A Journey Through a Country at War with its Identity

“Do you know what the biggest question in the country is right now, that everyone is thinking about?” my guide Oleg asks me as we drive through the countryside of eastern Moldova. “It is when the war will come. Not if the war will come; when it will come. Us Moldovans like to say that we are strong, tough people, but this time we are also afraid.” 

One day earlier I had stepped out of the plane onto Moldovan ground for the first time, not at all knowing what to expect from the country that has been crowned as Europe’s poorest and least visited country. As me and two babushkas climbed onto a bus from the airport to the center of Chisinau, the capital, we were greeted by a city – by a country – currently at war with its own identity.

Moldova as a state has not existed for long. Throughout history the area was fought over by the Russians, Ottomans, Mongols and even Swedes. Its people are ethnically Romanian and its language is more like a dialect of Romanian rather than a fully separate language. 

“We like to say that the Romanians talk with a posh accent, like those rich people that think they are better than you,” Oleg jokes. “We also speak Russian and they do not, so when we are out drinking with them and start shouting and swearing in Russian, they are always shocked.” 

Even though Romania and Moldova are located in Eastern Europe, the Romanian language belongs to the Romance branch rather than to the Slavic, meaning it’s far more related to Latin, and not at all to languages such as Russian. 

The Latin roots of Moldova can be seen in more ways than its language. Many streets in the center of Chisinau emulate those of southern European cities, with cozy pedestrian streets, enormous amounts of hip cafés, and high-end fashion boutiques. Additionally, it is famous in the former Eastern Bloc for its high-quality wine and was one of the most popular travel destinations for people within the former Soviet Union because of this distinct cultural identity compared to the other communist republics. The Latin features of Moldovan society stood out within the majority Slavic Eastern Bloc. 

However, as with many other smaller nations with large, powerful neighbors, the local identity may often be difficult to maintain as the outside influence grows stronger. In Moldova’s case, this describes the relationship with Russia. During the Soviet Union, Russian replaced Moldovan as the primary language, and Soviet architecture, industry and culture spread throughout the country. 

This is when the crisis of identity began in Moldova. After the fall of the Soviet Union, newly independent Moldova was left conflicted over where it belonged. I saw it with my own eyes, walking the streets of the capital. Next to the hip cafés and cobblestone streets are enormous Soviet-era apartment blocks that cast a grey shadow over the city, and act as a constant reminder of the country’s past. 

And even though Romanian is now the sole official language, the vast majority of people still use Russian by default. Moldova has for some time tried to promote its Latin roots once again and distance itself from its Russian past, which was characterized by repression and the forced deportation of its people. But the grey apartment complexes, wide streets clearly made for military parades, and communist mosaics are now also part of its identity and cannot be erased. 

But by far the most painful reminder of Moldova’s Soviet legacy is located in the eastern part of the country, in the form of a small breakaway republic. It is called Transnistria, and is the reason why Oleg and I are driving through the countryside of eastern Moldova.

Immediately after entering the separatist republic of Transnistria we encounter military checkpoints set up by the Russian army, who operate in the region as so-called “peacekeepers”. As the Russian soldiers inspect our car, I’m suddenly reminded that we are only 10 kilometers from Ukraine, where this exact army is launching artillery strikes daily. 

Entering the Transnistrian capital of Tiraspol, you get a sense that time has completely frozen. For me it feels like entering the Soviet Union itself, even though it collapsed long before I was born and therefore have no actual experience of what it actually felt like. There are grand monuments of Lenin everywhere, the flag and emblem still bear the hammer and sickle, and everyone speaks Russian only. It is difficult to believe that we are technically still in Moldova. 

Transnistria is a problematic matter for Moldova because it severely hinders their efforts to move away from their Eastern Bloc past. Want to enter the European Union? “Well, what about Transnistria?” Want to reunify with Romania? “Well, what about Transnistria?” Not least, the breakaway republic presents a concrete security issue for them. There have been leaked documents that suggest Russia has plans to destabilize Moldova, and perhaps even conduct a military operation through the territory of Transnistria to hinder it from moving too far down its desired pathway to the West and the EU, a path that has even been written into the Moldovan constitution since last fall.

The Moldovan people are clearly resilient, having suffered and survived through many hardships throughout their history. And yet, their hardships continue. The country is Europe’s poorest and least visited. Elders often cannot live on their pension, having to beg on the street or sell goods at the central bazaar all day to survive. Tourism was actually increasing before 2020, but has now crashed. 

“Before the Covid-19 pandemic Moldova was gaining attention as an up and coming tourist destination, a hidden gem”, Oleg tells me. “I did so many tours, all the time. Then came Covid, and it all fell apart. Immediately after, Russia invaded Ukraine”, he continues. “Even though Moldova was not attacked, people did not want to come to us because of our proximity, because they see us as just a part of the cluster. The tourism industry never recovered after that”, he says. Here you can see exactly how Moldova’s involuntary identity as “just another Eastern Bloc country” has caused so many difficulties and stripped away opportunities for it to become more prosperous.

When I see the Moldovan people, I see strong people. I see people like Oleg, who work tirelessly every day despite rough conditions just to show the outside world a picture of the country that is otherwise never painted. 

I see people that have started a war with their past, with an identity that has held them back and that has disadvantaged them in the struggles of modern society. I see people that are fighting to distance themselves from Russia and embrace what Moldova truly wants to be; a member of Europe and of the West, a country known for cozy cobblestone streets rather than grey communist blocks. Even if they are afraid of war, the possibility of a better future keeps them pushing ever onwards.