How do you defend democracy without betraying democratic principles?
Maia Sandu's remarks at the 35th anniversary of the Venice Commission
On October 11th President Maia Sandu spoke at the 35th anniversary of the founding of the Venice Commission. The Commission is an advisory body of the Council of Europe specialized in constitutional law. Member states regularly ask the Venice Commission for advice and opinions on national laws and proposed constitutional changes. Back in 1990, the creation of the Commission was necessitated by the urgent need to support the drafting of national constitutions across Central and Eastern Europe following the fall of the Soviet Empire.
Today, the Venice Commission plays a major role in advising on complex legislative initiatives for countries like Moldova. This has had a major impact on how Moldova has implemented justice reform and in a very real way has slowed down many reform areas in favor of a more cautious approach. I’ve written about how this has endangered Moldova’s justice reform ambitions in the past. But don’t take my word for it, so has Francis Fukuyama.
On the 35th anniversary of the Venice Commission’s founding, President Maia Sandu addressed the commissioners and gathered dignitaries with a warning. The enemies of democracy are moving at unprecedented speed and our systems are barely able to cope. She calls for new approaches, and for learning from the successes, and failures, of Moldova. I’ve decided to include the remarks here in full as I think they are an important window into the types of conversations that have followed last month’s dramatic election in Moldova.
Your Excellency President Mattarella,
Secretary General Alain Berset,
Excellencies,
Members of the Venice Commission,
Distinguished guests,
It is an honour to join you in celebrating 35 years of the Venice Commission of the Council of Europe — an institution that is the cornerstone of democratic Europe.
For Moldova, your role has been significant. You guided us as we built our Constitution, reformed laws, strengthened justice, and advanced anti-corruption frameworks. Your opinions have often served as benchmarks for our accession to the European Union. Each reform became a line of defence against those who would abuse our young state. Moldova has managed to sustain and consolidate its democracy over the past 34 years in no small part thanks to you. On behalf of all citizens of Moldova, I would like to thank you for helping us be a democracy.
Yet what the people of Moldova have built — with your support — is now under threat. There are two major, and often overlapping, dangers facing democracy today — not only in Moldova, but across much of Europe. The first is the war that Russia is waging against Europe. Its most visible front is the brutal aggression against Ukraine. But Russia is also conducting a hybrid war against other European democracies— using drones, cyberattacks, election interference, and illicit financing. The second danger lies in the digital world itself — a world for which much of our democratic legal framework is still unprepared. All these threats have been on full display in our recent elections.
As we emerge from this experience – with lessons fresh – I can say: defending democracy has never been harder, more complex, and more urgent. The world of the 1990s and 2000s no longer exists. The threats we faced then — oligarchs, corrupt politicians, weak institutions — were serious. But they seem minor in comparison to what we face today. Our vulnerabilities are being weaponized by foreign powers — amplified by technology and artificial intelligence, financed through cryptocurrency, disguised in democratic language. These are no longer attacks on institutions — they are assaults on our very sovereignty, backed by military threats. For Moldova, sharing 1,200 kilometres of border with Ukraine, the war is literally on our doorstep.
But Russia could not reach us with its tanks — stopped by the courage and resilience of Ukraine. So it found another route: a hybrid assault on our democracy. Elections are the new front line. The ballot box became the target of a vast hybrid arsenal. Moscow’s strategy was systematic: tested in regional and local elections, peaking last year during thepresidential campaign and the EU referendum — which passed despite massive interference.
But the real stakes were this year’s parliamentary election — to seize Parliament, install a Kremlin-controlled government, crush our democracy, drag Moldova into a gray zone and use it against Ukraine and against Europe. The attack was insidious because it exploited what defines democracy. The very rights that give it strength — freedom of association, assembly, expression, religion, and the free movement of capital — all became entry points for manipulation. Freedom of association was among the first to be exploited.
And the irony is not lost: when we came to power, we made it very easy to create political parties — to open the system in the spirit of democracy. Now Moscow exploits that very openness. Its proxies and local criminal groups form parties overnight — seven in the past three years — all financed by Kremlin, all pretending to be Moldovan voices. One such party was declared unconstitutional after a lengthy process. Yet Moscow created immediately more clones. One of them was even officially launched in Moscow. Many of these proxies are familiar faces: corrupt figures never held accountable, and even former judges or prosecutors ousted through reform—now serving a foreign power against their own country. They are sustained by vast amounts of money moving invisibly, exploiting the free flow of capital and the opaque world of cryptocurrencies.
As our law enforcement agencies blocked conventional channels, the operation shifted to crypto. One wallet alone, uncovered by the anticorruption agency, held over €100 million — funds used for troll farms, fake media, protests, and vote buying.
The protests too were not what they should be in a democracy. Investigators found lists of participants, transport routes, envelopes of cash. As election day neared, proxies began openly offering up to €3,000 a month to attract people. These gatherings were choreographed to project dissatisfaction and to steer them towards violence, led by people trained abroad.
Meanwhile, a larger battle raged online. The disinformation machine worked at an industrial scale, spreading lies:
“Europe means war.”
“The government is selling off the country.”
“The President is involved in child trafficking.”
The BBC infiltrated a troll farm, uncovering a coordinated network of TikTok accounts. The U.S.-based Digital Forensic Research Lab found that these accounts amassed over 55 million views. In a country of just 2.4 million people, that scale is staggering.
Even priests were drawn in — sent on so-called pilgrimages abroad for training in political messaging and social media influence.
Finally, there were direct threats. Law enforcement officials protecting the election’s integrity faced intimidation, while judges and prosecutors probing electoral corruption received death threats. One judge was even threatened with beheading.
Beyond Moldova, we all face new questions.
How do you defend against the subversion of democracy without betraying your own democratic principles?
How do you balance the right to political speech when it is used to promote war?
How do you limit technologies that enable crime, though they also empower freedom of expression?
How do you safeguard faith when it is exploited as a political weapon?
How do you preserve the right to protest while stopping those paid to provoke violence and possibly bloodshed?
These are the questions Moldova faces today — but they belong to all democracies. Many of these dilemmas become easier to solve once you examine where the money comes from. Is this a party funded by Moldovan citizens, or by money wired from abroad? Is this a genuine debate, or one amplified by algorithms and trolls on the FSB payroll? Is this a protest born of conviction, or one fuelled by cash? Follow the money — and the line between genuine democracy and malign interference becomes clear.
So what did we do? We ran a transparent, democratic election — while actively safeguarding its integrity. We learned the painful lessons of 2024 and organised our response around two priorities: prevention and exposure. Institutions worked in a coordinated way from early in the year. We strengthened tools to block illicit funding, trace crypto flows, prevent physical or cyber sabotage. We introduced penalties for electoral corruption and paid protests. On the Constitutional Court’s recommendation, successor organisations to the earlier banned party were barred from standing.
Courts prioritised political-corruption cases. When interference is so massive, justice cannot move at a business-as-usual pace — by the time a case concludes, the adversary may have prevailed. We need systems that move swiftly against illicit money before the damage is done.
The ongoing vetting of judges and prosecutors — developed with this Commission — has helped, just in time, to safeguard the integrity of the election. Our judicial institutions are gaining both the courage and the capacity to investigate corruption, eroding the impunity of Russia’s local proxies.
Law enforcement disrupted networks trained abroad to provoke violence and build explosives before they could act. Police dismantled vote-buying networks just weeks before election day — after months of monitoring. Acting at the right moment ensured Russia had no time to rebuild. Cyber teams adjusted defences in real time, with generous support from international partners.
Alongside prevention, we exposed interference. I spoke directly to citizens; journalists infiltrated troll farms; law enforcement released intercepted calls showing coordination from Moscow.
It worked. Moldovans — supported by state institutions, civil society, and a free media — defended their right to choose. They voted for democracy, for Europe, and for peace.
But let us be honest: this result is temporary — a window of opportunity to consolidate resilience and accelerate EU accession. We know that Russia will adapt — it will test new methods, new countries. Our experience shows what worked this time, not what will always work.
Will these measures protect other fragile democracies?
Will they work in established democracies where citizens are less conscious of the risks, divided, or digitally overwhelmed?
I do not know.
But I do know this: if authoritarian regimes learn faster than democracies adapt, we will lose. We cannot afford to be slower than those who seek to destroy freedom.
That is why I turn to you — the Venice Commission — as guardians of democracy. For 35 years, you have helped build our legal foundations. Now we must strengthen them for a new era — so they can protect freedom for the next 35. Together, we must design the legal and institutional tools to defend democracy from new threats. And do so fast. We must redefine transparency, accountability, and political freedom in a world where money, technology, and disinformation move faster than law.
This must also extend to the digital sphere, where social media platforms play an outsized role in shaping public debate — they must provide real access to data, disclose the scale and sources of artificial amplification, and submit to independent audits of their content moderation and political advertising practices. And then we can restore citizens’ confidence that democracy is not weakness — it is strength and must be defended every day, through participation, vigilance, and courage.
Moldova is ready to share what we have learned — our successes, our mistakes, and our continuing battles — with any democracy facing similar dangers. Because defending democracy today is not a national project; it is a collective one.
Thank you.