There is something deeply revealing in the argument repeated every time another protected area in Albania is handed over to luxury investors: “Albanians never even went there anyway.”

Some said it about Sazan Island when the Albanian government granted preliminary approval for Jared Kushner, Donald Trump’s son-in-law, to transform the area into a luxury resort.

Some say it now about the wetlands and protected ecosystems surrounding Narta Lagoon and Divjakë-Karavasta National Park.

As if the only thing that gives nature value is whether humans consume it. This mentality is precisely how we are destroying the planet.

A forest does not need to become a resort to justify its existence. A lagoon does not need beach bars and villas to matter. An island does not need to be “activated” by billionaires to be valuable. Some places should exist simply because they are ecosystems, habitats, migration corridors, and living environments for species that are already on the edge of extinction.

The idea that every untouched landscape is merely “unused real estate” is one of the most dangerous ideas of modern capitalism, often disguised under the mantle of “development.”

Kushner’s threat to endangered species

Karaburun-Sazan Marine National Park is not empty land waiting for profitable civilization to arrive. It is one of the Mediterranean’s most sensitive marine ecosystems.

Environmental organizations have warned that the proposed luxury resort project linked to Kushner threatens habitats of endangered species, including the Mediterranean monk seal and protected marine ecosystems. 

Likewise, the broader Vjosa-Narta Protected Landscape and the ecosystems connected to Divjakë-Karavasta National Park are not just scenic coastlines.

They are part of one of Europe’s most important migratory bird corridors and home to over 70 endangered species and more than 200 bird species. Divjakë-Karavasta also constitutes the last remaining intact delta system in the Mediterranean.

And yet bulldozers move in. Not transparently. Not democratically. Not even, according to environmental organizations, legally.

Reports and statements from conservation groups describe ongoing construction activity, the destruction of dunes and forests, and interventions within protected areas that allegedly occur without proper environmental impact assessments, public consultation, or transparent permitting procedures.

This should alarm anyone who still believes EU accession is fundamentally about the rule of law, environmental standards, and democratic accountability.

And at a time when Albania is being praised as only the second EU candidate country (after Montenegro) to fulfill the interim benchmarks, here lies the uncomfortable question: how is Albania still advancing toward EU membership while protected areas are being weakened for elite investment projects?

To be sure, similar “projects” were introduced across the region.

‘Eco-resort’ – with golf course

For instance, the Ulcinj Salina in Montenegro was previously privatised and slated for development into an eco-resort with a marina and golf course, posing a threat to the habitat crucial for birds along their migratory route.

The Center for Protection and Research of Birds of Montenegro (CZIP) advocated for the protection of birds’ habitats while revealing information about illegal mortgages. This added weight to their campaign, which garnered attention not only nationally but also regionally.

Ultimately, their efforts were successful, and the protection of the site became a closing benchmark for Montenegro’s EU accession process.

Elsewhere in the region, and perhaps ironically, one of Kushner’s most controversial Balkan projects was a luxury redevelopment in Belgrade on the site of the former Yugoslav army headquarters bombed during the Nato intervention, which was ultimately rolled back following public protests, institutional scrutiny, and allegations of forged documentation.

Serbian president Aleksandar Vu?i? lamented that Serbia would be “left with a ruined building” instead of a multimillion-euro investment. 

But that contrast makes the Albanian case even more disturbing.

In Serbia, the controversy centered on redeveloping a politically and historically contested urban ruin. In Albania, there is no abandoned concrete shell in the middle of a capital city. No decaying military structure. No derelict site serving “nothing.”

Instead, what is being opened to luxury development are some of the country’s most fragile and living ecosystems, habitats that already serve a purpose far greater than profit. They sustain biodiversity, shelter endangered species, regulate ecosystems, and belong to the public and future generations.

Brussels pushback

The European Commission, members of the European Parliament, and environmental organisations have repeatedly raised concerns regarding Albania’s environmental governance and changes to protected-area legislation.

Declaring the Vjosa National Park a protected area in Albania was the result of the continuous engagement of various EU actors with the Albanian government and civil society.

This is why civil society, and environmental organisations in particular, explicitly argue that the amendments allowing luxury construction in protected areas contradict EU nature protection standards and the spirit of the Natura 2000 framework – the EU’s flagship network for protecting endangered species and vulnerable habitats, and the cornerstone of European biodiversity conservation policy.

Yet the European response remains strikingly cautious.

In May 2026, the European Commission stated that it was “closely monitoring” developments in the protected Pishë Poro-Narta landscape and reiterated that, to close Chapter 27 on environment and climate, Albania must demonstrate the capacity to manage future Natura 2000 areas and prevent the degradation of habitats and species.

The statement implicitly recognises Pishë Poro-Narta as a test case for Albania’s environmental commitments under the accession process. 

Yet despite growing alarm from environmental organizations and ongoing reports of interventions within protected areas, the political response from Brussels remains limited to monitoring and procedural concern.

No serious political consequences related to accession. No major diplomatic confrontation.

Instead, Albania appears trapped in a familiar Balkan paradox: European standards are rigorously invoked in rhetoric, while exceptions are tolerated when political interests and strategic investors enter the picture. 

Not for ordinary Albanians

And that brings us to another uncomfortable truth hidden under the language of “development.” Development for whom?

When governments celebrate billion-euro luxury investments, the public is expected to applaud automatically.

But ordinary Albanians have the right to ask whether these projects are even meant for them. Who will be able to afford these resorts? Who will access these beaches? Who benefits when public and protected landscapes are transformed into enclaves for global elites?

Albania is already becoming unaffordable for many of its own citizens during the summer months. Entire coastal areas increasingly cater to foreign investors, luxury tourism, and speculative real estate markets. What was once a shared natural space risks becoming privatised scenery for multimillionaires.

This is not simply an environmental issue. It is also a social and democratic one.

No luxury resort can replace a lost ecosystem.