Chișinău – How can it be that in a country where the pro-EU party secures more than half the national vote—gaining an outright majority in Parliament—there are regions where it barely scrapes 3%? And where its main rival, a pro-Russian coalition, dominates with more than 80%?
Beneath Moldova’s pro-European celebrations lies a troubling reality for the EU candidate’s cohesion, that has gone largely unnoticed. Analysing voting behaviour in regions such as Găgăuzia and Taraclia is crucial to understand just how far minorities remain excluded from both national and European integration. This is not only a problem for Chișinău, but also for Brussels. Russian propaganda’s grip cannot be explained away as only disinformation—it is anchored in structural issues of language, economics and society.
“The EU must press its partners to work with all local communities, as they represent the EU’s reputation in Moldova,” urges Mihai Peicov, Executive Director of the Centre for Civic Initiatives for National Minorities (ICPMN), a public organisation promoting civic participation in local communities. In an interview with The New Union Post, he warns that “this is not only a matter of democracy” but also about the responsible use of EU taxpayers’ money: “Funds intended for the development of civil society in these regions are being used by pro-Russian mayors to advance their own agenda behind the EU’s back.”
The issue of Găgăuzia and Taraclia
Găgăuzia and Taraclia District are two regions in southern Moldova that together account for around 6% of the country’s population. Their specificity lies in the fact that they are overwhelmingly inhabited by two national minorities: the Turkic-speaking Gagauz in the former, and ethnic Bulgarians in the latter. Unlike the other three main groups—Roma, Ukrainians and Russians, who are dispersed across the country—they benefit from either their own district (Bulgarians) or autonomous status (Gagauz), with specific cultural, administrative, social and political prerogatives.
Taraclia District is the centre of Moldova’s Bulgarian community, where the native language is taught in schools and promoted through cultural institutions. However, it does not enjoy a special autonomous status like Găgăuzia, where taxes remain within the territorial unit, a local parliament and a prime minister—known as the Bashkan—are elected, and Gagauz is recognised as one of the official languages.
When speaking of Moldova’s ‘special’ regions, secessionist Transnistria inevitably comes to mind. It controls a narrow strip of land between the Dniester river and the border with Ukraine and operates as a de facto independent semi-presidential republic, with its own government, parliament, military and currency. Russian troops—around 1,000 soldiers—have been stationed there since 1992. While Transnistria is not included in discussions about national minorities, most of its population belongs to linguistic minorities: “They are Moldovan citizens but predominantly Russian-speaking, and only about 10% have knowledge of Romanian,” explains Peicov, noting that ICPMN cannot operate in the region, “as our activities involve implementing EU strategy projects and it would be dangerous for us.”
The language is the first major issue between the authorities in Chișinău and these territories. Not only do most national minorities not speak Romanian, but “many use Russian instead of their native language.” According to ICPMN’s Executive Director—himself from Taraclia District, as are several colleagues from other minority communities—this is precisely why pro-Russian parties and propaganda are “so effective” in these areas. Around 38% of the population, particularly among national minorities, cannot follow political messages in any language other than Russian. More than a matter of access to information, this is above all a problem of understanding the country’s official language. “But the central authorities have no strategy for integrating them,” Peicov warns.
Chișinău’s responsibilities
In both regions these contradictions and tensions between the central authorities and local populations are clearly felt. The situation is even more pronounced in Găgăuzia, considering the significant autonomy granted by Chișinău in 1995 in an effort to reintegrate the territory, which had declared independence during the dissolution of the Soviet Union.
Peicov explains that “for historical reasons, they have always maintained close ties with Russia.” The Gagauz are a Turkic people, but unlike most Turkic groups they are Eastern Orthodox Christians, having historically migrated from Bulgaria. When Moldova was part of the Russian Empire, Moscow granted them a territory and exempted them from paying taxes. During the Soviet period, they were among the first to promote the Russian language. With Vladimir Putin’s rise to power, pro-Russian sentiment grew even stronger. “The Gagauz, who watch only Russian TV channels, were heavily influenced by it.” Today, many in this Turkic community largely identify as Russian.
Language is the main reason Russian propaganda has taken hold, but it is not the only factor. “Local authorities play a very important role,” Peicov notes, as in many areas “the key opinion-maker is the mayor.” In Russian-speaking communities, it is easier for the Kremlin to influence them to portray Chișinău and the EU as the enemy. Although autonomy was granted by Chișinău to preserve the native language and promote cultural heritage, “the local political class has turned it into a matter of business and money,” with Moscow providing substantial funding to advance a pro-Russian agenda.
At the same time, local authorities also receive significant funding and grants from the EU to support the development of autonomy and integration. As ICPMN highlights, “where mayors are pro-European, people begin to change their views” on the EU’s support for school modernisation, parks, and other tangible projects. “From this, a more constructive discussion can emerge on sensitive topics,” such as LGBTQIA+ rights or the causes of the war in Ukraine.
The real elephant in the room when it comes to Russian interference in these regions is the lack of attention and commitment from national authorities to integrate national minorities. “They do not engage with people to understand their concerns,” Peicov says. While the pro-EU government in Chișinău denounces Kremlin propaganda, what is urgently needed is concrete action: “Integrating minorities, promoting the national language, and countering propaganda with a clear strategy and comprehensive programmes.”
Drawing on its deep knowledge of the situation on the ground, ICPMN is working with the government and EU representatives to develop such a strategy. At the same time, the organisation, which promotes civic participation among national minorities, openly criticises the authorities for their approach. “They are sceptical about engaging in these areas because they have not seen results. But, of course, if outreach to minorities only begins a few months before elections, results cannot be expected,” Peicov adds.
What the EU can do for Moldova’s national minorities
ICPMN works closely with the EU delegation, implementing EU projects to combat disinformation, promote media literacy in native languages, and support mayors and local authorities with infrastructure and educational initiatives. This is why their voice matters when discussing how national minorities perceive the European Union. “We see positive results when we engage there on a regular basis,” Peicov explains, emphasising the need for a constant presence on the ground.
At the same time, he is struck by the widespread misunderstanding of the situation across the country, even though the EU openly supports the development of civil society in these regions. “For example, they don’t understand how it is possible that, despite local communities receiving substantial EU funding, many still support Russia.”
Peicov’s background and firsthand experience helps to explain this apparent paradox. “The mayor of my village, Corten [in Taraclia District, ed.], is pro-Russian, yet he received an EU grant to build a new school,” he says. “On the opening day, the EU delegation was invited in the morning, but the villagers were not. In the afternoon, a separate event was held only for local residents, attended by Igor Dodon [the leader of the pro-Russian Patriotic Bloc, ed.], who claimed that the project had been supported by the Socialists.” Situations like this happen “on a regular basis all over the country,” Peicov concludes, visibly frustrated.
