For more than three decades, Bucharest has been the place where the country’s tensions settle and surface. Each generation has had its own reason to take to the streets — fear, anger, disgust, or hope. Every protest has reflected the moral and political temperature of Romania at that moment.

1990 – University Square. From enthusiasm to repression
The first major protest of post-communist Romania. Thousands of people, mostly young people and intellectuals, gathered in University Square demanding a genuine separation from the communist regime, free elections, and political pluralism. They were labeled “hooligans.” For the first time after the Revolution, freedom had a coherent voice — and the state responded violently. In June, miners brought from Petroșani invaded Bucharest, destroying newspaper offices, party headquarters, and assaulting people on the streets. University Square became the place where democratic hope collided with the brutal reality of transition.

The Mineriads – when the street was hijacked
The 1990s were marked by repeated descents of miners toward the capital. Behind them were political manipulation, unpaid wages, and the fear of reform. Bucharest lived days of chaos: in 1991, the miners overthrew Prime Minister Petre Roman’s government; in 1999, they were stopped with difficulty at Costești. It was a time when the street no longer spoke from the bottom up but was orchestrated from the top down — a total moral confusion between protest and violence, between demand and terror.

2012 – the first digital revolt
After a decade of apathy, Bucharest began to move again. The economic crisis, government arrogance, and austerity measures brought people out of their homes. University Square filled with improvised signs, irony, and smartphones recording everything. For the first time, mobilization happened online — spontaneous, leaderless, self-organized. A generation was born that no longer demanded ideals but decency.

2013 – Roșia Montană. The birth of urban civic conscience
The planned cyanide-based mining project at Roșia Montană was the spark. Every Sunday, thousands of people marched through Bucharest — with banners, bicycles, children in baby carriers, and a calm but determined energy. “United, we save Roșia Montană” became a defining slogan. Behind the environmental cause was something deeper: the refusal of complicity between state and corporation, the desire to protect a cultural symbol. The protest achieved what had seemed impossible — the political halt of an already approved project.

2017 – #Rezist. The peak of civic lucidity
The winter of 2017 found Bucharest under snow and tension. The Grindeanu government had secretly passed Ordinance 13 — legislation that would have weakened Romania’s anti-corruption framework. Within hours, tens of thousands of people flooded Victory Square. In the following days, the number grew beyond half a million. Families, young people, elderly, children waving flags and raising phones with flashlights lit. The chant was simple: “We want justice, not corruption.” The protest was peaceful, disciplined, and perfectly coordinated online — the moment when Romania showed it could defend itself without intermediaries. The hashtag #Rezist became a civic brand.

August 10, 2018 – violence returns
The Diaspora Protest began peacefully. Romanians working abroad had returned to demand dignity, transparency, and an end to endemic corruption. Tens of thousands gathered in Victory Square with flags and placards imagining a different Romania. That evening, the gendarmerie intervened brutally — tear gas, water cannons, batons. Among the injured were tourists, women, children, and journalists. It was a night that changed the relationship between citizens and the state — a rupture of trust that remains unhealed.

After 2018 – from revolt to identity-based activism
In the years that followed, Bucharest kept taking to the streets, but the tone shifted. Protests became less political and more about rights and representation: Pride marches, climate demonstrations, rallies for women killed by partners, for underfunded schools, for doctors. The anger gave way to persistent clarity. The city matured civically — people stopped waiting for miracles and started asking for structure, transparency, and institutions that work.

From the repression of 1990 to #Rezist and the 10 August protest, the street has always been Bucharest’s moral barometer. When institutions fall silent, the city speaks. Sometimes chaotic, sometimes impeccably organized — but always alive.

Photo: Privesc.Eu România/Wikipedia