BRUSSELS – Europe’s energy story since 2022 has felt like living with a constant alarm ringing in the background. Prices jumped, gas supplies looked shaky, and many families worried about turning on the heating. Europe’s Energy Crisis started as a sudden shock, but in late 2025, it had turned into a long-term test of planning and trust.

Today, gas storage is high, blackouts are unlikely, and prices are lower than at the peak. Still, bills stay painful for many, and the risk of new shocks has not gone away. The crisis has shifted from emergency mode to a long race to build a cleaner, safer, and more stable energy system.

This article lays out what happened, what has worked so far, and what has to happen next. It looks at real solutions, a long-term strategy, and the roles for leaders, businesses, and citizens across Europe.

What Is Europe’s Energy Crisis and How Did It Start?

In simple terms, Europe’s Energy Crisis began when a long-standing weakness was exposed. For years, many EU countries depended on Russian gas to heat homes, power factories, and make electricity. When Russia invaded Ukraine in 2022, that dependence turned into a direct risk.

Gas supplies from Russia were cut or reduced. Markets panicked. Prices for gas and electricity hit record levels. Households feared winter, and some factories shut down or cut production because power was too expensive.

Between 2022 and 2025, the picture changed a lot. Storage rules, new gas deals, and fast cuts in demand helped Europe avoid the worst case. Now, in late 2025, storage is about 95% full before winter, and prices are far below the 2022 peak. But the deeper questions remain: how to keep energy both affordable and clean, and how to avoid falling into a new trap with another supplier or fuel.

From Russian Gas Dependence to Sudden Shortages

Before 2022, Russia supplied around 40% of the EU’s gas. In some countries, especially in Central and Eastern Europe, that share was even higher. Gas warmed homes, ran power plants, and fed heavy industry such as chemicals and steel.

After the invasion of Ukraine, the EU backed sanctions and support for Kyiv. In response, Russia used gas deliveries as a political tool. Pipelines that had run for decades suddenly slowed or stopped. Each new cut pushed prices higher and raised fears that storage would run dry during winter.

This shock showed how fragile Europe’s energy security really was. It forced governments to scramble for new suppliers, rethink old deals, and start the REPowerEU plan to cut dependence on Russian fossil fuels and speed up clean energy. Details of this effort can be seen in the European Commission’s REPowerEU energy strategy.

Price Shocks, High Bills, and Everyday Impacts

In 2022, gas prices in Europe hit historic highs. Electricity followed, since gas plants often set the price in power markets. The average electricity price in 2022 reached around €227 per megawatt-hour, compared with around €82 in 2024.

For families, this was not an abstract number. It meant:

• Heating turned into a monthly source of stress.
• Some people choose between paying the energy bill and cutting other basics.
• Energy poverty affected tens of millions, with around 47 million Europeans now struggling to pay bills.

For businesses, higher prices meant:

• Factories paused or moved production.
• Small shops faced rising costs for lighting and heating.
• Job security weakened energy-heavy sectors.

In regions like Southeast Europe and the UK, power prices still remain higher than the EU average in 2025, which keeps pressure on households and local economies.

From Emergency to Long-Term Energy Challenge

By late 2023 and 2024, short-term panic eased. Gas storage targets, new LNG imports, and lower demand helped avoid blackouts. Governments rolled out support schemes and price caps to protect the most vulnerable.

Now, the nature of Europe’s Energy Crisis has changed. The main questions are no longer only about getting through one winter. They are about:

• Keeping prices fair and stable.
• Reaching climate goals.
• Staying safe from political pressure from suppliers.
• Making sure the energy system is strong enough for the future.

In short, the emergency is smaller, but the long-term challenge is bigger.

What Has Europe Already Done To Control the Energy Crisis?

Since 2022, the EU and member states have tried a mix of quick fixes and deeper reforms. Some measures worked well, some had side effects, and all of them offer lessons for the next phase.

Gas Storage Rules and Winter Safety Plans

One of the clearest changes is the new rule that gas storage sites in the EU must be at least 90% full before each winter. Before the 2024 to 2025 winter, storage reached around 95%.

High storage levels matter because they:

• Calm markets and reduce price spikes.
• Give governments time if a supplier cuts flows.
• Protect homes and hospitals when demand jumps during cold spells.

In short, storage now acts like a large safety cushion for the continent.

Using Less Energy: EU Demand Reduction Targets

The EU also agreed on a voluntary plan to cut gas use by roughly 15% from 2022 to March 2025. People and companies responded in many ways:

• Lowering the thermostats by one or two degrees.
• Reducing lighting in public buildings at night.
• Slowing production in some energy-intensive factories.

These steps saved large volumes of gas and helped soften prices. The downside was clear, too. Lower industrial demand often meant weaker economic activity and fewer working hours in some plants.

New Gas Sources and LNG Terminals

To replace Russian pipeline gas, Europe turned to liquefied natural gas (LNG) from the United States, Qatar, and other exporters. New floating storage and regasification units were rushed into service. Pipelines from Norway, North Africa, and Azerbaijan were upgraded.

This helped avoid actual shortages. Yet it kept Europe tied to fossil fuels and to global gas markets, where prices can jump due to events far away, such as storms in the US or demand spikes in Asia.

EU Emergency Tools and Cross-Border Help

The EU also agreed on emergency gas sharing rules. These rules say that if one member state faces very low supplies, others must help by sharing gas. In practice, these rules have not been fully activated, but they work as a backup.

Better links between electricity grids and gas networks across borders have also helped. When one country has extra power or gas, stronger connections make it easier to share supplies and reduce the risk of scarcity.

For an overview of how cities and local governments have been dealing with the energy crisis, readers can look at Eurocities’ energy crisis monitor for 2025.

Long-Term Solutions: How Can Europe Fix Its Energy Crisis for Good?

Short-term fixes alone will not end Europe’s Energy Crisis. A lasting solution needs a full system change built around clean, local, and efficient energy.

Key pillars of this long-term strategy are renewables, nuclear, and other low-carbon sources, smarter grids, storage, energy savings, and a fairer market design.

Scaling Up Solar and Wind Power Across Europe

Renewables have already started to reshape the picture. In 2024, solar power in the EU produced more electricity than coal for the first time. Wind and solar together have helped cut power sector emissions to less than half of 2007 levels.

Renewables support energy security because they:

• Do not rely on imported fuel.
• Create local jobs in installation and maintenance.
• Offer stable long-term costs once built.

Still, wind growth has been slower than planned. Delayed permits, weak grids, and local resistance have held back projects. To fix this, countries need faster and clearer permit rules, stronger public support, and grid upgrades that can handle more variable power.

The Role of Nuclear Power and Other Low-Carbon Sources

Nuclear, hydro, and other low-carbon sources such as biomass and geothermal help balance the system. Nuclear plants provide steady output when the wind is weak or the skies are cloudy. Hydro plants can ramp up and down to match demand.

There is real debate about nuclear cost, safety, and long-term waste. Because of this, some EU countries plan to build new reactors or extend existing ones, while others are phasing them out. Each country is choosing its own mix, but at the EU level, these sources still play a strong supporting role to wind and solar.

Smarter Grids, Energy Storage, and Flexible Demand

A power system with a lot of wind and solar needs more than just new turbines and panels. It needs:

• Stronger power lines across and within countries.
• Digital control systems that react in real time.
• Storage, such as batteries and pumped hydro, is used to keep power for when it is needed.

Flexible demand, often called demand response, is also important. The idea is simple: price signals and smart devices encourage energy use when power is cheap and clean, and cut use when the grid is tight. For example, an electric car might charge at night when wind power is high and prices are low.

Cutting Waste: Efficiency in Homes, Buildings, and Industry

Energy efficiency is sometimes called the “first fuel” because the cleanest energy is the energy not used. Better insulation, modern windows, heat pumps, and efficient machines can sharply cut energy waste.

A few simple comparisons show the impact:

• An old gas boiler might turn 70% of fuel into heat, while a heat pump can deliver two or three times more heat than the power it uses.
• A poorly insulated home can lose much of its heat through walls and roofs, while a renovated home can keep warmth inside with far less energy.

Support programs, grants, and clear rules are essential so that low-income households can upgrade, too, not just wealthier owners. Without that, the transition would deepen inequality.

Making the Energy Market Fairer and More Stable

Current power markets in Europe still link prices closely to the most expensive plant running, often a gas plant. When gas prices spike, power bills follow.

EU leaders are discussing reforms that would use more long-term contracts for renewables and other low-carbon sources. These contracts can keep prices more stable for both investors and consumers. The goals are:

• Fair and predictable prices for homes and businesses.
• Clear signals for investors in clean power and grids.
• Extra protection for the most vulnerable users.

For a deeper policy view, the IMF’s article on beating the European energy crisis gives useful background on these debates.

Key Challenges Blocking Europe’s Long-Term Energy Strategy

Even with strong plans, several barriers still slow progress and keep Europe’s Energy Crisis from being fully solved.

Slow Permits, Local Resistance, and Project Delays

Many wind farms, solar parks, and new power lines face long permit times. Residents sometimes worry about land use, views, or impacts on nature. Court cases and complex rules can add years of delay.

Better planning, honest dialogue with communities, and fair compensation for local areas can help. Well-designed projects that respect nature and share benefits can win more support.

Huge Investment Needs for Grids and Clean Energy

The energy shift needs massive investment in:

• Renewables and, in some countries, new nuclear.
• Stronger grids and storage.
• Building renovations and an efficient industry.

Public money cannot do this alone. Private investors need clear and stable rules to commit funds for decades. At the same time, electricity demand in Europe is still below pre-crisis levels, which makes some investors cautious. Policies that support electric vehicles, heat pumps, and clean industry can raise demand smartly and support new projects.

Uneven Energy Prices and Risk of Social Tension

Not all parts of Europe face the same energy costs. Some regions, such as Southeast Europe and the UK, still pay much higher prices than the EU core. This can deepen inequality and fuel political anger.

Targeted support, such as social tariffs, direct bill aid, and help with home upgrades, is key. People need to feel that the transition is fair and that no region or group is left behind.

Geopolitical Risks and Energy Security Beyond Russia

Even with lower dependence on Russian gas, Europe still imports LNG, oil, and many critical minerals for clean technologies. Trade disputes, new wars, or supply chain shocks could hit supplies or raise prices again.

To manage this risk, Europe needs:

• Many different suppliers instead of a few dominant ones.
• More domestic clean energy and recycling of materials.
• Close work with neighbors like Moldova that are also trying to move away from Russian energy.

What Should Europe Do Next? A Clear Roadmap to End the Energy Crisis

Solving Europe’s Energy Crisis is not a single policy choice. It is a long list of steps that need to move forward together over the next 5 to 10 years.

Policy Priorities for EU Leaders and National Governments

Key actions for leaders include:

• Speeding up permits for renewables and grids through simpler, clearer rules.
• Finalizing energy market reforms that support long-term clean power and stable bills.
• Keeping strong gas storage rules as a permanent safety tool.
• Backing big investments in grids, storage, and clean technologies such as heat pumps and green hydrogen.
• Setting policies that last longer than one election cycle so investors and citizens can trust the direction.

Business Innovation, Green Jobs, and Local Projects

Companies have a major role in building solutions. They can:

• Sign long-term contracts for wind and solar.
• Invest in energy efficiency in factories and offices.
• Develop new technologies for clean fuels, such as green hydrogen, and smart energy services.

Local projects, from city heat networks to community-owned solar, help make the transition visible and real. Public-private partnerships can turn national goals into concrete changes on the ground.

For more context on current strategies and challenges, a helpful overview can be found in this 2025 analysis of addressing the EU energy crisis and strategic responses.

How Citizens Can Save Energy and Support Change

Ordinary people cannot fix Europe’s Energy Crisis alone, but their choices matter. Helpful actions include:

• Turning down the thermostats slightly and avoiding waste.
• Improving insulation when possible and choosing efficient appliances.
• Supporting local clean energy projects and policies that back long-term solutions.

These steps cut personal bills and send a clear signal that voters care about a clean and secure energy system.

Conclusion

Europe’s Energy Crisis began with a sharp shock in 2022, driven by heavy dependence on Russian gas and sudden cuts in supply. Emergency measures, from storage rules to demand cuts and new gas deals, helped avoid the worst, but they did not solve the deeper problem.

The long-term answer lies in a new system built around clean, secure, and affordable energy. That means more renewables, smarter grids, better efficiency, fairer markets, and strong social support. If governments, businesses, and citizens stay focused and work together, Europe can move from crisis management to leadership, with lower risk, more stable prices, and a safer planet for future generations.

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Romania’s Imperfect Democracy: the Anatomy, Challenges, and Future

Romania is living through a period of moral and institutional change, where freedom exists in law but is not yet fully lived as a personal duty. Habits of obedience and conformity, shaped by a long history of survival through adaptation, now act as quiet tools of balance. They help avoid open conflict and preserve order, but they also block deeper change.

This study looks at how this inner culture of conformity creates a surface stability, a kind of “toxic stability”, kept in place through caution, loyalty, and fear of risk. Against this background, the honest citizen appears as the only genuine source of moral authenticity, able to reconnect freedom with dignity.

The text is part of the series “Anatomy of an Imperfect Democracy: Romania” and invites a clear-eyed reflection on truth, responsibility, and democratic culture in post-authoritarian societies.

Romania’s state and society: the paradox of formal freedom

In the decades after communism, Romania has gone through a wide transformation that changed how the state and citizens relate to each other. The fall of the regime in 1989 opened the way to democracy, but real change depended less on new institutions and more on how people learned to live with freedom. Laws were rewritten, yet social behavior kept following older patterns, born from long practice in adapting to power to survive.

Democracy in Romania grew through slow steps, compromises, and a mix of hope and mistrust. Institutions started to operate, but not always with the real confidence of the people they serve. Many citizens came to see public participation as a formal duty, not as an act of conviction or influence. Over time, critical thinking faded into a careful caution, shaped by long experience with instability and uncertainty.

Within this fragile order, a zone of functional neutrality appeared. It is a narrow corridor of survival where truth still exists, but rarely changes anything. Ideas circulate, values are declared, yet they seldom reshape behavior deeply. Rather than supporting open and honest confrontation, society has often chosen the calm of agreement and the comfort of a steady status quo.

This paper looks at how a democracy that appears stable can become dependent on its own instinct for self-preservation. The focus is not on individual faults, but on the ongoing presence of a culture of rational submission, visible in institutional obedience and social conformism. This culture provides stability, but blocks renewal; it keeps balance, but weakens the appetite for change.

The key question is not whether Romanian democracy will survive, but how it changes when freedom is no longer lived as an ideal and instead is treated as a routine procedure.

Reflexes of obedience and mechanisms of social conformism

Centuries of adaptation have turned obedience into a form of daily wisdom. In a context with low trust, submission became a survival tool, and silence became a way to keep balance. These behaviors took root in social life and slowly formed a culture built on avoiding risk. This was not the outcome of a planned decision, but the result of many generations for whom safety depended on discretion and compliance.

In societies where freedom was won through continuous struggle, civic courage gained the status of public virtue. In Romania, freedom came more as a historical opening, a window suddenly unlocked in a world that had not yet learned how to breathe the air of responsibility. Under these conditions, the instinct to avoid exposure grew into a kind of collective logic: knowing when to keep quiet, who to align with, and how not to disturb the fragile order.

Social psychology shows that obedience is a common human trait, not an exception. Stanley Milgram’s experiments revealed that, within strong institutional settings, people often obey authority even when it conflicts with their conscience. Solomon Asch’s research on conformity showed that group pressure can change perception so much that people deny what they clearly see. Philip Zimbardo’s work on behavior under power demonstrated how quickly roles can overpower personal principles.

These are not abstract theories. They describe accurately how a society works when its citizens learn that survival depends on fitting in. In Romania’s public life, obedience rarely appears as blunt coercion. It looks more like a silent deal between fear and caution. People are not openly forced to agree, but they come to feel that open disagreement has a cost. This mindset of “strategic moderation” turns a lack of courage into something seen as intelligent and prudent, not as a flaw.

Today, obedience shows itself mainly through institutional routines. Every sector has its own style of compliance: in politics through loyalty, in public administration through strict procedural behavior, in workplaces through quiet acceptance. The result is a society that seems orderly on the surface, but remains rigid and slow inside. The initiative looks suspicious, and conformity is rewarded.

In such an environment, freedom does not vanish, but becomes a stage setting for a kind of fake responsibility. Participation turns formal, courage moves inside, and dignity often gets confused with skillful adaptation. Obedience reflexes no longer act only from outside pressure. They move inside people, and work through the need for safety, the reflex to avoid conflict, and the silent belief that keeping quiet can take the place of justice.

The main problem is not that these reflexes exist, but that they often remain invisible to those who follow them. A mature democracy does not try to erase obedience; it transforms it into civic discipline. It does not deny conformity; it places it under the guidance of moral judgment. Collective growth depends on this change of meaning: from fear of authority to respect for fair rules, from self-protective silence to responsible dialogue.

Without such a shift, freedom remains an empty civic ritual, and the citizen becomes a disciplined performer in a script that repeats itself without real change.

Politocracy, the new form of captive democracy

Every political system carries a tension between the ideal of representation and the instinct to hold on to power. In Romania, this tension has settled into what can be called a politocracy: a group of political managers who administer democracy as if it were private property. Politocracy is not a doctrine and not a hidden plot. It grows naturally from a selection process that rewards loyalty over skill and caution over initiative.

Over time, the political structure learned to protect itself through two main filters. The first is bureaucratic, made of regulations, committees, and paperwork that confirm procedure but rarely measure real performance. The second is psychological, built from networks of personal dependence that keep stability through gratitude, favors, and silence. Together, these filters shape a conservative democracy, focused more on self-preservation than on meaningful reform.

Politocracy proves effective precisely because it does not need open authoritarian control. It does not forbid debate; it simply weakens its effect. It does not fully block new ideas; it redirects them into safe and harmless directions. Power does not appear as raw force, but as the management of routine and expectations. In this setting, personal competence can appear dangerous, and clear-sighted judgment can lead to isolation.

A captive democracy is not marked by the lack of formal freedom, but by the lack of consequences. Any serious act, no matter how grave, tends to be absorbed by a dense network of excuses, procedures, and mutual protections. Responsibility spreads so thin that it almost disappears, and shared guilt turns into a strange type of solidarity. Institutions shield each other, while citizens adjust to this ongoing balancing act, telling themselves that real change would only disturb public order.

This stability is toxic because it does not destroy openly; it neutralizes. Politocracy does not generate big crises; it swallows them. It is not troubled by scandal; it converts scandal into a controlled spectacle. Power keeps itself through small things, through everyday complicity, through careful distribution of favors and paid silence. On the surface, it looks like a calm democracy. At its core, it is a finely tuned system of traded interests and quiet fears.

In this frame, citizens no longer act as real participants, but as conditional users of stability. They hold formal rights, but hesitate to fully use them for fear of disturbing the fragile peace. Beyond voting, civic action often turns into a public gesture for the cameras, and criticism into a ritual outburst that leads nowhere. Politocracy accepts protest, but drains its energy by integrating it into the system: dissent becomes a paid position, revolt turns into a TV show, and indignation becomes routine content.

This mechanism helps explain how Romania can remain a democracy without having enough democrats in practice. Laws exist and are largely respected, but they are not applied evenly. Institutions operate, but rarely take the risky decisions that could bring real change. People vote, yet those votes dissolve inside a system that stays structurally the same. Politocracy feeds on continuity, not on open conflict.

Paradoxically, the lack of major breakdowns keeps this pattern alive. Nothing is dramatic enough to force a deep reset, yet nothing is solid enough to generate trust. The system floats in a permanent balance, a balance that does not strengthen society but lulls it.

To understand politocracy means to see more than the flaws of politicians. It means recognizing a wider culture of functional mediocrity that spreads through all public fields. The real capture is not just institutional, it is mental. It shows in the habit of lowering standards, of confusing loyalty with merit, and of mixing simple resignation with a sense of balance.

Toxic stability and the illusion of competence

Stability is one of the strongest collective desires, but also one of the easiest illusions. In young democracies, it often becomes a goal in itself, not the result of good governance. In Romania, stability has slowly turned into a shield for the political and administrative system. It no longer works primarily for citizens; it works to protect its own continuity.

This stability is “toxic” not because it is openly forced, but because it is staged. It gives the image of a coherent institutional order while hiding a deep reliance on improvisation. Behind every crisis, the same safety nets appear, the same balancing tactics between groups, the same ability to contain conflicts without solving them. The structure does not transform; it merely adjusts its surface to keep looking functional.

Attached to this self-balancing mechanism is a culture of fake competence. In a society where merit does not stand at the center, competence becomes more a style of speech than a real standard. Public actors constantly refer to expertise, but in practice, they choose predictability. They speak of professionalism, but they promote those who fit the system, not those who perform.

This illusion of competence is a powerful tool of symbolic control. It helps the system excuse its own inertia with nice phrases about stability: “it is not great, but it works”, “it is not ideal, but it is balanced”. In truth, this balance usually comes from general fatigue. Citizens stop asking for change and start asking only for a basic order. They no longer look for real leaders; they look for someone who will keep things from getting worse.

Toxic stability keeps itself through an alliance between weakness and caution. Incompetent actors are rarely removed because they do not threaten the structure. Brave or independent people are seldom brought inside, because they might shake the comfort of others. Instead of fair competition, there appears to be a form of permanent cohabitation, where every level of the system protects its own comfort zone.

The result is a reversed meritocracy. Success is measured less by results and more by survival and loyalty. Real competence seems risky, and innovation looks dangerous. In this climate, performance becomes suspicious, and stagnation appears as proof of balance. Society internalizes this logic and starts viewing stability as a value in itself, even when it blocks progress.

This pattern can be seen most clearly in public administration, the economy, and cultural life. In administration, promotions often follow loyalty, not skill. In business, success often depends on access and connections, not only on creativity or efficiency. In culture, recognition comes more often through belonging to influence circles than through clear public merit. Step by step, these practices build a system of negative selection, where mediocrity becomes both norm and safety guarantee.

Politocracy rests on this pattern: a balance between dependence and comfort, where almost no one has a real interest in disturbing the calm surface. Power is managed, not challenged. Criticism generates noise, not change. The system stays in a state of “controlled movement”, enough to look active, never enough to transform itself.

To understand toxic stability does not mean to reject order. It means recognizing that a balance kept through fear, fatigue, and resignation cannot support development. Real stability grows from trust in fair and predictable rules. Without this step, society stays trapped in a circle of excuses, in which every level defends its own comfort, all in the name of the public good.

The honest citizen and the moral boundary

Any political order, no matter how complex, rests on people’s belief that justice can still happen. When that belief fades, democracy does not fall overnight; it slowly empties of meaning. Institutions keep running, procedures stay in place, but the moral value of taking part in public life grows thin. In such a context, the honest citizen becomes more than a private figure. This person becomes a condition for the inner health of the whole community.

To remain honest in a system shaped by politocracy does not mean to act as a hero. It means refusing to join in the comfortable lie. Honesty rarely shouts. It works through steady behavior and a clear refusal to abandon lucidity. This type of conduct does not transform the system at once, but it keeps the door open for possible change. Without it, public responsibility shrinks into mere ceremony.

In a society that praises adaptation, the honest citizen looks like a paradox. This person stays in the system, but does not melt into it. He or she follows the rules, but never allows them to replace conscience. By simply existing, such a citizen brings a healthy tension between legality and morality, between what is allowed and what is right. This tension is a sign that democracy is still alive. Where it disappears, decay has already started.

Honesty is less an act of open resistance and more a way to stay whole in a fragmented world. It asks for continuity, not spectacle. It feeds not on outbursts of anger, but on clarity and calm. In a space crowded with image and pretence, moral lucidity becomes a kind of public hygiene, a simple readiness to see things as they are and not confuse them with their excuses.

There is a fine line between guilty silence and prudent silence. Guilty silence hides fear. Wise silence protects judgment. The honest citizen does not have to speak loudly all the time, but has the duty not to give inner consent to wrong. This person understands that freedom is not the absence of limits, but the capacity to internalize fair limits without giving up dignity.

In Romania, this moral figure is not a rare abstraction. It appears in many ordinary roles. It is present in professionals who do their work well when no one watches, in teachers who still believe that education has meaning, in officials who respect the law even when pressured to bend it. These people do not change the system with grand gestures, but through the quiet persistence of decency.

The real limit of a democracy does not come from laws alone; it comes from behavior. It is not imposed from outside; it grows from within. When honest citizens become the quiet norm, the system starts to heal in a slow but steady way. When such people are pushed aside or mocked, public power loses its sense and slips into a game without rules.

Democracy is not measured only by how many institutions exist, but by the quality of relationships among people. Honesty, in this sense, is not just a personal virtue. It is a form of public order. It does not set the individual against the state; it invites the person to take part consciously in shaping a shared future.

In an age tired of noise and false shows, the silence of honesty becomes one of the last solid forms of resistance. It is a silence that does not mean surrender, but a refusal to turn truth into a performance. From such quiet persistence, a new kind of public dignity can grow, one that does not seek applause but builds trust.

Epilogue, on truth and dignity

Democracies do not fail first because of flawed laws, but because trust collapses. When trust shifts into suspicion and truth becomes a matter of convenience, institutions keep their shape, yet lose the moral compass that guides them. Romania has spent many years in this fragile state, between hope and exhaustion, between clear sight and accommodation.

Since 1989, many citizens have confused freedom with procedure and responsibility with obedience. Conviction has often been replaced by reflex, critique by irony, and solidarity by suspicion. Over time, democracy has turned into a system that functions but seems to lack breath. Truth no longer leads; it is used mostly to excuse or decorate.

Still, inside this shared fatigue, a quiet resource endures: individual dignity. No decree and no public campaign can produce it. It appears in small acts, in refusing convenient lies, in staying faithful to principles even when they bring no quick benefit. Dignity is not a form of heroism. It is a way of remaining human in a world that constantly suggests compromise.

Truth, in its deeper sense, does not win by force. It is lived. It survives through the constancy of those who use it not as a weapon against others, but as a guide for their own choices. Societies that manage to rebuild themselves are not those that shout the truth the loudest, but those that live it with quiet consistency. In this light, the calm honesty of ordinary people has more weight than the noise of any demagogue.

Democracy is not a finished structure, but a shared state of awareness. It does not belong to buildings and formal offices; it belongs to people who decide, day after day, not to give up reason and decency. A community becomes truly free not when its laws look perfect on paper, but when it forms people who do not need fear to act fairly.

Faced with this clear fact, Romania still has a chance. This chance lies in turning fatigue into discernment, cynicism into higher standards, and raw silence into thoughtful reflection. It does not require miracles. It calls for a return to proportion and for the simple understanding that dignity is also a form of public order.

Truth cannot be imposed from above, but it can be relearned through example. Here begins the growth of an imperfect democracy: in the gestures of those who choose not to lie and not to be afraid.

About the author

Col. (ret.) Dr. Cătălin Balog is an analyst and trainer with long experience in intelligence, information security, and strategic communication. He holds a PhD in Military Sciences, based on a thesis on security risk management in cyberspace, and served for over twenty years in structures of the Ministry of National Defense.

He now teaches as an associate professor at the University of Bucharest, where he leads courses on information management. His work focuses on contemporary social and political mechanisms, with special attention to the links between ideology, technology, and the simulation of democracy.

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BARCELONA – A fire in the early morning of July 12, 2025, destroyed a newly built mosque in Piera, about 50 kilometres from Barcelona. The mosque, which was set to open within days, was reduced to rubble. Authorities suspect arson, and the event has fuelled anger, anxiety, and debate throughout Spain.

The Spanish Federation of Islamic Religious Entities (FEERI) said the incident is part of a wider pattern of anti-Muslim sentiment spreading across the country. This event, along with recent clashes in southern Spain, exposes ongoing struggles over immigration, culture, and the role of Islam in Europe.

The fire started at 3:36 a.m. at the mosque on the road to Bedorc in Piera, known for its calm atmosphere and mix of cultures. Local firefighters responded quickly, but the flames gutted the building before they could bring it under control. Police have launched an arson investigation. While no one was injured, the impact on Piera’s Muslim residents has been deep.

Catalonia’s three main Muslim associations—UCIDCAT, FCIC, and FIC—issued a joint statement calling the fire a “cowardly and deliberate attack” designed to divide the community.

They said, “This attack isn’t just against a building, but against the spirit of understanding that Piera stands for.” Churches in the area, including the Diocesan Church and Santa Maria de Piera Parish, expressed support for the Muslim community and condemned the fire as an attack on religious freedom.

The fire isn’t the first attack in Piera. A youth centre for foreign minors in town was targeted with flammable liquid only weeks earlier. Many believe the two incidents are linked. The mayor, Jordi González, stressed that Piera has a history of “peaceful, friendly coexistence,” although the recent attacks suggest growing unease.

Condemnation Over Mosque Burning

FEERI responded quickly, condemning the mosque fire and other recent anti-Muslim incidents across Spain, such as far-right marches in Murcia. The group warned that “these attacks threaten social peace and the rule of law,” and spoke out against hate speech that blames minorities. FEERI urged authorities to investigate thoroughly and called on all communities to work together for justice and inclusion.

FEERI also said it supports democracy and open dialogue, and it rejected hate as a response to hate. “We’ll work with the media, local leaders, and the public to push for a message based on respect,” the group said, stressing the need to stand together against rising Islamophobia. Egypt’s Al-Azhar Observatory also condemned the fire, calling it a “vicious racist act” and asking for worldwide action against hate.

The mosque fire happened during a tense period in Spain, especially in Murcia. In Torre Pacheco, violent protests broke out after a local senior was allegedly attacked by three men from North Africa. Videos posted online showed far-right groups and migrants throwing objects at each other, with some protestors shouting, “Spain is Christian, not Muslim.”

The confrontations led to 14 arrests, five injuries, and a bigger police presence. Government officials, including Youth Minister Sira Rego and Migration Minister Elma Saiz, blamed far-right voices for stirring up trouble, and Saiz stated, “Spain is not a country that hunts immigrants.”

Many Spaniards worry that growing migration, especially from Muslim-majority countries, is changing their culture. Far-right groups in Torre Pacheco have used news of crimes to spread anti-migrant messages, often backed by viral but misleading videos online.

British activist Tommy Robinson shared a video claiming to show the Piera fire, but fact-checkers said it actually came from a 2022 incident in Jakarta, Indonesia. This shows how misinformation worsens tensions.

Some critics say the fast rise of Spain’s Muslim population—now over two million people, or about 4 percent of the country—fuels fears about cultural changes. In areas like Piera, opponents of the new mosque argued it represented a shift away from local identity, but many of these claims are not backed by evidence and overlook the complex reality of these changes.

Rising Anti-Muslim Sentiment

What happened in Spain reflects a larger pattern across Europe and the UK. In Britain, new mosques have sparked debate and local resistance in places like Cumbria, Leicester, Essex, and North Yorkshire.

Concerns about integration and cultural identity have become more common as the country’s Muslim population grows, now making up 6.7 percent of England according to the last census. Far-right groups have used these debates to spread their message, often turning mosque proposals into symbols of wider fears about multiculturalism.

Across Europe, far-right parties have gained ground by framing Muslim migration as a threat to national character. Spain’s Vox party has often been accused of pushing anti-migrant rhetoric.

Politicians like Marine Le Pen in France and Matteo Salvini in Italy have also tried to use these issues to their advantage. Reactions to the Piera fire reached beyond Europe, with some social media users in India going so far as to celebrate the attack online, showing how extremist ideas can spread worldwide.

The response to the Piera fire has been sharply split. While Muslim and Christian groups have called for calm and understanding, far-right activists label the incident as part of a fight to defend Spain’s identity.

Online, false posts about the fire have attracted huge attention, with some suggesting it was a sign that locals are “pushing back.” These views ignore the strong local opposition to the attack and the ongoing calls for unity.

The Spanish government has started to address the unrest. Police in Mataró, near Barcelona, arrested a leader from the supremacist group “Deport Them Now Europe” on hate crime charges, seizing two computers as evidence. Community leaders in Torre Pacheco urged their members to stay calm and called for more dialogue to reduce tensions.

The attack on the Piera mosque is much more than a single act of vandalism. It reveals deep social divides. As Spain faces challenges around migration and growing diversity, the fire makes it clear that open discussion and respect are needed.

FEERI’s plea for unity, paired with support from local Christian leaders and community groups, points to a possible way forward. But to move ahead, the country must face the stories of fear and blame that are driving people apart.

Investigations into the attack are still underway. Residents in Piera and across Spain now face a key choice. Will they rebuild their community and heal old wounds, or let hatred further damage their social bonds? Right now, the remains of the mosque in Piera are a striking symbol of the work still to come.

Sources: Reuters, BBC News

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