Moldova: A Lesson In Constituting A Crisis
Moldova is in the midst of yet another political crisis. By this, I actually mean that the country has entered a new phase of a pre-existing crisis – a crisis that yields valuable lessons on the broader significance of political institutions to a country’s risk profile. Fortunately, this new scene in the ongoing drama has yet to result in the burning of parliament, ransacking of the presidential office, deaths of pro-reform protestors, accusations of Romanian subversion, or the deployment of Soviet-era riot control vehicles. Unfortunately, the consequences of the current situation are more grave, more reflective of underlying structural problems, and potentially more far-reaching than the >15,000-strong altercations that took place in Chisinau over April 6 and 7.
The current problems stem from parliament’s failure to elect a new president, leaving the country in political limbo. Outgoing Prime Minister Zinaida Greceanii had been nominated as president by the majority Communist Party following confirmation of the parliamentary election results on April 21, but received only 60 votes out of 101 in the May 20 ballot – one short of the required 61-seat supra-majority. The ballot’s failure owed to a boycott of the vote by Moldova’s three pro-reform, pro-EU opposition parties – the Liberal Party, Liberal Democratic Party, and ‘Our Moldova’ Alliance party – which hold the remaining 41 parliamentary seats between them.
It’s All In The Institutions…
It would be easy, from the comfort of Risk Watchdog House in London, to dismiss Moldova’s current political deadlock as the product of individual politicians’ squabbles for control of an immature polity; the sort of showing to be expected from Europe’s poorest country. But such a dismissal would be short-sighted. Rather, the key to understanding the current stalemate lies in the way Moldova’s fledgling democratic institutions have been set up, particularly the constitutional balance of governmental power.
In 2001, Moldova amended its constitution, with the principal change being a move away from a directly-elected president to a president selected by parliament. At the time, the logic was simple: empowering the legislature relative to the executive can prevent the emergence of ‘strong man’ presidents and the subsequent backsliding of democratisation. For a fascinating explanation of this thinking in comparative perspective, see here.
Yet while this reform may indeed have empowered the legislature and prevented a regression to full-blown authoritarianism, it created other critical problems. In particular, the constitutional reform did not do enough to transfer de facto executive power from the president to parliament. As such, rather than creating a parliamentary system with a figurehead president (à la Germany or Italy), it created a quirky form of semi-presidential system in which selecting a (powerful) president is the single most important – and therefore contentious – role for the legislature.
Such an institutional mechanism could still have turned out okay, but for another well-intentioned constitutional stipulation. A three-fifths parliamentary supra-majority was made necessary for presidential selection, on the grounds that this would ensure wider-reaching agreement over presidential choice. The severe downside, which is now painfully apparent, is that if neither side acquires 61 seats at the same time as neither side is willing to compromise with the other, the result is an entrenched inability to elect a head of state.
Another Moldovan presidential vote in parliament is now scheduled for May 28. However, with the opposition parties vowing to maintain their boycott, I worry that the result could well be the same. This raises the spectre of Moldova entering an extended period of political instability and policymaking uncertainty. A further bout of large and violent public protest by opposition supporters certainly cannot be ruled out, and should the May 28 presidential vote fail, the government will be constitutionally forced to call fresh parliamentary elections. Yet given that fresh elections are again by no means guaranteed to yield a 61-seat supra-majority for either side, Moldova’s political future remains in the balance. Of course, the Communists could yet tempt one opposition defector (“plum ministerial job, anyone?”) in order to muster a 61-seat majority on May 28, and my hunch is still that some sort of compromise will eventually be reached, but the underlying structural issue will remain outstanding.
…But A Bit Of Dull ‘Consensus Culture’ Can Help
Moldova’s current situation offers significant transferrable lessons. Institutional design may seem far-detached from the day-to-day business of government policymaking, but distributions of governmental power can have a profound effect on political stability, and – by extension – national economic progress. A quick glance around emerging Europe today yields countless other examples. In Ukraine, the presidential/parliamentary divide has resulted in two competing sources of executive power – President Viktor Yushchenko and Prime Minister Yulia Tymoshenko – working to undermine each other, resulting in a policymaking log-jam that has left the country unable to effectively address its catastrophic economic situation. At the opposite extreme, the ‘strong man’ presidents of Central Asia and Belarus are certainly able to avoid policymaking stalemate, but at the expense of any meaningful democratisation, which can in turn deter investors (by weakening rule of law) and impede the productive exchange of ideas.
This all said, however, institutional design can only achieve – or be blamed for – so much. In Moldova, the Communists and opposition are separated by such a yawning chasm of social and economic policy disagreement, coupled to the latter’s personal animosity towards outgoing President Vladimir Voronin’s perceived attempts to retain power (he was recently elected Speaker of Parliament) and allegations of Communist vote fixing, that compromise over presidential selection has so far proven unmanageable. It has certainly not escaped the opposition’s notice that, under the constitution, the outgoing president is replaced by the incoming parliamentary speaker until a permanent replacement is found, meaning that in this instance, President Voronin will be replaced by…Speaker Voronin! Ukraine too – while not experiencing the profound disagreements over economic system that divide Moldova’s Communists from the pro-market opposition – is also afflicted by a personalised and fractious political culture that offers little room for compromise or measured debate.
Compare these two nascent democracies to the Czech Republic, a country which stands at the opposite end of the emerging European spectrum when it comes to political and economic development. The Civic Democrat-led government in Prague fell in late March, at the hands of a parliamentary ‘no confidence’ vote, and the country’s two principal right-leaning and left-leaning parties are now poised to contest an early parliamentary election in October. Yet despite this, both have come together to back an interim caretaker administration, with a non-partisan remit to maintain economic stability until a new government is elected in October. Granted, the Czech Republic is close to a ‘pure’ parliamentary system, in which the president holds little real political power, reducing the potential for deadlock. But the fundamental determinant of this superior political climate is a culture of respect for the constitutional process, a shared acknowledgement that some form of government is needed, reduced personalisation of politics, and general agreement over the basic socio-economic structure of the Czech state. In short, well-designed institutions are a vital prerequisite, but until the political class acquires the ability to ‘agree to disagree’, democratic stability and policymaking efficiency will remain elusive.