana to be exact. Lucky coincidence, isn’t it? Well, anyways, back to the story.

What an exciting and daunting moment this was for our young protagonist. “One hour," he stammers, “one single hour... what do I do first...”. It just so happens that the young man used to spend a not insignificant amount of time thinking about what he would like to change about his country. This could be considered to be a bit of a strange hobby, I suppose. Nevertheless, he draws up a notepad and gets to working. His first act of omniscience is a quick one: corruption.

Surely, the most important challenge that Albania is facing today is corruption. It seems to the young man that every time he tunes into the morning news, another incomprehensible violation has befallen the Albanian people. Just a few months ago, it was revealed that healthcare professionals in Tirana had been denying end-stage cancer patients life-saving treatment so that they could sell that same medicine to the private sector. The indignation that the young man felt at that moment is difficult to put into words. He could hardly believe it. Doctors, of all people. The doctors had been corrupted. It was a bitter pill to swallow.

“Doctors..."  he mumbled in melancholy. The young had to address the reality of what had become, in his eyes, a criminally organized society. He had to remove the influence of corruption, first and foremost. The young man decreed that any political, social, business, or otherwise any figure of relevance in Albania that had been complicit in any sort of crime or corruption would be stripped of their current position and be forbidden to occupy any form of leadership position in the future. Wasn’t that only fair? How could it be that people who cheated their country are allowed to run it? The young man saw fit to limit these people’s career opportunities to volunteer work, maybe craftsmanship, and most importantly agriculture. In any case, they would not be allowed to raise to a position where they can have some influence. Without this, the young man thought, there was nothing.

The first decree had been set in motion. Curtailing corruption. Not too shabby for a first move. As soon as this one ended, the next decree struck him like a bolt of lightning. “Education!” the young man exclaimed. He was absolutely right, of course. Education was absolutely right. The only means for progress in a country is an educated people. Science, technology, research, debate, policy reform—any and everything that is a hallmark of progress and development begins with education. But in Albania, this pillar of society has been crumbling for some time. You may have heard of the ironically named “Wisdom” university of Tirana. This ‘educational’ institution turned out to be nothing more than a business that charged 20,000 euros for bachelor and masters degrees. It is one of many examples of such institutions that have destroyed the integrity of education in Albania.

"So," the young man thought, “I’ll give a third of the country’s GDP to education. Exactly one third." This may seem like an arbitrary value, but the young man was following in the footsteps of someone he respected greatly. He thought back to a chapter he had recently read from a book about leadership. This chapter spoke of the celebrated leader of Singapore, Lee Kwan Yew, who in just 40 years transformed Singapore from a land covered in wetlands, swamps, and marshes into a metropolis that today stands as a shining example for progress, technology, and the future. A crucial key to making this happen was his investment in education. This, along with other decisions made by Lee, shaped his strategy of leadership—excellence above all. It made all the sense in the world that the young man would try to emulate that.

The young mad laid it out as plainly as he could; technical schools would pop up to address the vast lack of skill that we see in Albania today. Erasmus programs would be established with prestigious institutions in the EU and beyond, encouraging students to learn from other cultures and come back to enrich their own. A scholarship fund for excellent students would be established. A group of the best 10 students in Albania would be recognized as the best in the country and serve as a point of pride; the best of the best.

There were also three things that the young man would no longer permit to happen under this new decree. The first is that no educator would be allowed to accept any form of compensation for the procurement of grades or, even more egregious than that, the procurement of diplomas like what had happened at ‘Wisdom’. Second, excellence would become the new way of education; only the best teachers would be allowed to hold the title, a title that would now grant respect. Only the best grades would afford the highest potential for employment or would afford a position in governance. One’s proficiency in studies and professional achievement would be the new norm through which the Albanian citizen sizes up his worth. Meritocracy, for a change.

Thirdly, dilapidated schools would not be allowed to exist in any rural region of Albania, not in Tropoja, not in Kukes, not anywhere. The construction and reconstruction of schools in rural areas would become a priority. People in rural areas need to know that it would now be possible for them to get an excellent education close to their homes. Perhaps with this, the Albanian people do not have to abandon rural areas.

"Wow. That was a good one." Indeed it was. I think that’s what they call a home run.

With corruption and education accounted for, and 38 minutes down in his hour-long run at omnipotence, the young man thought back to what else his country needed. He landed on economic development. But what could he use? What did his country have plenty of, what advantages did his country have? “Trains!”. Yes, indeed. Trains. Why was it that the railway infrastructure in Albania that once transported freight and people all over the country is but a remnant? The young man thought that very strange.

So, where was he to start? Here is where he came up with something quite clever, I think. He would decree the restructuration of the railway between Fier and Durrës. The young man’s line of thinking was this: Fier is Albania’s horticultural hub. Fruits and vegetables—that’s what Fier is. The railway comes in as a means to shuffle the continuously produced fruits and vegetables from Fier to Durrës, where in the port, ships lay in wait to send out agricultural products overseas. A freight train, plain and simple. Production and exportation. Over and over again. Any money that flows in is redirected to a state fund for sponsoring agricultural cooperatives. And there it is. Making use of our assets, advantages, and workforce in one fell swoop. Not bad for a few minutes’ work.

Time swept by; 11 minutes remained. What else was there? What other absurd scenario had the young man been privy to, living in Tirana? “Pollution!” he called out with a hint of aggravation. He recalled what happens in a neighborhood of Tirana colloquially known as the ‘block’. As the late hours of the night creep up, the ‘block’ streets become congested by the droves and droves of cars that drive around in circles. In essence, cars had become the symbol of achievement in his city.

Think about what that means for a moment; it was all an exhibition meant to impress passersby, to impress them with fancy cars that its drivers should not be able to afford. On the other side of this exhibitionism, there was the decimation of air quality in Tirana. No wonder everyone smokes! You might as well be smoking by strolling down the street! The young man hated that. He hated the smog in his city. He hated the seemingly infinite number of cars that overran it. Cars we did not need. Cars that would do nothing more than dirty up the city and fill the air with poison. I can see where this young man’s indignation was coming from.

It was decided then and there: “Only a quarter of the cars would be allowed to remain in Albania! No more than that. And no cars in the historical center of Tirana! Nor in the neighborhoods that its citizens love to patrol with their symbols of'success’”. Instead, the young man thought, there would be public transport—electrically-powered public transport. One bus every eight minutes. Spacious buses with air conditioning. Busses in superb condition that would not pollute the air. The Chinese-borne company BYD, for instance, how we can get those buses in Albania.

Some would not like the idea of partnering up with China, but the young man did not understand that line of thinking. If they can help us, why not let them? Taking cars out of the city and replacing them with electric public transport would be a massive win for Albania. The young man’s country could start to look more like the Netherlands. Have you even been in a busy Dutch town in the middle of the work week? The young man had; It’s quiet, and the air is clean. It’s just great.

Four minutes left. Was there anything more? “Parks!” he called out, “parks in every neighborhood!" Okay, not bad. Parks are good; greening the every-greying capital is pretty good. People would certainly be happier. If I were in his shoes, though, I would advise the young man to bring back that Tirana tradition where families would gather together once a year and plant trees around the artificial lake of Tirana, expanding its reach with every decade. I thought that was very beautiful. But I can forgive him overlooking that, the clock had struck and his seat at power was over.

In the end, it was corruption, education, economy, and pollution. The young man thought hard about what would be the best for his country. He was miraculously blessed with one hour of omnipotence. Were his wishes the best way to help his country? We cannot know. But it is what our protagonist thought was needed. What would you do with a gift of omnipotence for one hour? How would you help your country? Let us know with a comment below, and make sure to keep up with us next Friday! We’re looking at a local example of how one member of the dairy industry of Albania is surviving in a truly tumultuous time. Until then!