Administrative reform layoffs threaten ordinary public servants
Government Secretary-General Alexei Buzu has brought some cheerful news to thousands of his fellow citizens: they may soon be out of work. Judging by his televised remarks, the prospect did not seem to trouble him particularly.
Speaking on television, Buzu said he could not rule out staff reductions as a result of Moldova’s planned administrative reform. The cautious wording sounds reassuringly bureaucratic, but the reality is rather less delicate.
Abolish mayoralties and districts, and the positions attached to them disappear. No offices, no jobs, no salaries. Some employees may find work in the leadership structures of the new regions, but there is little reason to believe that everyone will be accommodated.
The government calls it reform. For those facing redundancy, the administrative reform layoffs will look rather more like unemployment.
Cut the bureaucracy, just not the people at the top
There is no denying that Moldova’s state apparatus is bloated, expensive and increasingly difficult to justify. The cost of maintaining it has become a serious burden, and reducing unnecessary expenditure is long overdue.
But there is one rather important detail: the government appears ready to cut the wrong people.
According to the figures cited, 68,000 Moldovans are already looking for jobs they cannot find. The reform threatens to add still more people to that number.
And who is likely to join the unemployed? Not the comfortable upper ranks of government. Not officials like Buzuhimself, nor the well-connected cousins, godparents and other members of the ruling party’s extended family of “good people”.
No, the axe is more likely to fall on ordinary public servants, the people who actually deal with citizens, process documents, answer questions and help resolve everyday problems in towns and villages.
The same concerns have accompanied earlier discussions of Moldova’s three-region administrative reform, with critics warning that restructuring could concentrate authority rather than bring government closer to citizens.
For a government that never tires of talking about efficiency, it is a remarkably convenient arrangement. The people doing the practical work face redundancy, while those responsible for running the system remain comfortably above the cuts.
A smaller local administration, but a hungrier political elite?
Even if thousands of lower-level public employees lose their jobs, ordinary Moldovans have little reason to expect an improvement in their living standards.
Any savings from closing local offices could easily be swallowed up by the cost of maintaining the new regional hierarchy. Critics fear that the familiar pattern will repeat itself: cut the people at the bottom, expand the privileges at the top, and announce another successful reform.
That is the uncomfortable question Buzu did not answer. Will the restructuring actually reduce the total cost of government, or merely transfer salaries, offices and influence from local administrations to a smaller circle of better-connected officials?
The authorities promise a leaner, more efficient state. Yet their approach risks eliminating precisely those employees who remain closest to ordinary citizens, while leaving the political establishment largely untouched.
For the average villager named Ion, the consequences could be painfully simple. The local official who once helped him solve a problem may lose their job. The office may close, and the decisions may move to a distant regional centre.
The ministers, senior officials and politically connected appointees, meanwhile, may barely notice the difference. Moldova’s administrative reform could therefore achieve a curious result: fewer people available to serve the public, without any guarantee of meaningful savings or better services.
The bureaucracy may become smaller where citizens need it most and remain just as expensive where political power is concentrated.
