The people have spoken. The two finalists they chose were, in many ways, similar, although headed in opposite directions. They were preferred because they positioned themselves as challengers to what many perceive as “the system” — a political grammar often associated with corruption, incompetence, neglect and disdain. Yet this same system, however imperfect, has also underpinned Romania’s most substantial achievements of the past 35 years: integration into the EU and NATO, economic growth, democratic consolidation, and a rising standard of living. The critique is real, but so is the legacy.
In the end, the people chose Europe. They chose institutional reform over nationalist rupture, civic responsibility over populist fervor, and a steady course within the European Union over isolationist rhetoric. In doing so, they did more than elect a president. They reaffirmed Romania’s direction as a European democracy — a choice of alliances and values that has defined its post-communist path, and remains vital, if still contested.
Yet, beneath the relief and applause, a more complex landscape emerges. One that deserves to be read not just through the lens of victory, but through its implications: the good, the bad, and the ugly. Romania has chosen a man of numbers, empathy, and quiet determination. But it has also revealed the scale of its inner tensions. The good gives us hope. The bad demands persistence and a clear vision of the goal. The ugly reminds us that time is short — and nothing is guaranteed.
The Good – Romania stood up for itself
There is real cause for hope. Nicușor Dan’s victory marks a return to reason, professionalism, and predictability — traits too rarely manifest at the top of the Romanian state. A pro-European candidate, defined by sobriety and stubborn consistency, won the trust of millions. He prevailed not by charisma or political machinations, but by standing for competence, facts, and transparency.
In an age where demagoguery thrives, where emotion and manipulation dominate the public sphere, Romania has shown that it can still respond to arguments, not just slogans. The turnout was historic, with record participation both in the country and abroad. It felt, for once, that the entire country was tuned in to the same frequency. A nation-wide conversation took shape — spontaneous, plural, and urgent. From public figures to anonymous citizens, from university halls to online comment sections, people felt an almost civic obligation to speak out, take a stand, and mobilize others. The boundaries between public and private discourse dissolved. Everyone, it seemed, had something to say about Romania’s future — and felt that saying it mattered.
This vibrant atmosphere was fueled in no small part by Nicușor Dan’s extraordinary campaign discipline, his willingness to accept every invitation — from mainstream television studios to obscure online channels, from established journalists to YouTube influencers. Instead of avoiding tough questions, he welcomed them all, setting a new bar for transparency and responsiveness in Romanian political culture. His presence acted as a multiplier: suddenly, every issue — from the constitution to local infrastructure, from foreign policy to disinformation, from education to public finances — became part of the national agenda.
Moreover, the campaign generated unlikely alliances, cutting across traditional lines, to preserve the European path. Civil society, intellectuals, entrepreneurs, former rivals — they found common ground not in blind optimism, but in a shared concern for what could be lost.
Equally striking was the electoral mobilization of the Romanian diaspora in Western Europe and Northern America. From Spain and Italy to France, Germany, and the UK, voting centers saw long lines and unprecedented engagement. These communities — often overlooked in domestic political calculations and in the action of state bureaucracy — accounted for a significant share of the total vote, marking a resurgence of civic interest among Romanians living abroad. For many, this wasn’t just a ballot — it was a statement of belonging, a reaffirmation of connection with the country they left but never abandoned.
Equally extraordinary was the historic mobilization of voters across the Prut, where Moldovans with Romanian passports turned out in numbers never seen before. Their engagement was not just emotional — it was strategic, lucid, and determined. Having lived for decades in the shadow of Russian influence and propaganda, these voters clearly grasp the stakes of Romania’s geopolitical orientation. For them, this election was about more than policies — it was about values, identity, and the defense of democracy, civilization and prosperity in their own country. They stood up to protect their bigger sister, helping to secure a future that includes them — in spirit and, increasingly, in structure.
Nicușor Dan’s election is also a signal to international partners and investors that Romania aspires to reaffirm its European path through institutional competence and transparency. For the business community, this outcome may mark a shift toward greater predictability in governance, clearer regulatory frameworks, and a renewed emphasis on rule of law — all essential for long-term investment strategies, especially in critical sectors like energy, infrastructure, and digital transformation. Romania’s Western alignment, reaffirmed electorally, strengthens its credibility in regional initiatives and EU-led recovery mechanisms. For foreign investors, multilateral institutions, and strategic partners, this political reset offers a cautiously optimistic framework for re-engagement — provided reforms follow swiftly and visibly.
For the first time in decades, democracy meant more than a vote. It was a civic exercise. And, as if unfolding in the final act of a well-crafted political thriller, Romanian society managed to steer away from the brink of catastrophe and instead emerged as a beacon of resilience — an unexpected yet powerful example for democracies under pressure around the world.
This is the “good”: beneath the fatigue and cynicism, Romania’s democratic reflexes are functional. Romania has not succumbed to manipulation.
Yet, the vibrancy of the moment does not erase the deep-rooted inertia that awaits.
The Bad – The system is still the same
Elections alone, no matter how symbolic, do not dismantle entrenched systems. Nicușor Dan takes office not as an outsider, but as someone who knows the system from within — a fragmented, fragile state where the deep structures of inertia, political loyalties and clientelist networks remain firmly in place. Ministries with overlapping mandates, a public administration plagued by corruption and informal hierarchies, regulatory institutions subdued by political interference — all stand in the way of reform.
And time is not on his side.
Romania faces a fiscal cliff. The budget deficit has ballooned to over 9%, public debt is growing, and credit rating agencies are one step away from placing the country in “junk” territory. Investor confidence is shaken, the economy is slowing down, and the state seems incapable of crafting coherent responses to rising energy costs, a strained healthcare system plagued by staff shortages, multiple challenges in education, and increased inequality.
After years of populist mismanagement and economic improvisation, the incoming administration faces a long list of emergencies. But it will have to tackle them from a position of institutional weakness: a fragmented Parliament with uncertain alliances, thus, a fragile government, and a country increasingly divided between those who believe in the rule of law — and those who, distrusting its impartiality, perceive it as a façade for partisan interests working against the people.
In this context, the presidency can speak, warn, mediate. But it cannot govern.
If Nicușor Dan remains isolated — a independent surrounded by clientelist baronies — the risk is that the “good” will remain symbolic, while the “bad” will metastasize. Romania has chosen a different pilot, but the plane is still flying through a storm, with broken instruments and heavy turbulence.
Beyond the limits of institutional dysfunction lies an even more unsettling truth.
The Ugly – What the vote revealed
And then, there is the ugly truth — not hidden in the shadows, but now on full display, after an intense 12-month electoral period that tested the nation’s institutions resilience and promises to change them from the ground up.
A significant portion of Romania has rallied, openly and enthusiastically, behind a candidate defined by authoritarian instincts, ultranationalist themes, and a politics of resentment. Not a fringe presence, but a finalist. More than a protest vote, it was an ideological choice. Many voters no longer believe in liberalism and democracy, but in a simplified myth: that someone, somewhere, is to blame for their pain — and must be punished.
This is not just a matter of radical discourse. It reflects a deep societal fracture: between urban and rural, between education and disinformation, between global engagement and nationalist seclusion. The language of hate, conspiracy, and fascist sectarianism has found fertile ground in economic frustration and uprooted identity.
The mainstream parties are more diminished than ever, and no credible opposition to extremism has yet emerged. PSD and PNL — once dominant forces that governed with impunity and at times even flirted with extremist themes — have seen their public trust eroded to historic lows. Meanwhile, USR, once hailed as the reformist alternative, has lost its strategic compass and the confidence of much of its electorate.
Together, the three extremist parties — AUR, POT, and SOS — now command approximately 35% of the seats in Parliament. Their discourse is no longer marginal; it has entered the political mainstream. More troubling still, ambiguous yet substantial segments within the traditional parties — especially PSD — appear increasingly receptive to this rhetoric, with mounting concerns that a significant number of MPs could defect to AUR, mirroring the migration already underway among voters and local elites, and potentially enabling an anti-European parliamentary majority.
Nicușor Dan’s presidency is to begin at a moment of deep political and cultural division, where the country’s democratic direction is far from settled. And unlike the cinematic Western, this isn’t a duel between three gunmen. It’s a chaotic, unpredictable confrontation between progress and its opposite, between democratic citizens and rhetorically validated tribes, between European integration and nationalist nostalgia.
