Historia magistra vitae. But Who Is Thinking About the Day After Tomorrow?

There are moments in history that, although they appear to be ordinary economic events or administrative decisions, tell us more about the world we inhabit than dozens of political statements. They oblige us to look beyond the present and ask whether we truly understand the rules governing international relations, or whether we are content to respond to each new development without considering what comes next.

The decision announced by the United States on 9 October 2026 to authorize certain transactions involving diesel fuel of Russian origin is one such moment. Through a special licence issued by the Treasury Department, Washington permitted commercial operations that had previously been restricted, amid pressure on energy markets and the need to protect the American economy.

I do not regard this decision as a bad development. On the contrary, I believe that any opening capable of encouraging dialogue, pragmatism and a reduction in international tensions deserves careful attention. A commercial exemption does not, of itself, constitute political reconciliation, and its effects on markets and international relations remain to be assessed. Nevertheless, its significance extends beyond the quantity of fuel involved and the conditions of a licence.

It reminds us of a reality repeatedly demonstrated by history: major powers possess the capacity to recalibrate their decisions when their own interests require it, even after periods of deep diplomatic confrontation.

What concerns me is not that the United States has taken such a decision, but whether countries such as Romania understand this logic and prepare their own future accordingly.

History does not repeat itself exactly. But ignoring it can lead to familiar mistakes.

Cicero described history as magistra vitae, the teacher of life. Not because the past offers identical answers to every question posed by the present, but because it gives us the accumulated experience of generations that have known power, alliances, ambition, compromise, prosperity and tragedy.

One of the great lessons of the twentieth century is that the end of a confrontation does not necessarily mean a return to the world that existed before it. Frequently, the conclusion of a crisis inaugurates a new order, with different centres of influence, new economic priorities and revised rules of international cooperation.

After the Second World War, Europe's political architecture was shaped decisively by negotiations among the major powers. Some countries benefited from extensive reconstruction programmes and economic integration, while others, including Romania, entered a period of profound political and economic constraints.

The Marshall Plan contributed to the recovery of Western European economies, but it was also a strategic instrument through which the United States consolidated a particular economic and political order. Developments in Eastern Europe were different, and the consequences of those arrangements were felt long after the generation that negotiated them had passed away.

Not every major power prospered to the same extent, nor did all smaller states share the same fate. History does not permit such oversimplification. It does, however, demonstrate that freedom of action, negotiating capacity and the resources needed for reconstruction are unequally distributed.

For a major power, a strategic change may entail significant but manageable costs. For a state with more limited resources, the same change can affect economic development, institutions and diplomatic options for several generations.

This is the real challenge of anticipation. It is not enough to know which side we stand on today. We must also understand what position we will occupy when the major powers decide to negotiate again.

National interest and diplomacy beyond public statements

Major powers possess institutions, financial resources, industrial capacity, strategic expertise and diplomatic mechanisms that allow them to adjust their policies as circumstances change. They can impose sanctions, suspend certain forms of cooperation and later return to negotiations if they conclude that doing so serves their objectives.

Such flexibility should not automatically be mistaken for a lack of principles. It also reflects governments' responsibilities towards their economies, their security and the citizens they represent.

The American decision concerning Russian diesel illustrates the intersection of economic constraints and foreign-policy calculations. Supporters of the measure emphasize the need to stabilize prices and protect American transport, agriculture and consumers. Its critics warn of the additional revenue Russia might obtain and the possible effects on the sanctions framework. Both sets of concerns deserve serious examination.

Yet whatever one's conclusion about this specific measure, the essential question remains: if a major power can reassess its instruments in response to an urgent economic need, why should a country such as Romania formulate its foreign policy without continuously examining its own interests and possible future developments?

Diplomacy is not the opposite of firmness. Nor is prudence synonymous with weakness. A state can maintain clear positions, honour its alliances and international commitments and, at the same time, preserve the ability to communicate, anticipate and prepare its economic and political relationships for the period ahead.

Ultimately, diplomacy becomes most valuable precisely when agreement appears difficult and relations between states are under strain.

Where are the political leaders who think about the day after tomorrow?

For several years, I have struggled to understand why such a large part of political life seems trapped in the immediate present. We discuss what happened yesterday, what someone said today and what needs to be communicated tomorrow morning. By contrast, questions concerning the next ten, twenty or thirty years are too rarely developed into a verifiable public strategy.

I am not referring to generic promises about the future, which appear in almost every political programme. I mean the real ability to anticipate the consequences of a decision, evaluate alternative scenarios and build institutions capable of sustaining a strategic direction regardless of a change of government.

What happens after an international crisis? How do markets change? Who will control new trade corridors? Which economic relationships will be rebuilt? Which industries will become priorities? What will energy cost? To what extent will Romania be able to participate in emerging projects, and with what negotiating leverage will it come to the table?

These are not speculative questions. They are questions that any state concerned with its development should examine continuously.

Through my experience in business and international economic cooperation, I have observed how much the continuity of relationships, knowledge of partners and the ability to anticipate an opportunity matter—before that opportunity becomes obvious to everyone. In economic diplomacy, the moment when a relationship is established is often as important as the moment when an agreement is signed.

A country that discovers opportunities only after major understandings have been concluded risks participating in them solely on terms set by others.

That is why I am concerned by the absence of a serious national debate about the day after tomorrow. We need strategic foresight, not merely political reactions; institutions capable of producing analysis and converting it into decisions; diplomats who understand economics, economists who understand geopolitics and public officials who can assess the costs of an option beyond the duration of an electoral mandate.

The real economy cannot wait indefinitely

The economic dimension of this problem cannot be ignored.

In its forecast published on 21 May 2026, the European Commission projected economic growth of just 0.1% for Romania in 2026, average inflation of 7% and a general government deficit of 6.2% of GDP. These are forecasts, not final outcomes, but they indicate considerable pressure on the economy and public finances.

Beyond macroeconomic indicators, the reality facing companies can be much harsher. A business does not survive on the prospect of an economic recovery in two years; it survives through its ability to pay employees, suppliers, taxes and loans today. When consumption slows, financing becomes more expensive and fiscal pressures increase, the private sector's capacity to absorb further shocks diminishes.

For many entrepreneurs, the issue is no longer simply shrinking profits but protecting the very continuity of their operations. Companies that have endured difficult years through savings, loans and sacrifices may now face several pressures simultaneously.

Under such circumstances, economic policy cannot remain a succession of fiscal measures without a sufficiently clear development strategy. Fiscal consolidation may be necessary, but its quality must also be assessed in terms of its effects on investment, competitiveness and businesses' ability to create value.

The management of infrastructure and strategic assets cannot be separated from this perspective. Every concession, partnership, investment or long-term commitment should be assessed transparently in terms of its genuine economic benefits, future costs, control over resources and the freedom of action retained by the state.

It is not enough for a project to appear advantageous today. It must also withstand the question of what it will produce twenty years from now.

A state that gradually exhausts its economic capacity inevitably reduces its diplomatic capacity as well. International influence is not built through statements alone, but through production, capital, infrastructure, technology and financial credibility.

A divided society can lose sight of the common interest

We have reached a point where almost every major issue is discussed through camps that define themselves primarily in opposition to one another. At times, a proposal is assessed less by its substance than by the identity of the person who puts it forward. At other times, debate about the national interest is confused with a competition for ownership of patriotism.

I do not deny the genuine differences between political outlooks. Such differences are natural in a democracy. But a society needs a minimum of continuity regarding its fundamental interests: education, infrastructure, security, a competitive economy, credible institutions and diplomatic capacity.

No government can build all these things on its own within one term. And if every political change entails abandoning projects begun by predecessors, the country loses time, resources and public trust.

Perhaps one of the most important forms of political maturity would be the ability to recognize a sound solution even when it comes from a political opponent.

We need more professionalism and less concern with claiming credit; responsibility for outcomes, not merely statements; institutions that work towards measurable objectives and mechanisms through which society can evaluate what it has been promised.

A country's unity does not require the disappearance of disagreement. It requires a common direction important enough not to be sacrificed in every political contest.

The costs of one generation can become the burden of the next five

There is an essential difference between the immediate costs of a decision and its historical consequences.

A fiscal measure can have effects within a year. A misguided public investment can burden budgets for a decade. The loss of industrial capacity, the deterioration of an education system or the weakening of an institution can have consequences lasting two, three or even more generations.

Major foreign-policy decisions can likewise influence a country's access to markets, investment, technology and partnerships for a very long time.

In my view, this intergenerational dimension is not sufficiently present in Romania's public debate.

Our children will inherit more than the economic outcome of the decisions we make. They will inherit the institutions we build or weaken, the international credibility we cultivate or squander, the infrastructure we develop or postpone and the degree of trust between citizens and the state.

They will also inherit the consequences of international relationships that we sometimes treat too simplistically today, as a succession of sympathies and antipathies.

That is why, when I look at how major powers manage their interests, I am interested in more than the result of a negotiation. I am also interested in their institutional capacity to prepare for what follows.

We do not need diplomatic adventurism. We need clarity of judgment. We do not need symbolic gestures unsupported by economic strength. We need negotiating capacity. We do not need to turn every international change into a domestic dispute. We need to understand the opportunities and risks that it brings to our country.

Quid deinde? What comes next?

What follows sanctions, whatever their duration and evolution? What follows an energy crisis? Another reconfiguration of relations between major powers? The end of a period of tension? What happens when economic interests reopen channels of cooperation that are difficult to imagine today?

We cannot know the answers to all these questions with certainty. No one can. But we can build the capacity to examine them and prepare several possible responses.

History does not guarantee that major powers will always reach an understanding, or that every dialogue will lead to a lasting agreement. It does show us that international relationships change, that interests are reassessed and that neither major confrontations nor major alliances can be understood outside the economic and strategic context in which they evolve.

States capable of looking beyond the present retain more options. Those that mistake a political moment for the final direction of history may end up paying a much higher price than they anticipated.

I am not suggesting that Romania lacks people capable of strategic thinking. I am convinced that substantial competence and experience exist in diplomacy, economics, public administration and academia. The question is whether our institutions make sufficient use of these resources and turn analysis into a coherent, predictable and lasting policy of state.

Looking at the events of recent days, I feel no need to proclaim anyone's victory or defeat. What interests me more is the wisdom to understand what is changing and the responsibility to prepare Romania for future changes.

And the lesson that matters most to me today is not about diesel, sanctions or a leader's statements. It is about the responsibility to think beyond one's own term of office, beyond one's own generation and beyond the conflicts of the present.

For in the end, the most important question anyone involved in governing a state should ask is not what image they leave behind of themselves.

It is what kind of country they leave to their children.