LENIN AND STALIN: THE LOW-COST VERSION

Looking at our inept sovereigntists, Georgescu and Simion, I reached a devastating conclusion, one that struck me like a bolt of lightning in the middle of a peaceful siesta: they are the dizzying spirits of Lenin and Stalin, lost in a second-rate talk show. Why? Well, let me explain briefly before you suspect I've lost my mind—although, given the state of the political scene, it's clear I'm not the only one in this predicament. First of all, we have their speeches about the "people" and "traitors"—a pathetic symphony of recycled slogans that would make even Soviet propagandists blush with shame. With the airs of backstreet revolutionaries, Georgescu and Simion pose as defenders of the nation, fighting against the invisible enemies of sovereignty. Only, unlike Lenin and Stalin, who at least had a plan (even if it was a catastrophic one), our guys are dilettantes who confuse politics with a contest of nationalist shouts.

Then there's their complicated relationship with democracy. Stalin would have been proud of the way they eliminate opponents—not with bullets, but with waves of insults and crude manipulation. Instead of purges, we have Facebook live streams; instead of terror, we have fake news and collective hysteria. Lenin dreamed of a dictatorship of the proletariat, but our sovereigntists want a dictatorship of ignorance. The difference is subtle but essential. And yet, unlike their spiritual idols, our guys will only remain in history as folkloric figures, good for jokes and memes. Why? Because, unlike Lenin and Stalin, who at least knew what they were doing (albeit in the most sinister way possible), Georgescu and Simion are mere children of fate, playing at being cardboard revolutionaries in an absurd play. But who knows, maybe I'm wrong. Perhaps, in some glorious future, their names will be etched on grand pedestals, and our descendants will weep with nostalgia for the "golden age" of Romanian sovereigntism. Or, more realistically, they will be lost to oblivion, just like all bad jokes once the momentary effect fades. But let me get back to my explanation, as I don't want to be accused of getting lost in metaphors and poetry, just as our sovereigntists get lost in the labyrinth of their own ideas.

I can almost hear Georgescu uttering the same alarmist phrases that Lenin would have written with revolutionary ink, only adapted to the modern age—with less Marxist theory and more conspiracy theories about "foreign agents." Instead of talking about the dictatorship of the proletariat, he rants about a Brussels dictatorship that, in an utterly malevolent way, imposes absurd rules like... food safety standards and environmental protection. Tragic, right? But let's not forget about Simion, our provincial Stalin. If Georgescu is the visionary leader caught in an imaginary revolution with invented enemies, Simion plays the dangerous disciple, ready to turn words into action—or at least into memorable public scandals. Unlike Georgescu, who gets lost in tedious tirades, Simion compensates with a much more direct, aggressive, and... "Romanian" style. If Stalin purged enemies in Siberia, Simion purges them on social media and from TV studios, in a grotesque spectacle of cheap populism. And here comes the ultimate irony: just as Lenin viewed Stalin with suspicion and considered him a threat, Georgescu avoids Simion like the plague. He feels his ambition, knows he's capable of eliminating him from the political chessboard, but unlike Lenin, who at least tried to prevent the rise of a tyrant, Georgescu just grumbles. And Simion, like his Soviet original, waits for his moment, smiling falsely and nodding approvingly until he can become the undisputed leader of the Romanian sovereigntist revolution—or, more realistically, the next electoral talk-show host. However, Simion lacks Stalin's strategic refinement—instead of meticulously orchestrated plots, he prefers loud spectacle and theatrical victimization. While Stalin annihilated his opponents through show trials and summary executions, Simion responds with wails about how the "system" persecutes him and puts obstacles in his way, as if he were the only politician in the country forbidden to play dirty. But where this provincial Stalin truly shines is in the art of manipulation. The Soviet original read Lenin's testament with Machiavellian skill. The moment was well-rehearsed, as Stalin fiercely condemned himself. A century later, Simion plays the role of the popular hero with the same mastery.

He presents himself as the simple man from the people, the fearless fighter against "the system," only to reveal, surprise, that he is part of the very system he curses. But no matter, it works— the public is too busy cheering him on to notice the contradictions. Just as Stalin slipped between his political rivals and proclaimed himself the absolute leader, Simion knows he must always be the first in front of the cameras, the first at rallies, the first in symbolic street fights. While Stalin took photos beside Lenin's coffin to cement his image as the heir, Simion takes selfies at protests to solidify his status as "the people's leader." Everything is image, everything is spectacle. And people believe it. Just as the Soviets pinned their hopes on the "man of steel," some of the electorate sees Simion as the savior of Romania. For now, he still plays the role of the rebel, the outsider. But who knows? Perhaps one day he’ll find his Trotsky to exile—or at least a rival to eliminate with a well-orchestrated scandal. Thus, history repeats itself, first as tragedy, second as farce, and the third time... as a Tik-Tok live stream. Finally, we have Lenin and Stalin reincarnated in low-cost versions: one with the speech of a bus-stop revolutionary, the other with the manners of a stadium thug, ready to throw nationalist flags and empty rhetoric to make the crowd scream in ecstasy. If this is the future of sovereigntism, maybe we were wrong to laugh at Caragiale. After all, he was right: "We live in Romania, and that occupies all our time."