By Cătălin Balog – PhD, Retired Colonel
This article offers a political analysis of the Romanian electoral landscape on the eve of the 2025 elections, with a focus on the ideological transformations of the main parties and the mechanisms that sustain a democratic system that is functional only in appearance. From the PSD’s drift toward a mimetic, Trump-inspired populism, to the doctrinal vacuum of the PNL, and the instrumentalization of radical opposition as a symbolic safety valve, the text presents a radiography of a system that mimics pluralism while preserving stagnation.
Under the title “On Political Ideology: From Transition to Travesty”, the author investigates the mechanisms of democratic simulation, the effects of manipulation through polls and institutional silence, as well as the increasingly limited options of a lucid voter caught between resignation and civic engagement. Ultimately, it is a critical reflection on the ideological void that threatens to render formal democracy irrelevant to its own citizens.
I. Introduction
For more than three decades, Romanian politics has oscillated between reformist promises and conservative reflexes, between democratic rhetoric and authoritarian practices, between the simulation of pluralism and the consolidation of a monopoly of institutionalized survival. In this prolonged context of transition, ideologies have often served more as decorative backdrops than as genuine foundations of political action.
Yet what we are currently experiencing is no longer just doctrinal ambiguity or strategic eclecticism. It is a profound metamorphosis in which the boundaries between left and right, between pro-Europeanism and sovereignty-focused nationalism, between moderation and radicalism have become so fluid that any coherent reference point risks being dissolved in the background noise of political marketing.
The 2024–2025 elections – local, parliamentary, and presidential – are taking place in a climate of apparent institutional stability, yet deep ideological confusion and latent polarization. The governing alliance of PSD-PNL-UDMR, supported by the minority group, presents itself as a bastion of balance and European continuity. In reality, however, this construct is more a non-aggression pact among certain power structures than a coalition built around shared values and goals. Meanwhile, the parliamentary opposition is fragmented, and anti-system parties – especially AUR and SOS – are gaining ground electorally, fuelled by frustration and a lack of genuine representation.
Against this backdrop, a clear-eyed radiography of the current political scene becomes necessary – one that goes beyond electoral appearances and examines the mechanisms by which populism, ideological mimicry, and strategies of democratic simulation have become the norm. The PSD’s recent drift toward a Trump-inspired discourse – analysed in the article “Trumpism, the Last Refuge of the PSD Loyalist”[1] – is symptomatic of a broader trend: the transformation of mainstream parties into vehicles for the preservation of power through the recycling of illiberal rhetoric. Likewise, the possible rebranding of a figure like Crin Antonescu as a “consensus candidate” of the governing alliance confirms the system’s preference for predictable, ideologically inoffensive figures who remain compatible with the requirements of a cosmeticized democracy.
This article proposes a structured and argument-driven analysis of these dynamics, seeking not only to offer a political diagnosis, but also to identify the signs by which Romanian democracy risks being replaced by a simulated form of governance – one in which pluralism is mimed, elections are pre-scripted in sociological laboratories, and the voter is reduced to a silent piece in a game with a predetermined stake.
II. PSD and Trumpism, Romanian-Style: From Social Left to Mimetic Populism
The Social Democratic Party (PSD), heir to a moderate left-wing ideological current originally built around social protection and the representation of the “working class,” has in recent years undergone an ideological reconversion that is neither coherent nor openly assumed, yet profoundly significant. In the absence of genuine doctrinal reflection and under pressure from an increasingly heterogeneous electorate, the PSD has begun to borrow themes, rhetorical reflexes, and mobilization strategies specific to Trump-style populism – without articulating a truly new political platform.
This ideological drift is visible not only in rhetoric, but also in the official positioning of party leaders, in their relationship to state institutions, the media, and especially the notion of the “elite” as a symbolic enemy. The classic discourse of social democracy – focused on social equity, redistribution, and cohesion – is gradually being replaced by a vulgarized anti-elitist rhetoric in which intellectuals, NGOs, the independent press, and European institutions are recurrent targets, accused of contempt toward the “real people.”
This strategy is not unique to the Romanian PSD. It is a regional adaptation of a model already tested in other Central European states – particularly Hungary and Poland – where “conservative” or “social” parties have infused their rhetoric with emotionally charged nationalism, deep scepticism toward the West, rejection of multiculturalism, and nostalgic appeals to traditional values. In Romania, this model has been imported without doctrinal depth but with electoral efficiency – especially among rural and post-industrial voters who feel left behind by rapid modernization and globalist narratives.
Paradoxically, this adoption of elements drawn from Trump-style rhetoric does not reflect a clear ideological commitment, but rather an improvised tactic – a tool for emotional mobilization in the absence of coherent public policy or a genuine economic vision. It is a “contentless copy,” where populism serves not to reform institutions in the name of the people, but to preserve existing power structures under the guise of a vaguely defined national identity. In other words, it is Trumpism deployed as political technique, not as political vision.
More troubling is that this discursive mutation unfolds within a governing alliance that claims to be pro-European and moderate, producing a cognitive dissonance that is hard to ignore: how can nationalist, anti-Western rhetoric coexists with a formal commitment to European values, the rule of law, and political pluralism? The answer is simple: it cannot. The two cancel each other out in a game of appearances meant to simultaneously appease Brussels and local electorates – a cynical balancing act between image and reality.
In this logic, the PSD is not reinventing itself, but camouflaging. It becomes, by turns, social-democratic in its European discourse, conservative on the ground, populist during campaigns, and technocratic in governance. Increasingly, it reveals itself as a party of adaptation, not conviction; of strategy, not ideology. And this discursive plasticity, far from being a sign of pragmatism, becomes a symptom of an identity void with long-term destabilizing potential.
III. The PNL and the Death of Liberalism: Governance Without Vocation, Survival Without Vision
If the transformation of the PSD into a mimetic populist formation is a symptom of strategic adaptation, in the case of the PNL, the ideological regression is deeper – and more concerning. The PNL has not only systematically abandoned the values of classical liberalism, but has also become, in recent years, a party of administration without conviction, without an ideological compass, and without authentic leadership. This metamorphosis did not occur abruptly, but as the result of a series of compromises, accepted with disarming ease in the name of “governing stability.”
Originally a moderate right-wing party, part of the European liberal family, the PNL has gradually distanced itself from the principles that were supposed to shape its vision: economic freedom, rule of law, support for private initiative, pluralism of opinion, and institutional balance. Instead, the party has embraced a purely administrative logic of governance, in which decisions are no longer guided by values, but by the need to maintain equilibrium within the power coalition.
The clearest symptom of this drift was the acceptance of a governing alliance with the PSD – a party traditionally located at the opposite end of the ideological spectrum. Initially, this coalition was presented as a “necessary compromise” in response to successive crises (health, economic, energy). But in the absence of a reformist horizon, the collaboration degenerated into a form of political symbiosis in which the differences between the two parties have become increasingly indistinguishable. Today, the PNL functions more as an extension of the administrative apparatus than as an autonomous political entity with a distinctive vision for society.
More troubling still, the PNL’s withdrawal from ideological debate has left a dangerous void in the representation of the democratic right. The party has become a platform for bureaucrats rather than reformers – a structure for distributing offices, not advancing ideas. Lacking leaders with moral or intellectual authority, the PNL’s public discourse is often technical, defensive, and devoid of vision. Worse yet, the party has failed to respond to the major challenges of contemporary society – education reform, administrative digitalization, energy transition, fiscal policy, or judicial reform – preferring instead a bureaucratic conservatism that is harmless, yet sterile.
This ideological regression is further exacerbated by a communication strategy increasingly focused on personalizing power and delegitimizing dissent. Internal criticism is viewed as betrayal, appeals for doctrinal coherence are met with suspicion, and any attempt at reform is postponed in the name of “governing responsibility.” Instead of serving as an institutional counterweight in the alliance with the PSD, the PNL has chosen the comfort of silence and docility, consolidating its image as a party of obedience – spineless, and reduced to acting as a buffer between the administrative elite and the electorate.
In this sense, the death of liberalism within the PNL is not just a rhetorical diagnosis but a political reality with serious implications: without an active democratic right, political pluralism is compromised, and centre-right voters are left to choose between abstention, fragmentation, or radicalization. In the absence of a coherent political offering, the public sphere becomes fertile ground for demagoguery, extremism, and counterfeit alternatives.
As it stands today, the PNL is not a liberal party, but an electoral vehicle running on inertia, caught between two thresholds: that of power, and that of irrelevance. Within this increasingly narrow space, any return to a meaningful ideological identity seems improbable – if not altogether impossible.
IV. Crin Antonescu – The Ghost Candidate: A Symbol of Strategic Resignation
In a political landscape dominated by stagnation and confusion, the idea of relaunching Crin Antonescu as a potential presidential candidate for the governing alliance is not merely a journalistic speculation but a symptomatic hypothesis reflecting the current establishment’s strategic fatigue and ideological vacuum. At a time when Romania urgently needs a clarified political direction and a genuinely competitive electoral offering, the reappearance of a withdrawn, politically inactive figure – detached from the major developments of the past decade – reveals more about the system’s inability to generate relevant leadership than about any calculated, value-based decision.
Crin Antonescu, a former liberal leader and prominent figure during the USL (Social Liberal Union) era, now appears as a symbol of an ambiguous past: a politician who fluctuated between strong opposition to the Băsescu regime and an alliance with the PSD, between reformist rhetoric and soft nationalism, between unfulfilled institutional promises and a sudden political retreat. His reemergence in public discourse – even as a polling subject – is not a reconnection with the electorate, but a symbolic resuscitation, meant to fill a representational void with a familiar (and already exhausted) figure from the collective imagination.
What makes this hypothesis even more telling is the context in which it arises: in the absence of a natural candidate with a convincing profile, internal legitimacy, and public resonance, the political system resorts to a neutral, predictable name – one unlikely to disrupt existing balances. This is not a choice born of vision, but of damage control: Crin Antonescu is not the most capable candidate to mobilize the public, but the least likely to disturb it. He carries no major conflicts with either the PSD or the PNL, poses no threat to coalition stability, and provokes no significant concern from international actors. In every respect, he is the ideal candidate for a system seeking to remain identical to itself.
Yet this choice comes at a cost. Selecting a “ghost candidate” – lacking contemporary public stature, a coherent political project, or connection to the key issues of today’s society – signals the complete retreat of politics from the field of real debate. In an electoral climate already tainted by apathy and distrust, such a profile cannot generate civic enthusiasm – only functional resignation. The voter is not called to choose a societal vision, but to endorse a preservation solution.
Moreover, reactivating a political figure from the recent past of PSD-PNL cohabitation sends a clear message: Romania does not aim for real power alternation, but for a change of scenery. A new president, but from the same meld; a familiar face, but unaccountable for the present; a formal balance, but lacking any authentic democratic substance.
In this sense, the candidacy of Crin Antonescu would not constitute a genuine political option, but a mechanism for maintaining the illusion of normality – a ghostly return to an increasingly hollow electoral game, carefully calibrated for a system that prefers stagnation over risk, and inert consensus over ideological competition.
V. Polls, Silence, and the Management of Perception: Between Stagnation and Electoral Staging
In any mature democracy, opinion polls are a useful tool for understanding electoral trends, calibrating campaigns, and enhancing transparency in the democratic process. In Romania, however, polls have increasingly become strategic instruments for managing collective perception – a mechanism designed to artificially stabilize a political hierarchy that is silently, yet increasingly, contested.
According to recent data published by HotNews[2], at least five separate polls converge on the same electoral ranking: PSD and PNL dominated by the usual figures, followed by AUR and a fragmented opposition. This convergence raises legitimate concerns about the authenticity of the political dynamics these polls claim to reflect. Granted, these parties benefit from institutional infrastructure, access to resources, media exposure, and entrenched networks of influence. But to accept uncritically that Romanian society has suddenly become immobile, immune to systemic crises, and devoid of reformist energy or political alternatives is an act of intellectual resignation.
The overall impression of stagnation induced by these polls creates a self-fulfilling electoral effect: if nothing changes in the polls, then nothing can be changed in reality. This mechanism has a demobilizing effect on active segments of the electorate – especially among the educated, urban, and younger demographics – who end up feeling excluded from the logic of representation. Consequently, absenteeism becomes a silent form of protest, yet one that functions systemically to maintain the status quo.
Equally concerning is the lack of transparency regarding who funds these polls, how they are conducted, and for what purpose. In the absence of genuine public debate about pluralism in measuring public opinion, or rigorous regulation, polls can be politically instrumentalized – used to float “tested” candidacies or to prematurely shut down conversations about real alternatives.
More subtly – but no less significantly – silence plays a crucial role in this equation. Mainstream media, largely aligned both economically and ideologically with the dominant parties, avoids questioning the stagnant nature of the electoral landscape, rarely interrogates the manipulation of public perception, and seldom gives voice to emerging political actors. In doing so, the public is held in a state of diffuse expectation, trapped in a continuous present where the future appears choreographed and the past strategically recycled.
This management of stagnation through polling is not accidental; it is part of a deliberate architecture meant to preserve the current political equilibrium by inducing a form of democratic fatalism. The result is a widespread sense that all options have been exhausted, that every viable candidate has already been tried, and that no new leadership can emerge. Within such a setup, elections cease to be real competitions of ideas, projects, or visions – they become exercises in affirming a pre-established hierarchy.
In conclusion, today’s polls no longer merely reflect voter intention; they have become political actors in their own right, endowed with performative power over the electoral landscape. Rather than showing how citizens think, they increasingly dictate how voters “should” think about the candidates. And when perception becomes more important than actual choice, democracy itself enters a regime of controlled simulation.
VI. Băsescu and the Specter of Instability: The “American Problem” and the Insinuation of Chaos
In a political climate already strained by institutional stagnation, ideological confusion, and eroding public trust, the recent emergence of alarming statements from a former Romanian president should have triggered a process of clarification and reflection among political elites and society at large. Traian Băsescu’s claim that “the United States has only one problem in its relationship with Romania” – a statement suggesting the possible cancellation of the upcoming November elections – is exceptionally serious. Its gravity lies not in its explicit content, but in the insidious mechanism of insinuation it sets in motion[3].
The remark occupies an ambiguous space – somewhere between geopolitical observation and prophetic warning. It stops short of making a formal accusation, yet it cannot be dismissed as mere speculation. At its core, the message operates on two fronts: on one hand, it subtly suggests a major rupture or tension between Romania and its strategic partner; on the other, it opens a speculative space regarding the legitimacy of democratic elections in an EU and NATO member state.
This dual insinuation has destabilizing effects, casting doubt on the electoral process before the campaign has even begun, and questioning not only the administrative integrity of the elections but also the decision-making sovereignty of the state itself. In a context where public trust in institutions is already fragile, such messaging risks fuelling suspicion, conspiracy theories, and even doubts about Romania’s Euro-Atlantic alignment – consequences that are difficult to quantify in the long term.
More troubling still is the absence of any public demand for clarification from major political figures, nor has there been any firm institutional or diplomatic response. In this case, silence is not merely suspect – it is complicit. It tacitly legitimizes, through passivity, a normalization of destabilizing discourse in which former leaders cast shadows on the present without being held accountable for their words.
Beyond the substance of the statement itself, the rhetorical mechanism employed is characteristic of modern forms of political disinformation: an undefined “problem” is announced, the existence of a geopolitical crisis is insinuated, and responsibility is displaced outside the democratic framework. Interpreted through this lens, Băsescu’s message reads as a sophisticated form of discursive intoxication, designed to undermine public confidence in the constitutional order without offering any alternatives or solutions.
At a deeper level, such interventions point to an increasingly visible trend among former political elites: the discrediting of representative democracy in the name of supposedly “backstage realities” – realities inaccessible to the public but allegedly decisive. This amounts to a reactivation of the “deep state” mythology, now reframed in geopolitical terms, functioning as a tool of symbolic control over the public sphere. But in a functioning democracy – where the rules of the political game are clear and respected – such messages are not only unacceptable but require strong institutional mechanisms of response and disavowal.
In the absence of such mechanisms, Romania risks sliding – not formally, but gradually – into a grey zone of democratic discourse, where the boundary between opinion and manipulation, between warning and diversion, becomes impossible to draw. And when the very notion of free and fair elections is questioned by those who were once entrusted to defend it, the danger no longer comes from outside democracy, but from within it.
VII. AUR, SOS, and the Usefulness of Populism: Opposition as Décor, Extremism as a Safety Valve
In a political system where, governing parties operate more as administrators of a self-referential balance than as drivers of a coherent societal vision, the role of the opposition becomes paradoxical – not as a genuine alternative, but as a choreographed component of the broader equilibrium. Within this architecture, parties like AUR and SOS Romania play a crucial role: that of symbolic outlets for diffuse discontent, yet lacking any real capacity to assume power or articulate a coherent governing project.
AUR’s rise in recent years has rightly been interpreted as symptomatic of a deep rift between society and the traditional political class. In a public space marked by cynicism, stagnation, and a crisis of representation, an anti-system party with nationalist, conservative, and often conspiratorial rhetoric manages to mobilize overlooked or alienated segments of the electorate: disillusioned youth, marginalized rural populations, frustrated diaspora, and the anti-vaccine and anti-globalization demographic.
However, once it entered Parliament and gained media attention, AUR did not evolve toward political professionalization or doctrinal consolidation. On the contrary, it radicalized its discourse, embraced theatrical forms of opposition – symbolic protests, direct attacks on the press, the promotion of conspiracy theories – yet consistently failed to present any sustainable governmental alternative. In this sense, AUR has become a decorative form of opposition, feeding the fears of moderate voters and thereby justifying, by contrast, the “rationality” of the PSD-PNL governing coalition.
Parties like SOS Romania – splintered off directly from this same radical and opportunistic vein – amplify the logic of fragmentation and spectacle. Lacking solid infrastructure, coherent ideological foundations, or strategies for civic engagement, these formations function as loudspeakers of raw discontent without bearing any real political responsibility. They express, but do not propose; they scandalize, but do not construct.
From a cynical yet realistic perspective, AUR and its satellites perform an indirect systemic function: they polarize public discourse, channel frustrations in predictable directions, artificially dramatize the electoral climate, and generate the illusion of pluralism. In reality, it is precisely this polarization that enables the governing alliance to present itself as the “balanced solution” – positioned between anti-system extremism and the chaos of instability.
This dynamic is sustained, in part, by segments of the media which – whether due to ideological affinities or audience-driven logic – offer disproportionate exposure to radical parties, thus contributing to the normalization of an illiberal, resentful, and often anti-democratic discourse. In the absence of ethical filters and responsible political journalism, the spectacle of populism becomes the main electoral content offered to the public.
It is essential to understand that radical populism, as practiced by AUR and its counterparts, does not constitute a genuine anti-system solution, but rather a diversion of rebellious energy into a controllable and sterile zone, where political conflict is reduced to posturing and ideology is replaced by primitive impulses.
In this landscape, genuine opposition – the kind that should offer alternative projects, challenge institutional capture, and propose new social contracts – is virtually non-existent or marginalized. In its absence, populism remains useful not as a solution, but as a tool for preserving order through fear and the caricaturing of change.
VIII. The Lucid Voter: Between Resignation, Protest, and Reconstruction
Faced with a political landscape defined by ideological mimicry, institutional stagnation, and stage-managed populism, a fundamental question arises: what options remain for a lucid, informed voter committed to democratic values? What real choices exist for a citizen unwilling to be trapped in the false dilemma between inert power management and theatrical anti-system posturing? The answer, far from comforting, demands political maturity, critical discernment, and, above all, a civic effort toward reconstruction.
First, the lucid voter confronts a structural dilemma: either cast a rational vote for the “lesser evil,” thereby perpetuating a drifting political order, or adopt a position of refusal – boycotting elections, submitting null votes, or retreating into civic passivity – with the risk of leaving the public space to be aggressively and unscrupulously occupied by others. Both options, though seemingly rational, entail their own traps. Voting for the “lesser evil” may, over time, become a form of resigned complicity, where pragmatic calculation overshadows any moral or doctrinal exigency. At the same time, withdrawal from participation weakens the very critical segment of society, paving the way for vocal radicalism and political control structures.
A third option – the most difficult, yet perhaps the only viable one in the long run – is active engagement in rebuilding a pluralistic, coherent, and responsible civic space, one capable of generating real alternatives. This does not necessarily mean entering party politics, but it does require a conscious commitment to the idea of citizenship as responsibility: supporting civic initiatives, monitoring those in power, fostering critical thinking, and strengthening independent networks of information and democratic education.
This path also entails a fundamental rethinking of how political representation is understood. The lucid voter must go beyond the binary logic of choosing between “government” and “opposition” and begin evaluating parties, candidates, and platforms through the lens of value coherence, intellectual honesty, institutional competence, and openness to critical dialogue. Without such criteria, democracy risks remaining trapped in cycles of simulation and substitution, with no meaningful progress.
There is also an urgent need to rearticulate the democratic discourse in a language that is once again intelligible and credible to the average citizen. Too often, the rational voices of civil society or fragmented opposition remain locked in technocratic, self-referential language – detached from social realities and the legitimate struggles of large segments of the population. The true challenge of democratic reconstruction is not only political, but cultural: to rebuild a shared vocabulary that can simultaneously express social justice, individual freedom, and institutional accountability.
Finally, the lucid voter must accept that democracy does not offer immediate certainties, but opportunities for long-term construction. There are no guarantees of success – but there is the near certainty of failure if choice is replaced by apathy and critique by paralyzing sarcasm. In an age of ideological masquerades and cynical populism, lucidity is a form of resistance. But more than that, it is the beginning of a much-needed reconstruction.
IX. Conclusions
The show goes on, but time has run out. Romania in 2025 finds itself at a critical moment – though not one of visible trauma. The crisis is no longer one of form, but of substance; not a procedural crisis of legitimacy, but one of meaning. Elections are being organized, parties are campaigning, polls are circulating, and the media is broadcasting. Yet all these mechanisms operate within a framework increasingly devoid of real democratic substance, where ideological differences have faded, and alternatives have dissolved into a competition of symbolic gestures and the rotation of worn-out political figures.
In this setting, PSD’s adoption of Trump-style populism, PNL’s disconnection from its own liberal foundations, the emergence of phantom candidates, and the instrumentalization of anti-system populism are not mere accidents – they are symptoms of a broader strategy aimed at managing change through simulation. Opposition is mimicked, diversity is choreographed, and stagnation is carefully maintained. Within this framework, the voter is no longer choosing between distinct paths of progress, but merely between different levels of acceptability within an already fixed status quo.
Yet democracy cannot indefinitely function as a surface-level spectacle. In the absence of an articulated political project and a real debate on the major issues of society – education, healthcare, justice, security, social equity, digitalization, institutional reform – elections risk becoming mere exercises in reconfirming a system that preserves only its appearances.
Time no longer works in favour of the system. Apathy, civic disengagement, and disillusionment will inevitably feed waves of mistrust and radicalization. And in an increasingly volatile international context – with rising geopolitical pressures and a tense internal climate – the absence of a genuine democratic contract between those who govern and the governed becomes a strategic vulnerability.
What is at stake is not merely the next government or presidency, but the very capacity of Romanian society to reconstruct the meaning of democracy beyond its formal shell. This will require lucidity, civic commitment, a refusal of resignation, and, above all, the courage to say the emperor has no clothes – even when the stage is lavish and the applause appears unanimous.
The political performance will undoubtedly continue. But if we do not break free from the logic of the set and regain the courage to think and build alternative paths, we may soon realize that the real time of democracy has already passed – and what we are living is no longer transition, but post-democracy in an advanced state of preservation.
About author:
Cătălin Balog is an analyst and trainer with extensive experience in intelligence, information security, and strategic communication. He holds a PhD in Military Sciences, with a dissertation focused on security risk management in cyberspace, and has served for over two decades in structures of the Romanian Ministry of National Defence.
Currently, he is an associate professor at the University of Bucharest, where he teaches courses in information management. His research interests include the analysis of contemporary social and political mechanisms, with particular attention to the relationship between ideology, technology, and the simulation of democracy.
Photograph from the author’s personal archive
[1] https://comunitatealiberala.ro/trumpismul-ultimul-refugiu-al-psd-istului-anatomia-unei-tradari/
[2] https://hotnews.ro/cel-putin-cinci-sondaje-pentru-prezidentiale-arata-acelasi-clasament-spune-seful-unei-case-de-sondare-ce-va-fi-foarte-important-mai-mult-ca-oricand-1937311
[3] https://hotnews.ro/traian-basescu-afirma-ca-sua-au-o-singura-problema-in-relatia-cu-romania-se-pune-astfel-sub-semnul-intrebarii-anularea-alegerilor-din-noiembrie-1937325
