The Reform of Last Resort

Earlier this month, Vasile Tofan presented the latest administrative-territorial plan, under which the country’s 32 districts would be replaced by three regions. It would appear that the authorities intended to present the finished product of the officials’ deliberations and leave it at that. Instead, they were left with a host of questions piling up faster than the Cabinet can formulate even the slightest answers. The debate has long since moved beyond whether the country needs local government reform, given that 776 of 892 local councils serve fewer than 3,000 residents. The crux of the matter lies elsewhere: why is the new map being put forward for approval before the 2027 local elections, and will Moldova ultimately end up with a system of local government that is more dependent on the centre and far less stable, rather than with ‘strong mayoralties’? It is worth starting with how the idea itself has evolved. On 8 April, Secretary-General of the Government Alexei Buzu presented a concept about ten administrative-territorial units, but insisted that it was merely a basis for consultation. Now, six months later, we are being offered the most consolidated structure possible: the North, consisting of eleven districts (514,000 inhabitants); the Centre, comprising thirteen districts (670,000); and the South, comprising seven (280,000), while Chișinău, Bălți, Gagauzia and the new municipality of Taraclia are not part of these regions. It is amusing that Bălți has been designated as the administrative centre of the North and Chișinău as that of the Centre – in other words, cities that do not themselves form part of these regions. At the same time, this radical change in the reform model has not been accompanied by a single published calculation explaining why ten districts are worse than three regions. Yet the public clearly has a right to know the rationale behind changes to the country’s map. All we hear from the official explanation is that these macro-regions mirror the boundaries of existing development regions under the European NUTS 3 classification (150,000-800,000 inhabitants), primarily to facilitate access to European funds. Their remit is very narrow, covering planning, projects and support for local councils, but no public services. As a result, local councils will be left with libraries, museums, art schools, sports schools and children’s camps, while the central government will take over schools and school transport, due to be transferred to the Ministry of Education’s regional agencies in the 2027-2028 academic year, as well as district archives, chief architects and roads that the law does not classify as local. The political calculation is obvious. The very concept requires the first legislative package to be adopted well ahead of the next local elections, while Maia Sandu acknowledged as far back as the summer that the reform would entail political costs for the ruling party. District councils will disappear, to be replaced by three regional councils elected from party lists, while the regional council chairpersons will be elected by the councillors themselves, without voter involvement. Hundreds of local councils are to be merged, while, according to media reports and statements by Buzu, the government will cut funding for those that do not wish to merge voluntarily. However, according to the September Public Opinion Barometer survey, a majority of the population (57.4% versus 31.8%) are dissatisfied with the local government reform. Moreover, the survey concerned the previous phase of consolidating mayoral offices rather than the current move to a three-region model. But the most intriguing finding is that 66% of those surveyed trust their local councils, while only 31.6% trust the government. Yet it is the latter that is restructuring the former, and doing so quite demonstratively on the eve of the elections. Such is the paradox of our reality. The PAS’s course of action also raises questions. While the package of laws on the country’s new administrative map is due to be tabled in parliament in October, the redistribution of powers and reorganisation of local finances are scheduled for 2027. For example, the status, representation and funding of the Taraclia municipality will be determined by future legislation. The decision to retain its separate status, given its Bulgarian majority, is in itself understandable and perhaps even sensible. However, the south of the country is divided between a region and a special municipality, while the rules governing their interaction currently exist only on paper. Consequently, citizens will have to vote for regional councils without really knowing either their budgets or the precise scope of their powers. The key question now hanging in the air is whether the authorities have sufficient administrative capacity, resources, political support and legitimacy to manage all this. During a short transitional period, hundreds of local councils must be merged, regional councils established, assets transferred, budgetary flows altered and the management of education restructured – all at once. Even the most long-overdue reform risks triggering a cascade of setbacks under such a timetable. European experience with territorial reforms is based on the fundamental principle that the quality of the administrative transition matters more than a legal framework that looks neat on paper. In our case, however, the impression so far is that the authorities are prioritising speed over tangible results and positive outcomes. Just as telling is the silence concerning the left bank of the Dniester, as the document covers only the territory under constitutional control and changes nothing for the Transnistrian region at this stage. On the one hand, the logic is clear, but the question of how the three regions will relate to a possible future reintegration remains outside the framework. Could the “transitional” scheme end up entrenching the administrative divide indefinitely? And will another reform not be needed in, say, ten years to reunite the country? It is also worth mentioning the version that ties in with the so-called ‘Plan B’, repeatedly referred to by government officials. If the forthcoming reform is viewed through a unionist lens, the logic is crystal clear. No one expects Moldova to remain part of Romania with its current network of small districts, while three enlarged regions would be comparable in scale to modern Romanian counties. Moreover, the reform concept itself states that the management of funds will be structured drawing on the experience of our neighbouring country, while Romanian counties, like the proposed regions, are classified at NUTS 3 level. It therefore appears that the stated objectives of the PAS and the practical substance of the proposed reform are diverging ever more markedly. The authorities promise to bring decision-making closer to the people, yet in practice they are proposing to redraw the administrative map, redistribute powers and funding, and hold elections under a new system – all at such a pace that negative consequences are becoming virtually inevitable. If the calculations and rules governing the transition are drawn up in the same non-transparent manner, somewhere within the inner circles of the ruling regime, then a reform meant to strengthen the state risks becoming a source of fresh chaos, conflict and outright sabotage at the local level. In this scenario, Chișinău will either push through the changes by administrative pressure, subjecting local government to an even stricter top-down hierarchy, or face resistance and administrative disruption that it will be unable to overcome within the timeframe set. The PAS’s attempt to secure its position ahead of the elections could then turn into a governance crisis, with consequences going far beyond the local election campaign. It appears, then, that the administrative-territorial reform is increasingly looking like one of the PAS’s last hopes of staying afloat. The stakes are extremely high, and there is no guarantee that this attempt to overhaul local government will not ultimately become a prelude to a profound domestic political crisis. Curtailing local self-government and concentrating powers at the centre will certainly not make up for the public’s lack of trust; on the contrary, it risks turning the discontent of regional elites, who have direct and close ties with the people, into widespread protest against Chișinău. As a result, a mechanism designed to give the ruling party more favourable conditions for navigating the next electoral cycles may instead accelerate the loss of even its current positions – the very ones it sought to preserve by launching the reform.