Politics in Romania can be a bloody business, especially on the right. The excesses of the Iron Guard, an insurrectionary, violently antisemitic, ultranationalist 1930s political-religious militia, stood out even at a time when fascist parties were wreaking havoc in Germany, Italy and Spain. Given what is happening in Europe today, the events of that period are instructive.

Iron Guard founder Corneliu Codreanu, a ruthless assassin who was himself assassinated in 1938, and his ally turned enemy, the pro-Nazi general Ion Antonescu, who was executed for war crimes in 1946, are back in the news of late. That’s because both men have been lauded as national heroes by Călin Georgescu, shock winner of last weekend’s first round of Romania’s presidential election.

No mere throwback, Georgescu is very much a man of our times – a radical, hard-right, pro-Russia populist-nationalist who wants to make Romania great again. His anti-globalisation, anti-Nato, Eurosceptic platform, entitled “Food, Water, Energy”, stresses self-sufficiency, and aims to return the country to its rural roots. He does not belong to a conventional political party. Instead he uses TikTok to reach millions of followers.

A sustainable development specialist described, appropriately, as a “toxic waste expert”, Georgescu claims to speak “for those who feel they do not matter and actually matter the most”, as he puts it. Inflation, debt, corruption and security are the big issues as the country heads into parliamentary elections this weekend, followed by a presidential runoff due on 8 December.

Georgescu’s first round winning margin was narrow: 22.9%, against 19.17% for the centrist candidate, Elena Lasconi – and Romania’s constitutional court has ordered a recount, throwing the result and the timing of the runoff into doubt. If and when it goes ahead, the Liberal party and voters on the left are expected to switch support to Lasconi in a concerted bid to block Georgescu.

This unprecedented turmoil is dramatising another pan-European worry: Russian hybrid warfare and, specifically, election interference and disinformation campaigns via social media. Georgescu’s feat in coming from nowhere to win raised red flags about “preferential treatment” and under-the-radar influence operations. An inquiry has been launched amid calls for TikTok to be suspended.

Yet even if Georgescu is ultimately thwarted, the evident appeal of his hard-right, sovereigntist agenda could shift the next parliament to the right and profoundly affect Romania’s future direction.

Nato has particular reason to worry. Earlier this year the alliance announced a $2.7bn expansion at its Mihail Kogalniceanu base in Constanta, on the Black Sea coast. When complete, it will be the largest Nato military base in Europe. Its presence underscores Romania’s vital role in maintaining supply routes to Ukraine, facilitating Kyiv’s grain exports, and holding the frontline in the west’s deepening confrontation with Vladimir Putin’s Russia.

Yet if he has his way, Georgescu would cut aid to Ukraine and limit Romania’s collaboration with Nato, which he believes makes the country a target. He is critical of the deployment of US anti-missile batteries at Deveselu, in southern Romania, which he deems unnecessarily provocative of Moscow.

All this is sending shivers across a Europe that already feels itself under siege, internally from extremist political parties, and externally from a subversive Russia and its anti-democratic allies. Instability along the EU’s south-eastern frontline, exacerbated by economic discontents, is increasing. Fear of what Russia might do next, after Ukraine, is driving support for Kremlin appeasers and conciliators.

Elections in Moldova, Romania’s neighbour, in November provided additional chilling insights into these shared challenges. Maia Sandu, the country’s pro-western president, narrowly won re-election in the teeth of a covert, Russian-inspired and funded campaign to oust her. Sandu defeated Moldova’s version of Georgescu, the Kremlin-friendly outsider Alexandr Stoianoglo. A referendum on EU integration in October was also illicitly targeted by Moscow.

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Across the Black Sea, Georgia’s voters are embroiled in a political nightmare after the ruling party, Georgian Dream, stole October’s parliamentary elections. The EU has rejected the outcome, highlighting “significant irregularities”, bribery, impersonation and violence. Adding insult to injury time, a former Manchester City footballer, Mikheil Kavelashvili, looks set to be installed as president.

Georgian Dream’s authoritarian drift is blamed for a breakdown in EU accession talks. The party is viewed as increasingly influenced by Russia, which was once again reportedly at work behind the election scenes. Passionate opposition street protests, continuing last week, and a boycott of parliament have failed to overturn the result.

Brussels has expressed dismay. US president Joe Biden said he was “deeply alarmed by the country’s democratic backsliding” – but little has been done to help. Score that one to Moscow, too.

The story is not so very different elsewhere in south-eastern and central Europe. In Serbia, Bosnia, Hungary and Slovakia, right-leaning political leaders pay court to Putin and challenge the EU values they profess to uphold. Even in France and Germany, heartlands of the European project, the rightist Russian-incited rot has set in. Where Angela Merkel once ruled, Marine Le Pen and Alice Weidel now strut.

Nationalist-populist parties feeding off anger over cost of living, migration and cultural tensions, and encouraged and funded by a hostile Russia waging hybrid and cognitive warfare – these are the twinned foes disrupting, dividing and weakening European democracies. None is immune. None has yet worked out how to turn the tide.

And now a third negative force is at work. Romania’s are the first national elections to be held in a western democracy since Donald Trump triumphed in America. Is there a Trump effect? His cynical populism, me-first economics, pro-Russia stance and disdain for democratic norms and values exemplify – and spuriously validate – all that is going wrong across Europe today. Recalling the 1930s, some say Codreanu’s Iron Guard-style fascism is returning. Maybe, maybe not. Whatever name you give it, it’s frightening.

Simon Tisdall is the Observer’s Foreign Affairs Commentator

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