Author: Martin Atanasov
Imagine a patient who has the most detailed medical examinations in the world. A complete blood count, a scanner, an MRI, two independent expert reports - and he sees a three-dimensional graph of his internal injuries and the collapse of his organs. The patient knows what is wrong with him. He knows how long he has had it, he even knows who, when and with what contributed to his condition. However, he does not seek treatment, but remains motionless on the bed while the symptoms progress and time runs out.
This is not a medical curiosity. This is Bulgarian society today. Our common diagnosis, in which we have no problem identifying our illnesses. On the contrary - we know too much about them. We know with surgical precision what is not working - we see it in the investigations into the millions drained from yet another public sector, in the annual reports of the international community for the country, in the audits of the Court of Auditors, in the black statistics on the roads, in the latest scandals. The truth is not hidden. The great paradox is another: its disclosure almost never leads to real treatment.
One of the few well-oiled systems in the country
In Bulgaria, identifying the problem has become a substitute for solving it itself. Public life flows in a well-oiled cyclical ritual - probably one of the few truly well-oiled systems in the country. Another shocking case of corruption, administrative negligence or institutional arrogance appears. Society produces a short, powerful and completely consumerist wave of indignation on social networks. Institutions promise "full", "immediate" and, of course, "uncompromising" inspection. The media reports record interest. But just when the anger should turn into action, the next scandal appears. And the new case quickly buries the old one. Because: "In Bulgaria, every miracle lasts three days and for this reason every three days - a new miracle". The truth in our country becomes public and visible, but it never becomes mandatory: there is no clear end result, no personal responsibility, no resignations, no sanctions or reform.
This status quo of immobility exists because inaction is convenient. A system designed to blur responsibility in procedural labyrinths owes no one answers. But inaction is convenient for ourselves too. Instead of insisting on working healthcare, we pay for private. Instead of demanding good administration, we look for acquaintances in it. Instead of changing the general rules, we try to get out of them individually. And when that becomes too difficult, we pack our bags.
This encapsulation in private survival slowly finishes our common future. And although we all breathe this toxic air, the responsibility is not equal. The heaviest burden lies with those who have the power to turn facts into decisions, decisions into actions, and actions into consequences.
However, the real cure begins exactly where short-term public interest usually ends. All reports, analyses, or civic projects are simply research. They show the infection. Sometimes they also point out the cause. But they do not eliminate it. The cure requires subsequent control, methodical pressure through the law, and tracking every check to its final, legal point.
Because the most terrible and severe diagnosis of Bulgaria is not the lack of resources. It is not even corruption. Corruption can still be prosecuted, proven, and punished. Our most severe diagnosis is habituation. That phase of collective fatigue in which you read about yet another abuse, shrug your shoulders and say: "Well, that's how it is here". This is the moment when you stop expecting that anything will follow after the revelation of injustice.
Therefore, the first step towards healing is the conscious refusal to accept the abnormal as normal. This is not a matter of naive idealism, but of civic survival. As long as society is still outraged, as long as the younger generation refuses to enter the matrix of conformism, the disease is not irreversible.
The way out of the vicious circle of our diagnosis
Outrage alone, of course, is not enough. Anger is easy. Consistency is difficult. Anger brings together thousands of people in one evening. Consistency makes someone look for who should solve a problem, look for why they don't, file reports, follow a correspondence for two years, appeal a refusal, ask the same uncomfortable question until the institution is finally forced to answer.
Democracy doesn't rely only on its heroes. It relies on the annoying ones.
The way out of the vicious circle of our diagnosis does not lie in one-off, spectacular heroism. Bulgaria does not need new revolutions that burn in the square for three days, only to leave behind the same empty institutions. We do not need new saviors on white horses. Because the problem with saviors is not in the color of the horse, but in our habit of waiting for someone else to ride for us.
Real change is rarely a spectacular event with fanfare. It is gray, unattractive and persistent. It consists of rules that apply even when they are inconvenient. Of institutional memory that is not erased with each change of minister. Of people who see their work through - not because they believe that victory is certain, but because defeat is no excuse for inaction.
The health of a democracy is not measured by the number of diagnoses it is capable of making. It is measured by the number of treatments it has completed.
We already know the diagnosis.
It remains for us to decide whether we want to remain the subject of the diagnosis - or whether we will become the subject of the treatment.