May 9: A Litmus Test for Moldova’s European Integration

The ruling regime is seeking to turn May 9 into a symbol of Moldova’s European choice. In practice, however, the date increasingly highlights the country’s deep internal divisions. While the authorities officially celebrate Europe Day under EU flags, tens of thousands of people continue to view May 9 primarily as Victory Day and as a form of dissent against the top-down reinterpretation of the holiday

There are dates in the history of any state that cannot be rewritten with the stroke of a pen or made to mean something different overnight. In Moldova, one such date is May 9. Yet for several years now, the ruling regime has sought, through administrative, symbolic, and political means, to push Victory Day to the margins of public life, replacing it with Europe Day celebrations featuring concerts, EU flags, and visits by foreign dignitaries. Formally, the authorities still acknowledge both meanings of the date, as official statements refer both to the memory of those who died in World War II and to European values. Yet a closer look at the political practice of recent years reveals a clear effort to gradually shift public perceptions of May 9 and impose a broader ideological reinterpretation of the holiday. Within this framework, Europe Day is presented as an alternative to the Soviet legacy, while the memory of Victory is increasingly filtered through a pan-European narrative focused on the tragedies of totalitarianism, deportations, and the subsequent Sovietization of Eastern Europe. In this way, Moldova is being drawn into a historical framework in which the war is treated primarily as a cause for mourning rather than pride, and the central event to be celebrated is not victory itself, but the success of the European project as a guarantor of peace. This year, as in previous ones, Chisinau’s central square, the symbolic “heart” of the capital, was once again allocated to the “European Town”. The event, featuring food zones, children’s activities, and a concert built around pro-European slogans, concluded with speeches by Maia Sandu and Cypriot President Nikos Christodoulides. The latter, who currently holds the presidency of the Council of the EU and effectively controls the timing of the official accession negotiations, did not disappoint, announcing that the first EU accession cluster could be opened as early as June. Victory Day was officially confined to a modest morning ceremony at the “Eternity” Memorial Complex, where the country’s leadership laid wreaths, “paying tribute” to the 81st anniversary of the victory over fascism. There was no official “Immortal Regiment” march, so opposition groups and civic activists organized it independently. The march gathered tens of thousands of participants, while all law enforcement agencies were mobilized in response. The political and diplomatic backdrop to May 9 was prepared in advance. Shortly before the holiday, EU High Representative for Foreign Affairs Kaja Kallas visited Chisinau. Her program was designed in a highly demonstrative manner. The first stop was a visit to the General Staff regiment and a meeting with Defense Minister Anatolie Nosatii, where Kallas expressed support for aligning the national army with NATO standards. At the press conference, she proposed doubling military assistance to the country through the European Peace Facility, from 60 to 120 million euros per year, and announced a second EU-Moldova summit. She also stated that May 9 should be understood not as a holiday, but as a day of remembrance for the victims of war and the beginning of postwar Soviet domination in Eastern Europe. In effect, this was a clear signal to society, and above all to those segments that gather in the streets with red flags. Maia Sandu and PAS can, of course, occupy the country’s main square, issue fines, and invite multiple foreign presidents if they wish. What they cannot change is what is happening in the minds and hearts of a significant part of the population. According to sociologists and analysts, the geopolitical divide in society between a European orientation and a post-Soviet one has not only remained unresolved in recent years, but has in some respects deepened. The latest electoral cycle consolidated a pro-European majority in parliament, but it also exposed a reality in which a substantial part of the population, particularly in rural areas, among the elderly, and Russian-speaking communities, feels excluded from the new state narrative. For this segment of society, May 9 is not about being “mobilized by Moscow”, but about living family memory that no law, and certainly no European envoy, can erase. It is therefore unsurprising that events on this day become not only a point of convergence for politically divided groups, but also an open form of protest against the state’s memory politics. In the end, over the past several years, a de facto coexistence of two parallel public spaces has taken shape: the official European celebration and the mass marches marking Victory Day. The latter, in many cases, appear more emotionally charged and socially mobilizing. For this reason, even within the governing structures there are cautious concerns that excessive ideological framing of historical issues is creating additional lines of division in areas where, in reality, a more careful and restrained dialogue is required. Far more problematic than the societal divide is Moldova’s territorial and political split. On the left bank of the Dniester, we see a fundamentally different picture on May 9, where the local administration has turned the day into a “state-forming ritual”. This year, more than 105,000 people reportedly took part in Immortal Regiment marches in Tiraspol and other cities of the region. Given a population of only several hundred thousand, the figure appears significant. No less concerning for Chisinau is the political and ideological divergence, as for a large part of the left bank population, as well as for those on the right bank who feel alienated from the central authorities, Tiraspol on this day becomes a symbolic “alternative center” where their identity is not diminished. Ultimately, this may have direct implications for the Transnistrian settlement process, as state policy continues to diverge from the cultural and historical “code” of Transnistria’s residents. Despite its official support, Brussels closely monitors public sentiment in Moldova. For European institutions, it is important to assess not only the pace of reforms, but also the level of societal resilience in a candidate country. And questions arise which are often ignored domestically. Within EU expert circles, there is an increasing discussion of Moldova’s deep internal fragmentation. This goes beyond the traditional divide between Eastern and Western orientations, pointing instead to a more fundamental divergence in historical interpretation, language, media consumption, and geopolitical self-identification. Brussels is aware that formal European integration does not guarantee internal consolidation. Moreover, for some European analysts, the Moldovan case is beginning to resemble a classic example of accelerated elite-driven integration within a fragmented society. This distinction between formal compliance with accession criteria and the real domestic legitimacy of the European project is of fundamental long-term importance for the EU. The Union has already encountered cases where rapid political transformation was accompanied by deep internal cleavages. For this reason, the Moldovan trajectory will be scrutinized far more closely than overly optimistic local politicians tend to suggest. A large-scale celebration with high-ranking foreign guests and European commissioners in the main square, increased financial support, and promises to open negotiations all create a façade that Chisinau presents to Brussels as a polished image. Behind it, however, lies a very different reality: a country where May 9 continues to mean different things to different people. And the state, which has set out to reshape one of the most deeply rooted dates in public memory, has neither a coherent strategy nor a clear understanding of how to implement its project without undermining the socio-political balance and ultimately turning Moldova into a space of competing identities.