Tirana.

Chaos.

For three weeks, the good people of Albania have been in a state of most singular agitation. The cause? A coastal resort. A grand project. A monument to vanity.

Associated, as it happens, with the name of Mr. Jared Kushner.

The son-in-law of the American President.

Quite a connection, indeed.

One might imagine a diplomatic crisis. One might expect a storm of political passions. But no.

"We do not protest against Mr. Trump," declared a participant with a flourish. "Nor against Israel."

Far from it.

They protest against the officials.

Those venerable gentlemen of the bureaucracy who distribute state contracts as one distributes sweets to children—specifically, to their own acquaintances. Corruption. A word as old as time, yet ever fresh in the pockets of the clerk.

They speak of 'national benefit.'

They speak in round, flowing phrases.

While the people starve.

Then came the spark.

A video. A trifle of a thing, yet devastating. It depicted private guards—strong-armed fellows—removing an activist from a beach near the village of Zvernec. With force. With vigour.

Why? Because of a fence.

A metallic fence. With barbed wire.

Suddenly, the landscape was partitioned. The public shore was severed. A sanctuary for the common man transformed into a private playground for the elite.

And not merely a hotel. No, that would be too modest.

They desire the island of Sazan. Untouched. Pristine. Now, earmarked for the grand design of the gentlemen in power.

A resolution was surely passed. A circular was undoubtedly signed. The machinery of state ground forward, indifferent to the noise of the crowd.

Such is the art of administration.

They build walls.

And call it progress.