It is not easy to surprise audiences in the modern media landscape. With endless content competing for attention, many broadcasters search for new ways to stand out. Yet every so often, a decision appears that sparks not just curiosity, but a deeper debate about values, ethics, and the direction of journalism itself. That is exactly what happened when an Albanian television channel unexpectedly became a global talking point.
Several years ago, footage from a news broadcast on Zjarr TV began circulating widely online. What viewers saw was not a breaking news story or a major political announcement, but a presentation style that many considered highly unconventional. Almost immediately, people around the world began asking the same question: was this a creative attempt to reinvent news delivery, or had the channel crossed a line that journalism should not approach?
The controversy did not emerge in a vacuum. It came at a time when conversations about gender equality, workplace dignity, and the representation of women in media were already intense and ongoing. Across many countries, women had spent decades pushing back against being reduced to appearances rather than respected for their skills and intelligence. Against that backdrop, the Albanian broadcast reignited an uncomfortable discussion.
The decision that triggered the reaction dated back to 2016, when Zjarr TV, a relatively small private channel, adopted a presentation format unlike anything else on Albanian television. The station’s leadership openly acknowledged that the approach was designed to attract attention and boost viewership in an increasingly competitive market.
Albania, after all, is not a country with a long tradition of sensational media. For decades, the nation lived under a rigid communist system led by Enver Hoxha, whose rule from the mid-20th century until the 1980s left deep marks on society. Media during that era was tightly controlled, heavily censored, and used primarily as a political tool rather than a source of open information.
When Albania transitioned away from that system, the media landscape changed rapidly but unevenly. Trust in news outlets remained fragile, and political influence continued to shape coverage in many cases. According to Zjarr TV’s owner, Ismet Drishti, this context mattered when explaining the station’s controversial strategy.
In interviews at the time, Drishti described the concept as symbolic rather than provocative. He argued that the stripped-down presentation was meant to reflect transparency, suggesting that the news was being delivered without filters or hidden agendas. In his words, the station was offering “information as it is,” free from manipulation.
Supporters of the channel echoed this framing, calling the approach unconventional but effective. They pointed to rising ratings and increased international attention as evidence that the strategy had worked. Critics, however, saw something very different. To them, the format risked reinforcing precisely the kinds of objectification that women in media had long struggled to overcome.
One of the presenters who became closely associated with the channel during this period was Enki Bracaj, a young woman in her early twenties who hosted an international news segment. Her on-screen presence quickly drew attention, and her broadcasts were widely shared online. Viewership numbers reportedly increased, and she became one of the most recognizable faces on the channel.
At the time, Bracaj was also a university student studying public relations. In later interviews, she spoke openly about her decision to embrace an unconventional image during her audition. She described it as a calculated move in a highly competitive industry, where standing out often determines who gets noticed and who remains invisible.
Bracaj emphasized that her choice was not impulsive. She said she had discussed it with her family beforehand and felt supported in pursuing a path that she believed could open doors professionally. To her, it was about opportunity rather than controversy.
Yet even within Zjarr TV, there were limits. Although the channel defended its on-air concept, it drew a distinction between its television image and activities outside the newsroom. When Bracaj later accepted a modeling opportunity that went beyond what the station considered acceptable, her relationship with the channel came to an abrupt end.
Officially, her departure was attributed to dissatisfaction with pay. Unofficially, colleagues suggested that management felt she had crossed boundaries they were not prepared to defend publicly. This episode highlighted a contradiction that critics were quick to point out: a station willing to challenge norms on screen was still bound by conservative expectations off camera.
After Bracaj’s exit, Zjarr TV moved quickly to maintain its momentum. The channel introduced Greta Hoxhaj, a slightly older presenter with previous experience in local television. Like her predecessor, Hoxhaj adopted the same on-air style that had brought international attention to the station.
For Hoxhaj, the change was transformative. She later described years of working in regional media without recognition, followed by sudden national fame within months. In interviews, she portrayed the role as a professional decision rather than a personal statement, emphasizing that her off-screen life looked no different from that of other women her age.
As images and clips from the broadcasts continued to spread online, reactions became increasingly polarized. Some viewers expressed curiosity or defended the channel’s right to experiment. Others condemned the format as damaging, arguing that it undermined efforts to establish journalism as a serious and respectful profession.
Social media amplified both sides. Comment sections filled with arguments not only about Zjarr TV, but about broader issues such as dress standards on television, audience responsibility, and the line between attention and exploitation. In some cases, the debate expanded to include other countries and media examples, suggesting that the issue was far from uniquely Albanian.
Interestingly, formal reactions from journalist unions and advocacy groups within Albania were relatively limited. Some professionals argued that media diversity includes the freedom to choose different formats, and that viewers ultimately control what succeeds by choosing what to watch.
Others were less forgiving. Aleksander Cipa, head of the Union of Albanian Journalists, voiced concern that shock-based strategies could not solve deeper problems facing the media industry. He warned that sensationalism might bring short-term attention, but risked long-term credibility.
Throughout the controversy, Hoxhaj herself appeared largely unaffected by the criticism. In interviews, she said she focused on her work and personal life rather than online commentary. She spoke about feeling supported by people in her community and enjoying the opportunities that had come her way.
Her calm response added another layer to the discussion. Was the public projecting its own discomfort onto individuals who felt empowered by their choices? Or was the criticism a necessary challenge to media practices that shape cultural norms?
Years later, the debate has not fully faded. Clips from the broadcasts still resurface from time to time, sparking fresh discussions among new audiences. The story continues to serve as a case study in how media strategies can collide with social values, particularly around gender and professionalism.
Ultimately, the Zjarr TV controversy raises questions that extend far beyond one channel or one country. How far should media go to capture attention? Who decides where the line is drawn? And can innovation coexist with respect and responsibility?
There are no simple answers. What is clear is that moments like this force societies to reflect on what they expect from journalism, and what they are willing to accept in the pursuit of visibility. In that sense, the debate itself may be the most lasting impact of a broadcast that many still remember, and continue to argue about, years later.