My name was 'Blue Cardboard 191270' on August 23, 1984, when I was compelled to participate in the 'tribute show' held in honor of the dictator Nicolae Ceaușescu, celebrated during Romania's National Day at that time.
August 23 and Ceaușescu
During the Second World War, Romania was allied with the Axis powers in a struggle against the Soviet Union to regain the region of Bessarabia (today the Republic of Moldova), which had been occupied in 1940 under the fateful Ribbentrop-Molotov Pact of 1939. On August 23, 1944, Romania switched sides to join the Allies, and this day became the country's national holiday until 1989.
King Mihai, the main architect of Romania's change of alliance on August 23, 1944, is depicted on the left. The Royal Palace in Bucharest served as the location where key figures of the Antonescu regime were arrested, and where the king formed the new government. Ion Antonescu and Mihai Antonescu had been previously arrested and were held at Casa Nouă, a villa near the palace that was destroyed in the following days by German bombings, shown in the center. On the right, we see the arrival of the 'liberating' Red Army in Bucharest. They entered the city a week after these events, finding it liberated from German forces, with the Romanian army prepared for battle and a government eager to align itself as their ally.
Communist dictatorship as a model of government
Following this date, Romania's occupation by the Russians began, imposing communist dictatorship as the government model. In 1965, Nicolae Ceaușescu assumed leadership of the country, a position he held until 1989. Initially, his regime was relatively moderate but worsened over time. In its later stages, it became extremely brutal and inhumane, surpassing even Franco and Mussolini in severity. To grasp the extent, one could draw parallels with North Korea today. In 1971, Ceaușescu visited Mao Zedong's China and Kim Il-Sung's North Korea, adopting their Cult of Personality. Upon his return, he implemented similar practices in Romania (soon detailed in the article 'Cult of Personality' on the blog). This transformed the August 23 celebration into a significant manifestation of this cult, marked each year by increasingly grandiose 'tribute shows'. To understand more, read the account of the year 1984 through the eyes of the 14-year-old I once was.
The selection, the participants
The 'tribute show' was organised nationwide, in every county capital, before the 'First County Secretary of the Communist Party'. This figure served as the local authority, wielding a substantial portion of the power held by Ceaușescu, the Supreme Leader, at the national level.
In 1989, the August 23 parade in Ploiești was organized, including at the 'Petrolul' stadium. To ensure everything went smoothly, pioneers were not only brought in from Ploiești but also from neighboring towns. Thousands of children labored under the hot summer sun from morning till night to ensure the event was flawless. As a reward for their immense effort, Eugenia received biscuits and a bottle of Pepsi, the ultimate treat for a child in those years. Photos from the 1980s parades in Ploiești are from the archives of the ATOM Ploiești Cultural Society.
Grand parades in the capital
In Bucharest, the capital of the country, the largest, most spectacular, and most impressive 'tribute show' was organized. The participants, including both parents and children from all social categories, were carefully selected: they were to be as Caucasian as possible, slender, and athletic-looking. They were observed by Ceaușescu, referred to as 'Tovarășul', and his wife, known as 'Tovarășa', as well as by other guests. Those who did not perfectly meet these standards but were more compliant and easier to 'domesticate', were used as mere 'cardboard cutouts' or 'posters'.
At the country's largest stadium, then called "August 23" and today known as the "National Arena", the grand tribute shows of the 1980s were held. The majority of the placards were meant to foster a strong sense of adherence to the programs initiated and developed by the Romanian Communist Party and its revered leader, as was cherished at the time. In the image on the right, you can see the phrase "Golden Age - Age of Glory", alluding to the period when Nicolae Ceaușescu led the country (1965-1989).
It was impossible to refuse
Refusal to participate carried serious consequences: being assigned holidays at the worst times of the year and in the least attractive tourist places, or being excluded from bonuses, salary increases, and promotions. You could also face penalties such as demotion or transfer to a less desirable position. Moreover, you risked marginalisation and ostracisation by your fellow workers; colleagues were compelled to minimise interactions with you. In the case of students, schools mandated participation without requiring parental consent; if parents objected, the employer of the respective parent would be notified, and the aforementioned consequences would apply. Children were coerced into participating through what we now recognize as 'psychological abuse': they were threatened with harm to their parents and themselves. Furthermore, teachers encouraged a form of bullying against students who dared to refuse to volunteer.
Angelo and I, along with other Romanian pioneers, demonstrated our supposed adherence and happiness with living in such an extraordinary era. In reality, everything was a masquerade, and we were the main victims—a huge lie that ultimately buried the communist system. On the right, there's an anniversary stamp from August 23, 1984, another tool of intense propaganda promoting the 'benefits of communism'.
"If we must, with pleasure!"
Yes, everyone summoned to participate in the demonstration was labeled with this title. So, in theory, all were 'volunteers', but in reality, everyone was forced to participate; if not, the consequences described above would befall them. Phrases like 'you were proposed to volunteer for...' or 'those who proposed to be volunteers for...' or 'if they must, with pleasure!' were invented to mask the coercion.
Angelo – saved by the Gypsies
The Roma (gypsies) were generally exempt from the obligation to participate in a 'tribute show'. Firstly, because they did not have the right skin color – they were "brunette" and "dark-skinned," which did not align with Ceaușescu's preference for "white" appearances. Moreover, they were not suitable for being used as 'cardboard cutouts' or 'placards' because they were not docile enough; on the contrary, they were quick to anger and would not tolerate being spoken to disrespectfully or mocked. Those who did not respect this rule (with common sense, let's admit it!) were very likely to encounter violence (a knife). The organizers of the 'tribute show' were not fools; they valued their lives and bodily integrity, so they avoided provoking the Roma. They had plenty of 'volunteers' ready to be controlled like animals. Though I, Angelo, did not belong to this ethnicity, I lived and attended school in a neighborhood where Roma were the majority. I played and was friends with the children and younger siblings of some of the most respected individuals in the area, affording me their protection. As a result, I was never chosen as a 'volunteer' for a 'tribute show'.
Endless repetitions
Rehearsals began months before August 23. The majority of participants were no longer working, but were 'taken out of production', as it was phrased at the time. Instead, they had to make their own way to the stadium where the 'show' would be held, using their own means and paying for their travel expenses. There, they tirelessly practiced movements, greetings, steps, and all other details necessary for the smooth execution of the event. This continued for hours on end, without breaks for water or food, in increasingly intense heat akin to a desert or an oven. It was a true test of endurance that had to be endured at all costs; failure to withstand it could be interpreted as a refusal to participate, resulting in the penalties mentioned earlier.
Rehearsals for the anniversary performances lasted for months and constituted real tests of endurance for both children and their parents. This meticulously organised choreography was, in fact, an obligation from which one could not escape, risking problems both at work and at school.
We are designated 'volunteers'
It was the morning of August 23, 1984, and I was a boy of almost 14, in the seventh year of school. My classmates and I were urgently summoned back to school from our vacation. Even today, 40 years later and living in New Zealand (where communism and the planet Mars fall into the same category), I still vividly remember the scene: my geography teacher and the secretary of the communist party organization at my school—Comrade Postolache, the absolute 'master' of the school—entered our classroom. With a sadistic smile, he announced that 'the Party needs us'. He informed us that 100 students from our school, General School No. 67 in the working-class neighborhood of '23 August', were 'volunteers' selected to participate in the 'tribute show' that day. To 'motivate' us, he promised us the 'Grand Prize': two sandwiches—one with salty 'telemea' cheese, the other with the children's favorite parizer, made of fat, scraps, and other unidentifiable products, more or less edible. The ultimate prize was a bottle of Pepsi, the coveted annual treat. However, before we could claim our prizes, we were instructed to return home and come back in exactly one hour dressed in the uniform of the leading Romanian pioneer, complete with all the requisite propaganda insignia.
TESTIMONY FROM COMMUNISM (by Dodo Nita)
Drinking the bottle of Pepsi was a real ritual. The day before, I placed a bottle in the refrigerator. The next day, after lunch, I cleared the table of dirty plates and dishes and placed the bottle of Pepsi and two transparent glasses on it. Then, I would open the bottle with a beer cap opener and enjoy the unique sound of carbon dioxide escaping as I poured the contents into the two glasses, relishing the ecstasy on my taste buds, pampered by the bubbles of the colored liquid, which fizzled orgasmically on my tongue. Only then would we swallow the refreshing drink, trying to savour its unforgettable taste. For years, I kept on the wall a cut-out poster from the magazine Flacăra, showing a glass filled with Pepsi and ice cubes, with the slogan 'Avânt și energie!'
The slogan 'Avânt și energie!' was conceived by the writer of humorous novels Vlad Muşatescu, who was then the technical editor at the famous Flacăra magazine.
Red tie with tricolour
These included the mandatory red tie we all had to wear, as red is the color of communists worldwide. Additionally, there were epaulettes, which could be yellow or blue; yellow ones were worn by the 'detachment commander' (head of the class), while blue ones were worn by his deputies. I had the yellow epaulettes; my role was to relay orders from the teachers, particularly from Postolache, and ensure their execution. These tasks generally involved extracurricular activities, which today, in places like New Zealand, France, or the EU, would be considered 'abuse' or 'bullying', depending on how they were carried out. Depending on my performance in these tasks, I would receive various medals; we were constantly told that these badges were highly significant, rewarding our efforts to be good 'pioneers'. We were also told that the 'good pioneers' of today would become 'promising' members of the Romanian Communist Party tomorrow. Since medals and epaulettes were only given to a maximum of 10% of the class, the others received them on a temporary basis; after the event, they had to be returned in perfect condition for future use. To Postolache and others like him, they were just props.
At the general school no. 67 from the 23 August worker's quarter. In the picture in the middle, you can see signs of communist propaganda (behind me), photos of Comrade and Comrade Ceausescu, on visits to various enterprises and several absolutely insipid propaganda books. The first one from the right is George, the detachment commander, before the start of the school year, with a red tie around his neck and a bottle of Cico (a Romanian brand that should have competed with Pepsi Cola, but was actually a rather dry lemonade ). This is the class in which Comrade Postolache summoned us for the great demonstration of August 23, 1984.
Blue cardboard 191270
We walk about one kilometer to the metro station 'Republica' (The Republic) and then travel one station to 'Muncii' (The Work). Upon reaching our destination, we wait for two hours under the scorching sun, a condition that today would warrant a severe heat wave warning. Only then are we ushered into the country's largest stadium, an impressive arena with over 70,000 seats. Here, roles are assigned, detailing what each of us will do. I, George, am designated as Blue Cardboard 191270, a name I will carry throughout the entire event. Alongside my colleagues and 3,000 other children, we form slogans cherished by Ceaușescu, the most significant being 'Doves of Peace' and 'Golden Age'. I believe I was part of the 'Golden Age'.
One of the slogans we displayed at the grand event! In the photo, George is positioned just above the last letter "C" in Ceaușescu's name, represented as a blue card. Unfortunately, the photo is in black and white.
Elena and Nicolae Ceaușescu
The stadium is packed. Nicolae and Elena Ceaușescu occupy the official stand. It's both incredible and frightening to see them there, flanked by their bodyguards and accompanied by their most loyal followers: Dăscălescu, Bobu, Coman, Dincă, Verdeț—each meticulously arranged by the Securitate (the Romanian equivalent of the Gestapo/KGB) and Nicolae Ceaușescu himself. Following them, others appear: deputy prime ministers, union leaders, workers' representatives, and 'heroes of socialist labor'; their names matter less, given the brevity of their tenure in such positions. The stadium's loudspeakers announce the names of foreign dignitaries in attendance, with notable figures including Erich Honecker, the president of the German Democratic Republic, a true 'communist dinosaur'; Li Xiannian, President of China; Jose Eduardo dos Santos, the president of Angola, and other lesser-known figures, whose notable achievement was likely enough to fill the Pacific with bloodshed. I can see them all from my position behind my cardboard, trembling with fear.
The most important external participants, from left to right: Erich Honecker, President of the German Democratic Republic; Li Xiannian, President of China and Jose Eduardo dos Santos, President of Angola.
The 'National Hero'
All I want is for it to end quickly so I can go home, but first, I have to survive the show. I'm stationed across from the official stand, where a massive portrait of the dictator looms. Nearby, a large sign displays the logos of the party and the republic, under which hangs a propaganda banner proclaiming, "Long live the 40th anniversary of the socialist, anti-fascist, and anti-imperialist revolution!" Tricolour flags adorn every corner, complementing the red banners of the Communist Party. Ceaușescu is portrayed as the "National Hero of Romania," the central figure of the event; everything we do here is in his honour. Being the 40th anniversary of August 23, 1944, the occasion is not merely a celebration but a canonisation, an attempt to deify Ceaușescu as a god on earth. The dictator himself watches the spectacle with a distant gaze, almost absent and disconnected from the multicolored stream of people parading before him; he greets the crowd with mechanical, almost bored gestures.
The 'Natural Order'
The Army always leads the parade, followed by the Militia (equivalent to today's police, though primarily tasked with suppressing dissent rather than fighting crime). Next in line were the 'workers', representing the core of the Communist Party as the 'working class' or 'proletariat'. Behind them, the 'peasants' formed the second row, the other key component of this 'base'. Peasants of that era shared little in common with their modern counterparts beyond toiling the same land. They did not own the agricultural machinery, the land itself, or its produce; their status was akin to that of slaves on cotton plantations, for instance. Instead of a whip-wielding overseer, they answered to the First Secretary of the Communist Party in their commune (albeit with a somewhat shorter whip). Of course, Gypsies, not being of the 'true' Romanian ethnicity, were excluded from Communist Party ranks. Only in the third row did other groups, broadly termed 'intellectuals'—those required to obtain higher education for their professions—march, lacking the favor of the Communist Party.
Workers - 'the best sons of the country'
From behind my blue card, I observe the workers passing by, enthusiastically applauding the dictator to demonstrate their affection for him—a perfect example of "willing compliance". They come from various factories, dressed in their respective work uniforms; some carry large cardboard models of the vehicles they help manufacture. The stadium announcer introduces them with great enthusiasm. For instance: "Marching energetically, in perfect alignment, here come the workers from Sower. This year, their factory has been honoured with the title of leading enterprise in the sector. Leading the group is Comrade Ion Mischie, acclaimed as 'the best fellow turner', known for his tireless efforts in battling waste. Comrade Mischie has reportedly saved 100 Vidia pills, resulting in a metal economy equivalent to three combines". It's likely that 'Comrade' Mischie cannot be distinguished among the crowd of workers, and perhaps he doesn't even exist in reality. What matters is the mention of his labour achievements—a crucial element of communist propaganda.
20,000 pairs of shoes
I still vividly recall an astonishing sign, its message permanently etched in my memory: "The team from Grivița Roșie reports to the party: the production of over 20,000 additional pairs of shoes in the coming months." I found this commitment impressive, especially considering the challenges involved in producing such a large quantity of shoes! Later, I would ponder why there were no shoes available in stores despite such ongoing production.
A sequence from the demonstration on August 23, in which I participated. In front, only half, you can see the slogan of Griviţa Roșie.
The world behind the cardboards
"Yellow to the right, to the music: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5! Blue to the right, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5!" We are greatly amused by the outbursts of the man who calls himself the 'show director'. He shouts at his assistant, who in turn yells at us to signal faster with the cards and flags. The choreography with cardboard is deemed important, and the directors strive to be creative. The gravity of the moment is amplified by the immense pressure from party leaders, who tolerate no mistakes. Each participant, whether adult or student, is a cog in a vast machine. Beneath the colored cardboard lies an entire world, vibrant and varied. Various eccentric figures, party members or 'propagandists', crawl on their stomachs, wielding low-powered megaphones and handling their strings with dedication, shouting movement instructions at crucial moments of the show. We find amusement in their earnest fulfillment of duty; some are red-faced from the tension and shouting (one might fear they'd suffer a stroke, but unfortunately, such incidents were unheard of in my neighborhood on August 23, 1984!). To our right stands one with a whistle, his face crimson and seemingly on the verge of a heart attack as he bellows: "Now one, two, three, red, four, five, six!" And finally, all of us proudly display our blue cards, proclaiming to the world: "Ceaușescu and the youth!" I, number 191270, along with thousands of other anonymous cards.
The press of the day
Above, I've described what I, George, saw and experienced with my own eyes at the age of 14. Now, let me share with you what the communist press of that time wrote, excerpted from 'Scânteia' (the Spark), the newspaper of the Romanian Communist Party: "In an atmosphere of strong enthusiasm, patriotic pride for the great achievements of our socialist present, and confidence in the communist future of our homeland, the Romanian people, closely united around the party and its General Secretary, Comrade Nicolae Ceaușescu, celebrated on Thursday the 40th anniversary of the social and national liberation revolution, anti-fascist and anti-imperialist, an event of crucial significance for the country's destinies, marking the beginning of a new era in Romania's history and its progress towards national independence and social advancement".
Communist propaganda permeated through various media outlets of the era such as Femeia, Cutezătorii, Flacără, Munca de Partid, Veac Nou, and numerous other publications. In 1984, these publications extensively covered not only the grand demonstration on August 23 but also the 13th Congress of the Romanian Communist Party.
My Fears
There was an extraordinary pressure in the air as I endured August 23, 1984, at almost 14 years old, consumed by terrible fears. I wondered: what if I make a mistake? What if I'm not perfect? What will happen to me? What about my family? Will they suffer because of it? It was an enormous burden on the shoulders of the child I was back then. But everything went well, and nothing bad happened. Yet, I knew deep down that it would come...
The Rematch
Four years later, on August 23, 1988, I sought revenge. By then, I was approaching 18 years old (turning 18 in December). Alongside Angelo, I formed a 'dream team' - both of us were rockers (today's equivalent of 'metal' fans) and practiced karate. Both activities were considered extremely dangerous under Ceaușescu's communist regime; we were viewed as more threatening than 'foreign agents' in Putin's Russia (to better understand the severity). In the week leading up to the "tribute show" on August 23, 1988, the organisers realized they had failed to gather students from "Mihai Viteazul" High School in Bucharest, one of the country's top high schools. It must be noted that in the final years of Ceaușescu's dictatorship, incompetence had reached heights higher than Everest; such oversights were more than common. Desperate for the cause, the high school students are summoned on the morning of August 23; including us, despite our rich 'criminal' record. That's what the secretary of the party organization decided, Comrade Mincu - a true Passionaria/Ana Pauker/Zoia Kosmodemianskaia of Romania, who experienced repeated and intense orgasms listening to Ceaușescu's speeches. Angelo and I arrived in the cleanest and most elegant high school uniforms; a few months earlier, we would have ignored this summons, but by then, it had been Retezat, and we were no longer the same (read 'Retezat 1988 - When it all started'). In front of the high school management, with our hands on the blue UTC tie, we solemnly swore to behave in total accordance with 'communist ethics and equity'. Angelo and I even proposed to be the 'platoon closers', responsible for ensuring that no one 'evaporated' on the road.
Running Away
I made sure that on the way to the stadium, no one left without receiving precise instructions from us on where to go and how to proceed to evade the Militia patrols and other 'do-gooders' who were hunting those fleeing the demonstration. We were the last to leave after evacuating a good portion of our colleagues. When we reached the stadium, we too fled, with teachers and militia men running frantically behind us, though utterly futile as they couldn't keep up with the new athletes. Moreover, when we had distanced ourselves by about 50 meters, we stopped, turned around, and taunted them with gestures more humiliating than any verbal curse. At the start of the school year, they investigated us, and we asserted that we had kept our promise: we hadn't allowed anyone to leave simply. Their failure to comprehend the continuation of our phrase - that we didn't let anyone leave 'without our consent' - underscored their incompetence. This was unsurprising, as later, after the Revolution, I would forge a successful career as a journalist, and Angelo as a lawyer, before we both left Romania for good - me to New Zealand and Angelo to France (see 'Romania at the Crossroads: The West or Russia').
Below, you can view archival images from the demonstration, produced by the one and only Romanian Television, the country's sole broadcaster.
Comments