Divided by the Dniester, Divided by Memory

Sergiu CEBAN

The formation of two parallel mental spaces on the right bank and the left bank is becoming one of the most serious long-term risks both for the Transnistrian settlement and for Moldova’s European future

The recent comment by the German ambassador, touching on issues of identity, history, and language, had the effect of a genuine bombshell. A small stone cast into the media pond set off wide ripples of public debate, and the sheer scale of the reaction has once again demonstrated that, in our country, questions of historical memory and collective identity are not merely sensitive – they are the fundamental fault lines of Moldova’s internal divide. The authorities and the propagandists who service them may criticize Hubert Knirsch all they like, accusing him of failing to grasp local specifics or of meddling in internal affairs but that does nothing to cancel out objective reality. European diplomats long ago stopped viewing our country solely through the lens of official reports from Chisinau. They regularly visit Tiraspol, Comrat, and other districts; they meet with representatives of various political and civic circles. They therefore have a fairly clear picture of what is happening in different corners of our republic. That is precisely why the EU capitals are well aware that our authorities often prefer to ignore or deliberately skirt around the harsh truth that Moldova, alongside its territorial, political, and institutional crisis, is also undergoing a crisis of shared identity. The fact is that the European Union is not merely a common market, unified regulations, and access to development funds; it is, above all, a political space built on the ability of states to preserve societal cohesion and a nationwide consensus on the fundamental questions of their own past and future. For this reason, one cannot rule out that the German ambassador’s statement was a kind of gentle reminder to our leadership, on the eve of the cluster negotiations, that the problems deferred “for later” over decades cannot be resolved simply by accelerating the talks with Brussels. There are many questions, and they will be put squarely to the Moldovan authorities, however sensitive they may be for us. The accelerated European integration plan that PAS is pushing today is largely built on a simple premise: we bracket out all internal contradictions and then bury them under a thick layer of financial injections from European funds. But the actual practice of European integration shows the exact opposite. No country has ever joined the European Union while ignoring deep internal divisions, especially when those divisions touch on issues of territorial integrity, collective memory, and political identity. The most vivid example of such a problem for Moldova remains the Transnistrian issue. We will not delve now into the current state of the conflict settlement, which we have already dissected more than once; let us talk about something else. Paradoxically, it is precisely those spheres commonly regarded as the most difficult, such as trade, transport, energy, the economy, healthcare, and so on, that, given political will, can adapt to new conditions relatively quickly. In recent years, we have seen Tiraspol forced to gradually restructure a significant portion of its economic activity to meet the requirements of Chisinau and European regulatory standards. A less visible but far more dangerous process is unfolding on a different plane: the formation of historical meaning and identity. In recent years, the distance between the two banks of the Dniester has been turning into an unbridgeable chasm. It is important to understand that, while economic ties can be restructured over a few years, public consciousness, raised on different historical myths, symbols, and mutually exclusive views of the past, is vastly harder to change, and at times practically impossible. We are witnessing two distinct mental realities are taking shape. And this process can hardly be called spontaneous, for it has been systematically constructed on both sides in Chisinau and in Tiraspol alike. It began with the active erection of monuments, memorials, and monumental complexes on both banks of the Dniester, dedicated to what are ostensibly the same historical events but interpreted in opposed ways. What, for Chisinau, becomes a symbol of national tragedy or the struggle for independence is perceived in Tiraspol as liberation or, conversely, as a period of discrimination and violence. Over time, “symbolic” politics evolved into legislative policy. Chisinau began to codify in law the linguistic, historical, and ideological foundations of modern Moldovan identity, with questions of national memory and the reinterpretation of the Soviet past placed at the forefront. The culmination of this process came in the form of new school history textbooks, which sparked sharp disagreements not only within the country but far beyond its borders. Regardless of how one judges their content, it is clear that the state has earnestly set about constructing a very particular view of its own history. Tiraspol, for its part, is moving along a mirror-opposite trajectory, developing its own historical concept, shaping the image of a distinct “Transnistrian people”, and expanding a local pantheon of historical heroes. In parallel, a narrative of a separate “Transnistrian identity”, with its own historical path and collective memory, is being reinforced. Concepts familiar to international historiography acquire an entirely different political interpretation there. A characteristic example is the unfolding campaign to stigmatize the term “Transnistria”. But the process of constructing narrative systems in Chisinau and Tiraspol has not stopped there – on the contrary, it is gathering momentum. Just in the last few weeks, for instance, memorial legislation has been tightened almost simultaneously on both sides of the Dniester. On 29 June, a bill was introduced in parliament providing for criminal liability for the denial of the Stalinist deportations and the famine of 1946-1947. Almost at the same time, Tiraspol initiated the enshrinement in local “legislation” of a norm concerning “the victims of the genocide of the Transnistrian people and the perpetuation of their memory in connection with the crimes of the German-Romanian fascist occupation regime of 1941-1944.” Thus, each bank of the Dniester is codifying its own official historical canon, which is gradually acquiring a binding character and becoming part of the ideological core. This, in our view, constitutes the greatest challenge for the future of the Transnistrian settlement. Negotiations between Chisinau and Tiraspol are usually viewed in terms of the region’s status, the distribution of powers, security, the economy, or international guarantees. But even if a political compromise were reached on these issues, the automatic reintegration of society would most likely not follow. And with every passing day, month, and year, the chances of that happening appear only to diminish. It is important to understand that you cannot unite people through common laws or a single tax system alone if they inhabit separate historical paradigms. When schoolchildren on the two banks are taught fundamentally different versions of the past, venerate different heroes, perceive the tragic pages of history in opposite ways, and form contrary notions of their own identity, the Transnistrian problem takes on wholly different properties. What is particularly alarming is that this question has largely fallen off the radar, with our experts often focusing on more practical matters such as energy, security, the “5+2” format, fiscal unification, and the like. The problem of collective memory on the banks of the Dniester, meanwhile, remains somewhere on the periphery, even though it may prove to be the most intractable of all. In our view, the formation of two parallel mental spaces on the right bank and the left bank is becoming one of the most serious long-term risks both for the Transnistrian settlement and for Moldova’s European future.