The pristine coastline of Albania’s Zvërnec Peninsula has become an unlikely flashpoint in global geopolitics. On Tuesday, thousands of protesters gathered in the capital Tirana and the coastal town of Vlorë to oppose a $1.4 billion luxury resort project backed by Jared Kushner, Donald Trump’s son-in-law and former Middle East envoy. The scheme, which promises five-star hotels, a golf course, and a private marina, has been branded a “land grab” by local activists and an “ethical quagmire” by British investment watchdogs. For those back in London, from Mayfair hedge funds to boutique travel firms, the question is no longer about returns but about reputation.
The protests are a collision of two worlds. On one side, the Albanian government of Prime Minister Edi Rama, which sees the project as a ticket to economic growth and international prestige. On the other, a coalition of environmentalists, left-wing activists, and ordinary Albanians who worry that their country is trading sovereignty for cash. “They are selling our beaches to foreign billionaires,” shouted Arben Cela, a local fisherman, as he waved a placard reading “Albania is not for sale.” The police presence was heavy but restrained: tear gas was used briefly to disperse a group trying to storm the parliament building, but most of the protest was peaceful.
At the heart of the controversy is Kushner’s company Affinity Partners, which announced the plan in December 2024. The resort would occupy some 150 hectares of protected coastal land, including parts of the Zvërnec Nature Park, a haven for rare birds and sea turtles. Rama’s government has fast-tracked the project through special economic zone legislation, bypassing normal environmental impact assessments. Critics say this is a replay of the “beachfront mafia” era of the 1990s, when crony capitalists developed the coast with little regard for law or ecology.
This is where British investors come in. Several London-based real estate funds and hospitality groups have been approached to co-finance or operate parts of the resort. According to leaked emails seen by The Guardian, one preliminary term sheet offered a 25% stake in the marina project in exchange for £80 million. The British Albanian Chamber of Commerce has urged its members to “seize the opportunity” of a “unique market entry point.” But other voices are cautioning patience. “The reputational risk is simply too high,” said Sir James Hawthorn, a former ambassador to the Balkans who now advises ethical investment funds. “Albania is not a blank slate. It has a history of corruption, and this project is being pushed through at great speed. British money could end up laundered through offshore accounts, or worse tied to political unrest.”
The protest has already seen some success. On Monday, the Albanian Parliament voted to delay the final approval of the resort zoning by two weeks, pending an independent review. Rama has called this a “tactical pause,” but protesters are not satisfied. The hashtag #ShqipëriaIme (My Albania) has trended nationally, and a petition to halt the project has gathered 230,000 signatures within a week.
For the people on the ground, the fight is personal. Elisa Manjani, a 28-year-old waitress in Vlorë, said she fears the resort will price locals out of their own town. “A coffee here costs 50 cents now. When the British and Americans come, it will be 10 euros. We will become servants in our own country.” Others hope the project could create jobs: a construction worker, Haki Xhelili, told me that he has been unemployed for two years and would welcome any work. “I don’t care about politics. I need to feed my children.”
The broader cultural shift is undeniable. For decades, Albania was Europe’s hermit kingdom, closed off by one of the world’s most paranoid Communist regimes. Now it is opening its doors, but the question is to whom? The Kushner-backed resort is not just a business deal: it is a symbol of how the global elite treats small nations as playgrounds. And as the protests swell, British investors must decide whether to join the game or to walk away. The ethical choice may also be the smart business one. Because in the age of social media and heightened scrutiny, being seen to profit from a land grab can stain a brand forever.
In the streets of Tirana, the chants are still ringing out: “Albania is not for sale.” My bet is that this summer, the tourists will still come – but they might find themselves checking into a battleground.
