The Case For and Against Fan Noli’s Repatriation

A bust of Fan Noli at the entrance of the St. George Albanian Orthodox Cathedral in Boston (left) and his best-known portrait from 1924 (right).

Recent months have seen the emergence of a movement organized by Albanian-Americans to repatriate the remains of Fan Noli, a former prime minister, founder of the Albanian Orthodox Church and one of the leading figures of the Albanian Renaissance (Rilindja).

In addition to his importance to all Albanians and particularly those of the Orthodox faith, Noli lived in the United States for several decades and is arguably the community’s foremost emblem.

Below, two Arbanon Magazine contributors, Enri Lala and Valton Vuçitërna, present opposing perspectives on whether Fan Noli’s remains should be repatriated. Their arguments center on the significance of his legacy for all Albanians, and for the Albanian-American community in particular.

The Case Against

Enri Lala

On April 15th, 2023 I was in Boston for a national college debate tournament. As if divinely ordained, that very Saturday also happened to be Orthodox Easter. Southern California, where my family and I have established ourselves, is home to a million blessings, but large Albanian community is, to say the least, not one of them.

As such, when I realized that I would be in the city on this fortuitous date, I reached out to the historic St. George Albanian Orthodox Cathedral – a significant religious and cultural institution established by none other than Fan S. Noli. In no time, a secretary connected me to the Bishop, an open and gregarious man who let me know he would be delighted to welcome me and my American friends to the service that Saturday evening.

I will never forget that initial moment, walking into the imposing red brick cathedral. From the first step, you are met by a bust of Noli, and through it, the sheer weight of history the Cathedral represents. There was an enormous sense of pride in the ability to directly share this legacy with friends there to experience it with me.

Noli is, in my mind, without doubt the most important figure for Albanian-Americans. Born in Edirne in modern-day Turkey, he moved to the United States in 1906, aged 24. As a young man, he led the movement to found an Autocephalous Albanian Orthodox Church, prompted by anti-Albanian discrimination from existing Greek Orthodox clergy in Boston. The church, it is crucial to remember, found its roots in the US before Noli and others took the crucial step of importing it into Albania.

Two years after his arrival, he began studying at Harvard University, earning his degree in 1912, the same year he co-founded Vatra (The Hearth), one of the Albanian diaspora’s foremost historic organizations.

Noli first touched Albanian soil in 1913 and embarked on a career of both triumph and turmoil. This included lobbying US President Woodrow Wilson to recognize Albania as an independent state at the Paris Peace Conference, launching the short-lived left-leaning June 1924 Revolution against future king Ahmet Zogu and producing some of the most memorable literary works in Albanian history.

Upon returning to the U.S. after decades of political activities, he went on to graduate from the New England Conservatory of Music and earn a Ph.D. from Boston University. Here, he authored a dissertation that would become one of the foundational works on Gjergj Kastrioti Skanderbeg.

His contributions are, of course, an inheritance of all Albanians. He even conceived of his beloved independent Orthodox Church as “belong[ing] to all Albanians, not just the Orthodox.” True though this is, let us think for a second about the primary need of the community Noli lived amongst and served for decades: Albanian-Americans. What will empower their aspirations to reach new heights and further contribute to the society that has welcomed them, all the while bringing pride to their own community? In my estimation, what is needed is proof of a long-established, illustrious historical presence on America’s shores.

It would be difficult to think of a historical figure who has so brilliantly exemplified the link between the United States and Albania, as was honored by a Bronx, New York Street named in his honor in 2022.  The right thing to do, then, would be to invest in a burial ground, statue and other commemorations that befit his preeminent role to the Albanians of Boston and the entire country.

The immediate precedent on which the initiative in question was based is the repatriation of the remains of Mit’hat Frashëri, widely regarded as the father of modern Albanian nationalism. Frashëri’s example, however, is starkly different in two important ways. First, his repatriation signified Albania’s move away from the Communist-era assault on his memory, which classified his leadership of the National Front as betrayal to the fascist occupiers of World War II and sought to wipe out his contributions to Albanian history. This extended as far as erasing his name from the 1912 Declaration of Independence.

Noli’s stature could hardly stand in sharper contrast. His broadly left wing politics – which included founding the Comintern-linked KONARE in exile and earned him the unfortunate moniker “the red bishop” – allowed him some contacts with the Communist government during its early days and, significantly, a seat of honor in its literary canon. Indeed, his “On the River Banks” (Anës Lumenjve) was likely the best-known poem during the era after being immortalized in the classic anti-fascist film “Red Poppies on the Walls” (Lulëkuqe mbi Mure). There is, then, no equivalent historiographical crime to be redressed by his repatriation.

The second significant difference is that Mit’hat Frashëri explicitly requested that he be buried in Albania. In fact, his 1929 will, in which he allocated funds to establish an Albanological Institute in Tirana, conveys a very specific request:

“I don't know where the Institute will be located but if it is to be a little outside of the city, I would like my grave to be in a corner of the garden, off to the right when entering from the street gate. On this grave I want a large piece of stone and a cypress tree. It seems to me as if I will be the custodian of the Institute, as if I will also take an eternal part in its revival."

I am not aware of any such dictated desire on the part of Noli. The records he did leave us demonstrate that he strongly conceived of Albanians as contributors to all humanity. In a 1963 speech delivered in the very Boston cathedral I had the honor of visiting, he makes the case that “the problems of every nation today are inherently international.” Appealing to the example of the Roman Emperor Constantine the Great, an “Albanian by origin,” he prophesies that “the new Constantine who saves us all from world war war may well again be an Albanian.”

Even outside of America’s shores, Noli in many ways captures the tragic beauty of the Albanian diaspora and the irreplaceable role it has played in the nation’s history. He was not, I would remind you, born in Albania, his family having inhabited other parts of the Ottoman Empire for generations. What’s more, he himself lived in several European countries, both before settling in the US and after his foundational political activities in Albania. 

His literary contributions vividly speak to this dynamic. I would venture that most Albanians who visit Hamburg on Berlin immediately call to mind his lines from “On the River Banks”:

Fugitive, banished,

Distraught and exhausted,

I grieve endlessly, hopelessly,

Along the Elbe, along the Spree.

For these reasons, I urge Albanian-American leaders in Boston and the government in Tirana to honor Noli’s memory and the future of the community he loved by investing in a befitting monument in the city he called home for decades.

The Case For

Valton Vuçitërna

I began to walk along a road leading away from my beloved hometown of Rahovec, Kosova, nestled in a vineyard-enclosed valley. The Friday sky showed promise of thunder and rain but I was determined to make it to his grave. It would be my first visit to his resting place since his death. I entered the varrezat, careful to not step on the graves of the deceased. A golden haze filled the clouded sky, and the summer heat rose from the baked dirt. I caught sight of the small yet impressive oak tree under which the man I was seeking was buried.

The polished red granite headstone glinted even in the absence the sun. My great-grandfather. Laid next to him was my great-grandmother, joining him in eternal rest. As I approached the grave, the rumble and clap of thunder reverberated from the heavens, and a torrent of rain began to attack from above. 

The flag of Albania flew valiantly on a pole at the base of the hill, determined to withstand the harsh weather. I looked around, shielding my face from the downpour, seeing just how many of my tribesmen were buried in this section. Generation after generation, Vuçitërna after Vuçitërna in slumber everlasting, resting in the soil of their predecessors. This event, four years ago, helped shape my understanding of the word atdhe – the fatherland, a word with a metaphysical meaning that surpasses its denotation.

And so, we are led to the case of Fan Noli’s remains. Noli, in my view, remains one of the most important figures in Albanian history. I can hardly convey the sheer weight of his contribution to the heritage and integrity of our community in this article. From his time as Prime Minister and regent of Albania to his immense work on the life of Skenderbeu, and despite his left-wing sympathies, Noli’s determination to cement Albanian heritage represents the breath and spirit of all that the nation has to offer.

Arguably his most important contribution was the formation of the Autocephalous Orthodox Church of Albania. Eager to do his part in the emerging Albanian nationalist movement, which sought separation from the Ottoman Empire, Noli moved to the United States in 1906. Here, he worked with fellow expatriates to further the national program away from hostile Young Turk leaders, who despised people like Noli for conducting political activities in the diaspora.

In 1907, however, an event that came to be known as the Hudson Incident took place in the Massachusetts town of the same name. An Albanian immigrant named Kristaq Dishnica, who passed away from influenza, was refused burial rites by the local Greek Orthodox Church, after being deemed excommunicated because of his staunch Albanian patriotic position. After this controversial event, Noli, with the support of Archbishop Platon of the Russian Orthodox Church in America, would take the steps needed to be ordained as a priest.

The incident would inspire Noli to form a new church-consciousness in the Albanian community, one which ensured that ethnic Albanians had no reason to fear being buried improperly by their own Church simply for their belief in an independent nation-state.

Noli subsequently translated the Orthodox liturgy from Greek into Tosk Albanian, which he viewed as key to uprooting the “Megali idea” style Hellenist chauvinism that imposed itself on the Orthodox community in Albania. Indeed, forceful assimilation into Greek identity was a prevalent issue, with any efforts to resist it being met with harsh retribution. This is best exemplified by the notorious murder of Priest Kristo Negovani by Greek nationalist bands for his use of Albanian in the Orthodox liturgy – carried out on behalf of the Greek bishop Karavangelis of Kastoria. Negovani’s murder led to the equally famous assassination of the Greek Orthodox metropolitan of Korça by the band of Bajo Topulli – older brother to Çerciz, posthumously considered a national hero.

Through decades of grueling work, Noli successfully saw the recognition of the autocephaly (self-headedness) of the Albanian Orthodox Church in 1937 by the Patriarchate of Constantinople.

His love for the fatherland was transcendental. Being born near Edirne in Turkey, a descendant of Orthodox migrants escaping regional conflicts from a village in Kolonjë, Noli exemplified what the Albanian diaspora, in my judgement, must aim to do: work for the betterment of the land of their forefathers and attempt a return for the sake of the generations of Albanians who will come after us.

While I concur with my colleague that Albanian-Americans deserve a tangible beacon of pride to commemorate their hard work and dedication to succeed in new soil despite all odds, the remains of such a great man are so heavy that leaving him entombed in the United States would be an injustice. 

It would be remiss not to mention that the Orthodox Albanians of the South should be able to celebrate his achievements knowing that he is buried in his ancestral land. Their immense sense of gratitude comes from the fact that Noli, even in exile, never waned in his effort to provide them with a strong religious institution – safe from the chauvinistic terror of the time. Indeed, he captured the suffering his community felt with the famous quote: “The wolf attacks with his teeth, the bull with his horns, and the Greek with the church.”

I see his burial outside of the country as a blockade to the community in Albania proper. Repatriation allows all Orthodox Albanians to pay their respects, removing the need to travel internationally, which is in and of itself a harsh financial and physical barrier. It would also allow Albanians of all faiths to fully commemorate one of the founding fathers of the modern state in the country he helped form.

As such, repatriation might also implore those in the diaspora to make a return visit – pilgrimage, even – thereby reintroducing many to the mountains their ancestors fought for. If you believe that those in the diaspora who have the means ought to frequent Albania, this move would, in a way, kill two birds with one stone. Not only would it demonstrate the land’s beauty to immigrants and their children but it would also give them an anchor to their heritage through Noli’s achievements.

I am reminded here of Hasan Prishtina and Luigj Gurakuqi. Both fellow political opponents of the former king Ahmet Zogu would meet their ends in a similar fashion, assassinated by men who more likely than not acted on the orders of the monarch. While Noli was spared assassination, his destiny was similarly sealed with exile on Zogu’s orders after the failed 1924 June Revolution.

These men and others like Bajram Curri and Avni Rustemi all met their fates in the effort to depose Zogu’s fundamentally “anti-Albanian” reign – due to his ties to the crown of Yugoslavia – and were buried in Albanian soil despite some, like Prishtina, being killed outside of the state’s borders. Thus, Noli deserves to be buried among the men he stood beside in life and vision. 

I can only picture how momentous such an event would be by finally uniting the early builders of the state, in a similar fashion to the memorials dedicated to the martyrs who fought for Kosova. Ensuring the reunion of these eminent figures for the first time after their passing could also serve as a crucial moment of national memory, as it did with the repatriation of Mit’hat Frashëri in 2018.

Noli’s burial in the United States, then, separates him physically from the land he helped shape politically and spiritually. Hence, his repatriation would restore the national dignity taken away by exile. After all he gave, without asking for anything in return, Albania and her people owe him this final act of respect. To bring him home is not just a symbolic gesture, but a moral responsibility that falls on the shoulders of the nation.

For these reasons, I implore our community to voice their support for returning the remains of Theofan Stilian Noli to the Albanian mainland to rest forever more amongst his people, granting him the deserved welcome our culture holds so dear.