Itt-Ott, 1992 (25. évfolyam, 1/119-3/121. szám)
1992 / 2. (120.) szám
Akadémia Nicolae Harsányi Old Conflicts in New Times Presented at the convention of the American Association for the Advancement of Slavic Studies, Miami, FL, November, 1991 All the events of the second half of December, 1989 pointed to the fact that a whole series of grievances deeply affecting Romania’s population could and should be solved, and thus a grim chapter would obviously come to its long-awaited conclusion. The wave of euphoria that swept all over the country after Ceau?escu’s overthrow was equally made up of satisfaction and hope: in cities such as Timisoara, Cluj, Tirgu Mure?, Bra?ov, Arad and Bucharest, the dictatorship was chased from power, and there was hope, because there was confidence that the new chapter that opened on the afternoon of December 22, 1989 would mean the beginning of new times, free of the monstrosities engendered by communism and so generously called to life in Romania. In this context, one of the hopes shared by a great many people was that 1989 meant a watershed in the nature and character of the relationship between the Romanian majority and the ethnic minorities. The uneasy relationships between the Romanians and the minorities are rooted in a past that is too remote to deal with here. The present situation has more to do with the recent socialist past than with the historical one. The former has been insufficiently researched, while the latter is incompletely known, for the purpose of historical scholarship was seldom aimed at bringing to surface the truth because it was used for ideological, propagandists and political purposes. When asked about minority policy in Romania, Ceau?escu always came with the “good news” that such problems had been “solved” in Romania. What he had in mind was a utopian, homogeneous society, in which any kind of differences, including the ethnic ones, were leveled. The steps toward “homogenization” implied different strategies according to the groups that they were aimed at. Much has been written about the profoundly unjust treatment of the minorities in the Ceau?escu years. Still, it is worth sketching how the majority’s minds were gradually honed. History had been appropriated as a propagandistic tool. From what was taught in the classrooms, from what could be read in various magazines, from Romanian-made movies, from the media, there emerged the same self-flattering image of the Romanians: a kind, gentle, generous, brave, just people, endlessly plunged in righteous battles and struggles against all sorts of regional enemies, many of whom are represented by the minorities today. The surrounding nations did not seem to have any reliable qualities, nor a good role in history, and they distinguished themselves mainly by exploiting, and profiting from, the good nature of the Romanian people. This 26 ITT-OTT 25. évf. (1992), 2. (120.) szám conceited myth (1) was also bolstered by Ceau?escu’s much-jingled policy of national independence and sovereignty. At the same time the minorities were more and more marginalized. It was not a frontal elimination. Whenever challenged on this issue, the regime was always ready to produce some legal provisions that neatly stated equal rights (and obligations) for all the citizens of the Socialist Republic of Romania. The restrictive measures were never all written down or published, most often being put into effect following telephone calls or secret instructions. Theaters performing in Hungarian, German or Yiddish existed, but were required to make up about half of their repertory from Romanian plays in translation. (The Romanian theaters never staged works by minority authors.) While the minorities were constantly reminded of their duty to be thoroughly acquainted with the Romanian language and culture, Romanians were never encouraged to get any idea of the minorities’ languages and cultures. Moreover, the latter’s achievements were systematically played down. For instance, tourist guidebooks for foreigners never mentioned that the medieval towns in southern Transylvania (Bra?ov, Sibiu, Sighi?oara, Media?) had been the result of eight centuries of German civilization in the area. A large number of administrative measures were designed so as to dilute the minority concentration and to alter the nationality pattern of different regions; Romanian names were given to traditional non-Romanian villages (e.g. Hung. Újszentes became Dumbrävfta, Russian Jurilovca > Unirea, Turkish Murfatlar > Bäsarabi, or Murighiol > Independen^a). Under such mounting pressure, the minorities clearly faced an accelerated and involuntary extinction or assimilation. The smaller the ethnic group, the more threatened and helpless it was. And as officials, executives, Securitate and army officers were overwhelmingly Romanian (the minorities being firmly barred from such positions in the last decade), the oppression took on a national dimension too. This resulted in growing waves of emigration, either legal or illegal. The Germans and the Jews were literally sold at wholesale and retail prices (2) to their respective mother-countries. These communities, although traditionally numerous, are about to disappear. The Hungarians and the Turks also fled to Hungary and Turkey, at lower rates — these countries could not pay for them! Others, including lots of Romanians, simply risked crossing the heavily guarded borders in search of freedom. Embittered by the hardships of everyday life, the ordinary people were less and less willling to be permeated by the nationalistic offensive whipped from the top. The minorities blamed more and more the regime and Ceau§escu himself for their own frustrations. This feeling of having a common enemy was the strongest tie between people constantly set against each other. When, in a desperate move, people took to the streets in Timi?oara on December 16, 1989, nobody thought
