How Germany Doused the Unionists’ Enthusiasm in Moldova

Vasile TOFAN

The German ambassador’s statement on the differences between Moldova and Romania triggered a painful reaction from unionists, striking as it did at the most vulnerable foundation of their ideology: the denial of Moldova as an independent entity and of Moldovans as a distinct nation. Moreover, it has now become clear that the Romanianizing which the authorities have for years been pushing under the attractive wrapping of “European integration” has little in common with the European principle of respecting diverse identities

The statement by German Ambassador to Moldova Hubert Knirsch that a shared language and religion do not automatically mean identical identities provoked a stormy and, in many ways, anguished reaction from unionist circles on both sides of the Prut. The reason for such resonance goes beyond the content of what was said. What is striking is that this inconvenient thought, aimed squarely at those advocating Moldova’s absorption by Romania, was expressed not by an opposition figure, not by a champion of Moldovan statehood, and not by a politician who could be conveniently branded as holding “pro-Russian views”. It came from the lips of a diplomat representing one of the most influential countries in the European Union. Commenting on the speculation that unirea could serve as a “Plan B” for Moldova’s EU accession, Knirsch noted that any decision on unification can only be made by the peoples of two sovereign states. At the same time, he questioned the claim that the populations of Moldova and Romania are united by a single language and a single religion, pointing to the existence of differing views and identities. In truth, the diplomat merely voiced a principle that is self-evident in modern Europe: linguistic, cultural, or religious proximity does not erase differences in identity, nor does it predetermine political unification between states. Applied to Moldova, however, this thought strikes at the most vulnerable part of the unionist ideology. For the homegrown version of unionism is not a concept that compares two closely related states, nor is it an ordinary project for deepening ties between Chisinau and Bucharest. At its core lies the denial of Moldova as an independent historical and political entity, and of Moldovans as a distinct nation. To acknowledge even the possibility of a separate Moldovan identity is, therefore, to undermine the very foundation of the entire unionist construct. That is precisely why, for the unionists, the German ambassador’s words landed like a cold shower. Nationalism That Denies Its Own Nation Moldovan unionism rests on ideological foundations that are both specific and, in many ways, paradoxical. It took shape during the wave of nationalist mobilization of the late 1980s, yet this nationalism was aimed not at developing an independent Moldovan nation or strengthening its statehood. To be historically precise, the project was built on the concept of historical revanche – Romania reclaiming the previously occupied territory of Bessarabia lost during the Second World War. In the classical sense, a national movement seeks to consolidate its own people, strengthen their political agency, create or defend national institutions, and secure sovereign development. In Moldova, however, a significant part of the nationalist movement was not, in principle, an independent force – it was made up of Romanian ideologues. The conceptual core of this national self-determination became the denial of the very existence of the nation in whose name the “national revival” had originally been proclaimed. The population was told that a separate Moldovan people supposedly does not exist, that their historical self-designation is the product of a misunderstanding or external manipulation, and that their own identity is an artificial construct. The Moldovan language was declared an archaic folk dialect of Romanian, while Moldovan statehood was branded as the consequence of a historical division of the “unified Romanian people”. Within this worldview, the Republic of Moldova possesses no intrinsic value of its own. It is seen as a temporarily severed part of Romania, a historical misunderstanding, or a transitional state formation whose existence is destined to end in “reunification”. Moldovans, within this framework, are likewise stripped of the right to define their own national identity. If a person considers himself Moldovan rather than Romanian, radical unionists explain this not as a free choice, a family tradition, or a historical self-awareness, but as a lack of knowledge, the lingering effects of “Soviet propaganda”, or an inability to grasp his supposedly true nationality. What emerges is an ideology that claims the right to define a person’s identity in defiance of his own sense of self. Herein lies the central paradox of Moldovan unionism. Born on a nationalist foundation, it never produced a project for an independent Moldovan nation. On the contrary, its ultimate goal became the dissolution of Moldovans into the Romanian national space and the elimination of Moldova as a separate political entity. Under the slogans of national revival, what was actually being advanced was the renunciation of one’s own nation. Under the guise of restoring historical justice, the elimination of independent statehood. Under the calls to return to one’s “true identity”, the replacement of the population’s existing self-consciousness with that of a neighboring state. This model did not take shape in a political vacuum. Behind the Romanian project stood a state possessing incomparably greater political, economic, diplomatic, educational, and informational resources. After the collapse of the USSR, Romania gained extensive opportunities to influence processes in the neighboring republic, gradually turning itself into the main external hub for promoting its own identity. Educational programs and scholarships, cadre training, support for media outlets and NGOs, the mass granting of Romanian citizenship, the cultivation of ties between political elites, the alignment of school curricula, and the expansion of a shared information space – all of this has formed an extensive infrastructure of Romanianisation. What was taking place was no longer simply cultural cooperation between two neighboring countries. An asymmetric model had emerged, in which Romania gradually assumed the role of political, ideological, and cultural “big brother”, while Moldova was assigned the part of a historical territory that needed to be brought back into the common Romanian space. The very use of the term “Bessarabia” in unionist discourse often serves precisely this function. Moldova ceases to be perceived as an independent actor in the modern international order and is instead reduced to a territory defined solely through its relationship to Romania. Its present is made secondary to the proposed interpretation of its past, while its right to independently determine its own future is supplanted by the thesis that a historical “mistake” must be corrected. The result has been a model of imposed nationalism. National mobilization was directed not at strengthening Moldova’s own identity, but at displacing it and replacing it with a Romanian one. Over the course of 35 years, this process has penetrated virtually every sphere of public life. School curricula and the official interpretation of history have been rewritten, the concept of a “unified Romanian people” has been promoted, and Moldovan identity has been steadily pushed out of state and public spaces. In 2023, the parliamentary majority replaced the term “Moldovan language” with “Romanian” in legislation, turning a complex historical and identity question into a matter of administrative fiat. Yet even after decades of the relentless imposition of a Romanian identity, unionist advocates still find themselves having to convince Moldovans that they are not Moldovans. That fact alone speaks to the deep internal contradiction at the heart of the project. Unirea Wrapped in a European Flag In recent years, unionist policy has acquired a new and considerably more attractive wrapping: European integration. A direct call to renounce own statehood is liable to provoke natural rejection among a significant part of society. That is why unification with Romania is increasingly presented not as the liquidation of the Republic of Moldova, but as an accelerated path into the European Union. The expansion of Bucharest’s influence is explained as European solidarity; the Romanianisation of the educational and cultural space, as a return to European roots; and the gradual erosion of the country’s independent agency, as the deepening of European integration. Thus, unirea is being packaged in the attractive wrapping of a “European choice”. This political technique serves to mask the fundamental difference between the two processes. Integration into the EU presupposes a state joining a common political, legal, and economic space while retaining its international sovereignty. The state becomes a member of the union but does not cease to exist, and its citizens acquire new rights and opportunities without having to renounce their own national identity. The unionist project leads to the opposite outcome: Moldova dissolves into Romania, vanishing as a distinct subject of international law. Its state institutions lose their independence, and its territory is absorbed into the political and legal system of the neighboring state. Equating European integration with unirea is therefore a political manipulation. The European Union does not demand the liquidation of Moldova, the renunciation of its own self-designation, or the recognition of a Romanian identity as the only permissible one. On the contrary, modern Europe is built on the recognition of complex and multiple identities. European states employ various models to protect linguistic, national, and regional communities. German-speaking Austria is not obliged to become part of Germany. The French-speaking citizens of Belgium are not automatically turned into Frenchmen. A shared language has not stripped Ireland of its independent statehood, nor has it merged English-speaking countries into a single political space. That is precisely why the formula “one language – one people – one state” has little to do with the modern European model. It is a simplistic nationalist construct in which linguistic proximity is used to negate existing identities and to justify political absorption. Hubert Knirsch’s comment hit a nerve precisely because it shattered the habitual equation of Romanianisation with Europeanisation. If two sovereign states exist and the decision depends on the will of their peoples, then Moldova is an independent actor and its population possesses the right to its own political choice. Unification, in that case, becomes merely one possible project for the future, not a predestined end of history. Even more sensitive was the thesis about the difference in identities. If Moldovans are a separate nation, their statehood acquires an independent value. If Moldova possesses its own historical and political agency, its existence can no longer be imagined as merely a temporary deviation from a “natural” unity with Romania. In that scenario, unirea ceases to look like the restoration of a preordained historical norm and becomes what it is, from a political and legal standpoint: a project to terminate the existence of one state and incorporate its territory into another. This is precisely the debate that unionists have, for many years, tried to replace with talk of a “single language”, a “single culture”, and a “return to Europe”. Knirsch effectively revived a topic that unionist advocates had sought to banish: the people of Moldova possess their own identity and are under no obligation to renounce it, however close their cultural ties to Romania may be. What made the situation particularly acute was that the question was raised by a representative of Germany. Had a Moldovan opposition politician voiced a similar stance, it would likely have been dismissed as an expression of “Moldovenism”, “Soviet thinking”, or Russian influence. In recent years, such accusations have become a convenient way of silencing alternative views. Applying such a formula to a diplomat from a leading EU state is, however, considerably more difficult. Germany is one of the principal political and economic centers of the European Union and a key partner of Moldova. Its representative’s words cannot, therefore, be spun as “anti-European propaganda” without incurring serious reputational damage. Moreover, Knirsch’s position aligns with European logic far more closely than the unionist formula of unification does. But it strikes painfully at the ideological core of the ruling regime, revealing that the crude Romanianisation it has been pursuing is neither a prerequisite for nor a natural extension of European integration. Political Zugzwang The reaction of our Foreign Ministry was revealing: it declined to offer any substantive assessment of the German ambassador’s words, effectively redirecting the questions back to the Germans themselves. Such caution is utterly uncharacteristic of this institution, which under the Sandu regime has turned into a mouthpiece for the most backward propaganda. In this situation, however, any detailed response would have placed official Chisinau in a position of political zugzwang. Agreeing with the ambassador would have meant admitting that the linguistic and cultural proximity being so aggressively imposed does not cancel out a separate Moldovan identity. That would inevitably have cast doubt on a large part of the unionist narrative, which in recent years has been woven ever more deeply into state policy. Openly disputing the point would have been even harder. The authorities would have had to argue and enter into a debate to prove that a shared language justifies denying the independence of a national identity, thereby contradicting the very foundations of the European Union itself. Moreover, any attempt to refute the German diplomat would inevitably have drawn even more attention to the central question: why do unionist advocates react so painfully to the mere suggestion that Moldovans might possess their own identity? Silence therefore became the safest tactic. It allowed Chisinau to avoid a conflict with Berlin while simultaneously not provoking the unionist wing of the regime’s political entourage. But refusing to comment has not resolved the contradiction that has emerged. On the contrary, it has only underscored just how vulnerable the ideological foundations of the current policy remain. Transnistria: Identity as the Key to the Future The German ambassador’s statement carries particular significance for Transnistria, which has built its own statehood on resistance to nationalism, unionism, and attempts to impose a Romanian identity. It was precisely the rejection of the nationalist course of the late 1980s and early 1990s, with its linguistic unification, denial of society’s multi-ethnic character, and surging unionist sentiment, that became one of the key factors behind the formation of Transnistria’s de facto statehood. Unlike Moldova, which renounced its own identity yet never fully managed to replace it with another, the Romanian one, Transnistria has turned its identity into the foundation of state-building. It took shape over centuries, rooted in the historical community of the population, multi-ethnicity, and the equality of peoples and languages. This identity has been preserved and has developed in defiance of international and geopolitical headwinds, external pressure, and the lack of international recognition. Within the framework of their own state – the “Pridnestrovian Moldavian Republic”, declared the heir to the statehood of the MASSR and the MSSR, the people of Transnistria have coalesced as a multi-ethnic community with a distinct collective self-consciousness. In this respect, Transnistria today finds itself in a stronger position, in terms of identity, than right-bank Moldova. The existence of a distinct Transnistrian identity, forged over decades, and, correspondingly, of a Transnistrian people as a civic nation, can no longer be ignored in any discussion of this entity’s future. The German ambassador’s words about differing identities therefore have a direct bearing on the Moldovan-Transnistrian settlement. If linguistic or cultural proximity does not cancel out a separate identity, then references to internationally recognized borders or a shared Soviet historical past likewise cannot be unquestioningly invoked to impose a political future on the population of the left bank without regard for its will. The process of European integration cannot eliminate this problem, nor can it serve as a way to bypass it. On the contrary, as the country advances toward the European Union, the question of a definitive and comprehensive settlement of relations with Transnistria will only grow in importance. It is impossible to fully integrate into the European Union a state with an unresolved and deeply entrenched identity conflict, especially given the presence of the Gagauz autonomy and areas densely populated by Bulgarians, Ukrainians, and Roma. The much-touted “path to the EU” cannot be pursued without first determining the political and legal model of relations between the sides. If the European approach is truly based on respect for identities, democratic procedures, and free expression of will, then the voice of the people of Transnistria cannot be ignored. Any attempt to automatically pull Transnistria into the European space in Moldova’s wake without the population's consent (expressed, for instance, through an internationally monitored referendum) and without a final settlement contradicts the very principles of respect for identity and democratic choice that Knirsch invoked. What is more, it is a direct route to a new escalation and a regional war, into which, for obvious reasons, both Russia and NATO countries would be directly drawn. It appears that certain EU member states do not find such a scenario acceptable. And that is a most unwelcome discovery for Sandu’s unionist regime. In this sense, Germany’s signal is significant for both Chisinau and Tiraspol. For the former, it is a reminder that European integration does not grant the right to ignore a separate identity or to impose a Romanian-centric political future on a society that does not share it. For the latter, it is confirmation that the preservation of its own identity and the consistent expression of the population’s will remain the most powerful political arguments in a shifting global and European architecture.