Why Material Prosperity Alone Fails: Lessons from the Albanian Case

Author: Valton Vuçitërna

The Pass of Tyrana by Edward Lear. The piece depicts the Krraba Pass between Elbasan and Tirana and is overlooked by Mt. Tomorr, c. 1848.

Introduction

This May, I made my way down the coast of Lake Michigan and through the rustbelt of northern Indiana towards Chicago, the metropolis best known for its distinctive skyline and windy sobriquet. First stepping foot in the city, this felt more like a misnomer, as the spring afternoon offered only a tender breeze completed by the azure-tinged sunlit sky.

I received the city’s welcome like that of an old compatriot. Yet the occasion which brought me here did not exactly fall into my ordinary routine. Some weeks prior, I received an invite, on behalf of this Magazine, to attend a silent auction charity gala. The hostess was Dr. Sonila Sejdaras, a Chicago-based clinical psychologist, Care for Albania founder and, as I would come to learn, one of the sharpest minds working at the intersection of Albanian identity and psychological wellbeing.

To my pleasure, the evening did not begin with any bombastic speeches set to rival even the most zealous populist firebrand, nor did the broader atmosphere even hint at anything like performative generosity — për sy e faqe, in plain sight, as Albanians often sarcastically remark. Even the competitive financial pledging that often characterizes such environments was absent. Quiet and tasteful by design, the gathering was organized around a specific purpose: raising funds for the Kids Academy in Çagllavica, Kosova and providing the institution with a NIRVANA sensory room for Albanian children with autism. In its restraint and seriousness, this was among the most culturally profound episodes I had witnessed in quite some time. 

I had the chance to sit with Dr. Sejdaras following the event. The discussion led me to reflect on a contrast in the basic characteristics of the Albanian people, which I had not initially anticipated. This mid-conversation current of thought led me to believe that the primary question we ought to be preoccupied with is not what the ethnos is equipped with, but rather predisposed to do. Such a distinction carries a much higher obligation than a cursory examination would suggest. Importantly, it is within this contrast that Dr. Sejdaras conducts her most consequential work. I will develop these concepts in full below.

The question lingered long after the evening drew down, and into my twilight exploration of downtown Chicago’s Near North Side. What concerned me was not limited to a single charity initiative but rather encompassed – if the strong emphasis may be accepted – the Albanian people themselves. We often find ourselves discussing what the Albanians as a cultural, linguistic and ethnic group have endured, yet far less commonly what those experiences have demanded of us in return.

A Covenant of Belonging

For much of Albanian history, survival was not considered an achievement of the individual but rather the collective. Within the nation there is tribe, then village, then neighborhood, then brotherhood, then house and finally family. Through millennia, a structural network of mutual obligation stood as a necessity rather than a mere cultural preference. The solidarity of blood took the form of an infrastructure designed to insulate Albanians from weak, absent or hostile institutions. There persisted an imperative commitment to one’s community that preceded entitlement.

This nigh-Aristotelian ethic – an understanding of man as a social and political being whose flourishing is inseparable from his obligations – is remarkably easy to forget in an age of comfort characterized by digital progress and economic globalization, which has seen the individual lifted to unprecedented heights. Yet the Albanian experience can hardly be understood without first appreciating the degree to which communal responsibility enabled survival at both local and national levels.

A common, facile reading depicts the Albanian story as one defined by physical resistance and perseverance in the face of overwhelming odds. Yet there is an important fundamental reality underlying such political and cultural resistance. These forms of mobilization are only possible when a community recognizes itself as worthy of self-preservation. Such a willingness to sacrifice is what ultimately induces the metamorphosis of a population into a people, and a people into a nation — among other important factors.

In somewhat of a departure from the sharp historical focus behind many similar articles I have contributed to the Magazine, it is valuable to visit a more recent example. During the Kosova War between 1998 and 1999, the Yugoslav military along with Serbian paramilitary and police forces expelled some 800,000 ethnic Kosova Albanians from their native region, mostly into the neighboring states of Albania and present-day North Macedonia. This sea of civilians carried little more than what their hands could hold, either confined on the backs of tractors or trudging through the brutal terrain on foot.

And lo, by and large they were welcomed across the mainland Albanian state by families who opened their doors to ‘strangers’ only in the narrowest sense of that term, for what they lacked in formal titles of kinship was supplied by a common ancestry and tongue. Similar scenes unfolded among the Albanian community in North Macedonia. It was understood that these refugees from beyond the Sharr Mountains were not burdens to be managed. They were undeserving victims of violence, which made them no less members of the same national family.

The significance of this response extends well beyond political action or humanitarian relief. It reveals a deeper and more enduring feature of Albanian culture. Much of the care shown to the refugees in their darkest hour emerged from ordinary individuals acting on a sense of mutual responsibility cultivated over generations, without the need for bureaucratic intervention. This proactive act of taking in their ethnic counterparts was manifestly compelled by moral tradition and a recognition of shared heritage.

The language used to describe such traditions is frequently misunderstood as little more than a historical curiosity or slogan fit for consumerist reduction. Once properly grasped, these expressions – including cultural concepts like besa, best understood as a metaphysically binding oath – embody a broader philosophy of ethnic obligation, though the concept does not have entirely strict ethnic boundaries and extends to all regardless of origin. Nevertheless, it is a conviction that the Albanian’s duty is not limited by personal interest, and can be fulfilled through loyalty and sacrifice. For centuries, these terms of social cohesion served as a set of communal technologies enabling Albanian survival under circumstances that would have otherwise proven impossible.

We must ask: does this technology remain intact today?

Albanian Duel by Alexandre Gabriel Decamps. The painting depicts two Albanian men in Southern-style attire engaged in combat with yataghan swords, c. 1828.

The Trial of Modernity

A single generation has proven enough time to completely alter the trajectory of the Albanian community. It has produced a larger, wealthier and more educated diaspora than in any other point in history, along with major shifts in their native regions. Yet this dramatic geographic, demographic and economic shift introduces tribulations of its own.

Today’s ethnos faces difficult forces disconnected from – though without doubt psychologically influenced by – the challenges of their ancestors. One need no longer worry about a new empire conquering his village or imposing some heavy new tax. The threat now takes the form of internal fragmentation rather than external domination; this process has damaged not only the networks of support that long sustained Albanian life, but also the collective psyche.

Modern life encourages a particular understanding of success rooted in individual achievements and unending material accumulation. I should note that these concepts are not necessarily objectionable in and of themselves. This becomes an observable issue when taken to the extreme of apathy – the ultimate marker for which is a sense of disconnection from communal responsibility. Individual prosperity alone is incapable of generating meaning without the backbone and cohesion of a community properly understood. Importantly, it is often such robust communities which allow individuals to flourish in the first place – and such achievements can suffer in their absence.

One need only observe the contemporary Albanian diaspora. The range of valuable opportunities and material comforts many enjoy would have been unimaginable to ancestors removed by relatively little time. Yet do we not observe social isolation and uncertainty over belonging among these same successful community members? Such estrangement is not only the product of geographic distance from one’s birthplace and family but also processes of developments within diaspora communities themselves. Material prosperity may have solved many issues plaguing Albanians for centuries, yet it neither furnished nor eliminated the need for purpose and communal attachment.

Nor is this paradox of material plenty and spiritual scarcity unique to the Albanians. Many of the world’s wealthiest societies report unprecedented levels of loneliness and societal isolation, indicating that material abundance is insufficient in satisfying the human need for belonging.

In her clinical work, Dr. Sejdaras has observed this phenomenon with remarkable consistency. She expressed to me that “modern life has unintentionally weakened this instinct” toward broader human fulfillment and continued that “the distractions of contemporary existence – busyness, consumerism, and an overemphasis on intellectualism – often lead us to prioritize our minds over our hearts.” Her observation points toward a simple, broader reality of human psychological development and experience: we do not derive fulfillment exclusively through acquisition. Communities that neglect this truth often find themselves caught in what Dr. Sejdaras calls the “paradox of abundance and scarcity” – possessing more resources than ever while falling ever further into the depths of isolation.

The Albanians are particularly vulnerable to this tension, as our culture historically rooted itself in kinship relations and strong communal affinity – often in the absence and lieu of official institutions. When this infrastructure is weakened, something deeper than superficial social cohesion is threatened: if we view communal practices as relics of a time far removed from ours, we lose our compass to Albanian cultural continuity.

The societal meets the internal in the development of certain psychological features that continue to shape Albanian family and communal life. The legacy of conflict and displacement casts a long shadow on this dynamic. As Dr. Sejdaras brilliantly notes, “the enduring hardships faced by the Albanian people over centuries have left deep emotional and psychological imprints that often manifest in inherited patterns within families.” Many of these patterns are commonly mistaken for virtues. For one, the suppression of emotional expression is often read as fortitude and encouraged. The end-product is an admiration of the ability to endure suffering in stoic and stagnant terms, rather than channel it toward new creation.

What emerged as resilience in the face of unforgiving history inevitably became inherited, a cycle in which children absorbed their parents’ emotional habits through observation and genetics. Here we can see psychology profoundly intersect with history, as it did when the eminent Swiss psychiatrist Carl G. Jung, whose work I have previously treated, observed in his 1951 volume Aion that “when an inner situation is not made conscious, it happens outside, as fate.” There are few statements that better illuminate the relationship between historical anguish and recurring patterns of collective behavior.

If historical suffering remains unconscious, broader national life risks conflating the beautiful traditions of vigilance and communal vitality with maladaptive habits that directly harm wellbeing through emotional distance and suspicion. Dr. Sejdaras argues that “dignity can also be found in vulnerability and the willingness to share one’s burdens with others,” which by “reaching out for support can enrich both the individual and the community.” We must not view the inheritance of history as an exclusively burdensome one.

Our instinct toward mutual aid and self-sacrifice remain inseparable from the community’s welfare. This remains among the most valuable aspects of the Albanian character; but are we able to consciously adapt it to the conditions modern life requires? It is precisely this question which elevates the work of Dr. Sejdaras and likeminded colleagues beyond a mere profession, to a higher form of significance. They point toward a nuanced path: that we ought not reject the past or abandon the values that enabled intergenerational perseverance, all the while separating them from destructive patterns that have brought hardship to many a family.

Toward a National Moral Ethic

The task before today’s Albanians is to cultivate a national life and soul capable of navigating the adversity before them, while sustaining meaning and psychological wellbeing for generations to come. In many respects, Care for Albania’s charity gala represented a small yet important illustration of this aim. Its mission of supporting the Kids Academy seems to be but a drop in the ocean of global events. Yet it is a step in the right direction precisely in its modesty. The children in Çagllavica will neither know the donors’ names nor recognize their faces. And that is precisely the point. The endeavour reflects the ancient creed that bound us, wherein honor was not found in acclaim. Rather, it took form in faithfully discharging one's obligations to the community.

To formulate the vitality needed to thrive and progress, the Albanians must recognize the living qualities of their historical presence. The memories of time-honored traditions ought to crystallize into a living ethic which recognizes and responds to today’s headwinds, from the pains of distance to the false promises of material comfort. It will not suffice to preserve a common language and historical consciousness without first nurturing a profound trust and invigorated commitment to the common good. Accordingly, the Albanian duty is one that asks more of us. It calls for a moral flourishing of the community – one grounded in a renewed willingness to bear responsibility beyond the individual – for one another in the present, and for those who will follow.

 Albanian Fest by French artist Jean-Leon Gerome. The oil painting depicts an Albanian man performing a traditional sword dance, c. 1856.

Valton Vuçitërna is a fourth-year student of Finance at Michigan State University's Eli Broad College of Business, serving as the Deputy Chief Editor of Arbanon Magazine. Valton was born and raised in Grand Rapids, Michigan to parents from Kosova. He is the founder of The Anadrini Project, a database designed to record the histories and genetics of families in Kosova's region of Anadrini, as well as the history of the town of Rahovec. He is interested in European history and the cultural heritage of the Albanian people.