Last Friday a fire broke out during a heavy metal concert at Bucharest nightclub, Colectiv. There was only one exit from the basement club, and other safety guidelines had not been followed. It soon transpired that local authorities had granted Colectiv permits without reference to legal procedures or conducting checks. Thirty-two people died and more than 150 were injured.

Most were young fans, but one was a Roma mother of five who was working for the club without a contract. Many Romanians felt clear about what to blame – widespread corruption and a malfunctioning state apparatus – and took to the streets. About 25,000 people marched in Bucharest, and thousands more marched across Romania. On Thursday this week, after a night of protests, the Romanian prime minister, Victor Ponta, resigned. Unconvinced, Romanians went back to the streets, with 70,000 out all over the country

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The explosion of pain and anger since the fire is massive but not sudden. In July, Ponta was indicted for tax evasion, money laundering and conflicts of interest. Last month a policeman in the security detail of the interior minister, Gabriel Oprea, died in a road accident during a trip whose official purpose is being questioned.

Protesters called for Oprea’s resignation but he refused to step down. This week protesters renewed their calls for Oprea and Ponta to resign, adding to the list Cristian Piedone, the local mayor responsible for granting Colectiv its permit. With next year’s elections in mind, Ponta must have seen the week’s marches as a final blow (and a chance for a less humiliating exit). Piedone too stepped down.

Yet Ponta’s resignation is not the real news from Romania. What is important is how Romanians have turned sadness and frustration into solidarity and responsibility. Lines to donate blood for the wounded were so long that hospitals had to send people home. Owners of music clubs announced that they were voluntarily closing down because they too would not pass safety tests. During the demonstrations, slogans read “Not caring kills”, “I have been quiet – now I am shouting”, and “Reset Romania”.

On Facebook pages of the protests (and there will be more), discussions are about how to ensure firefighters conduct proper checks of buildings, or the need to increase the health budget so that in the future the ambulance system and hospitals can cope with large numbers of severely wounded. Everyone is talking about relying on the power of citizens to change the system.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Roșia Montană gold panners. Their village was destroyed to make way for a mine. ‘Protestors said the fight for Roșia Montană was ‘the revolution of our generation’.’ Photograph: Karen Robinson/The Observer

Like the anger, this is not new. It’s a constructive spirit that has been carefully cultivated by activists since 2013, when public mobilisation saved the village of Roșia Montană from being destroyed to make way for a goldmine. Back then, protestors said the fight for Roșia Montană was “the revolution of our generation”. A language of hope and action began to grow, replacing the generalised post-socialist cynicism.

Once Roșia Montană was saved, many activists stayed connected. They fought to save forests and parks, to oppose evictions of the poor from their homes and to limit police abuses. Tens of thousands more followed these efforts via social and traditional media.

Put to shame for not having covered Roșia Montană, TV channels scrambled to cover activists’ stunts and messages.

In today’s Europe, public anger is often capitalised upon by right-wing populists and the far right. Across the continent, from David Cameron’s UK to Viktor Orbán’s Hungary, frustration with economic precariousness is often channelled into antipathy against migrants. In Poland each 11 November – the country’s national day – thousands of people (many of them marginalised youths) participate in marches organised by far-right groups.

But in Romania, grassroots efforts have managed to concentrate popular dissatisfaction with failures to take responsibility for public life. It’s not unique to Romania and it’s extremely fragile. But for a fleeting second, maybe we should acknowledge the possibility of a positive collective spirit emerging from terrible tragedy.