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Al-Ahram Weekly 7 - 13 October 1999 Issue No. 450 
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Published in Cairo by AL-AHRAM established in 1875 |
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Al-Ahram Weekly 7 - 13 October 1999 Issue No. 450
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| Published in Cairo by AL-AHRAM established in 1875 |
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Egypt Region International Economy Opinion Culture Interview Features Profile Travel Living Sports People Time Out Chronicles Cartoons Letters After totality
By Gavin BowdAugust's total eclipse was meant to mark a new era for Romania. The nation was to shake off associations with demented dictatorship and emaciated orphans. Tourism would be boosted by an influx of Westerners in search of 'totality'. To mark this anticipated change in fortunes, the week of the eclipse also saw the auctioning of Ceausescu's private possessions, from fur-coats to Buicks offered him by Richard Nixon.
However, events since 'totality' have only shown how much the past still weighs on Romania, and how deep is the crisis the country now finds itself in. The number of tourists was well below expectations, with most of them preferring the comforts of arch-rival Hungary's Lake Balaton. The Ceausescu auction revealed an ambivalent attitude to the past: the money from sales at the late dictator's Spring Palace went to the State's empty coffers, while the event provided an opportunity for dictatorial nostalgics to pick up valuable souvenirs. On the evening of totality itself, a concert by Luciano Pavarotti failed to mask the nation's malaise: preceded by a promotion campaign which alarmed intellectuals by its almost totalitarian nature, the event was sold to the spectator for $200 a ticket -- twice the average monthly wage. Singing La Traviata in the former Avenue of the Victory of Socialism, Pavarotti's massive frame was dwarfed by the backdrop of the Palace of Parliament, the postmodern edifice erected by Ceausescu which post-Communist governments have so far been too poor to demolish.
Nature had its own, depressing angle on things, too. In the wake of totality, thunderstorms and an earthquake rocked Romania. Landslides, flooded highways and collapsing buildings laid bare the fragile and inadequate state of the nation's infrastructure, and the mayhem they sewed was compounded by a series of public health scares. The Romanian Ministry of Health may have managed to distribute eclipse spectacles to all and sundry, but proved helpless in the face of an epidemic of conjunctivitis.
Ten years after the fall of Communism, Romania therefore serves as an example of failed transition. While neighbouring Hungary has attracted $22.5 million of foreign investment, Romania, with more than twice the population and geographical area, has pulled in only a quarter of that amount. While Hungary, the Czech Republic and Poland enter NATO and prepare for membership of the European Union, Romania finds the door to the Western clubs still firmly shut.
Not for the first time in her history, the country feels betrayed. The overthrow of Ceausescu was meant to enable the rediscovery of Romania's links with the West, but though financial aid was vital to revive the economy, very little has been forthcoming. During the Kosovo crisis, President Constantinescu went against public opinion by giving NATO free access to Romanian airspace and enforcing the embargo on Yugoslavia. But as of today, the only rewards the nation has reaped for its cooperation are a freeze on trade through the Danube, and stringent budgetary policies imposed by the International Monetary Fund.
The crisis is also aggravating the conflicts between the ruling coalition partners. In 1996, the 'democratic' opposition defeated the 'neo-communist' Ion Iliescu, on a platform of radical economic reform and aggressive openness to the West.
Meanwhile, since 1996, the standard of living for most Romanians, particularly pensioners and public sector workers, has plummeted, and the nation's infrastructure has crumbled. Corruption scandals continue unabated, while foreign investors have hardly offered a shining example: in August, Kvaerner pulled out of Romania only one year after pocketing a substantial sum in state subsidies to come in.
Unsurprisingly, the polls show a resurgence in support for former President Ion Iliescu and his Party for Social Democracy. Surveys predict almost certain victory for the man many still associate with the miners' rampages through Bucharest in the early nineties. His continuing popularity has been enough to sow panic in the governing coalition, as well as rumours of constitutional attempts to debar him from actually standing again for president.
Ion Iliescu is currently a man who exudes confidence. Fresh from whipping up the miners of the notorious Jiu Valley, he laughs at the mention of the squabbling coalition: "They are panicking. They are afraid of Iliescu!" he told the Weekly. He remains proud of his record as president between 1990 and 1996. The economic decline was, he claimed, "due to objective factors," his language betraying his Moscow education. He nevertheless presided over the creation of a democratic society, for the first time in Romania's history, and stimulated a new private sector with fiscal policies. But Iliescu is forced to admit that "we never compensated for the losses incurred since 1989". Since his defeat, Romania's decline is due to "subjective factors" -- that is, the "arrogance, aggression and incoherence" of the new government.
However, Iliescu is far from clear about the possibility of an alternative, 'social-democratic' or otherwise. Instead, he rages against the foreign lenders who dictate current policy: "The IMF and the World Bank ignore the specific nature of countries. Someone who is an expert on Madagascar comes to tell Romanians how to run their economy. They should respect the lives of the citizens: the economy is not an abstract entity. They should offer credits and a repayment schedule, but nothing more."
It is a sign of the times, and a reflection of Iliescu's own baroque career -- having been Ceausescu's heir, he served as his executioner -- that he must cut short the interview to go to a reception, not at the neighbouring Russian embassy, but across the street, at the US mission, where a gaggle of visiting Congressmen await him.
Ion Iliescu may be on course for a third mandate as President of Romania, but the past still haunts him. His friend, General Stanculescu, Ceausescu's last chief of the armed forces and now a millionaire arms dealer, is currently awaiting sentence for ordering troops to fire on anti-Communist demonstrators in Timisoara in December 1989. Stanculescu has always insisted that he was only obeying orders, and took pride in organising the show-trial and execution of Nicolae and Elena Ceausescu on Christmas Day of that same year. The imprisonment of such a "hero" of the revolution would tarnish the reputation of the army, and wave a suspicious finger at Iliescu's own role in those chaotic days. "The judgement is a very grave mistake," says Iliescu darkly. Meanwhile, the government, acting out of vindictive pique, has voted for the restitution of property confiscated after the Communist takeover in 1945 -- a measure which could lead to Iliescu being evicted from his own home.
If Iliescu does return to power, he will face enough contradictions and double-binds to test his Soviet training in dialectics. In the absence of indigenous capital, Romania must look abroad for investment. However, this entails sacrifices by that part of the electorate from which Iliescu draws his strength. In a land where pensioners outnumber salaried workers, it is the latter who must shoulder the burden of financing Romania's ramshackle public services. Meanwhile, those who profit from the parallel economy created since 1989 can drive around the streets of Bucharest in blacked-out BMWs, indifferent to the tax-man and the pavements' beggars.
This month, experts from the IMF will be visiting Romania to assess its "risk rating" for foreign investors. They will find a fractious and resentful political class, widespread fraud, and a social climate of strikes and simmering violence. If they were to visit Ghencea cemetery, a mile from the Palace of Parliament, they would also find ragged pensioners leaving pathetic bouquets on the graves of Nicolae and Elena Ceausescu.
