The Meloni experiment is quietly operating in Albania.

Shengjin (Albania)In Shëngjin, in northern Albania, there's nothing but a long avenue lined with low-cost hotels, restaurants, and, in the background, an Italian migrant detention center. Surrounded by a mountainous area, this coastal town becomes a hub of tourists every summer. Behind the hammocks already on the beach, the Meloni experiment is beginning to take shape.

In early April, the first successful transfer of 41 migrants from Italy arrived, following several failed attempts since last October. Despite the Italian courts' refusal to send rescued migrants to sea, the Meloni's government approved a decree to use the facilities as "repatriation detention centers" (CPRs), a legal entity that already existed in Italy, known as CIE (Center for Identification and Expulsion) until 2017, with the same acronym (and purpose) as the immigration detention centers in Spain. Since then, both centers in Albania have been operating quietly and normally.

ARA has obtained the notes from the visit by Italian lawyer Guía Tani, who accessed the Gjadër CPR, 20 kilometers inland from Shëngjin beach. Tani explains that they were met by a delegation made up of Italian police and the center's director, an employee of Medihospes, a private company that has just opened a branch in Albania. "The room is a container (5 x 3 m²) with two bunk beds for four people. There are no real common areas that can be used outside," Tani explains. "The asphalt makes it really difficult to be outside. There are no shaded stalls. Faced with this observation, the management body responds: 'They're better off inside.'"

According to the lawyer, authorities claim that around twenty migrants have been arriving each week since April, but during the visit she was only able to see two. She spoke with one of them, who was clearly excited: "Probably under the influence of psychotropic drugs, he seems to have suffered a beating he didn't want to talk about," Tani writes. "Personal phones are confiscated at the entrance; daily phone calls range from 10 to a maximum of 20 minutes per detainee," she notes.

The silence of Gjadër

No one provides information on how many migrants are currently residing in both centers, how many have returned to Italy or been transferred to their countries of origin. As we leave the Gjadër center, a bus with Italian license plates and tinted windows leaves. No passengers can be seen. Nor can we hear anything from the other side of the wall guarding the gray containers.

The silence of Gjadër contrasts with the commotion of polishers and electric screwdrivers that permeates the hotels preparing for the season in Shëngjin. Here, the flags of Italy and the European Union that dominate the center's entrance are barely visible among the fishing boats.

Outside, Albanians who want to talk are optimistic. "Albania doesn't have a problem with refugees. We're everywhere. There are probably more Albanians in Barcelona than refugees in Albania," explains Albi, 30, who works at a private customs office a few meters from the port entrance. "They go to the beach and live normal lives," he adds.

Different layers of recent Western history intertwine in this long avenue of hotels. From the withdrawal of international troops from Afghanistan in 2021The Rafaelo Hotel has become home to an unknown number of Afghan refugees waiting to be transferred to the United States. According to local media, many of them have been waiting for US visas for years and are now worried about the impact the Trump administration will have on their applications.

Here, guests and hosts share stories of migration. A young Albanian working at Rafaelo explains that he worked undocumented in southern Italy for three years. He doesn't want to be identified. Now he's decided to return: "Life there is just as complicated as it is here," he says.

The historical relationship with Italy

Stories of migration in the European Union are repeated in every conversation, in a country where fewer people live than in the diaspora. However, the official narrative is that of a nation growing hand in hand with Europe and benefiting from the opportunities offered by a historic relationship with Italy. A relationship that the Meloni government has sought to restore.

A few meters from the center of Shëngjin, an imposing restaurant named Trattoria Meloni rises. It still smells new. All the walls of the restaurant are covered with caricatures of the Italian leader, extolling her charm. The owner is Gjergj Luca, a good friend of the Albanian prime minister and known as "the Adriatic fish magnate." Luca has declared his admiration for Meloni on Albanian television, as has Prime Minister Edi Rama himself. Rama was recently reelected for a fourth term after twelve years at the helm of government.

Rama, from the Albanian Socialist Party, has a penchant for kneeling when welcoming Meloni. He did so just a week ago at the European Political Community reception. The meeting took place the same week that António Costa stated that Albania and Montenegro are leading the list of candidates closest to joining the EU. The Albanian prime minister has promised that this will happen before 2030.

Meloni's migration policies not only generate complicity with the Albanian government. This is the first time that a European Union country has sent migrants with an expulsion order to a non-EU country other than the trafficking country or the country of origin, and The European Commission is preparing to provide coverage for the project.

Under current EU rules, irregular migrants can only be transferred to third countries with their consent. However, the Commission is preparing a text to allow Member States to establish "return centers" outside the EU. The draft Common European Return System is now in the hands of Parliament and the Council, a step toward normalizing Meloni's plan for the entire European Union.