Previous articles in this series:
Why local elections are more important than they seem: the territory no one is arguing about;
The territory does not start anew after each reform;
Self-government without a self-sustaining economy;
The Road: From the Logic of the Colony to the Logic of Development.
The Mayor as a Deficit Manager
A region does not become truly depressed simply because it has little money. It becomes depressed when it loses the ability to reproduce: people, jobs, businesses, services, and its own tax base. This is precisely where the line is drawn: it is no longer a temporary weakness, but a sustained decline.
Money alone cannot pull a region out of a depression. The problem cannot be solved without changing the underlying structure. You can pour transfer payments into a depressed region for years and end up with the same depression—only with repaired roads.
The main sign of a depressed area is not the level of income. The main sign is the inability to reproduce and retain its population. A region can be economically disadvantaged yet remain vibrant: retaining its people, fostering small businesses, supporting schools, developing local services, training the workforce, and pursuing areas of specialization. The region is still capable of shaping its future — there are people who see a reason to stay. There are businesses that see a reason to operate. There are young people who, when they leave to study, do not rule out returning.
The mechanism of decline is not the drop in a single indicator. It is a long-term cycle in which negative processes begin to reinforce one another. The local market shrinks. Fewer people mean fewer customers. Fewer customers mean fewer businesses. Fewer businesses mean fewer jobs. Fewer jobs mean less tax revenue.
The cycle closes in, with no way out in sight. Only the depression itself is perpetuated, and without breaking this cycle — without developing a strategy — it can no longer be stopped.
Breaking the Logic: Beyond the Cycle of Depression
In a changing world, against the backdrop of the collapse of the so-called “rules-based international order” — a fact acknowledged at international conferences (Davos, etc.)— the question of profound transformation can no longer be viewed as a possibility, but only as a necessity.
Those who develop their own rules and adapt as fully as possible to the new realities will be able to secure a place in the new world. This requires a clear vision of the future— or at least its outlines — which will subsequently serve as the framework for new national and regional policies.
In Moldova, the “vision of the future” lies in the process of European integration. But it is vague and completely lacking in substance.
When discussing Moldova’s accession to the EU, the emphasis is always on what the EU can offer Moldova, but not the other way around. Which goods produced in Moldova will be in demand in the single market? What economic niche does Moldova intend to occupy?
These and other questions are ignored. As a result, the reality of the future for citizens largely boils down to a simple formula: save money — go to the EU to work — support the family members left behind with remittances.
To succeed, Moldova must break free from this logic, as the current trend leaves the country with no chance at either the macro- or micro-level. A country dies not when it lacks money, but when it ceases to produce a future.
The public administration reform proposed by the authorities offers no solution to this problem. The central government will draw up a new map and promises development grants (based on a dubious formula of 3,000 lei per person, regardless of the locality). “Strong mayoral offices” remains nothing more than an empty slogan, just like “European integration” carried out at the national level.
The question is also whether the central government is capable of changing the situation on the ground and preventing these regions from dying out. And is such centralization even necessary? Today, the central government is forced to tackle problems on an “emergency basis” (one need only recall the recent declaration of a state of emergency due to damage to power lines), so only the regions themselves can give their territories the opportunity to shape their own future.
Without a comprehensive answer to the question “Why?” (to develop the village, to keep working in one’s home community), any development will eventually reach a dead end. And under current conditions, every village can and must answer this question for itself.
The system of top-down transfers and directives is no longer viable — this system existed in Moldova for 30 years and ultimately led to the inevitable result: 87% of villages lack both the necessary human and financial resources.
The “vision of the future” for each community is, first and foremost, a social and economic concept — the development of a culture that encourages initiative from the grassroots.
Comrat: A Territory at Risk of Ceasing to Shape the Future
Comrat is important in this discussion not because it is Moldova’s poorest or most troubled city. There are many such cities. It is important as an example of a territory that formally has everything: status, institutions, a university, an agricultural base, a political voice, an administrative role, cultural identity, and external connections.
Comrat is a mirror in which Moldova’s periphery is particularly clearly visible precisely because there are fewer formal reasons for decline here than in many other places.
But that is precisely why the question must be posed more pointedly: if even such a region is losing people and jobs, what is happening to the rest?
According to the 2024 census, Comrat’s population stood at 19,120, down from 20,113 in 2014 — a decline of nearly a thousand people over the decade. For a major capital city, this might appear to be a statistical error. For a regional center aspiring to be the hub of the south, this is a warning sign.
A thousand people is not just a number. These are children who did not attend local schools. These are families who did not buy goods at local stores. These are workers who didn’t show up at local businesses.
Gagauzia as a whole lost an average of 0.25% of its population annually. The average age of Moldova’s population rose from 37.5 to 40.6 years over this decade. The country is aging rapidly. Population decline has been recorded in all districts without exception.
This means that the mechanism of economic decline is not isolated but systemic. Different regions are at different stages of the cycle, but they are all moving in the same direction. And where demographic contraction coincides with structural economic weakness, the process is accelerating.
The employment rate in the southern region has consistently been lower than in other regions. According to statistics, in 2024 it stood at 34.8%, while in the Central region it was 36.8%, in the North 45.8%, and in Chisinau 50.8%. In 2025, the region accounted for only 15.1% of the country’s total workforce.
Although nearly one-third of those employed in Gagauzia work in agriculture, the region remains one of the most climate-vulnerable. Droughts recur every three to four years, and each time they deal a blow not just to the harvest, but to the entire regional economy — to employment, incomes, the local budget, and the region’s ability to sustain itself.
This reflects a mirror image of the broader problem facing the Moldovan economy: the region appears to have resources, but lacks a sustainable economic structure built around them. Every crop failure wipes out a portion of what had been painstakingly accumulated. The region functions, but it does not accumulate wealth.
The main problem in Comrat, as in the rest of the country, is unemployment and labor migration. This is an important self-assessment. The region is aging. It is losing its entrepreneurial energy. It is losing its drive.
This is exactly how the cycle works in Comrat. Young people graduate from Comrat State University or college — and leave, because there are no jobs in their field. The cycle is complete.
In this sense, Comrat State University is a particularly telling example. It exists. It operates. It graduates students. But without a nearby labor market, without industrial infrastructure, and without ties to the local economy, it risks functioning not as an anchor but as a springboard for migration. Essentially, it’s training personnel for other regions.
It is important to understand that this is not a problem unique to Moldova or Gagauzia. It is a classic mechanism that regional policy observers see in dozens of European regions.
The only difference is that in Europe, this mechanism is at least acknowledged, and efforts are made to address it structurally, rather than simply pouring money into it or redrawing administrative boundaries.
In Moldova, discussions about depressed regions are most often replaced by talk of insufficient funding or the need for consolidation. But funding is merely a Band-Aid. Consolidation is a cosmetic fix. They alleviate the symptom but do not cure the disease.
For Comrat, the solution cannot consist solely of securing yet another project or joining yet another government program. It needs a new economic role. Not just to retain its status as an administrative center, but to become a hub for employment, processing, logistics, education, and entrepreneurship for the south.
A depressed region is not a death sentence. But it’s also not a problem that can be solved with cosmetic fixes. It cannot be cured by a single administrative reform, a single road repair, a single grant, or a single support program.
Because a region’s economic decline is a disruption of the system of reproduction — the reproduction of a sustainable vision of the future.
Eugen Perestoronin,
journalist, economic and political analyst
Dmitri Taraburca,
economist, expert in real estate and territorial development
