Disclaimer: To let the Reader fully experience the journal-written narration, Hive Mind did not interfere in the below text. Thus, these are raw, unedited and unproofread testimonies of the independent election observers in Romania.
Georgi, a 40-year-old activist from Brașov, Transilvania
A difficult, complicated, and full year; the year of all elections in our country, but also the year in which Pluto enters Aquarius. For two years I have been preparing to face this big year, and it seems to me that the more I learn, inform myself, and do, the more I feel that I am not adequately prepared; the classic tale! However, there is something I haven't done until now, besides convincing random diaspora, close ones, and strangers to go out and vote: to be a Funky observer! It was the coolest experience and something not to be missed!
I would start at the beginning, but the beginning was a long time ago, so I will make a short summary up to the part about the election observation day. As I wrote above, being a big fan of Funky, I did everything possible to work with them, which eventually happened. Then, I found out they got accreditation as election independent observers. I thought a lot, made internal promises, and finally applied to become one of the vigilant ones. My personalized kit arrived at home, and I tried it on; I looked mega Funky with the backpack on my back, the water bottle in my hand, and the badge signed by Funky Citizens hanging from a simple lanyard around my neck; I was both happy and scared, but I pulled myself together and got very serious. The days passed super quickly… I attended training, documented myself, ate, worked, and slept.
A few days before, I had made a super cool plan; everything was calculated to fit both Funky's needs and mine. Since it was my first experience of this kind, I chose to be a mobile observer, but only in my city – Brașov, choosing flexible hours. I made a map of the areas I wanted to go to, starting with the polling station where I voted. The second would have been my initially allocated polling station; I looked on maps to see what the area looked like; I didn't like it at all, it was towards the outskirts of the city. I had been there before, an industrial area guarded by dogs, near the former center for homeless people. The third polling station would have been halfway back home, chosen specifically because family friends voted there. I had in mind to take a coffee break and chat with them. Then I wanted a lunch break, a bit of neighborhood peace; in the afternoon, I would move again and check off two polling stations near home.
I managed to stick to the initial plan quite well, and karma was with me. Some of my fellow observers from other parts had truly impressive and hallucinatory experiences. Our observer chat is still buzzing; irregularities are still being found, people still need help, and frauds seem to reach the heights of the Palace of the Parliament.
June 9, 5:00 AM, Tractorul neighborhood
I woke up according to the plan, checked the availability of Uber/Bolt cars, and by 5:30 I was ready to leave to reach the polling station by 5:50 at the latest. I absolutely wanted to participate in sealing the windows, ballot boxes, stamping the ballots and so on. No cars available, no bus. Choosing walking on this very day, was not the best option for me for several reasons. At 6:00 AM, I victoriously left the house, walked with coffee in one hand and my phone in the other to the first bus stop that took me to the area of the polling station where I was to vote. By 6:45, I was scanning the area according to Funky's checklist, and around 7 AM, I was already behind a curtain and voting. The voting commission received me very well, and the first contact as an observer was just “wow”! At 8:45, I left, completed my form, finished my coffee, ate a banana, and called an Uber to take me to the allocated polling station.
June 9, 9:15 AM, allocated polling station
I checked the perimeters; outside, everything was okay, no posters, no strange or out-of-place people. It seemed almost unreal that 50 meters from this school, you were in an area that seemed almost deserted, full of dangers, and in the school yard, everything was nice, well-organized, you felt safe even though nothing was guarding you. In the meantime, I realized that the desolation and unsafe vibe were only because it was Sunday, quiet, and everything was closed. I gathered my courage, went to the polling station, introduced myself, and took a seat. I knew that if I could observe anything, this would be the place. The vibe was bohemian, Transylvanian-like. People were hurried, stressed, the commission was sneaking glances at me, I felt like I was in a scanner. The ballot boxes were arranged differently from the first station, and time passed differently, but nothing special or illegal happened. At 10:30 AM, I left the seat with no intention of staying in that building longer than I had planned.
June 9, 5:45 PM, another polling station
I set off with a certain euphoria combined with tiredness, but also with regret that I didn't check off everything I wanted, and that I was not able to also observe the vote counting process because the next day I had a job and many other things to do. I arrived at the station, checked the perimeters, went in, and took a seat. It was the cleanest and the most “okay” room I had ever entered to vote or observe. In contrast to all this perfection, the observer's seat was hidden and tucked away; I almost scared the voters who entered the "booths"* in the back. There was no place anyway, the room was small, the positioning wasn't intentional. At this time, people seemed more tired, tense, complained more, and I was yawning uncontrollably. My girlfriend came to vote - that was also the criterion for choosing the station; we greeted each other only with our eyes, and while she voted, I said goodbye to the president and commission and left the building. Everything was okay here too; a short summer rain started. We went to finish a few more chores, then we parted: she went home, and I went to the last station.
* this year, all the stations I checked had triangle booths where you almost had no room to stamp the ballot; if I had only one ballot, maybe I would manage, but I had five… A terrible experience as a voter, surely shared by others.
June 9, 7:15 PM, the last station before bedtime
I ended the observer's day, a mega hot day, with a nice friendship. While still licking the ice cream I had bought before and scanning the perimeters of the station, I recognized someone who greeted me; I seemed to know them, yet not… it was a total mystery. We had never met, we just recognized each other; we had crossed paths on the bus a few days ago but didn't exchange even a greeting. We looked at each other as if we had known each other forever; what united us was the fact that we had the same values. They led me to the station, as they were part of the commission. There we ceased any friendly talk; the person took their place, I took a seat on the observer's chair. Although I stayed very little, it was the nicest station I stayed at; it had a vibe of civism, correctness, involvement; I felt at home. The last station was chosen by me because I had a friend who was voting for the first time and asked me to be nearby. Said and done; when she arrived, I left the seat, wished everyone a nice evening, perfect keys** and maximum rest, and went home. Everything was okay here too.
**The term key is used at the end of counting and verifying votes from each polling station; the values entered on the operator's tablet must match those counted and verified by the commission members, meaning the key is correct when the counting has been done accurately. The vote counting doesn’t end until the key is correct.
Here ends my story as an independent observer, in which I relied more on instinct than knowledge. If there is something similar in all the polling stations I visited, it is the fact that once the committee found out who I was, and the purpose of my visit, they tried to do everything as correctly as possible, to follow the law, becoming "more Catholic than the Pope". I have decided that for the next elections I will be a fixed observer and have already considered two options: (1) waking up earlier or choosing a closer station that does not require transportation, staying as an observer from sealing and stamping until the closing time; (2) trying to sleep more, going as an observer in the second half of the day and overseeing the vote counting. We will see how it will be, what will come out, what karma and vibe Pluto in Aquarius will bring me in the next elections.
As a conclusion, or maybe it should have been at the beginning, for those who do not know yet, on June 9, Romanians, or some of them, voted for the local elections unconstitutionally merged with the European Parliament elections. The presidential elections are coming up in September, and at the end of the year, the parliamentary elections. In 2024 we have a chance to be observers until we get bored, but until the next elections, I highly recommend that you get in touch with the observers or look for their stories so that you too, as future observers, can help with the proper functioning of the voting mechanism. Peace!
Ali, first-time independent observer in Bucharest
The year 2024 is a busy one for those who engage in civic activities in many countries around the world. I belong to a marginalized community and in my country the laws that protect it have been slow to evolve for many years, and only the essential ones for EU integration have been enacted. It seems that more and more politicians are disinterested in “ordinary people”, favoring some at the expense of the majority, making civic involvement increasingly necessary. Through volunteering, I had the opportunity to meet some of the extraordinary people at Funky Citizens and learn many useful things for my work, and for the associations I work for. Among other things, I learned about the opportunity to be a vote observer. Feeling initially hesitant, but then enthusiastic, I decided I wanted to know what happens in the process of exercising our fundamental right and, as much as I can, help to ensure it truly reflects society's will. Here’s how my first experience went.
Ali's observer pack. Photo by Ali.
Sunday, June 9, 2024. Around 6:10 AM
I leave for the polling station where I was assigned by Funky. On my way, I pass by two other stations, checking if there are any electoral posters nearby. All good. I arrive at the station located within a sizable kindergarten. I introduce myself, the president checks my information, and shows me where another observer is located. No one in the station is curious or bothered by our presence, as I had heard it could happen. The ballot boxes are already sealed, the stamps and ink pads are ready for use, and the ballots are being prepared. More people arrive to observe, some without badges. At 7:00, the first voters enter. SIMPV (Integrated Election Monitoring System) gives an error on the third person, and the calls begin. A queue starts to form. After about 15 minutes of phone conversations between the president, the operator, and technical support, the issue is resolved, and votes start flowing in. The office members try to guide voters to the correct ballot boxes, hoping it won’t be too difficult during the count. Everything goes well, so I decided to move on to the next polling station. I thank the president, mentioning that some people staying in the station do not wear badges. "He's a candidate.” “And they don’t wear badges?” - I ask, more because I don’t recognize him. “Apparently not.”
In the other room, I find more observers who look at my badge with great interest. "Funky?" I later understood why. The president and deputy are relaxed and indicate where observers should stand; I sit in that area, leaving enough space for others as well. I say “where they should” because the other observers are sitting closer to the ballot boxes. And they observe very intently strictly the process of inserting the ballots. Strange. There are so many aspects that need to be watched. After some time, I understand why: a fellow observer is warned that he is not staying in the indicated place and that the vote is secret.
After a while, an observer has an exchange with the deputy, speaking quite loudly, stating that you can vote anywhere in the locality for County Council candidates, the President of the County Council, and the candidates for the European Parliament.
I’ll try to clarify a bit: for an easier administration, Romania is divided into counties. Therefore, people vote not just for their mayor and the local council, but also for the county council and the corresponding president, in short local elections. Also, being part of the EU, Romania is entitled to 33 MEPs. The current MPs decided to combine the EP and the local elections 3 months before the set date (breaking another law, through an emergency order), stating it’s what polls showed and what people want. Not a lot of people usually vote for the EP and this was a great opportunity to cover both types of elections with a single campaign, thus the most influential parties gaining votes for both, disregarding all warnings coming from civil society.
Back to the polling station: The latter tries to explain that one must go to the station where they are assigned, as they were instructed. Although it’s noisy, the voters enter. they are surprised by the commotion, but proceed to vote. I advise the observer to go to the BEC (Central Electoral Bureau) website and read the June 7 press release carefully, which I also show him. Two days before the elections, it was decided that we could only cast our European Parliament vote in another locality, even if in the same county. Didn’t they issue enough ballots? Why could we vote for the County Council and the President of the County Council in the same county four years ago? Why are laws and regulations changed just before elections (like the decision to merge, taken three months prior, violating a law)? It becomes quiet, the elections continue, and members' discussions return to lighter, summer topics. I glance at the map and notice a station marked in yellow, indicating the need for an observer. I thank the commission for their hospitality and leave.
Around 10:30 AM
I arrived at another kindergarten. The line extends outside. I enter the station and I am shocked by how small the room is, without air conditioning (they have "conditioned" it by opening a window and the door wide). The president is visibly stressed and mentions that there is another observer (on a break) and that we will have to take turns. I understand why, as the room is crowded with tables, ballot boxes, and voting booths, and only one person can move between them. The EP ballot box is right next to the chair I get to sit on. I must keep my feet out of the way to avoid being stepped on by voters. How can members, voters, and observers fit in here? What were they thinking when they chose this room? Voters squeeze past each other, looking for the correct ballot box with ballots in hand. Meanwhile, the president and deputy prepare and hand out new ballots to members. I see people who pause briefly: “Oops, here was the County Council President, not the County Council. Oh well…”. Chaos. Members will have a lot of work during the count, but the voting continues, albeit slowly.
The other observer appears. The president tells her to wait outside a little longer while I stay. Immediately, a guy enters and starts scolding her, saying she is breaking the law, that it is the observers' right to be there, and that lack of space is not a valid reason to deny access. The colleague is allowed to enter, but since there’s no room next to me, she stays by the entrance, near the operator, very attentive to me as well. I go out into the hallway. I walk among voters and observers (who are too many and stand in the doorways); people seem resigned, just wanting to exercise their right and leave after waiting 20-30 minutes in the sun. There are families with children, young people at their first votes, neighbors meeting and greeting each other. Nice people who let mothers with babies go ahead.
After a break, I visit a few more stations. Almost all have been flagged for observation at some point. There are no major incidents. In one station, people who want to vote only for the European Parliament are redirected. Members get anxious. “We’re running out of ballots, it’s the last stack.” Initially, they suggest voters go to other stations but unseal the last stack and resume after the deputy returns from outside – in the same location, the other three stations have queues almost to the gate. I don’t even dare to enter. The space is even smaller than the one described earlier, there's a lot of frustration, it's very hot, and there’s a lot of fatigue. I stay outside, especially since I recognize a few candidates guiding people to the correct queues. “Which street? … Even or odd number? … This is the queue… Yes, it’s very long.”
Around 9:30 PM
I arrive at the station where I vote and stay for the count, along with seven other observers, crammed into a corner. At least we have access to the bathroom. A voter announces that he found a ballot in the booth. The president checks it. It’s filled out. She asks us observers how we want to proceed. I’m stunned. We should be making the decision? We look at each other, knowing very well that we cannot intervene in the process. I suggest she call BEC if there is no clear rule, although I know the vote should be canceled. She gets annoyed but follows the procedure.
At 10:00 PM
Another 13 people want to vote for the European Parliament, and a new stack needs to be unsealed. Members are taken aback. “So, we have to cancel the rest…” The station closes around 10:30 PM, according to the procedure. The ballot boxes are sealed. Unused ballots are canceled in bulk, as there are over 1500. Dozens of pages must be filled out by hand (e.g., voter data on supplementary lists), as we are in the 21st century. Signatures must be counted, and the total must match at the end. After about an hour, the vote counting begins. Over 3000 ballots need to be checked. Just the first box takes more than an hour. At some point, they run out of tables and use the ballot boxes. The theory is simple; the practice is horrible.
Of course, it’s not like in the manual, or we would have been there until Monday evening. The commission members help, they also take ballots to check, call out, and sort. The deputy filled out forms all night, another member did some lists, another the reports. It’s no wonder there are discrepancies, as they entered the station on Sunday at 6 AM, leaving on Monday after 8 AM. It’s inhumane. Observers leave one by one. At some point, I find out that parties have enlisted associations for observers. I was amazed at how many associations mobilized to ensure the fairness of the vote. Amusing. A member even asked me, “Seriously, you’re not with any party?” I laughed inwardly and replied no. “So, what are you doing here, ma’am?” I wanted to see how the process unfolds; I wanted to get involved. I didn’t expect this.
The process is doomed to failure. Twenty-seven hours (for the president, the deputy, the operator, and the members who carried the votes—I don’t even want to know the total number). All the members said they would never do this again; it’s not worth the effort. Despite this, I think things went surprisingly well. The members worked very well together, occasionally making jokes to lighten the atmosphere. They shared water, juice, coffee, and snacks with us.
So, in theory, everything seems to work, but in practice, it’s a disaster. Of course, there are mistakes, and naturally, there is room for fraud. The parties used the law to bring their observers. Or maybe it’s another strategy to blame NGOs for complicating the processes? I can’t believe how many things still need to be done by hand these days.
I only noticed minor issues, mistakes made out of fatigue and poor conditions. The support I received from the team was extraordinary: easy-to-follow materials, a handy app to efficiently allocate the sections, training sessions, prompt and easy-to-understand responses, both from Funky people and other knowledgeable independent observers. It was an extraordinary experience and mobilization, and I felt constant protection and support. It’s a big effort for many, but it’s useful to know what happens behind the “curtain.” To understand a little about what democracy means, the sacrifices made, and, I hope, where adjustments should be made for everyone’s benefit. I’m very glad I went through this. Despite all the fatigue, here’s the surprise: the joy of seeing the process, observing people’s desire to do things right despite all obstacles, getting involved, and the immeasurable support. It’s something to be done at least once in a lifetime.
Authors: Georgi Țucan, Ali Șerban
Background illustration by: Funky Citizens
This article was published in partnership with Funky Citizens
