Framing Fear, Unmaking Rights: Albania and the Global Machinery of Anti-Gender Ideology

I. From Global Ideology to Local Threats

Over the past decade, a highly coordinated and well-resourced movement has gained ground worldwide, one that, according to a growing body of data and academic and policy research, poses a significant challenge to human rights protections, democratic governance, and gender equality. Often referred to as the “anti-gender movement,” or, as I prefer to call it for this article, the “anti-rights movement,” it draws momentum from a wide range of actors: far-right political parties, religious institutions, authoritarian regimes, and conservative think tanks. Many of these forces are connected not only by ideology but also by strategic alliances and financial backing, often from influential networks in the United States and Russia (Aidsmap, May 2021). Together, these actors have rallied around a shared “enemy”: the notion of so-called “gender ideology.” While the term lacks a universally accepted definition, as highlighted by various scholars, it is frequently used to critique or resist developments in feminism, LGBTIQ+ rights, comprehensive sexuality education, bodily autonomy, and reproductive health. Scholars such as Roman Kuhar and David Paternotte describe “gender ideology” as a strategic framing device, what they call a “symbolic glue” used to unify diverse political and religious actors around perceived threats to national identity, family values, or cultural norms. For the purposes of this article, I adopt this understanding, not as an endorsement of the term, but as a way to analyze how it functions within broader social and political debates.

As Kuhar further explains, the anti-gender movement can be understood not merely as a spontaneous backlash, but as a coordinated transnational initiative that draws on shared narratives and strategies. It often frames gender equality, bodily autonomy, and the rights of LGBTIQ+ individuals as a danger to traditional understandings of family and national identity. In doing so, it seeks to mobilize public concern through appeals to moral and cultural values, while positioning itself as a defender of societal norms and collective heritage. This dynamic has raised concerns about its potential implications for democratic principles and human rights protections.

Judith Butler calls this strategy

 the politics of fear, a method widely and historically employed by various anti-rights actors to replace truth with panic, science with emotion, and inclusion with suspicion. 

Children are frequently invoked as a rhetorical shield to justify censorship, while a romanticized past, imagined as pure and undisturbed, is used to argue against human-rights progress. The result is not merely cultural backlash, but a calculated rollback of rights that fuels hatred and silences the most vulnerable ones.

In recent years, anti-gender and anti-rights actors have begun adopting the language of decolonialism to advance their positions. In regions such as Eastern Europe and the Global South, they are increasingly portraying LGBTIQ+ rights, gender equality, and reproductive justice as "Western imports" incompatible with local traditions. However, scholars like McEwen and Narayanaswamy emphasize that this narrative risks distorting historical realities. It was not feminist or queer movements that introduced rigid gender binaries, criminalized same-sex relationships, or enforced the nuclear family as the sole legitimate model of family life. These were the features of colonial governance, imposed through legal and social systems that continue to shape our present.

From this perspective, genuine decolonialism involves more than achieving political independence, it also requires critically reassessing and transforming the norms, dismantling the structures that were inherited from colonial rule, structures like binary gender norms and restrictive moral codes, through tools like progressive legislation and human rights-based frameworks. While appeals to “tradition” or “sovereignty” are important in resisting cultural hegemony, they can also be used to uphold control and power structures rooted in colonial histories. A true decolonial approach that centers human dignity and equality challenges these structures rather than reinforcing them.

Legal thinkers like Sandra Fredman and Martha Nussbaum show us why this matters. Fredman argues that the real equality should be transformative: it’s not enough to promise equal treatment in law for everyone and expect change to follow. We have to actively address and eliminate the barriers that marginalize and exclude people in order for real equality to be achieved. The anti-gender movement resists this idea by romanticizing a “pure” past and painting any progress as dangerous. Martha Nussbaum reminds us that human dignity is at the heart of the right to life, and that this dignity depends on meaningful access to education, healthcare, legal identity, and self-expression. When these are denied, what’s at stake isn’t just personal freedom; it’s the very right to exist with dignity.

The anti-gender movement does not single out one group; it affects many. Its discourse and actions have centred on and had implications for:

• Women and feminists advocating for gender equality, bodily autonomy, and access to sexual and reproductive health services;
• LGBTIQ+ individuals, particularly transgender and non-binary people seeking legal recognition and equal access to services;
• Educators striving to foster inclusive and safe learning environments;
• Human rights defenders and legal professionals applying international human rights standards;
• And children and young people, who are frequently referenced in narratives that justify increased control, censorship, or restriction.

While it might have begun by targeting specific communities, the broader impact of the anti-gender movement, without a doubt, extends to society as a whole. Its strategies often involve isolating certain groups, but the resulting effects on dignity, inclusion, and democratic principles are widespread and deeply consequential.

These impacts are visible across different contexts. In Hungary, authorities recently denied permits for the 2025 Budapest Pride march, citing “child protection” laws that prohibit LGBTIQ+ visibility in public spaces where minors might be present. Human rights groups, including Amnesty International, have challenged the decision in court as a violation of the rights to assembly and expression. In Russia, the 2013 “gay propaganda” law, expanded in 2022, has significantly restricted freedom of expression for LGBTIQ+ people. In the United States, the 2022 Supreme Court decision to overturn Roe v. Wade has resulted in sweeping rollbacks of abortion rights across several states, severely impacting women's autonomy, and access to reproductive healthcare. Alongside this, numerous states have passed laws restricting gender-affirming care for minors and banning discussions of gender and sexuality in schools.

These are not isolated incidents, but they are far from an exhaustive account. The global reach and evolving strategies of the anti-gender movement demand deeper, sustained analysis. While this article focuses on the broader features of the movement, the examples above highlight its very real and ongoing impact, offering a scope for future work that more systematically maps its consequences across regions and rights frameworks.

Follow the Money: Who`s Funding the Anti-Rights Agenda

Accusations that civil society organizations and human rights groups misuse public or international funds are increasingly present in public discourse. As Judith Butler further suggests, such narratives often align with a broader “politics of fear”. They can fuel public anxiety and frame activists as destabilizing forces operating outside of democratic accountability. But what lies behind this rhetoric, and why are the sources and agendas of anti-rights movements less frequently scrutinized?

It turns out that the anti-gender movement is not a grassroots reaction; it’s a well-resourced global network. As shown by evidence, between 2013 and 2017, anti-rights groups received a staggering US $3.7 billion, compared to just US $1.2 billion allocated to global LGBTI movements during the same period. U.S.-based Christian right organizations alone funneled over US $1 billion internationally, while Europe’s anti-gender actors, including the Jérôme-Lejeune Foundation and Tradition, Family, Property, also contributed substantially.

In Europe specifically, more than US $707 million was traced to anti-gender activities between 2009 and 2018, funded by U.S., Russian, and European religious and political organizations, showing a 400% increase in annual spending over that period. By contrast, data shows that funding for LGBTI-led initiatives remains undervalued. Between 2017–2018, government and donor funding for LBQ, trans, and intersex organizations was alarmingly low, only around 4% of overall gender equality aid, with just US $2.7 million for LBQ issues and US $1.9 million for trans rights. Projected data from the Global Philanthropy Project indicates that over US $105 million in donor government support for LGBTI activism in the Global South and East is now at risk as of February 2025.

Simply put, the anti-rights movement is spending several times more than equality activists worldwide, and actively shaping public narratives, legislation, and even institutional structures. With this imbalance, the question is no longer “Who funds civil society?” but rather, how and why has the anti-gender movement been allowed to outspend the defenders of democracy, equality, and human dignity?

II. Albania: A Case Study in Imported Hate and Domestic Regression

Albania: Between Legal Commitments and Emerging Anti-Gender Movement

Albania has long been recognized for its progressive anti-discrimination framework and active engagement with international human rights mechanisms. However, in recent years, the national landscape has become increasingly polarized. Actors both promoting and resisting anti-gender movement narratives have become more visible and organized. Notably, rhetoric and legal proposals previously confined to the margins of public discourse have begun to influence mainstream debates and policymaking. This shift is not entirely organic. Rather, it reflects the growing influence of the broader transnational anti-gender movements opposing gender equality, bodily autonomy and LGBTIQ+ rights entering a national context marked by legal ambiguities, institutional fragilities, and unresolved cultural tensions.

A Manufactured Crisis? The Emergence of the “Pro-Family and Life” Coalition

At the forefront of this development is the so-called “Pro-Family and Life Coalition,” a coalition of religious representatives, civil society actors, public figures, and political allies. Framing their mission as a defense of national values against perceived foreign influence, the coalition has played a significant role in shaping recent public narratives around gender and sexuality.

Their recent initiatives have included:

• Disseminating contested claims during the April 2024 public consultation on the draft law “On Sexual and Reproductive Health”;
• Organizing the “Manifesto of Life” rally on May 24, 2024, where conspiracy theories regarding LGBTIQ+ activism, such as the unfounded claim that activists “inject hormones into children”, were publicly promoted;
• Circulating petitions suggesting that same-sex families threaten to “de-gender Albanian children”;
• Filing a criminal complaint against the Mayor of Tirana (May 30, 2024) for endorsing a symbolic public expression of lesbian love on municipal premises.

At a large-scale public rally held on May 24, 2024, organizations such as Lidhja e Hoxhallarëve të Shqipërisë and Unioni Shqiptar i Teologëve characterized LGBTIQ+ rights as incompatible with Albanian family values, religious identity, and national sovereignty. Disturbingly, personal information about individual activists, including names, salaries, and addresses, were disclosed, raising serious concerns about safety, privacy, and the right to peaceful assembly.

Law as a Weapon: Repackaging Discrimination

The anti-gender movement hasn’t stopped at protests: it has been making its way into law. In January 2025, various Democratic Party MPs proposed changes to the Law on Civil Registry that would define gender as “equal to sex assigned at birth and biologically unchangeable.” This would effectively make legal gender recognition for trans and intersex people not only impossible, but also illegal. This move mirrors a January 2025 executive order from President Trump (Executive Order 14168), which declared that sex is binary and assigned at conception, excluding gender identity from all federal policies.

If passed, the Albanian proposal would:

• Violate constitutional protections (Articles 5, 17, and 122);
• Breach European Court of Human Rights standards (e.g., Christine Goodwin v. UK);
• Jeopardize EU accession goals, especially related to Chapters 23 and 24;
• Endanger intersex children by reinforcing a harmful medicalized approach to intersexuality.

The Ministry of Health introduced another draft law in April 2024: "On Sexual and Reproductive Health." It seeks to restrict access to reproductive rights and erase diverse family structures by:

• Removing “social reasons” as justification for abortion after 14 weeks;
• Vaguely defining surrogacy, without needed safeguards;
• Limiting medically assisted reproduction to heterosexual couples and single women, excluding same-sex couples and single men.

Although presented as neutral or traditional, these changes would solidify exclusion and control over bodily autonomy and family life choices.

III. Resistance in a Vacuum: Strategies and Legal (Non) Protections in Albania

In the face of rising hostility, Albanian activists were not alone. They’ve forged strong alliances across movements, partnering with women’s rights organizations, Roma and Egyptian community activists, disability rights groups, and broader human rights and feminist networks. These coalitions have helped build resilience and shared strategies, creating a front against exclusion and hate.

However, the fight hasn’t stayed within Albania’s borders. Activists have taken their efforts to the international level, working to:

• Raise concerns with European Union (EU) institutions and embassies of key partner countries;
• Submit alternative reports (also called “shadow reports”) to United Nations (UN) bodies that monitor human rights, such as CEDAW (Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women), CESCR (Committee on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights), and the Universal Periodic Review (UPR), a process where each country’s human rights record is reviewed by the UN;
• Participate in consultations for reports prepared by the European Commission on issues like democracy, the rule of law, and fundamental rights;
• Collaborate with monitoring bodies such as ECRI (European Commission against Racism and Intolerance), and GREVIO (Group of Experts on Action against Violence against Women and Domestic Violence);
• Work closely with the Council of Europe’s SOGI Unit, which focuses on protecting the rights of people regardless of their sexual orientation or gender identity.

Through this multilevel engagement, activists have not only exposed Albania’s democratic backsliding, but they’ve highlighted that the anti-gender backlash is part of a much broader, coordinated effort undermining human rights across the region, where Albania is not an outlier.

Legal Protections in Theory, Not in Practice

On paper, Albania has robust anti-discrimination laws. Yet, the lived reality tells another story:

• Same-sex couples remain unrecognized in law;
• There is still no legal process for gender recognition;
• Hate crimes based on sexual orientation, gender identity, expression, or sex characteristics are inadequately addressed under the Criminal Code.

Despite these gaps, activists have pursued various legal remedies available. Strategic litigation1efforts have been launched before national courts to demand legal recognition of same-sex partnerships and trans identities. Multiple complaints have been filed with the Commissioner for Protection from Discrimination and with the Prosecution Office, challenging hate speech, exclusion from services, and discriminatory treatment.

Yet the system rarely responds. Article 265 of the Criminal Code criminalizes “incitement of hatred or dispute,” but it has proven toothless in practice. Seven formal complaints have been filed under this provision since 2023; none resulted in investigation or prosecution. Prosecutors appear reluctant to act, likely due to the article’s two-year minimum sentence, which raises the stakes of any indictment.

Similarly, of eight complaints submitted to the Commissioner for Protection from Discrimination between 2023 and 2025, only three resulted in findings of discrimination or hate speech. The remaining cases were dismissed, often under the pretext of “freedom of expression,” even when the speech in question targeted individuals for their sexual orientation or gender identity.

This lack of institutional accountability has real consequences. It signals to perpetrators that hate is tolerable. It leaves victims with no remedy. Moreover, it fosters a climate where fear and exclusion are allowed to flourish unchecked.

IV. Conclusion: The Real Danger of Compromise

What is unfolding in Albania is not merely a cultural disagreement, but a coordinated effort to dismantle human rights standards and reshape institutions in ways that further marginalize the most marginalized. Anti-gender actors are not only advancing exclusionary narratives; they are strategically influencing legislation, policy, and public perception. In response, civil society continues to resist, through advocacy, strategic litigation, alliance-building, and international engagement. But then again without a concrete legal reform, institutional accountability, and consistent international support, that resistance risks being outpaced.

As legal scholar Sandra Fredman reminds us once again, achieving substantive equality requires more than formal protections. It demands the dismantling of structural barriers that silence, exclude, and endanger. This is not an academic ideal; it is a moral and political imperative. And in Albania, as elsewhere, it is an urgent one.

The struggle against anti-gender ideology is not only about defending specific rights. It is about preserving the foundational belief that all people deserve to live with dignity, autonomy, and safety. It is about ensuring that the future is not shaped by fear and repression, but by courage, inclusion, and justice. That future remains within reach only if we are willing to claim it.

! Disclaimer: The opinions expressed in this article are solely of the author. In no case they should be considered or construed as representing an official positions of hbs Tirana. The author bears full responsibility for the accuracy and integrity of this article, as well as for ensuring compliance with copyrights concerning the use of text, graphics, photographs, or audio materials.