COMMUNISM: THE TRIBUTE SHOWS

My Name Was “Blue Card 191270” on August 23, 1984, When I Was Forced to Participate in the “Tribute Spectacle” Held for the Dictator Nicolae Ceaușescu, the Sole “Celebrated Person” on Romania’s National Day at That Time.

August 23 and Ceaușescu

During World War II, Romania was allied with the Axis powers, fighting against the Soviet Union (then known as Russia) to reclaim the region of Bessarabia (today’s Republic of Moldova); this territory had been occupied in 1940 under the agreement between Stalin and Hitler—the infamous Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact of 1939. On August 23, 1944, Romania switched sides to join the Allies, and that date became the National Day until 1989. But it was also the beginning of Romania’s occupation by the Russians, who imposed the communist dictatorship as a model of governance. In 1965, Nicolae Ceaușescu assumed leadership of the country, a position he would hold until 1989. Initially, his regime was relatively moderate, but it worsened over time. In its final phase, Ceaușescu’s rule was extremely brutal and inhumane, reaching a level that surpasses anything you could imagine as Absolute Evil—similar to North Korea. Indeed, in 1971, Ceaușescu visited Mao Zedong’s China and Kim Il-sung’s North Korea and discovered the “Cult of Personality”; upon returning, he ordered the same to be implemented in Romania. Thus, the celebration of August 23 became one of the most important manifestations of this cult: every year, a “Tribute Spectacle” was organized on an even more gigantic scale than the previous year.

In 1971, Ceaușescu visited Kim Il-sung’s North Korea and discovered the “Cult of Personality.”

Tribute Spectacles

In fact, on August 23, a “Tribute Spectacle” was organized in every county capital, in front of the “First Secretary of the County of the Communist Party” (the equivalent of today’s prefect). The “First Secretary” was the local master, exercising at the county level a significant portion of the power Ceaușescu had nationwide. In Bucharest, the capital, the largest, most spectacular, most impressive “Tribute Spectacle” was naturally held for Ceaușescu. Read below the story of the 1984 spectacle, seen through the eyes of the fourteen-year-old boy I was, George.

The "23 August" Stadium (today the "National Arena") is the place where the homage shows of the 1980s were held.

Selection

Tens of thousands of adults and children from all social classes had to participate. Selection was done “eyebrow by eyebrow”: only those with white skin and athletic, Caucasian-type features were granted the “honor” of marching before Comrade Nicolae Ceaușescu and Comrade Elena Ceaușescu, his wife. The racism and xenophobia of the Ceaușescu couple far exceeded the worst manifestations of our contemporary world. Those who did not meet these physical criteria but were docile and easily controlled participated as “cards.” In the case of children, the school arbitrarily decided who had to participate, without asking for parental consent. If, by some miracle (or stupidity), a parent tried to object, the enterprise where they worked would be notified to punish them accordingly.

Refusal Was Not Possible

Refusing to participate carried severe consequences: holidays at the worst times of the year and in the least interesting places, denial of bonuses, salary increases, or promotions, reassignment to a lower position, or transfer to a worse workplace. Additionally, the “collective of workers” was obliged to marginalize anyone refusing participation. Children were psychologically abused: if they did not participate, their parents would face serious problems at work. Those hesitant or insufficiently enthusiastic were subjected to widespread “bullying,” organized by teachers and practiced even by classmates. And the cherry on top: all adults and children had to “volunteer” to participate in the “Tribute Spectacles.”

“Volunteers”?

Yes, everyone participating in the “Tribute Spectacles” was supposed to do so “voluntarily.” Thus, we were all “volunteers.” In reality, once the Communist Party leaders in schools, factories, and plants designated the participants, attendance was mandatory under the threat of the above punishments. To demonstrate the absurdity, phrases were invented such as: “You have been chosen to be volunteers,” “The Party has already selected the volunteers, and you are among them,” “If I am obliged to participate, I will volunteer with great pleasure,” and many others of the same kind.

Angelo—Spared by the Gypsies

Gypsies generally avoided the obligation to participate in the “Tribute Spectacles” because Ceaușescu, racist to the core, refused to see them. They were not suitable even as “cards,” being insufficiently docile; rather, they were quick to anger and would not tolerate being spoken to rudely, humiliated, or mocked. Those who disobeyed this common-sense rule would most likely have met the “knife.” The organizers of the “Tribute Spectacles” were not idiots; they valued their lives and physical safety. So they had no interest in confronting the gypsies when so many “volunteers” were available to treat them worse than animals. I, Angelo, did not belong to this ethnic group, but I lived and attended school in a neighborhood where they were the overwhelming majority. I played with and befriended the children and younger siblings of the older “tough guys” in the area, so I was under their “protection.” Consequently, I was never designated a “volunteer” for a “Tribute Spectacle.”

I Am Designated a “Volunteer”

It is the morning of August 23, 1984, and I am a boy, almost fourteen years old, in seventh grade. My classmates and I were urgently summoned to school from vacation. Even today, forty years later, living in New Zealand (where communism and Mars fall into the same category), I can still see the scene: my geography teacher and the Secretary of the Communist Party Organization at school (the absolute “master” of the school), Comrade Postolache, enter our classroom. With a sadistic smile, he announces that “The Party needs us.” And that one hundred students from our school—General School No. 67 in the working-class neighborhood “23 August”—have “volunteered” to participate in the “Tribute Spectacle” of that day. To “motivate” us, he promises the “Grand Prize”: two sandwiches, one with salty telemea cheese, the other with my favorite bologna. But first, we must go home and return in exactly one hour, equipped with the Romanian pioneer uniform in perfect condition, that is, with all…

At General School No. 67 in the working-class neighborhood of 23 August. In the photo on the left, symbols of communist propaganda can be seen. Here, Comrade Postolache summoned us for the grand demonstration on 23 August 1984.

Specific Insignia

The tie we were all obliged to wear was red, like the blood the communists always spilled in waves wherever they came to power. Plus epaulets, which could be yellow or blue; yellow for the “detachment commander” (class leader), blue for his assistants. That year, I wore yellow epaulets, and my job description (as well as that of my assistants) was simple: to relay orders from teachers, primarily Comrade Postolache, and ensure they were carried out. He ordered us to organize bullying or other forms of abuse against classmates who, in his opinion, did not uphold “communist values.” Depending on how we performed tasks, we received various medals; we were constantly told these insignia were extremely important, rewarding our efforts to be good “pioneers.” And as good “pioneers” today, we would become tomorrow “reliable” members of the Romanian Communist Party. Since only a maximum of 10% of a class could keep medals and epaulets, the rest received them temporarily. After the spectacle, they had to be returned in perfect condition to be reused. For Postolache and others like him, these were just props in a play in which we were extras.

My Fear

There was enormous pressure in the air, and I spent all of August 23, 1984, with terrible fear in my stomach, constantly asking myself: What if I make a mistake? What if I am not perfect? What will happen to me? What will happen to my family? Will they suffer because of this? It was immense stress for the child I was at that time. But everything went smoothly, and nothing serious happened. It was almost a miracle, as I had not participated in the endless rehearsals endured by most “Tribute Spectacle” participants.

Endless Rehearsals

Rehearsals began months before August 23. Participants no longer went to work, which, in the language of the time, meant they were “removed from production.” Instead, they had to travel to the stadium where the “spectacle” would take place, using their own means and paying for transportation themselves. There, they rehearsed endlessly the movements, cheers, steps, and all other details necessary for the smooth execution of the event. Hours upon hours, without water or food, in ever-increasing heat, like a desert, like an oven. A true endurance test that had to be passed at all costs. Those who could not endure were considered to refuse participation, with the aforementioned punishments applied.

The Blue Card

On that day, August 23, 1984, I walked about a kilometer to the “Republica” metro station, from where I took the train one stop to “Muncii.” Upon arrival, we had to wait two hours in the scorching sun, which today would have warranted a massive “red alert” for heatwave. Only then were we admitted into the “23 August” stadium (today called “National Stadium”): an impressive arena with over 70,000 seats. Our tasks were assigned: what each of us was to do. I was “Blue Card 191270,” and this was my name throughout the event; together with my classmates and approximately 3,000 other children, we formed slogans dear to Ceaușescu, the most important being “Doves of Peace” and “The Golden Age.” I was part of “Ceaușescu – the Youth.”

Elena and Nicolae Ceaușescu

The stadium is full. Nicolae and Elena Ceaușescu are at the official tribune. It is incredible and terrifying to see them there, with their bodyguards and accompanied by their most loyal followers: Dăscălescu, Bobu, Coman, Dincă, Verdeț; the order is not random but carefully determined by the Securitate and Ceaușescu himself. After them come others: deputy prime ministers, union leaders, workers’ leaders, and “heroes of socialist labor”; their names matter less, as tenure in such posts was short. Stadium amplifiers announce foreign leaders attending, the most important being: Erich Honecker, President of East Germany, a true “communist dinosaur”; Li Xiannian, President of China; José Eduardo dos Santos, President of Angola; and others, less significant. I can see them all from behind my blue card while trembling with fear. The blood they caused to be spilled at their command could fill the Pacific.

From left to right: Erich Honecker, President of the German Democratic Republic; Li Xiannian, President of China; and José Eduardo dos Santos, President of Angola.

“National Hero”

All I wanted was for it to end quickly, to return home, but to do that, I had to survive the spectacle. I am on the side opposite the official tribune, where a giant portrait of Ceaușescu is displayed. Next to the portrait is a large panel with the Communist Party’s hammer and sickle and the national emblem. Below, a huge propaganda banner reads: “Long live the 40th anniversary of the socialist, antifascist, and anti-imperialist revolution!” Tricolor flags are everywhere, doubled by the red Communist Party flags. Ceaușescu is presented as Romania’s “National Hero,” the main beneficiary of the event. As it is the 40th anniversary of August 23, 1944, the event is extremely important: more than canonization, it is deification, turning Ceaușescu into a God on Earth. And he watches the spectacle with a distant, almost absent gaze, disconnected from the multicolored river of people marching before him. He salutes the crowd with a mechanical, almost bored gesture.

The “Natural” Order

The army always opens the parade, followed by the Militia (today’s Police, but primarily a force of population repression rather than crime prevention). Next comes the procession of “workers”; designated as the “working class” or “proletariat,” they form the Party’s “base.”

Workers: “The Best Sons of the Country”

From behind my blue card, I see the workers passing and applauding the dictator fervently, to show their love: a perfect application of the motto “orders are to be followed gladly.” They come from various factories, dressed in different work outfits, carrying huge cards, mock-ups of the machines they work on. The stadium announcer presents them thus: “In energetic steps, in cadence, perfectly aligned, the workers from Semănătoarea pass. This year, the factory received the enterprise flag for outstanding branch performance. At the front is Comrade Ion Mischie, awarded the title of ‘best lathe operator comrade’; continuously engaged in an unrelenting war against waste, Comrade Mischie saved 100 Vidia tablets, resulting in a metal saving equivalent to three combines.” Evidently, “Comrade Mischie” cannot be located in the crowd and most likely does not exist. What matters is the mention of his work achievements—a key element of communist propaganda.

20,000 Pairs of Shoes

I also remember an incredible panel with a message that has remained etched in my mind forever: “The team of workers from Grivița Roșie commits to producing over 20,000 additional pairs of shoes in the coming months.” For me, this pledge was impressive, considering how difficult it would be to produce so many pairs! Later, I would wonder why shoes were still scarce in stores if so many were being produced.

“Peasantry”

In the second row, after the workers, came the “peasantry,” who had in common with today only that they worked the land. Neither the machinery, the land, nor its yields belonged to them; their real status was hardly different from that of black slaves on cotton plantations, for example. Instead of a white master, we had the First Secretary of the Communist Party of their commune. He was also very white, because racism was institutionalized: Gypsies and all who were not “snow-white” could not become cadres of the Romanian Communist Party. Cadres were not “intellectuals,” of course.

“Intellectuals”

The term “intellectuals” referred to people with higher education (engineers, doctors, architects, lawyers, etc.). They did not enjoy the Party’s “graces”; being too “intelligent,” they were harder to manipulate, abuse, or intimidate. During the parade, “intellectuals” came last, to show they were the lowest class in communist society. And, of course, to humiliate them further, making them wait until everyone else had passed.

The World Beneath the Cards

“Yellow on the right: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5! Blue on the left: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5!” We were greatly amused by the shouts of the individual who called himself the “spectacle director.” He yelled at his assistant, who yelled at us, to signal the cards and flags more quickly. The card choreography was extremely important, and the directors had to be creative. The moment’s importance was doubled by the enormous pressure from Party leaders, who tolerated no mistakes. Every participant, adult or student, was part of a vast machinery. Beneath the cards of various colors lay a whole colorful world. Strange figures, Party members or “propaganda officers,” crawled on their bellies, carrying small megaphones, dragging wires with devotion, shouting movement instructions at key moments of the spectacle. We were amused by their dedication: some were red-faced from tension and shouting—we could have thought they would have a stroke (where I was on August 23, 1984, this did not happen, unfortunately!). Next to us was someone with a whistle; red-faced, looking as if he might have a heart attack at any moment, shouting: “Now, one, two, three, red, four, five, and six, blue.” Finally, we could all show our blue cards, shouting to the world: “Ceaușescu, the youth.” I, number 191270, and thousands of other faceless cards.

What the Press Wrote

Above, I described what I felt and experienced, George, with the mind and eyes of a fourteen-year-old. And here is what the communist press of the time wrote:

“In an atmosphere of intense enthusiasm, patriotic pride for the great achievements of our socialist present, and confidence in the communist future of the homeland, the Romanian people, united around the Party and its General Secretary, Comrade Nicolae Ceaușescu, celebrated on Thursday the 40th anniversary of the social and national liberation, antifascist and anti-imperialist revolution, an event of crucial significance for the country’s destiny, which opened a new era in Romania’s history, in its development along the path of national independence and social progress.”Excerpt from Scânteia, the newspaper of the Romanian Communist Party.

Femeia, Cutezătorii, Flacara, Munca de Partid, Veac Nou, and other publications that reported, in 1984, on the grand demonstration of 23 August.

Four Years Later

It is the morning of August 23, 1988, and the situation has radically changed: I am almost eighteen, no longer afraid, and no longer alone! Together with Angelo, we form a true “Dream Team”: metalhead rockers and karateka. Our “record” of offenses against “communist values” is longer than a day of fasting. Moreover, we have just returned from the magical Retezat Mountains, which transformed us into men as tough as its rocks (read Retezat 1988 — When It All Began). So, being designated a “volunteer” for the “Tribute Spectacle,” I present myself determined to take revenge.

Revenge

At the last moment, the organizers of the August 23, 1988, “Tribute Spectacle” realised they had forgotten to summon Mihai Viteazul High School in Bucharest (one of the best high schools in the country). Naturally, because in the last years of Ceaușescu’s dictatorship, incompetence had reached heights greater than Everest. Desperate, all students present in the city are urgently summoned to the school, including Angelo and me, despite our rich “criminal” record. We present ourselves in the cleanest, most elegant high school uniforms before the Party Secretary at the school, Comrade Mincu—a valiant Passionaria of Romania, who experienced repeated ecstasies listening to Ceaușescu’s speeches. With our hands on the light blue U.T.C. (Communist Youth Union) ties, we solemnly pledged that “everything would proceed according to plan.” And the “plan” was fulfilled 100%.

The “Plan”

In our minds, the “plan” was that none of our classmates would end up marching before Ceaușescu; they were more than eager to escape this ordeal. Therefore, we ensured that, on the way to the stadium, everyone received precise instructions on how to avoid Militia patrols and “good citizens” who hunted down those fleeing the event. When our high school column reached the stadium, it was finally our turn to leave. We did so with teachers and Militia officers running frantically behind us. When we distanced them by about 50 meters, we stopped, turned, and sent them meringues: more humiliating than a resounding "Screw you!".

Epilogue

At the beginning of the school year, we were “investigated” by the communist school administration for this new offense against “communist values.” Our defense: we acted according to the pledge we made to them. After all, we had pledged to execute the “plan” as they requested. And it was their fault for not understanding what “plan” meant in our minds. In other words, we played with words and exposed their incompetence. Later, after the Revolution, we would build careers “playing” with words: me as a journalist, Angelo as a lawyer. And we continue to “play” with words even today, forty (40) years later, on our blog.