Why cops in Sofia don't want your bribe

Part of the incentive – for government officials, at least – is that the two countries' EU funding is contingent on fighting graft. By April, they must install a mechanism to track billions of euros in EU aid, and make their judicial system more independent and accountable in cracking down on corruption and organized crime.

According to a recent report by Transparency International (TI), a global corruption watchdog, 20 percent of Romanians said that someone in their household had accepted a bribe in the past year – the highest of any EU country. Bulgaria fared better, with only 8 percent. In another TI report on perceived corruption, Romania ranks last among EU members while Bulgaria ranks two spots above.

Entrenched corruption worries Brussels for several reasons. Taxpayer money – sent in by citizens across the continent – may disappear down a black hole. Graft could also infect Western companies competing for big-budget contracts. And it undermines faith in the rule of law – and thus in democracy itself.

So, even locals view the imposed conditions as a necessary evil.

"As a Bulgarian, it's shameful someone has to tell us what to do – imagine having these red flags waved in your face," says corruption expert Alexander Stoyanov, of the Center for the Study of Democracy in Sofia. "On the other hand, people here know where we come from – communism – and we still have a lot of reform and catching up to do."

Indeed, the past casts a long shadow over anticorruption efforts.

During four decades of the ancien régime, absolute government control of the media kept high-level corruption shielded from the public. Meanwhile, at the lower rungs of society, "what belonged to everybody, belonged to nobody," since all property was state-owned. With deprivation widespread, people pinched what they could, when they could.

The communist collapse of 1989-90 then ushered in "Wild West" privatization. As elsewhere in the region, well-connected individuals swiped wide swaths of state assets. But unlike their ex-communist neighbors, Romania and Bulgaria were slow to implement free-market and institutional reforms that could have helped curb graft.

Meanwhile, the economies stagnated, salaries bought less and less, the public became poorer and poorer. Everyone from doctors to professors to judges began essentially taxing the public to subsidize measly earnings that today range roughly from $200 to $300 per month.

But it's at the higher levels where corruption does the most harm, as cronyism and kickbacks typically deprive the national budget of cash, biting into education, healthcare, and social services. Thus, many urge the EU to keep the heat on.

In the Vitosha mountains south of Sofia, Resmy Resmiev says he yearns for competition – to which he is no stranger. He grew up skiing in these mountains, was the pride of Bulgaria at the 1972 Olympics, and then spent 30 years designing and managing the state-run ski resorts in Borovets.

During privatization, local officials divvied up the goods, offering him a slice. He balked. Today, he runs his own restaurant where, over sumptuous grilled lamb, he explains his dream for developing – as a consultant to the European investors he believes will come after Jan. 1 – Olympic-caliber ski slopes here.

"I hope the EU will oblige our government to follow the rules," he says. "And then I hope our government will oblige us to follow the rules."

• Part 2 of three. Tomorrow: Immigration.

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