The Trump-Kushner empire spent over $1bn on an Albanian island still littered with unexploded ordnance.
There is something almost poetic about the Trump family's approach to real estate: find the place everyone else is too afraid to touch, then put your name on it. The latest chapter in that playbook reads like a pitch for a prestige HBO drama. Ivanka Trump and her husband Jared Kushner have spent more than $1 billion acquiring one of the last undeveloped islands in the Mediterranean, located off the coast of Albania, with plans to transform it into an ultra-luxury resort. The catch? The island is still peppered with unexploded ordnance left over from decades of conflict and military use.
This is not a metaphor. There are actual bombs in the ground.
The story, originally reported by Marzio Mian and recently revisited in a Guardian archive podcast episode, is a collision of geopolitical ambition, post-communist transition economics, and the insatiable appetite of the global ultra-wealthy for the next unspoiled frontier. It is also a story about Albania, a country that has spent the last three decades trying to rewrite its reputation from Cold War pariah to Mediterranean hotspot.
To understand why a $1 billion+ land deal on a single Albanian island makes any sense at all, you need to understand what Albania's coastline represents in 2025. The country sits at the crossroads of the Adriatic and Ionian seas, with a riviera stretching roughly 450 kilometers that rivals anything Greece or Croatia can offer. Crystal-clear water, dramatic cliffs, relatively affordable labor costs, and critically, far fewer tourists per square kilometer than its neighbors.
Albania welcomed approximately 10 million tourists in 2024, a staggering increase from fewer than 3 million a decade earlier. But the luxury segment remains underserved. Five-star properties are sparse compared to the saturated markets of the French Riviera or the Dalmatian coast. That gap is exactly what developers with deep pockets and longer time horizons see.
The problem is that Albania's history left scars, both figurative and literal. Under Enver Hoxha's communist regime, which lasted from 1944 to 1985, the country built an estimated 750,000 concrete bunkers across its territory and seeded portions of its coastline and islands with mines and military ordnance. The regime was paranoid about invasion from every direction, including from its own allies. Decades later, the remnants of that paranoia remain embedded in the soil.
"Albania is the last piece of the Mediterranean puzzle. But that puzzle comes with a UXO map." — Industry observer on Adriatic resort development
Unexploded ordnance removal is not a weekend project. It is a painstaking, expensive process that requires specialized teams, often drawn from organizations experienced in post-conflict zones in Southeast Asia, the Balkans, and the Middle East. The cost can run into the tens of millions of dollars for even modest parcels of land. For an entire island, the logistics multiply.
The Trump-Kushner investment must therefore account not just for acquisition and construction costs, but for a demobilization phase that could take years before a single foundation is poured. That timeline introduces financial risk that conventional luxury developers typically avoid. But conventional developers do not have the brand power, political connections, or sovereign-wealth-adjacent financing structures that the Kushner-Trump orbit commands.
Jared Kushner's post-White House pivot to real estate investment has been one of the more quietly consequential second acts in American political history. His firm, Affinity Partners, secured a reported $2 billion commitment from Saudi Arabia's Public Investment Fund shortly after the end of the Trump administration's first term. That capital base, combined with existing Kushner family real estate holdings valued in the billions, gives the operation a reach that few private developers can match.
The Albanian island deal fits a pattern: high-barrier entry markets where political relationships, patience, and sheer capital scale can turn obstacles into moats. The unexploded ordnance that scares off competitors is, in this framework, a feature rather than a bug. It guarantees that no one else will develop the island in the interim. By the time the bombs are cleared, the Kushner-Trump entity will own something no one else can replicate: a pristine Mediterranean island with full development approvals.
The deal cannot be separated from the political dimension. The Trump family's brand carries enormous weight in certain markets and enormous baggage in others. In Albania, the reception has been mixed. On one hand, a $1 billion investment in a country still working to modernize its infrastructure is a significant vote of confidence. On the other hand, the optics of a politically connected American family acquiring sovereign territory in the Balkans invite scrutiny from European Union observers and Albanian civil society groups wary of oligarchic-style land grabs.
Albania has been an EU candidate country since 2014 and has been slowly navigating the accession process. Major foreign investments by politically exposed persons inevitably become part of the accession narrative. European institutions will be watching not just whether the resort gets built, but whether the process meets the transparency and rule-of-law benchmarks that EU membership demands.
Zoom out from the Balkans and the Albanian island deal is part of a broader trend. The Mediterranean's undeveloped coastline is disappearing. Greece has tightened foreign ownership rules. Croatia's Adriatic coast is essentially fully monetized. Montenegro has sold or leased most of its prime waterfront. Turkey's political volatility keeps institutional capital cautious.
Albania, with its long coastline, EU aspirations, and relative underpricing, is the last major opportunity in the region. The Trump-Kushner purchase is a bet that this window is closing and that the entity controlling the most valuable undeveloped parcel will benefit enormously from the next decade of Albanian tourism growth.
The question is not whether Albania's coast will be developed. It is who will own the best of it when the development wave crests.
The Albanian island purchase is a $1 billion statement of intent from a family that has never lacked for audacity. It combines genuine geopolitical risk, unresolved military ordnance, a multi-year pre-development timeline, and the political baggage of one of America's most polarizing dynasties into a single transaction. Whether it becomes a cautionary tale or a generational investment depends on execution, Albanian political stability, and the patience of the capital behind it.
One thing is certain: there are no safe bets on an island full of old bombs. But then again, the Trump-Kushner playbook has never favored safety.
The coming 18 to 24 months will be decisive. The demining phase will set the construction timeline. Albanian government approvals for the resort's scale and scope will signal whether the political relationship is as strong as reported. And the broader question of whether Europe's last Mediterranean frontier opens to the ultra-wealthy or remains contested ground will shape not just this island, but the entire Albanian coast for a generation.
Keep an eye on the permits, the land registry filings, and the cadence of UXO removal contracts. Those documents will tell the real story long before any ribbon is cut.
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