Diella: the “AI Minister”

A few days ago, Albanian Prime Minister Edi Rama unveiled Minister “Diella,” a proposal that evokes a fascinating blend of the Minds from Iain Banks’s Culture saga and “The Waldo Moment,” the memorable 2013 episode of Black Mirror. What follows is a brief chronology of events.

Chronology and facts

On September 11, Prime Minister Edi Rama presented Diella, an AI-generated “minister” (a digital avatar/assistant) that the government describes as part of the cabinet. Diella is not a person; it is an AI bot/avatar that has already served as the virtual assistant for the state e-Albania platform, with millions of interactions. Now, however, it is being “elevated” to a symbolic/operational ministerial rank (see AP News; The Guardian). Rama argued that Diella will oversee and award public procurement to fight corruption and shield tenders from bribes, pressure, or favoritism. The very next day, on September 12, the international press picked up the story with headlines along the lines of “the world’s first AI minister” (see Semafor). On September 18, Diella made its parliamentary debut with a short speech (roughly three minutes) during a tense session in which the opposition walked out. The opposition questions the constitutionality and legitimacy of the proposal and says it is nothing more than a smokescreen for corruption.

Government arguments and rhetoric

In response to these developments, the opposition denounces a theatrical performance (or masquerade) that substitutes algorithms for deliberation. Behind this move—opponents say—democratic checks are being degraded and the central axis of democracy is being muddied: those who hold power must be accountable. While analysts around the world debate whether Diella inaugurates an algorithmic technocracy, will improve transparency, or will simply erode political responsibility, Rama’s government—which formed a cabinet last May with 82 out of 140 votes—backs Diella with a forceful rhetoric that can be summarized as follows:

• Diella will oversee and award public tenders to eliminate human bias and make tenders “100% free of corruption” (see Reuters). Read one way: remove human decision-making and you remove bribes, pressure, and conflicts of interest. In this view, anti-corruption policy “dehumanizes” decisions.
• In its September 18 speech, Diella stressed it will provide service without personal bias or ambition and will judge solely on merit (see The Guardian). At least rhetorically, Rama’s government is betting on the objectivity and impartiality of algorithms.
• The prime minister promises full accountability, efficiency, and effectiveness. From the Albanian government’s perspective, Diella will not only ensure more transparent and responsible processes, but it will also make them faster and more efficient (see Global Government).
• The government frames Diella within the pro-EU 2030 mandate and as a response to Albania’s poor reputation for transparency (i.e., corruption), which hinders EU accession (see Reuters). Rama’s government insists that using AI will help recover lost decades—i.e., leapfrogging through a new scaling-up (see AP News)—and modernize ossified structures (see Euronews).
• Rama has said that as long as Diella speaks through the prime minister’s channel, it falls under his responsibility (see Euronews).

Finally, I would like to conclude this list with a reflection that extends beyond the anecdotal. I am not referring to the symbolism of the name chosen for the AI minister—Diella means “sun”—or to its traditional attire, but to something deeper and of universal scope.

The Times of India is, for now, the only outlet to highlight a very significant passage from Diella’s address to the Albanian parliament: I am not here—Diella exclaimed—to replace anyone; I am merely a tool to improve governance (see The Times of India).

In short, Prime Minister Rama’s rhetoric can be distilled as follows: “To cleanse public procurement of corruption and human biases, and to speed up a state that must modernize to join the EU in 2030, we are using—Rama emphasizes—AI. Specifically, a digital minister that will award on merit, with total transparency, without replacing people, rooted in our culture, and under my political responsibility.”

Interpreting the events

There are no verified precedents of an AI assuming a “ministerial” role or deciding/awarding public tenders as an “authority.” Albania’s novelty lies precisely in this procurement function assigned to a virtual “minister.” However, it appears to be a novelty that tries to grasp air with a clenched fist: as yet, Diella lacks a legal definition of what and who it is in juridical terms; its operating protocols and accountability mechanisms are not publicly available, etc. (I have prepared a small dossier on this in the “Gov. Digital” tab here). Despite (or because of) these absences, local jokes (which all seem much wittier in the original language) span a wide range: from the typical amazement, to the classic “nothing can ever change here,” to “it’s just a digital puppet,” to “you can’t bribe it, but you can hack it,” and so on. Even so, Diella is there, occupying a space where, until a few days ago, there was nothing. This opens the door to analyzing the situation through three metaphors: the rock hammer, the compass, and the seismograph. With a brief development of each, I conclude.

Conclusion

Smokescreen or well-intentioned policy, simple bot or genuine AI, the fact is that Diella now stands at the center of a stage where previously only the familiar existed. The unease that the “unknown” (i.e., Diella) stirs when it bursts into history seems to converge—in both social humor and public opinion—on a triple analytical frontier. Consider:

First. For many analysts, Diella is—if the expression is allowed—a Pyrrhic novelty. Their argument runs as follows: the domestic political culture is so deeply rooted that no “novelty” can shake it. Borrowing the metaphor of the rock hammer, such analysts might say: crack open the geological layers and you will see that recent changes are powerless against ancient structures. The final message of this line of thought is to offer a measure of calm to public opinion: the new, however dazzling it may seem, must always be analyzed within a long-duration process. But it also leaves a stern warning: to assess what changes Diella might produce, one must at least know the last hundred years of Albania’s political and cultural history. An elegant yet implacable piece of advice for all those analysts—including myself—who swim in that sea of ignorance.

Second. A second analytical frontier pits two opposing views. On one side are those who think Diella is another step toward algorithmic autocracy (i.e., a qualitative leap for so-called digital authoritarianisms). On the other hand are the optimists, who assume Diella is not inherently a bad tool—provided it is framed within the legal protocols established and agreed upon by the most advanced European democracies. The crux of this analysis can be framed thus: what matters is not the novelty itself, but the principles under which it should be judged. This line of reflection is akin to a compass: it does not tell you where you are, but it sets a “normative” north so you don’t wander in moral circles. While a compass is useful when the terrain is muddy and shifting, it bears emphasizing that approving or condemning a fact is not the same as understanding it: the novelty, despite everything, remains there.

Third. The final frontier of analysis treats Diella for what it is: a novelty. Part of the content of the famous letter Hegel sent to Niethammer (dated October 13, 1806, in Jena) helps make sense of this analytic strategy. On that occasion, upon seeing Napoleon pass by, Hegel wrote: “I saw the Emperor—this world-soul—riding out of the city to survey his realm….” Hegel’s “emperor” is our Diella, a scene that crystallizes how the event erupts before the concept. This strategy functions like a seismograph: it records new tremors—changes that fit in no existing map. It teaches us to listen before we speak. Thus, the seismograph tells us that if the needle moves, there is an event; by itself, however, it cannot tell us whether it was a truck or an earthquake. Completing the analysis requires knowing what changed and for whom. And to say anything meaningful about that, I fear (this is my conjecture), we will need an ontology of the phantasmagoric. I hope to share something on that crucial topic soon.