It should have been a year of reckoning. Instead, it became a year of exposure without consequence.

Across the continent, scandal piled on scandal. In France, Marine Le Pen was found guilty of siphoning nearly three million euros of EU funds into her party machine, only to pivot and cast herself as a victim. In the Czech Republic, the Justice Ministry accepted a forty five million euro crypto payment from a convicted criminal, and the minister resigned as if that were enough. In Brussels, Huawei lobbyists were exposed for quietly greasing the wheels of influence until the European Parliament finally locked them out. And in Greece, the OPEKEPE agricultural subsidy scandal revealed fake farms, phantom livestock, and ministers forced to resign under the weight of a four hundred fifteen million euro EU fine.

Each case made headlines. Each case confirmed what most Europeans already know: corruption is not a series of accidents. It is the operating system.

Eurobarometer’s latest survey captured it in numbers.

Sixty nine percent of Europeans believe corruption is a major problem in their country.

In Greece, that number soars to ninety seven percent.

Italians, Spaniards, Croatians, Czechs, almost all share the same intuition: the game is rigged. At the national level, seventy three percent see their governments as corrupt. At the local level, seventy percent say the same.

Even business itself is seen as contaminated, with sixty one percent of EU citizens believing corruption is baked into its culture.

This is why the scandals no longer shock. Citizens shrug not because they are apathetic, but because they have learned that outrage has no purchase. What was once blush-worthy is now banal. When the bribe is disguised as “lobbying,” when the subsidy is stolen in plain sight, when a train crash kills dozens and the evidence is tampered with, people stop expecting justice. They expect the cover up.

The deeper story is not that Europe is corrupt. It is that Europeans have stopped believing their institutions can be clean. That is more dangerous than the scandals themselves. Once corruption becomes the default, democracy shifts from governance to theater. Politicians perform reform while the machinery keeps running on its real fuel: favors, connections, and opaque money.

Yet signs of resistance flicker. Boycotts in Croatia and Greece against inflated retail prices. Street protests in Slovakia against pro-Russia pivots. Anniversary marches for the Tempi train disaster that turned grief into one of the largest public demonstrations in modern Greek history. These moments suggest people still care, still burn, still know that something better is possible.

The choice now is stark. Europe can treat corruption as another line item to manage, another scandal to outwait. Or it can admit that what people are feeling is not cynicism but clarity. The citizens already know the truth. The question is whether the institutions will finally blush again