A Policy Critique of Rumen Radev’s Transition from the Presidency to Party Politics
Democracies rarely collapse through dramatic coups or sudden seizures of power. More often, they erode slowly—through grey zones left unaddressed, through exceptions that turn into practice, and through leaders who act within the letter of the law while stepping outside its spirit. Bulgaria now finds itself at precisely such a moment.
When Rumen Radev chose to resign from the presidency in order to enter the partisan political arena, he acted in formal compliance with the constitution. Bulgarian law allows this. But democratic legitimacy does not rest on legal correctness alone. It also depends on norms, restraint, and a moral contract between elected officials and the citizens who entrusted them with power. It is this contract that now deserves careful scrutiny—calmly, principled, and without personal animosity.
The Presidency: A Mandate with Special Obligations
The Bulgarian presidency is not an ordinary political office. It is designed to stand above party politics and to serve as a stabilising institution in a system marked by fragmented parliaments, short-lived governments, and chronically low public trust. The president is not elected to win the next election, but to safeguard institutional continuity.
This is precisely why former presidents are granted special state guarantees after leaving office: a lifetime pension, personal security, and administrative support. These privileges are not rewards for political success. They are institutional safeguards, meant to ensure dignity, independence, and freedom from pressure for a former head of state who no longer participates in active power struggles.
But the entire construction rests on one crucial, largely unspoken assumption:
that a former president remains politically neutral.
When that assumption no longer holds, the system begins to malfunction.
State Support and Active Party Politics: A Democratic Paradox
Today, Rumen Radev’s status as a former president entails state-funded benefits amounting to approximately €22,800 per month. This includes a pension, personal security, vehicles, technical support, and an office with staff. At the same time, he has chosen to become an active political leader, openly seeking executive power.
Here lies a paradox that cannot be dismissed as a technicality:
the state is effectively financing the infrastructure of a political actor competing for power within that same state.
This is not corruption in the traditional sense. It is something more subtle, but no less troubling: institutional entanglement. The line between state and party becomes blurred. The neutrality that justifies post-presidential privileges evaporates.
In mature democracies, this dilemma is usually addressed through clear—sometimes informal, sometimes codified—safeguards. Either privileges are relinquished when one returns to active politics, or rules automatically limit them. Where such safeguards are absent, institutional credibility suffers.
The Power of Precedent
Politics is shaped not only by present decisions, but by the precedents they establish. If it becomes acceptable for a former president to:
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move directly from head of state to party leader,
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retain lifelong state-funded protection and infrastructure,
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while actively campaigning against the sitting government,
then this ceases to be an exception. It becomes a model.
Future presidents will take note. More polarising figures may treat the presidency as a strategic launchpad, secure in the knowledge that the state will continue to underwrite their position afterward. This risks politicising the presidency even during the term itself and hollowing out its role as a unifying institution.
Democracies cannot function if every high office becomes a tactical stepping stone.
When the Law Is Not Enough
Defenders of Radev’s decision often repeat a single argument: “He is acting legally.” That is correct—but insufficient. Laws cannot anticipate every scenario. This is why democratic systems rely as much on norms and political culture as on legal texts.
When leaders push institutional boundaries without breaking the law, they are not testing the constitution—they are testing societal maturity. In Bulgaria, where distrust toward political elites is already widespread, this reinforces the perception that powerholders always land softly. Declining voter turnout is not surprising under such conditions; it is a rational response.
From Critique to Reform: A Necessary Policy Proposal
Moral criticism alone is not enough. What this moment requires is institutional clarification. The issue is not unique to Bulgaria, but it is here that its consequences are now visible.
The solution does not require constitutional revision. It requires a clear, transparent principle:
Post-presidential state privileges must be conditional on political neutrality.
This principle could be implemented through legislation or supplementary regulation along the following lines:
If a former president actively engages in party politics—by founding or leading a political party, standing for elected office, or conducting organised campaign activities—certain state-funded privileges should be temporarily suspended. In particular:
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enhanced personal security beyond basic protection,
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state-funded offices, staff, and administrative services,
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logistical and technical infrastructure financed by the state.
The pension could be reduced to a basic level or deferred until the individual withdraws from active political roles. This would not constitute punishment. It would function as a neutrality safeguard. The right to political participation remains intact—but the state ceases to finance it.
To avoid arbitrariness, “active political role” must be clearly defined. Academic commentary, opinion writing, or general participation in public debate should not be included. The decisive factor is organised political leadership and campaign activity.
Full transparency is equally essential. The costs associated with post-presidential privileges should be publicly disclosed, itemised in the state budget, and subject to regular audit. In low-trust environments, transparency is not populism—it is democratic infrastructure.
Self-Restraint as a Democratic Virtue
A well-designed framework should also reward voluntary responsibility. A former president who chooses to relinquish state privileges while pursuing an active political career should retain the right to reclaim them later. Such a decision strengthens legitimacy and sets a constructive precedent.
Democracies function not only through rules, but through self-restraint. When self-restraint is absent, institutions must compensate.
What Is Ultimately at Stake
This is not a personal indictment of Rumen Radev. It is a test of Bulgaria’s institutional maturity. The central question is whether the state can draw a clear line between:
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state and party,
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public office and personal political ambition,
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rights and responsibilities.
Small normative breaches at the top have disproportionate consequences below—for young people already contemplating emigration, for voters who no longer trust the system, and for a society in need of long-term stability.
Conclusion
Rumen Radev’s decision has exposed a fault line in Bulgaria’s democratic architecture. That fault line can be ignored—or addressed. Democracies do not lose their soul overnight. They lose it when grey zones become normalised and when no one is willing to set limits on power.
Formally legal does not always mean legitimate.
And democratic maturity is measured precisely in moments like this.
By Chris...