One of the most convenient illusions of modern administrative policy is the notion that digitalization can replace development. Whereas in the past, a poor region was promised roads, water, schools, factories, a labor market, and jobs, it is now increasingly promised e-services, platforms, digital offices, online applications, integrated registries, and a reduction in administrative burdens.
Moldovan regional thinking follows a simple pattern: the farther away from Chișinău, the worse it is; the closer to the border, the better the prospects. This holds true on the map, but not in the economy.
The administrative reform proposed by the authorities seeks a one-size-fits-all solution for different regions. The government looks at a map and sees city administrations, budgets, and population sizes—and is tempted to think: if the problem looks the same, it can be solved the same way. That is a mistake.
Poverty is a state of being. Depression is a mechanism—one that operates over a long period of time. It is no longer merely stagnation or a recession. Depression reflects the absence of any possibility for change. Poverty shows how much a region has today. Depression shows whether it is capable of shaping its own future. These are fundamentally different questions that require fundamentally different answers.
A depressed region has another dangerous characteristic. Over time, it ceases to be merely an economic problem and becomes a model of governance.
Logos Press continues its series of articles by journalist Evgeny Perestoronin and expert Dmitry Tereburke on local self-government and administrative-territorial reform.
One of the main illusions of the administrative reform is that local self-government can be created legally. It is enough to transfer powers to the territory, elect a local council, approve the budget, appoint the staff, write a strategy, hold public hearings – and the territory supposedly becomes a subject of development.
One of the main mistakes of Moldovan territorial development policy is that territory is too often seen as an administrative unit rather than a historically established economic system. The authorities look at a map and see districts, mayoralties, settlements, budgets, roads, schools, hospitals, population. But this map almost always hides another, much more important map – the map of lost functions.
When they talk about local elections in Moldova, they almost always discuss people. Who will win, who will lose, which party will be strengthened, who is behind whom, who has made a deal with whom, and how this will affect the big political game. Then the elections pass, the passions gradually subside, the elected mayors return to their daily work – and it turns out that the main issue has been left aside again.
Today, against the background of the possible opening of negotiations on Moldova’s accession to the European Union, discussions on the quality of public administration, opportunities and risks of economic development and, consequently, the need to reintegrate the country are intensifying in the public space.
When talking about Moldovan sovereignty, the usual categories come into play – borders, energy, foreign policy, relations with Brussels, Moscow, Washington or Bucharest.
When economists talk about “weak states,” they usually mean central government – its inability to collect taxes, enforce contracts, and produce public goods.
The Moldovan housing market is more honest than any official report. It does not lie, flatter or sympathize. It simply shows what it is. The problem is that nobody wants to look into this mirror.
Does what is happening in the Persian Gulf directly concern Moldova? Many will answer: of course it does! And they will point to the panels of gas stations. Or the electricity bills. And they will be right.
Recently, the media has been flooded with stories about the real estate market – cautious, with “correction, not a disaster” conclusions.
Moldova occupies a unique place in European economic geography – and not a place to be proud of. The country is both peripheral to Western Europe and a donor of human capital to countries that are themselves peripheral. This is not a rhetorical exaggeration – it is a structural diagnosis that follows from a body of theoretical and empirical work on regional development, institutions and spatial economics. This article is an attempt to synthesize these works in relation to the Moldovan reality – without illusions, but also without hopelessness.
Attempts to regulate the real estate market through requirements for intermediaries, tightening of transaction procedures and control over financial flows have not destroyed intermediation. They have changed its nature. The number of “black brokers” has grown. The realtor profession degraded from the function of reducing the risk of the transaction to the function of technical assistance in circumventing regulatory barriers. The social value of professional mediation has fallen to a minimum – not because the market has become more transparent, but because it has become more adaptive to opacity.
The government’s Prima Casa program is often misinterpreted. It is presented as an instrument of housing affordability. In reality, it has become a price gas pedal.
When the market is healthy, it requires no explanation. It functions on its own: apartments are sold, banks lend, developers build, and buyers buy. The state is limited to the role of an observer.
The story about the valuation of assets on the territory of the former Republican Stadium is not a dispute about methodology or a conflict of figures. It is an illustrative demonstration of how in Moldova the legal procedure turns into a controlled ritual, and state institutions – into participants of a political spectacle, where the law is read only when it is profitable.
