
1. Nostalgia and the "logic" of captive minds
More than three decades have passed since the fall of the communist regime and Albania's entry onto the path of democracy and the currents of voracious globalization. At the beginning of the post-communist transition, the new horizons of freedom were perceived as opportunities for personal and collective development, but at the same time as uncertain terrain, full of misunderstandings, chaos and loss of the "personal compass" in a new competitive and individualistic world.
After almost half a century of isolation, Albanians experienced freedom - expressed in Kierkegaard's words - as a vertigo, where hope and anxiety were concomitants of this epochal change.
A significant part of the population "escaped" through mass exodus to the West - the promised land. Others wandered around not knowing what to do with their freedom. The most active forces set to work to exploit the new opportunities of the market economy.
The transition from an isolated, collectivist and centralized society to a free, pluralistic and open society has not been linear. On the contrary, it has been accompanied by deep trauma, both on an individual and collective level. The transition, with its rapid and zigzag developments, created a new reality, where the individual, deprived of the supporting hand of the state, was often left alone in the face of the challenges of survival, without safety nets, without orientation and without a sense of belonging.
In this context of uncertainty and disappointment, nostalgia for communism was configured and still survives – not simply as historical inertia or romanticization of lost youth, but as a symptom of a society where freedom has not yet been internalized as a value and ontological dimension of man.
Nostalgia for communism has become an implicit presence in public conversations, on social networks, in the daily anxiety of the struggle for survival. Not always as an ideology, but as a feeling. As a breath of fresh air in a world that no longer seems to offer any security.
No specific sociological study is required to measure the extent and causes of nostalgia for the time “when we were good and equal.” Manifestations of nostalgia for the communist era are commonly seen in the numerous comments on social networks, when topics about our common past are opened or when photos are posted with “happy” cooperative members in the fields, with smiling students in actions, in rallies, with peaceful views of cities with pedestrians or bicycles, etc.
Nostalgia is, in essence, a selective selection of the past, where individual memory interacts with collective memory, with that set of images and feelings about the past that are activated in the face of the challenges and uncertainties of the present. The past does not only include childhood, youth or personal experiences, but also a shared way of life, represented by stereotypes and mindsets formed and structured under the pressure of totalitarian propaganda.
The collective memory of communism for many Albanian citizens is not related to oppression, but to nostalgia for order; not to the lack of freedom, but to the lack of chaos. This is what Hannah Arendt calls the “banality of totalitarianism” – a violent normality that, due to its everydayness and capillary spread throughout the body of society, loses the sense of evil.
According to the "logic" of the enslaved minds, in communism "life was beautiful, safe, there was education, humanity, there was school, work, free healthcare, there were no drugs and prostitution and everyone was equal". The truth is that the totalitarian state, in exchange for some forms of collective security (employment, schooling, free healthcare, public safety), had taken personal freedom and basic human rights hostage. And this is precisely what Isaiah Berlin would distinguish between "negative freedom" - as the absence of intervention by external factors in the life of the individual - and "positive freedom" - as the self-fulfillment of the individual who acts as an agency with free will to achieve personal objectives. The paternalistic communist regime had blocked “negative freedom” and with its rhetoric claimed to offer “positive freedom”, limiting individual freedom in the name of historical necessity, the prerogative for the recognition of which was the Party/State and that only it should determine the course of history, turning the individual into an automaton for the implementation of state policy. But historical experience has proven that the demand for “order and security” is often the most common excuse to justify the deprivation of freedom.
In reality, what many people see today as troubling problems - lack of security, unemployment, corruption, etc. - are not a product of freedom per se, but are related to systemic and structural causes, to fragile democracy and the lack of effective and inclusive governance policies. Democracy is not a magic formula that brings automatic well-being to everyone and, moreover, does not ensure equality in wealth. On the contrary, democracy is an open system, where success and failure depend on the involvement, awareness and responsibility of the free individual.
Etymologically, nostos means return, while algos – pain. Nostalgia is therefore a return to an impossible utopia, to a past reworked by memory that filters out pain and preserves only peace. Nostalgia is an elegy for a time that cannot be returned, although it is perceived as a spiritual refuge in the face of a difficult present.
According to sociological studies, nostalgia serves as a defense mechanism, reconstructing the past through selected bright images, which are placed in front of the gloomy and sad present.
It is precisely the present, with its new social dynamics, rapid changes and the insecurities of the individual in the new capitalist reality that feeds nostalgia and reactivates the glorification of the past. Unemployment, corruption, poverty, lack of security, weakening of social solidarity networks, in certain layers and segments of society have brought disappointments, loss of hope and disillusionment in expectations from politics.
According to psychological studies, nostalgia is a mental state that evokes “happy past times” in the face of a challenging present. But as Erich Fromm notes in his work “Arrest from Freedom” (1941), man often feels anxiety in the face of the uncertainties that freedom brings and tends to “run away from freedom” – as a psychological tendency to avoid responsibility as a free being. According to Fromm, freedom is not only liberation from authority, but also the ability to act autonomously and responsibly.
Faced with a challenging and alienating reality, thrown into a rapidly changing global world, frustrated and disillusioned individuals tend to seek solace in more stable things, such as myths of origin, glorifying nationalism, or nostalgically recalling authoritarian systems that promised them “order and security.” Václav Havel points out that for many people in democracies, “living with the truth” of reality is more difficult than living in the false comfort of the previous system.
From this perspective, manifestations of nostalgia should be understood and explained as part of a more complex process, not only as a sign of social despair but also as a revolt and expression of the legitimate demand for a more dignified life, in a society without extreme polarization and deep social gaps.
In post-totalitarian societies, the one-dimensional man, who was accustomed to submitting to authority and functioning within a closed system, fears freedom. He fails to experience freedom as an opportunity for development, but as a burden, as anxiety, as a “jungle.” At this point, nostalgia turns into an emotional return to an “impossible utopia” – to an idealized past, which in reality was controlled and filled with fear and censorship.
Among the set of factors that keep nostalgia alive and nurture it, the following can be listed as among the most important:
i. The failure of politics to build a functional, inclusive democracy with equal opportunities for work, prosperity and a dignified life. Our post-communist society has progressed through deep social polarization, economic insecurity has increased, corruption has become endemic and job opportunities continue to be limited. The “nostalgic man” is not an isolated Robinson Crusoe, but lives within a reality of injustice, arbitrariness and barriers that are beyond his will as an autonomous being.
ii. The crisis of collective values ??and identity crises, especially among the middle and older generations. According to studies of the experiences of countries in transition, the crisis of collective identity after the collapse of a totalitarian order is inevitable. This crisis is not only political, but deeply systemic: meanings collapse, words no longer correspond to experiences, and the individual no longer recognizes himself in the social mirrors offered to him. In this terrain, nostalgia appears - as a psychological defense mechanism, to structure experience through simple, familiar, stable images.
In our reality, what feeds this feeling the most is the moral confusion and value emptiness of today's society. The free market did not come with honesty, but with greed. Freedom of speech did not produce healthy debate, but insults and division. Politics did not become a service, but a business. Work is no longer fair, but a privilege for those who have "acquaintances".
We have not yet built true relationships with freedom and with the Other. We have imitated the form, but without building the contents. Democracy has been imported as a system, not as a culture. The crisis of values ??has created the terrain of consumerist culture and in this polarized reality, where a minority gets richer and many others live in poverty or become more invisible, people begin to remember “that time” as a more honest, more equal, more peaceful life.
iii. Manipulation of historical memory, through partial narratives and the lack of a deep social reflection on the past. We are a society that has not made a complete catharsis towards the past and where the past has mostly been manipulated in the service of the politics of the day, rather than analyzed through an approach in the service of creating a collective memory distancing itself from "hell dressed in paradise flowers."
iv. Lack of education with the concept and understanding of freedom and personal responsibility, as a prerequisite for the functioning of the individual in an open, competitive and individualistic society.
2.The philosophical and political concept of freedom
Freedom is not simply the removal of dictatorship, obstacles, legal and political restrictions, or the presence of rights written in the constitution. It is an ontological state, an existential dimension that requires conscience, maturity, and individual responsibility. Jean-Paul Sartre, the philosopher of existentialism, declared that “man is condemned to be free.” This means that we cannot escape responsibility for our own lives. But this existential freedom often turns into anxiety – and if society does not provide the tools to understand and manage this anxiety, then people seek refuge in the memories of a world where “someone else made the decisions.”
In communism, man did not choose: he signed the obedience, lived in a ready-made world, where his thought was formatted and where the collective “good” was decided from above. In democracy, freedom is a possibility – but a possibility that requires education, awareness, moral discipline and constant efforts not to fall into apathy, pessimism, cynicism or dependence on social handouts.
For this reason, building a free society cannot be a mere institutional transformation. It must be a cultural and ethical transformation, where freedom is learned, experienced, and defended not only as a right, but also as an intrinsic content of the human being.
This is why, even today, nostalgia for communism often surfaces not simply as a longing for a past political system, but as a symptom of a society that has not yet acquired freedom as an internal state, as a way of life. This is not nostalgia for dictatorship, but for order, for meaning, for the simple dignity that seems impossible in a society that measures everything in terms of money, where spectacle, hedonism, clicks and follower numbers have become the ingredients of consumerist culture.
Because freedom is not simply having the right to speak, travel, or vote – it is the ability to face the consequences of your choices, to build a life with daily effort and without absolute guarantees.
For many, this is tiring. Freedom makes people responsible for their own fate. And when this fate is difficult, unjust or uncertain, the mind turns back, to an idealized past, where "the state took care of everything", albeit through fear, censorship and the limitation of dreams. In this turning back there is not only longing, but also a form of surrender in the face of the challenge that freedom brings. The man who does not get used to freedom, often resembles the man who does not know what to do with empty space: better - he thinks - in a protected cage and with little food, than thrown into the currents of an unknown world with surprises.
Faced with a challenging reality, some people cheer for the “certainties” of the past under the patronage of the paternalistic and controlling state. Freedom, as an opportunity, asset and instrument of individual development, is ready to easily exchange for a “full stomach” and a “quiet life”. What is often forgotten is that yesterday’s utopia was, in fact, a closed space, stripped of individual dignity.
The one-dimensional man, before freedom, values ??security. Freedom scares those who are not used to choosing, who have never exercised their responsibility. Because freedom is not only right – it is a burden. It is a decision. It is a consequence. It is the fear of making mistakes and the courage to take responsibility. Zygmunt Bauman reminded us that in liquid modernity, the individual is free only on the surface, but lonely and abandoned in essence. In the absence of support structures – state, community, solidarity – freedom turns into insecurity. And man, fearing that everything will be lost, looks back: not to worship the past, but to console himself that perhaps once everything was simpler.
If a part of Albanian society continues to have this longing for the "past", this is not only a matter of selective memory. It is also a consequence of an unarticulated, unexplained freedom, untranslated into dignity, into justice, into well-being. It is the responsibility of politics, of schools, of the media, of the individual himself to translate the word "freedom" into tangible experience.
Otherwise, we will continue to look back longingly at the past, forgetting that the past had deprived us of the freedom to be ourselves, of the right to choose, to make mistakes, and to be more than a "link" in a collective machine.
Freedom, unlike the false security offered by a closed totalitarian system, has no recipe. It is a never-ending path, requiring courage, awareness, and sometimes even loneliness. But it is the only path for a society that wants to avoid being held hostage to nostalgia, fear, and the illusions of the past.
Today, against the backdrop of an unarticulated freedom, without concrete translation into welfare, justice, or meritocracy, nostalgia returns as a protective reflex. And when freedom is seen as a threat, not as a value, then democracy remains a formal skeleton without a soul.
If we want to understand nostalgia for communism, we must understand where we have failed as a society to give real meaning to the word “freedom.” Freedom is not a political slogan, but a concrete experience translated into dignity, equality before the law, and real opportunities for a good life.
And until this becomes a tangible reality for the majority, nostalgia will continue to linger – as a dark echo of the past, but also as a reminder that freedom, without justice and without responsibility, can be more frightening than any dictatorship.
If we want to understand the nostalgia for communism, we must understand that the fear of freedom is still present in the depths of the collective consciousness. But here lies the challenge: Are we ready to face freedom? Not as a privilege, but as a burden? Not as a gift, but as a duty? Because freedom is not just a right – it is a daily act. Every day I go to the battle of life - says the poet Jacques Prevert in one of his poems.
3. A present that dares not dream
Yes, nostalgia for communism still lives on in certain sections of our society. We have raised the flag of neoliberal individualism over the pillars of collectivist morality, but in the mind of the “nostalgic man” memories of a “quiet life” are revived. Not because people want dictatorship, but because they have not yet experienced the dignity that democracy promised them. In a reality where work is poorly rewarded, where young people leave, where truth is relativized and morality is degraded, the memory of a “pure” life becomes an imaginary refuge. It is a silent protest against today’s emptiness, an unspoken demand for a more just, more honest, more equal order.
This is not a political crisis. It is the crisis of a society that has not yet managed to translate freedom into responsibility and rights into real opportunities.
So the question that remains is this: Will we dare to build freedom as a shared experience, or will we continue to live in nostalgia, simply because we don't know what to do with our present?
Albanian culture, built on vertical relations of authority – whether patriarchal or state – has had no space for the autonomous subject, for the individual who conceives of himself as a choosing being. And it is precisely this void that has produced a fundamental sense of modern Albanian anxiety: when faced with freedom one feels naked, defenseless, lost.
In this context, a fundamental dilemma arises for our society: Is democracy just a procedural framework, or a culture of living? Is it a system where the individual can develop freely, or simply an endless transition towards a promise that never comes?
In Albania, the relationship with freedom is still asymmetrical: the state sees the citizen as a voter once every four years, but not as a co-creator of public life. Civil society - especially the so-called NGOs - is sometimes seen as business mechanisms, not as part of democratic inclusion. And the citizen, disappointed by the lack of results, withdraws into himself, into his family, into the memories of that time "when at least we were equal in suffering".
In one of his most insightful essays, Zygmunt Bauman writes that late modernity no longer sees freedom as an achievement, but as a burden. Because freedom requires commitment, knowledge, patience, sacrifice. It requires not waiting, but doing. And in a country where for decades the only way to survive was to be silent and obedient, this is a painful cultural reversal.
So, nostalgia for communism is not just a political sentiment – ??it is a social symptom, an indication that freedom has not yet managed to translate into dignity and fulfillment for the majority. The fear of freedom does not come from a lack of its value, but from a lack of experience with it. Freedom is not only learned in books. It is experienced in a society where justice works, where work is rewarded, where free speech does not penalize you, where the future is not simply emigration.
In this context, we as a society and citizens still have a lot to learn from ourselves. Not to go back, but to understand why we have not fully embraced the present. So, are we afraid of freedom? Or are we afraid because freedom is a sacrifice, freedom is a battle, and we often doubt whether democracy will give us what it has been promised!
Ultimately, the dilemma remains: Should we return to the past for comfort, or stay in the present to build a better future?