I was full of admiration looking at the people who had moral authority to be there, as representatives of the revolutionaries (I can at all times call them like that) from Bucharest: Romeo Raicu, Florin Filipoiu and others. I don’t remember exactly whether there were also Dumitru Dinca and Dan Iosif, who have appeared subsequently more often, but not on the same side of the barricade, as they had been – in a proper mode. Anyway, I made up an idea about the confrontations within the Capital, too. I don’t insist, because I’m not in the situation to have something special to say.
The subsequent biographies of the men I saw in that exceptional day (December 22, 1989) are also proofs for Iliescu’s imposture, backed up – naturally – by huge efforts to remove uncomfortable witnesses. (I have the conviction that legitimacy – for which he went so much and which he claimed in front of those who had no way of contradiction – won’t be granted to him by history, as he hasn’t got it from lucid minds, either.) Dumitru Dinca hasn’t yet fulfilled his dream to see communism brought down, but continues to fight for that dream also on forums where I can learn his ideas. Dan Iosif – the only who offered a revolutionary source to Iliescu’s party, with its diverse denominations – has left politics, as far as I know. (Unfortunately, in 2007 he has also left this world, because of a cancer.) As for the others, they appear only on anniversaries; else, they continue to practice their professions. We ought to consider Doctor Filipoiu a pride of our “guild”.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
Having the conviction that my message is clear and the hope that this new digression didn’t dilute my narration, I reach the most important (as I was going to notice thereafter) appearance in the first hours of free expression: that of Ion Iliescu (another one who fought Ceausescu from the interior – like Teoctist.) He was presented by Brates with much ado: “son of a revolutionary, he himself a revolutionary”. Reading his biography recently, I realized what that really meant, but when I saw him for the first time, I had never heard of him before. Conversely, my father knew a thing or two: he was the man that Gorbachev saw as a reformer of the system for us. What’s certain is that I couldn’t assign to him any kind of dissidence – and it was more than a year since I listened to foreign channels.
I became quickly aware that many of those in the studio, ahead with the coordinator, were informed about the role destined to that man with a modest aspect, starting with his clothing. I find the term “role” appropriate; soon, it was easy for me to conclude that the representatives of the television maneuvered in such a way that they could impose to the public this quasi-unknown man, thus making his path smoother.
It also seemed strange to me that he spoke unbothered, considering the agitation in the room. I was wondering why the director of the Technical Publishing House (as he introduced himself, also affirming that the revolutionaries had brought him with a lot of sympathy, almost forcing him to leave job earlier) was more worthy of attention than the people who had suffered in the streets. I couldn’t dissipate my puzzlement urgently; I left it temporarily behind and focused upon listening to him. I have approved him in the beginning, as my opinion, too, was that socialism had been maculated by Ceausescu.
Several specifications are imposed here: I have always believed that a decent life for everyone is possible, and continue to desire a society that would create the frame for that. Party documents defined communism as a world in which these ideals would be met. The perfect equality between all individuals was stated, and another fundamental feature was depicted by a well-known – at that time – formula: “from everybody according to capacities, to everybody according to needs”. As my horizon and life experience were limited, I wasn’t aware that such a society is for angels, not for human beings. Now it’s clear to me that it will be long till the time will come (if ever) when the engines of progress and of individual and public richness will no more be competition and concern for private propriety. As a matter of fact, the results of Gorbachev’s actions, based on his trust in the positive side of the system, could be seen.
Therefore, just this is to add: luckily, the construction of communist society proved to be beyond the reach of those who had enthroned socialism, in the sense used also by Iliescu: the totalitarian regime pretending to belong to left political wing and to which the denomination of communism was applied after 1989. I, too, employed (and still will) the term with this connotation; it doesn’t correspond to my opinions, but I want to avoid confusions. (An even bigger confusion appears when some assimilate communism with the ideology of Marx, Engels and Lenin.)
Perhaps it’s not necessary to point out that the essence of this first intervention of Ion Iliescu was predictable; nearly all of us were preparing for a sort of perestroika or “communism with a human face” (it was just the face, indeed!). However, I saw Corneliu Manescu as the new leader; I explained before why. This is how the French had announced, and I thought the ground was that his international prestige was still remembered. By the time I learned that, in fact, it was about some resemblance to Sergiu Nicolaescu (who was also present from the beginning of this unforgettable transmission), we – in the interior – were edified regarding who ascended to leadership.
Honestly, I couldn’t have imagined that Iliescu would reappear; in any case, not more frequently than others. That’s why I was surprised – a state that quickly left place for a sort of resignation, as the man was far from enchanting me – when he was the one to communicate that the National Salvation Front was constituted. This already told that he would count among the new leaders, and I surely didn’t understand what gave him the right to be there. (That moment, I had no way to know that in the location of the central committee governments had been done and undone. Even the ex-prime ministers Dascalescu and Verdet had come to offer service, but, naturally, they were expelled by the representatives of the demonstrators. The latter, however, were also removed – by those who were prepared to seize power and later tried to impose what they missed: legitimacy – stolen, in the first place, from the authentic fighters against Ceausescu.)
When I could have a cool judgment of the events, it became clear to me – even without knowing what was behind the scenes – that the revolutionary phase ended (and was even counteracted) with Iliescu’s leap in the front plan. For the moment, however, it was not so evident that he grabbed power. With the slyness he would repeatedly prove, he co-opted all known dissidents in the Council of National Salvation Front (abridged NSF). I had no objections to Laszlo Tokes (that would have beaten all!), Doina Cornea or Mircea Dinescu, as well as toward the authors of the protest letters from communist positions. Conversely, even today I think ab¬out Ana Blandiana that she had no subversive intentions in one of her poems, but we couldn’t expect her to shed light upon that; evidently, the posture was convenient for her. I was totally puzzled regarding Gelu Voican-Voiculescu, about whom truly nobody of us had heard. What he shared to us about his former activity (a geologist continuously researching through mountains) was not at all consistent with his military clothing. I didn’t like the name of the new formation, either; it took my thoughts to the National Rebirth Front of Carol (Charles) II (by which this king instituted dictatorship). Nevertheless, I was disregarding details. It was capital that we had got rid of Ceausescu – and there were a few guys who knew this much better than us, the commons.
As justly said the man who had read this first act of the new power, (“the last on the list, with your acceptance” – to quote him), the priority was uninterrupted provision of vital necessities. It’s probable that instructions had been given, since rapidly were formed NSF organizations, down to the level of villages. I still had the naiveté to believe that they had been created by common citizens, and not by party structure metamorphose, considering the strict discipline within. (I was just partially wrong; like at the central level, the authentic opponents were progressively held down.) Conversely, it became clear to me that the last on the list would become the first within hierarchy. What I couldn’t infer was how much bloodshed and grief he was going to provoke along with the maneuvers destined to impose his position.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
The next episode that I believe to be outstanding, in that entirely memorable afternoon of December 22, is the first meeting held under the auspices of the new power. Since, as I emphasized, only fine thoughts and sentiments could find a place inside me, I had no other feelings about what I saw, save it was strange and illogic.
It’s probably easy (especially for the Romanians) to infer what I refer to: speeches were held from the balcony of the Central Committee, i.e. on the side of Palace Square opposite to that where Ceausescu had spoken (This seems suggestive to me only now.). The speakers were in the range of spotlights, as it had darkened outside. Simultaneously, in the background (where, evidently, the street enlightenment wasn’t working) fire exchanges took place. It appeared bizarre that the soldiers – who, as I told, had fraternized with the opponents of Ceausescu – were conducted by two actors: Ion Caramitru and Sergiu Nicolaescu. I have speculated, by the way, that the latter thought he was in one of the films directed by him over the years[1].
Overall, what was happening made no sense. Logically judging, the regular troops could shoot only on those still faithful to the man who had fled. The television had already presented them as elite military, specialized in diversion and terrorism. (They had been mentioned in connection with the poisoning of the water sources, if memory serves me right.) Given their training, they should have aimed the new leaders first, especially if the latter exposed themselves like in those moments. On the other hand, one expected that the fight against such military would be coordinated by persons trained in the domain (generals Guse and Vlad – who were at the head of the army and Securitate troops, respectively), especially as they had announced to have passed under the command of the new structures. The situation seemed too serious to assimilate it to a cinema sequence. Yet…
As I’ve pointed out before, I couldn’t imagine on the spot that all of us were double-crossed. Completely different, however, was the situation in the autumn of 1990, when I arrived in Bucharest for the first time after Ceausescu’s fall. I had been edified for some time regarding his follower (in more senses). Nonetheless, in the bottom of my soul I refused to accept that the latter had mocked our enthusiasm so badly, hence I said to myself that I must see personally – the only criterion that, since Christmas 1989, I consider absolute – how the shooting was in Palace Square. Cruel truth was confirmed: all the buildings in the zone were riddled with bullets, apart from the residence of the Central Committee (and of the Senate’s, thereafter); it hadn’t been touched, even by mistake. What can I say about the University Library? To strike by cannon in a cultural site is typical for a Bolshevik of the most miserable breed. At the same time, however, it was the only part of that meeting which had intelligible parts: one could immediately make the connection with the period spent in Moscow (as a student) by the man who had become democratically elected as president in the meantime.
I know it’s tiresome for the majority to follow a frequent change of planes, so I’ll strive to inhibit this tendency. On the other hand, I’m convinced to have conveyed the desire to transpose myself in those days, in order to also avoid doing the grand and seeming cynical. Having these in mind, I’ll say nothing about terrorists, except that we had all reasons to believe they were active, since they still had whom to fight for. Nicolae and Elena Ceausescu had been seen in several cars, continuing their run. I was wondering that so many forces – military and volunteers – weren’t able to stop a Dacia (a Romanian type of car) for which the route and license number had been given, but I attributed that to the chaos in the country. I had too big emotions and too much credulity to figure out that in fact what was natural had happened: the two had been captured, but the interest was not to make public the indubitable final of the preceding regime. There wouldn’t have been any longer justifications for the armed confrontations and for the maintenance of tension. The manipulation wasn’t perfect, however; even I felt that something was dubious when – later that evening – an announcement was made that in Timisoara the shots were resumed. There could be no one to do it; it was known that the army had passed on the people’s side even during Ceausescu’s rule (for two days at least), and special troops hadn’t been displaced there.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
The best way of continuing to focus on the essential aspects is to highlight the proclamation of the National Salvation Front, thus bringing this document back again to the place where I have put it during its reading (by Ion Iliescu, of course). I do not wish to describe it in detail; I wouldn’t be capable of this, using only my memory. I feel, however, the urge to do some commentaries – especially because I see two distinct parts in it.
I wasn’t impressed by the promise to assure food, electricity, heat and fuel necessities; it only made me remark again what a misery we had reached. No country of the Soviet bloc had problems with lacks of this kind, as I had seen right there. As for the liberation of the abortions, it was a comeback to what Ceausescu had forbidden. Therefore, I continued to feel that they prepare a more endurable communism and nothing more. By the way, I keep in mind that during all afternoon the term “comrade” had been used, primarily for Iliescu, Barladeanu and other veterans of the party.
However, the great surprise came quickly. It was the commitment to organize free elections, hence a system with more parties. I had reserves regarding the electoral chapter; I didn’t quite imagine that parties able to contend with the unique existent could set themselves afoot till spring. I must add that I didn’t even think of the Liberal or Peasant’s party; I was convinced that they had disappeared in 1947 – along with their members, of course. In a word, it seemed remarkable to me that intention to set grounds for an authentic democracy existed, but I had the reticence that we want too deeply to equalize at once countries like Czechoslovakia, which had broken with communism having a completely different level – not only of life. Anyway, as soon as the elections were announced, the term “comrade”[2] disappeared.
What is truly important can be related in a few words, so I have no reason to speculate any more upon this document. It would be futile to add what I felt when having the perspective of a normal life, as I knew it directly – but for a short time. (I had stayed just two weeks in West Germany and Austria). I’ll speak further about the other illusions I made; for the moment I want to highlight – considering also the beginning of this paragraph – how unpleasantly I was impressed by the analysis of the text proclamation that Ioan Grigorescu did as if we had been idiots, thus wasting our time.
I omit (as I did when he appeared) the fact that he had been a privileged of the Ceausescu regime – impression which couldn’t be wiped out by the interruption of the episodes of “World spectacle” (one of his serials of documentary films). His books continued to be available, and one of them proved that he complied with the orientation from above. Short time after the fall of the emperor of Iran, when the leader of Romania had passed from exhibiting a great friendship to the condemnation of the “esploiter” (this is again an intentional spelling error, adapted from Ceausescu), Grigorescu had rushed to underline that the handles at the toilets within the palace in Tehran were of massive gold. I remembered this while he twisted in all possible ways every word of the proclamation.
Until showing how loathing evolved to fury, there is one more sequence I can’t omit. Around midnight, the birth (out of the official paper of the Communist Youth Organization) of the newspaper “Tineretul liber” (“Free youth”) was announced; those who had contributed to the first number (seemingly Caramitru, too, was among them) spoke about “the German Jew writer Heinrich Heine”. Immediately the thought transported me to the legionnaires (Romanian organization considered of extreme right wing before World War II), whom I considered extremists at that moment (and it had no way to be otherwise). It’s clear what sort of opinion I had of them, as I was fed up with the others – so-called left-winged. (I’ll stress “so-called” at all times, because I pretend to have an idea about the left-wing and right-wing orientations. That’s why I see the political spectrum as a circle: the extremes draw near.) Coming back to this kind of reference to Heine[3] (friend of Marx, by the way – as one knows), I subsequently realized that it was one of the first signs for Iliescu’s intention to compromise capitalism. Unconsciously or not, those from “Tineretul liber” played his game, by opening the path for idea connections centered on the flaws of democracy.
I am not sure whether in those hours, too, there appeared veterans who communicated the restoration of the National Peasants’ Party, at whose name they added the orientation (Christian and Democratic), thus adapting to contemporary times. Obviously, it was for me a huge surprise, which – naturally – eclipsed the impact produced by the reappearance of the National Liberal Party. I also don’t remind whether these historical parties have immediately communicated their intention for “restitutio in integrum”[4] (restoration in whole), which was an immense political blunder. This claim was also totally unfounded; youngsters had self-sacrificed for other purposes. The sole result they obtained was to draw water to Iliescu’s mill (and give him electoral advantage): it was easy for the bugbear with the return of the landlords to have success, mainly among those who had passed through the epoch before World War II – not idyllic, either.
I had too little time for reflection, because of the occurrence of the part that I considered the most horrifying of the week (which anyway was as it was). By 1.30 a.m. (I recall this as if it were today) Brates appeared with a desperate visage, making an appeal to the population to come in a large number in order to defend the residences of the national radio and television, attacked by the terrorists. Almost immediately, the broadcast was interrupted, and I was horrified that the beautiful dream would come to an end. I still have the sensation to have stayed an eternity in front of the dark TV-set, with ideas increasingly sinister sprouting into my mind. I was seeing myself capable of committing suicide if Ceausescu had come back, because the possibility to take care of my family would have been out of the question, anyway: there was no more future for us.
I was together with my father (the two women had fallen asleep, and one couldn’t expect my son – aged 3 – to be deeply impressed by the events), but we had no drive to utter a word. Conversely, the smoke of cigarettes could be seen better and better in the darkness of the room. When – finally – we had a transmission again, my gladness was affected by the resumption of Ioan Grigorescu’s commentaries. Whilst we were not knowing the fate of the audio-visual media (and of the country, implicitly), he continued with the undisturbed tone before. I foamed at the mouth seeing how calm he was, but in a few days I realized why: he knew that everything was a maneuver of Iliescu, destined to demonstrate that the latter had the people’s adherence for the definitive removal of the former government. The new leader had not participated in the revolutionary phase, nor had he been a dissident, so he had no better way to obtain legitimacy (which was normal to obsess him, although only a small part of the population has raised this problem).
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
I think that the same full night the idea that (communist) party members should stay aside and repent was launched for the first time. In any case, I have read such a thing in our county newspaper. Despite the fact that I was bothered by the perspective of encountering impediments in implicating into the process of birth of an entirely new Romania, I said to myself that reserves – and even reluctance – toward all that belonged to the communist party were normal, so I had to have the decency to stay at my place. Nevertheless, this hostile reaction was not quite justified; the overwhelming majority of the almost 4 million members, including me, had borne the shortages imposed to common Romanians – as we were, in fact. It’s only that the enrolling into the party gave one the chance to obtain advances in profession that were not possible otherwise. I’d like to be logically deduced that one needed a certain level in order to be accepted; the Romanians more advanced in age will admit this, even just for themselves. Therefore, almost all of those who boast that they haven’t been RCP (Romanian Communist Party) members ought to be more prudent: they didn’t reach that status because they weren’t called on. One may count on own fingers the people who had the dignity and courage to refuse the admission offer or – even more – to give back their membership card (which meant the renunciation to this quality), as a sign of protest.
Subsequently (and too late) did I edify that the common members of the RCP should have stepped aside. Those accustomed to talk a dime a dozen, grounded on the lack of convictions apart from their own ascent, came out in front again, without the slightest embarrassment. (It’s just how a female friend of mine once said: “Ceausescu has only put the pot of cream in front of them; he didn’t also grab them by the scruff of the neck to force their muzzle into that pot”.) The phenomenon is admirably depicted by Ileana Vulpescu in “Arta compromisului” (“The art of compromise”), as is the passivity of those around toward such manifestations. This lack of reaction, added to the reserve of sensible intellectuals, did nothing but draw water to the impostors’ mill. This was the entrance into a vicious circle, which we still witness and which represents one of the weighty causes of the (mainly moral) disaster out of which nobody knows when (and if) we’ll emerge.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
(…)I learned about the massacre at the Otopeni airport. That very moment already, I realized that something was not all right: how could one send military school pupils when an objective of such importance is in dispute? Subsequently, even with my weak knowledge in the military domain, I came to the conviction that it was another tragedy conducted by Iliescu. I hope that the victims’ parents didn’t give up the trial, which must add to others bond to the so-called revolution, as well as to the ones concerning the actions of miners in June 1990. It’s possible, considering how justice works by us, that the man who inspired these bloody episodes will not be condemned until I finish this work. It wouldn’t make a difference to me; one more testimony against Iliescu doesn’t count too much, because his guilt is more than evident. Considering what was in Otopeni, the situation is the same for Victor Atanasie Stanculescu, whom I consider associate to the collective assassinate.
I didn’t mention him by now, as I considered he is not relevant for the narration – besides the fact that the happening with his leg in gypsum is extremely well-known in Romania. (He pretended to have a broken leg in order not to accept his appointment as minister of defense – Ceausescu’s last decision.) It didn’t matter who was the minister of the army those hours (that’s why I don’t know any more whether Nicolae Militaru had already been appointed), since all of the operations should have been commanded by Stefan Guse – the chief of the General Headquarters, maintained in this function after Ceausescu’s run. As far as I remember, he had no knowledge about the orders concerning the massacre of the airport – orders which were given in such a manner that the youngsters would shoot one another. Those in the shadow knew when to provoke everything; the dim light of dawn added to the scarce training of the soldiers. (I don’t wish to talk about the weak instruction of the officers, due to the predominance of politics in this domain, too; that would exceed the subject.)
I must admit not to have given so much attention to this mass crime at that time, since something that shocked me profoundly appeared. It’s an extremely important sequence in the run of the December events; the constantly mentioned Ion Iliescu had serious reasons to want us to forget it – and he succeeded with this, until recently. In essence, after an alarm for an air attack coming from above the Black Sea, George Marinescu has announced that the new leadership has appealed to the embassy of the Soviet Union, and the latter have promised immediate military aid.
I think I wasn’t keeping in mind any more that, the preceding evening, Iliescu had told that he had informed the Russians about the composition and orientation of the NSF. I had given attention to this action only to the extent that I felt vexed: what had the great power of the East to do with the fact that – finally – we had freed ourselves from tyranny? Did we, by any means, have to ask their permission? (I edified later.) Therefore, when I heard about the Soviet intervention, seemingly a huge hammer struck my head; if the price for getting rid of Ceausescu had been the foreign invasion, I preferred not to pay it. Thus, the future heralded itself completely somber. With these sentiments, I gave up the idea to offer myself as a volunteer – in my profession (medicine) especially; I didn’t want to go into the service of nation and country traitors. Disgusted of all, I went to bed and wasn’t aware of anything for some two hours.
I wouldn’t anyway have learned on the spot that General Guse – who, too, was announced by the television about this appeal (made behind his back, exactly like the assault against Otopeni airport) – had warned that he would shoot to everything moving within the terrestrial or aerial space of Romania[5]. (There were also rumors about “aid” troops that had just entered Moldavia.) This was too much for the men of KGB climbed on the shoulders and corpses of the wonderful youngsters. They could do nothing to him for the moment, but – as maybe it’s still known in Romania – he died of a bone cancer with galloping evolution.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
My contentment in relation to the new state of things was affected only temporarily by the appeal to the Soviets, but couldn’t be complete until I knew Ceausescu was under control. (Perhaps I should have thought that all of the new important people have spoken too freely and have launched the proclamation too self-confident to fear about restoration; however – I repeat – trustfulness has always characterized me.) The great and salutary news came by 6 p.m., together with the assurance that exclusively the troops faithful to the Romanian people possess heavy armament. Only then was I convinced that tyranny is definitively buried. (I wanted to use the term “regime”, but this survives through its representatives. I hope that at least the entrance into the European Union will bring the definitive disappearance of communism – more or less manifest – in this so mocked country.)
By postponing one day the announcement of the arrest, with a purpose that I have already highlighted, Ion Iliescu becomes guilty also of psychic aggression upon his own (theoretically) people, but especially of serial murders. By maintaining the myth of terrorists, he made possible the tragedies at the Military Academy and Otopeni, as well as the sullying of people who served their country with honor. (I remember the great handball player Dan Marin, awfully beaten because he seemed to be a terrorist in the eyes of a low breed man.) Even admitting that the accusations above emerge from my own interpretations (being subjective therefore), the well-known figure argument is unassailable: after Ceausescu’s run there have been 10 times more victims than from December 16 to that event.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
The evening of that Christmas, I was at my door-to-door neighbors when the trial and the condemnation of the two Ceausescu were announced – together with the promise that the cassette would be broadcasted the same night. It’s normal that I kept vigil; I was deadly curious how one of my most beautiful (and most absurd, at the date of its birth) dreams was going to fulfill. (It was, in fact, the only somehow materialized – in all my existence.) As probably my compatriots still know, I waited in vain. It’s easy to understand what I felt at this first mockery of Iliescu’s regime. (…)
The sole effect of this sleepless night was that I missed the moment when Iliescu and Brucan acted resolutely. Doina Cornea was reduced to silence, and a young man’s appeal to continue the revolution hadn’t – evidently – had any adherence. He hoped that the demonstrators of the preceding week would gather in the subway station of the University Square, to remove the neo-communists, but these already held control. I don’t even know whether anyone came to that meeting.
In some way it was good that I haven’t seen then the trial expected with so much enthusiasm; I would have been even more disappointed. Out of this reason – together with the fact that it was debated and resumed excessively until recently (and will still be) – I shall refer to that masquerade only for pointing out the aspects that I considered worthy of that.
On the first place stays, for sure, the way it ran – hence the term “simulacrum”, used (justly) by almost everybody. It was not ridiculous (though this is what Romanians notice easier), but filthy, that the defense lawyer was the most vehement accuser. It was not clear to me then that the new leaders wanted to get rid of the old one as quickly as possible; I thought that paranoia made the latter speak about “foreign agincies”. (It’s again an intentional spelling error, as it’s easy to guess.) Later, when I learned about the suicide of the chairman of that court, I started to have puzzles. It wasn’t long until everything corroborated: they eliminated the bothering persons, one way or another – including General Guse, whose attitude I reviewed.
All these actions (I refer also to those that made so many innocent victims) denote – maybe I repeat that – the “school” of KGB, with the lack of any scruple or human sentiment in attaining the goals. There was much chatter on the fact that such a source would also have determined the rapid and uninhibited killing of the couple that had terrorized us: it was stressed that a profoundly Christian people, like ours, wouldn’t dare do this at Christmas. It’s one of the circumstances when I have a distinct point of view, which I desire to highlight. Besides the fact that everyday life gives me serious grounds to doubt that the majority of the people here are deeply touched by Jesus’ teachings, to kill on a great religious holiday constitutes a sin if the victim is a fellow man; however, the two Ceausescu were wild beasts.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
What I consider important is to evidence the aspects symptomatic for the treason of the ideals of those who intended to make a revolution; thus was produced our stagnancy on the way to civilization. It’s very sad that we’ll still endure the consequences of that deviation of the authentic capitalism toward something farcical, reflecting Stalinist vision upon consumer society and democratic organization within it. One can see clearly that even now (2005) we stumble at the door of the European Union, although the external support (and interest) is incomparable to that at the end of the nineties. This shortcoming is also linked to the fact that some bad habits from the first months of post (?)-communism perpetuate. It can’t be otherwise, since even today we haven’t the politicians we would have wished. A basic characteristic of theirs should have been the absence of any connection with the apparatus of the totalitarian regime.
At the end of 1989, I had for a short time the illusion that this desire accomplished, hearing of the new prime minister. The name Petre (Peter) Roman told me nothing, and I considered him agreeable at the beginning, young as he was. (If I’m correct, he was born in 1946; hence, at that time he was 2 years younger than I’ll be this autumn[6].) My good sentiments toward him amplified when I noticed how many foreign languages he knew. (I have doubts regarding Italian, but – although I am reserved toward his ambition to show that he can speak that language, ambition grounded on an overstated self-pride – I liked how he has hit it, based on French and Spanish.) It’s for sure that he attracted especially the women of my family (like those all over the country, as a matter of fact), who – except for my wife (luckily!) – saw him as very gifted, too. Without wanting to open way for speculations upon my envy for his renown and attraction, I feel the urge to affirm that this impression of utterly special intelligence was given mainly by the skill in expressing himself. I am far from the intention to deny his intellectual capacity – above the average, indisputably. Nevertheless (and also as an anecdotal detail), I must point out that he was not strong at all in geography; picky as I am, I didn’t spare him for expressions like “the Far Extreme” or “the former Eastern Germany”.
It’s easy to understand what a blow I got when I learned that the young head of the government doesn’t come quite out of nothingness. I consider stupid to depict here, too, the biography of Walter Roman, even if he is one of the individuals whose facts can’t be omitted, even after death. I prefer to bring a detail, bound also to his son: in 1990 I noticed that a manual of so-called “scientific socialism” was written by Walter Roman and Petre Roman. (A name coincidence, in the case of the latter, was ruled out; it was specified that he was an assistant lecturer at the Engineering School.) I had to mention this, for it was an aspect kept dark (naturally) by “Pedro” – as I began to call him following the parade of Spanish he was concerned to do. Therefore, the bugbear concerning an engineer activity of such a nature that made him receive a scholarship in Toulouse didn’t work with me, as also was not going to work the one about his spontaneous participation in the revolution. A colleague of mine, who had been in Bucharest those days, knew from a trusted source that Roman constantly told his students something like that: “Let me pass ahead, as I must be seen!” Maybe his words were not quite those, but the essence remains.
The descendants should not be judged by the deeds of their parents and it’s not right for the former to pay for those deeds. I applied this principle also to the personage I speak about. Yet, there were enough moments when one could see the environment he came from. Moreover, his activity during the period I evoke (as well as thereafter) contradicts his claims to have fought with all his force for a modern society. I set aside the stirring of the masses against the historical parties; I focus upon the economic field, where he often pretended to be a courageous promoter of capitalism, impeded by Iliescu and his miners to carry out his program. Only this is to comment: one of his first measures, presented in loud voice as a big step to privatization, was the establishment of enterprises with 20 employees at most. The newspapers have shown immediately that in the former German Democratic Republic, within a typical communist economy, there were private units with up to 100 people. I add that Petre Roman also created the big gas and electricity monopolies, and I think comments are not necessary. As an overall image (having also the value of a conclusion), I markedly remember that the previous regime had left a surplus of 4 billion dollars, and at the end of his government we had external debts again. Therefore, it seems comprehensible to me that he contradicted with vehemence (but with no substance) Tom Gallagher, the author of that just analysis of the Romanian society – starting with the title (“The stealth of a nation”)[7].
I have some more to retain from the end of 1989. One of the remembrances is linked to an afternoon of guard in the gynecology clinic where I completed my studies. Although a week had passed since the announcement of Ceausescu’s arrest, the dark comedy about terrorists hadn’t ended yet. Even now, I don’t realize what the sense of my presence in that place was; of course, no weapon had been given to me. Naturally, I killed almost all of my time on the TV. In one of the broadcasts, the well-known caricaturist Mihai Stanescu was asked like this: “What will you do now, as there’ll be nothing left to criticize?” He smiled rather enigmatically, and I didn’t understand why; like many others, I was convinced about the truth in that question. Soon, however, I realized (unfortunately) that he knew a thing or two.
I’d also point out the New Year’s Eve night, spent – after a considerable period – together with a group of close fellows, fact which has harmoniously fit into that nice period. I liked that Iliescu and Roman had the decency to appear at 9 p.m., unlike Ceausescu (just before midnight). However, my good mood was quickly left behind: on that occasion, I learned, from the colleague that had told me about Petre Roman, how organized had everything been in Bucharest on December 22.
—————————————
1] Maybe he had reasons.
2] If we went to essence, this word denotes a most noble relationship, but was it altered by the communists.
3] I directly conveyed them my disagreement, in a letter.
4] The phrase “restitutio ad integrum” is more acknowledged, but for them is fit the formula from the text (taken over from the mass media). Unfortunately (I say so because the generations after the war are disregarded), it seems that their claims start to be honored, the path opener being King Mihai (Michael). It’s outrageous that he accepts to receive 30 million euros, when the people subsists as we know.
5] General Guse remains a controversial personage. Some call him criminal, starting from the fact that he was the man sent by Ceausescu to repress the revolt in Timisoara. Let’s not forget, however, that Guse also ceased fire, allowing the worker columns to demonstrate, on December 19, 1989. I don’t think that, next day, Viorel Oancea would have let the first free meeting run, if he hadn’t had the general’s permission. (Viorel Oancea, a major at that time, was in command of the troops that surrounded the Opera Square. He became later mayor of Timisoara.)
6] I didn’t modify what I wrote in 2005.
7] I sense that I will refer to this book again; I intend to do that in a separate article. However, I already ought to emphasize its essential message – according to me, at least: until those holding the power will not want to understand what a true democratic society means, we won’t be able to integrate within modern Europe, even if we’ll be admitted into the European Union – formally and in case they are interested to do that. (In the meantime, the work I spoke about was presented to the Romanians throughout the world, on the Internet.)
Leave a Response »