The country that has known cold, hunger, and fear now refuses to live in them. Romania needs, at 36 years of democracy, the moment of truth: to learn not to be deceived anymore.

In 1989, Romania was a country where people learned to keep their soul in the inner pocket of their clothes, alongside their ID and milk ration card. It was cold in the apartments, but also in voices. It was dark on the stairs, but also in hopes. There was hunger in stores, but also in hearts. Parents wrapped their children not just in blankets, but with care, with silence, with fear. And yet, they smiled — not because it was good, but so that the little ones would believe that one day it would be.

That image remains like a shaky photograph, taken with trembling hands — a photograph that we cannot throw away, no matter how much we want to. The image of those times remains in the collective memory as a shaky photograph completely ignored by the new generations.

The GDP per capita, at purchasing power parity, was 30% of the EU average in 1990, and by 2024 it reaches almost 79%. The net average salary increased from about 100 euros in 2000 to 1,000 euros in 2024. Life expectancy rose from 69 years in 1990 to 75 years in 2023. Exports increased from 11 billion euros in 2000 to over 100 billion in 2023. Five million Romanians left with heavy suitcases and broken hearts and returned with teary eyes — because longing hurts more than the cold of '89. Today, about 60% of electricity comes from water, wind, sun, and nuclear — as if nature itself decided to repair us. European energy interconnection exceeds 15%, above the threshold recommended by the EU. All these figures are more than statistics — they are proof of a historic leap in a short time, of a country that managed to rise.

But our story is not just about rising. It is also about the wounds we hide under our sleeves. Gas — wasted. Nuclear — postponed. Hydropower plants — left like unfinished dreams. Renewables — with wings grown, but tied. District heating — from pride to shame. Old pipes, exploding blocks, bills that take your breath away.

And above all, populism — a fog that blinds no one, but blinds everyone.

Specifically, natural gas represented an unexploited advantage, with production decreasing by over 30% since 2000, with resources from the Black Sea blocked legislatively for years and with insufficient storage capacities, leading to the loss of regional leadership and decreased competitiveness of the energy industry. Nuclear energy remains between promise and postponement, with only two reactors covering about 18% of consumption, while reactors three and four have been delayed for over 25 years, and stable production is too low for a volatile market. Unfinished hydropower plants and the lack of storage solutions have become a burden: over twenty projects remain suspended, there is still no operational pumped storage, the Tarnița project is unfinished, renewables have reached 17-20%, but without balancing, which has generated losses, limited new investments, and created imbalances in the National Energy System. Urban heating is still a painful failure — from 3.5 million connected homes in 1990, fewer than 1.2 million remain in 2024, with high technical losses, aging infrastructure, necessary investments of over 1.5 billion euros, high costs, frequent breakdowns, pollution, and migration towards inefficient individual solutions. On top of all this, populist policies, price caps disconnected from market reality, delays in reforms, and the politicization of state companies have discouraged private and European investments.

These failures have not only hit the economy — they have hit people. They have hit trust. In patience. In dignity. They have left in us a soft fatigue, like deep water.

And yet, from that fatigue, a new generation has risen. A generation raised between leaving the country and returning to the country. A generation that no longer hopes in whispers — but demands with a voice. That no longer believes in words — but in things brought to completion. A superficial but demanding generation.

Politicians can no longer hide the void behind the slogan — because the audience no longer applauds reflexively. And then, another enemy came — more insidious than the cold, than censorship, than poverty: disinformation. Projects stopped not by data, but by fear. Contested plants not by engineers, but by rumors. Power lines rejected not by specialists, but by panic. And all this in a country that reads the most from social media, but believes the least in institutions. Thus, a resistance emerged that is not born from concern, but from manipulation.

At the same time, Romania needs to breathe. The cities are suffocating. The air is heavy. Children cough. The elderly hear their chest instead of a clock. Climate change dries the land, cracks the rivers, bends the infrastructure. Environmental protection is no longer a nice gesture — it is a form of survival.

The truth that weighs like a palm is this: Moscow did not stop us. Brussels did not block us. Our neighbors did not weaken us. We did it to ourselves. Through fear. Through postponement. Through "let it be."

The maturation of Romania means public debate based on data, transparent communication about risks and benefits, technological education, clear and enforced rules, political leadership capable of explaining, responsible press, and combating online manipulation. Only in this way can new reactors be accepted, completed hydropower plants, pumped storage, green hydrogen, offshore wind, modernization of networks, modern district heating, and real energy efficiency.

The maturation of Romania does not mean singing the anthem louder, but starting to deserve it. Romania has everything it needs — resources, position, technology, financing, capable people. We only lack what cannot be imported: the courage to finish what we started.

Romanian society has risen. It has seen the West. It has touched it. And now it wants it here, at home. Not in pictures. Not in speeches. In reality.

Today’s Romania is no longer the country that waits in line. It is the country that taps its fingers on the table. Successes have lifted us. Failures have awakened us. And both have made us a nation that no longer accepts the little.

Appreciations to those who build without being filmed. To those who repair without being applauded. To those who think critically. To those who do not let themselves be manipulated. To those who do not give up. Because the future of Romania will not be decided by fear, nor by hatred, nor by noise, but by lucidity and responsibility.

The future is not given to us. We make our future.