In an era of mounting European anxiety over the populist wave, Romania has now joined the fray with a vengeance. The commanding first-round victory of George Simion – the 38-year-old leader of the far-right Alliance for the Union of Romanians (AUR) – underscores not just a rejection of the political status quo, but a deeper identity crisis brewing within one of Eastern Europe’s most strategically important NATO members.
Simion’s leap to the front of the presidential pack, with 40.96% of the vote, was neither accidental nor wholly surprising. His nationalist rhetoric, disdain for the European Union’s “bureaucratic overreach,” and skepticism towards Romanian military support for Ukraine have resonated with a disillusioned electorate, particularly within the sprawling Romanian diaspora. That he secured over 70% of the vote in Italy, Spain, and Germany – where many Romanians toil in low-wage sectors – signals a nationalist wave shaped by socio-economic fatigue and cultural estrangement from both Bucharest and Brussels.
The road to Simion’s ascendancy has been paved by political missteps, popular discontent, and a crisis of legitimacy. Just six months ago, the country was reeling from the annulled victory of another anti-establishment figure, Calin Georgescu, whose election was voided amid allegations of Russian interference and campaign fraud. That debacle only deepened Romania’s institutional distrust, leaving space for Simion to occupy the mantle of nationalist redemption.
Simion’s success cannot be disentangled from this broader political context. Many of Georgescu’s supporters, alienated by his disqualification, appear to have seamlessly shifted their allegiance to Simion. In a symbolic gesture of nationalist solidarity, the two men even cast their votes together. Simion has crafted his political persona in the image of Western populist icons – styling himself as Donald Trump’s “natural ally” and extolling the virtues of a “Europe of sovereign nations.” But his rhetoric is more deeply anchored in a nostalgic vision of Romanian grandeur, advocating for the restoration of pre-World War II borders and lamenting what he sees as the erosion of national dignity in a globalized, technocratic Europe.
Yet, Simion is no simple Eurosceptic caricature. In interviews, he is careful to walk a fine line: pro-NATO but skeptical of NATO’s “proactive” stance on Ukraine; pro-sovereignty but not overtly anti-Western. He presents himself as a realist – someone who sees “Russia as the biggest danger” in the region, but also questions the efficacy of endless military escalation. This nuance, whether genuine or calculated, is part of what makes him appealing to a cross-section of voters – those who are not necessarily pro-Kremlin but are weary of perpetual war and the economic costs of Romania’s frontline status.
The gravity of the situation is not lost on Romania’s Western partners. With Simion now headed into a May 18 runoff against centrist Bucharest mayor Nicusor Dan – who scraped together just under 21% of the vote – the prospect of a seismic shift in Romanian foreign policy looms large. As a NATO member that borders Ukraine, hosts American bases, and has played a vital logistical role in Kyiv’s war effort (including transferring Patriot missile systems and demining Black Sea routes), Romania has been a quiet yet indispensable cog in the Western alliance’s strategy. A Simion presidency could disrupt all of that.
Dan, for his part, embodies the archetype of moderate reformism: a liberal technocrat favored by Romania’s urban middle classes, the business elite, and much of the West-facing political class. His support, however, lacks the visceral appeal of Simion’s insurgent nationalism. The Schengen delays, economic malaise, and the elite’s perceived complicity in corruption have created fertile ground for a candidate who vows to “restore dignity” to the Romanian people – however ambiguous that promise may be in policy terms.
What lies ahead in the second round is not merely a contest between two candidates, but a referendum on Romania’s trajectory. Simion is poised to consolidate further support from fourth-place finisher Victor Ponta, the former prime minister who ran on a “Romania First” platform. Crin Antonescu, the candidate of the governing coalition who finished just behind Dan, has already conceded, potentially freeing up another tranche of nationalist-leaning voters.
Still, victory is not guaranteed. While Simion’s support is passionate and widespread, particularly among disenfranchised voters and the diaspora, the second round could galvanize Romania’s fragmented centrist bloc into a unified front. If Dan can successfully rally the anti-Simion vote – drawing from liberals, moderate conservatives, and undecided voters wary of international isolation – an upset remains possible. But it would require a disciplined, values-driven campaign that eschews fearmongering for a credible vision of Romania’s future.
And therein lies the paradox. Many Romanians who voted for Simion did so not out of ideological conviction but as an expression of despair – at their marginalization, at failed promises, at a political system that has seemed immune to accountability. For them, Simion offers not a detailed policy roadmap but an emotional release – a sense that someone is finally paying attention.
Whether that sentiment can be contained – or channeled into constructive change – will become clear on May 18. For now, the far right in Romania stands closer to the presidency than at any point since the country’s democratic reawakening. And Europe, watching with apprehension, may soon have to reckon with yet another populist shock to its already fragile system.
