Moldova: Moldova, the poorest country in Europe, wants to go both ways, east and west, at the same time, writes Kieran Cooke
The past is being replayed in Moldova. In 1991, amid much public euphoria, this small, landlocked country of 4.5 million proclaimed independence from what was the old USSR.
Twelve years on and the communists are firmly back in power. Their leader, President Vladimir Veronin, elected in a landslide vote two years ago, proudly describes his country as a European Cuba, a bastion against Western "imperialist predators". Russia's influence, both political and economic, is growing.
Yet Mr Veronin, while he might be politically secure with a more than two-thirds majority in parliament, is confronted by enormous problems.
Since independence and the severing of many trade links with Moscow, Moldova's economy has shrunk by nearly 40 per cent. With per-capita annual incomes officially put at only $420, the country is by far the poorest in Europe.
Hundreds of thousands, mostly the young, have left to work as illegals in Europe. "It's ironic," says an opposition politician. "It's only remittances from these people abroad who left because the state failed them that keeps Moldova afloat. Without the $300 million they send home each year we would be bankrupt."
Mr Veronin and the communists were voted back into power mainly be the elderly, village dwellers nostalgic for the security and the fixed pensions of the old Soviet times.
There is growing opposition towards what's seen as a new Russian economic colonialism. Russians are taking over some of Moldova's key industries, including prize parts of its wine trade and agricultural sector. A rolling series of demonstrations - often held in the bitterest of winter weather - have called for an end to Russian influence and for Moldovan membership of both NATO and the European Union.
Mr Veronin has responded by formulating a unique, if somewhat contradictory, foreign policy. In the short term, he says, Moldova will remain firmly in the eastern camp, committed to the Russia-dominated Commonwealth of Independent States (CIS) and closer links with Moscow. In the longer term, says the government, Moldova aspires to join the EU.
"It's all part of the Moldovan paradox," says a diplomat based in Chisinau, the country's small capital. "People are confused about who they are, whether they're European or, like people in Ukraine and Belarus, part of the old Soviet bloc. They want to go both ways at the same time."
Moldova's recent history has been a story of frequent invasions, both from the west and the east. The Germans, along with their Romanian allies, overran the country on the way to Stalingrad in the early days of the second World War.
In 1945 Stalin re-drew Moldova's boundaries: a large part of the western part of the country is now in Romania and called the province of Moldova. The majority of Moldovans are Romanian speakers, but there is a large and economically powerful Russian minority. There are also smaller communities of Turkish- and Bulgarian-speakers.
When independence was declared Russians in the east of the country declared a separatist republic. This, the so-called Transnistrian Moldovan Republic, is something of an international joke.
Ruled by the family of Igor Smirnov, a Lenin lookalike, Transnistria has its own border posts and police force, even its own currency, but is recognised by no one. It is effectively bankrupt, only kept alive by the smuggling of everything from Russian armaments to fuel oil and cigarettes.
Officials in Brussels balk at the idea of Moldova, with all its problems, becoming a member of the EU. Romano Prodi, the EU Commissioner, has indicated that Ukraine, Belarus and Moldova will never be EU members.
Yet many Moldovans insist their country is entitled to be considered part of Europe and should not be lumped together with the other former Soviet states. The official language, Romanian, is European. Many of Moldova's young speak not only Romanian and Russian but also English and French.
"Europe cannot put up its barricades and turn its back on us," says Nataly Hariton, an 18-year-old standing in a snowstorm at a pro-EU demonstration in Chisinau. "Does Europe want to drive us back into the grip of Moscow? We want to look to the west, not the east."