By Assoc. Prof. Klejd Këlliçi
Part One
Memorie.al / At the turn of the 1990s, many Albanian families faced stories that were at times traumatic, especially as children – many of them already grown – discovered that they had brothers and sisters ‘abroad’. For Albanian society and the Albanian family, which had preserved strong traditionalist elements even during communism, this was bound to be a traumatic event, although it quickly turned into a moment of joy, as fathers came to know and meet the children left behind in Eastern countries after the break with the Soviet Union. These now-extended families, once part of the Albanian fantastic imagination about the foreign world, only emerged in the 1990s as an unavoidable part of Albania’s opening to the world.
For the countries of Eastern Europe, the establishment of communist regimes necessarily foresaw a far more incisive social integration, naturally under the leadership of the Soviet Union. Despite this, the communist regime in Albania viewed with suspicion marriages between Albanians and foreigners, which, although not prohibited, had to be authorised by the state itself. The letters that Albanian students sent to Enver Hoxha or other state authorities highlight precisely the great difficulties Albanian students faced in enjoying their fundamental right to choose a partner. This right was not denied by the Albanian state, but the latter retained ultimate discretion, primarily over the Albanian party.
In this way, through letters, one can understand the inherent elements of socialist subjects, whose characteristics are grasped through the language used—the linguistic arsenal through which they seek to achieve their goals and position themselves within the framework of larger political conflicts, such as the one commonly known as “the break with the Soviet Union and, more broadly, the great Sino-Soviet split”.
The scholar Fitzpatrick categorises these types of letters as confession—a kind of opening, a total approach of the subject toward the recipient of the letter. They attempt to build a personal rapport with the leader, simultaneously legitimising both the letter-writer and the letter-recipient.
The desire for marriage, letters to Enver Hoxha, and disillusionment
Starting from the late 1940s and onward, dozens of Albanian citizens, mainly in their twenties and older, would set off for socialist countries to study or specialise, thus coming into contact with foreign citizens for the first time. (After Albania broke off relations with the Soviet Union and other socialist countries, there were about 1,000 students.)
Albanian embassies thus became regulators, as far as they could, of student life. Besides being obliged to follow the rules of the host state, students were also dependent on their respective embassies. Nevertheless, it was impossible to control the activities of hundreds of students coming from a very backward country into the socialist ‘paradise’ – cities and capitals that retained both their pre-war splendour and the glow of socialism’s triumph, such as Moscow or Leningrad. And of course, beyond the establishment of communist regimes and the application of Stalinism as a style and logic of exercising power, Eastern European societies were far more open than the Albanian one, and even more so than the society built by the fledgling Albanian communism.
In 1953, in a circular addressed to the embassies, Enver Hoxha complained about the ‘improper’ behaviour of students and trainees—problems of a specific and often private nature, but which acquire meaning in the context of human exchanges between countries of the Communist Bloc. Students, trainees, or people going abroad to gain experience must behave correctly and in a controllable manner. In fact, these reports also reveal the level of social development and the disparity among socialist societies, where exchanges aim precisely to level out the distances – mainly economic and developmental – that exist between them. At the same time, students are a mirror of the sending state, or at least they are understood as such by the sending state, upon which the fate of the students also rests.
(Study scholarships were rarely paid by the Albanian state; instead, the assistance of Eastern countries was exploited in the sense of reciprocal relations and equality among states that hosted the students.) Embassy control is an inherent part of state logic and its extension into host countries. This was not simply about aspects of morality and behaviour, insofar as students were claimed to be the most authentic product of socialist societies, representatives of the new face of transforming countries, but also involved other elements pertaining to the logic of fusion among socialist societies.
Albania, like other socialist countries, exercised control over students’ lives in both material and moral aspects. Albanian embassies received Albanian students, enabled their spiritual preparation within the dynamics of the host society, and decided whether they would come home for summer holidays, and so on. They also organised important aspects of the students’ socio-political life, ranging from the establishment of basic party organisations to the supervision – where possible – of these organisations’ work.
In 1957, by order of the Ministry of Education, Albanian embassies were given a series of important competences regarding the organisation of student life. Diplomatic representations thus turned into controllers of daily student life, touching almost every aspect. They had the right to propose various measures when rules were broken – from counselling to final repatriation, which was perhaps the harshest measure for students, as it was recorded in their personal file and followed them for life.
Naturally, Albanian representations found it very difficult to control every kind of aspect, much less intimate relationships and the problems that might arise in that regard, given the degree of freedom or, in many cases, the lack of sharp restrictions that existed in gender relations in Albania. Undoubtedly, for Albanians, the world outside the country – even that of the East – was a moment of unprecedented freedom, both in daily interactions and in intimate matters. The result of this was relationships that in many cases ended and were crowned with marriage.
The Albanian state thus found itself faced with a fait accompli: the desire to control student activity versus the internationalist logic of socialism. On one hand, there were intimate relationships, freedom, and the lack of tradition in Albanian society; on the other hand, there was socialist brotherhood—which naturally posed a difficulty for the authorities.
Generally, those who married were mostly men with foreign women, and few Albanian women married foreign men; this also reflects the skewed gender ratios in sending students abroad. Although there were few or no guidelines on how to handle marriages, most students who married would have to bring their wives and eventually their children back to their country of origin only after completing their studies.
In P.G.’s petition to the authorities, the dynamics of marriages between foreigners and Albanian students are more or less explained. According to the letter-writer, before 1958 marriages were permitted, although in the mid-1950s Albanian students were advised not to marry foreign women because of cultural diversity, customs, and the conditions in which the country found itself. This, of course, was not the norm, but rather the departures of Soviet or Eastern women – i.e., divorces – were seen as harmful or barely acceptable events by the Albanian leadership.
The destiny of Albanians, men or women, was always supposed to be Albania. Staying in Eastern countries, despite good relations, was unimaginable, even given the students’ specific mission: to learn and apply the knowledge acquired in their homeland. Soviet, Polish, or other nationality women and girls would thus be transferred to Albania gradually during the 1950s. The break in relations with the Soviet Union and eventually with other ‘Bloc’ countries suspended and stopped the phenomenon of marriages and simultaneously prevented Albanian students from bringing their wives to Albania – wives not only foreign but now considered part of a hostile world.
The agents of this prohibition were precisely the Albanian embassies, which withheld the issuance of entry visas, documents, and relevant certificates that would enable the transfer to Albania or the stay of spouses in the respective countries.
In Albanian logic, imbued with traditionalist predispositions about gender relations, the wife followed her husband wherever he went. Albanian students, both girls and boys, were forced to return to Albania without finishing their studies in Eastern countries, thus leaving behind their wives, husbands, or fiancés. The break was sudden, if not brutal, as it came in the summer when most students returned for compulsory holidays in Albania and were informed of the interruption of their studies and the physical impossibility of being with their partners.
The Soviet Union and other Bloc countries cut off aid and scholarships for students, making it impossible to continue their studies and, consequently, to maintain relations with their spouses. The rupture with the Bloc, the withdrawal of the respective Soviet and Albanian ambassadors, and the alignment of most communist countries with the Soviet Union would produce the first isolation within this bloc.
The first victims of this rupture were the students and, even more, their partners. They represented a double risk: as subjects influenceable by foreign propaganda, and in their relations with spouses who were considered potential agents. Relations with foreigners and the suspicion toward them reflected at once the system’s phobia of them, the idea of the other as perpetually suspect, and the perception of being on the front line facing an infinite number of enemies.
Paternalism and sincere love
Letters addressed to the authorities were common for Albanian citizens. They reflected requests, suggestions, denunciations, and so on. Students’ letters fell into the category of requests and clarifications about their specific situation, and simultaneously, the uncertainty and lack of understanding of the reasons behind the ban on marriages. They were also letters that showed a particular disproportionate relationship between the leader and socialist subjects. Often, they did not demand the denied right but rather expressed surprise at the impossibility of realising an act for which the subjects had given sufficient proof of loyalty.
The tone of the letters contains almost familial aspects, through which letter-writers seek to establish a personal, paternalistic relationship with the leader, acknowledging his unlimited power – if not over life and death, then at least over the essence of the writers’ fate. Nevertheless, for some of them, it was unacceptable not to take or not to leave their spouses in the Eastern countries. For this reason, many tried by all means available to resolve the bureaucratic deadlock of obstacles in order to bring their wives and children to Albania.
Beyond legal efforts, they wrote to the leadership as the highest instance that could solve the problem. The presentation of this problem was naturally personal, not collective, and the letters were often written by partners, Albanians and foreigners. Their structure was almost identical: establishing a paternalistic connection with the leader, a declaration of loyalty, self-assessment, presentation of the spouse and the marriage problem, a personal guarantee for the spouse, and a joint declaration of loyalty.
Students were and claimed to be the ultimate products of the party and the state. For this reason, they felt it natural to address Enver Hoxha, whom they identified as the highest authority – the one with power over the life and death of subjects and who naturally had the power to transcend the law.
A.D. addresses the leader by his personal name and apologises for taking up his time. He writes: “Why does our dear leader, on whose shoulders rest so many problems on which the fate of the entire people depends, have time?” Among the rare cases of women marrying foreign citizens, T.B. addresses Enver Hoxha because the latter “with care and compassion solves and fulfils the requests and needs of the people”. As such, her letter should not be ignored and should be seen with the same logic as a parent would see it, just as F.D., who addresses Hoxha “like a son to his father” and then calls him a dear leader. The political relationship thus orients itself toward paternalism and the idea that Hoxha is like the father of the large Albanian family, upon whom depend both the fate of the nation and the personal fates of the letter-writers.
While civilians appeal to the parent’s compassion, for the military it is more important to present their family origin and its closeness to the power structure. L.L. writes seeking an almost familial closeness with Hoxha and the Party, who “raised me and gave me life”. Pilot I.K. writes that he has fulfilled the order of the leader and the party most precisely, achieving excellent results, and that he easily commands the plane with which he will later defend the homeland. Another military man provides a résumé of his family and origin – one of the main reasons he was chosen to go to the Soviet Union. R.C. comes from a family with strong, almost genetic ties to the regime. His father was a partisan and driver in the Department of Internal Affairs in Elbasan. His mother was killed by the Germans. The writer’s political formation cannot be doubted either, for from the school benches he was engaged in all possible political activities and party organisations, and consequently his presence in the Soviet Union is a product of family and personal loyalty to the Party. P.G., from Korça, says that his family helped the war effort by every means, and many of his relatives gave their lives for the liberation of the country. His dream of becoming a pilot was realised by the Party, which then gave him the opportunity to go to the Soviet Union.
The appeal for help also comes with the recognition of and participation in the collective sacrifice. S.S. writes that the party and Enver Hoxha have done much for the Marxist‑Leninist movement in the world, and together with them, the letter-writer pledges to fight continuously and give his life for the cause of communism and the defence of the homeland. Besides the personal declaration of loyalty, students offer to guarantee not only for themselves but primarily for their spouses. These letters mainly display elements of Albanian moral tradition, or more precisely, a traditional worldview regarding the marital relationship, intertwined with love – conceived in socialism as an authentic element and expression of the subjects’ free will, under the permission of the socialist state’s frameworks.
L.L. writes that he fell in love with a Soviet girl with whom he decided to tie his life, based on “the aim of our dear Party for the good of all honest people, and relying on the decision of our government, we decided to tie our lives”. Thus, marriage is not only a personal decision but also a state authorisation, which naturally must be respected because it coincides with the Party’s aim to make people happy.
The letters of the men are duplicated by those of their wives, relatives, or classmates. While the former reinforce the requests in the men’s letters, the latter are part of the auxiliary arsenal and strategies that letter-writers use in their relations with power. The male writers are one part of the equation, which in many cases is built into a relationship with more than two actors. They present their wives to the leader in the same manner as they would introduce them to their own parents./Memorie.al
To be continued in the next issue
