On November 24, 2024, Romania held the first round of its presidential elections, which delivered a surprising and contentious result. Călin Georgescu, a relatively unknown candidate, achieved unexpected success, but his victory was overshadowed by allegations of electoral fraud. After thorough investigations, the Constitutional Court annulled the election results and mandated a complete rerun of the process. Georgescu has openly expressed admiration for Vladimir Putin, staunch opposition to NATO and the European Union, and unabashed anti-Semitic views. His rhetoric harks back to the extremist ideologies of the Legionary Movement, drawing inspiration from figures like Corneliu Zelea Codreanu and Horia Sima, with undertones reminiscent of Nazi policies. His views on women's roles are equally regressive, advocating the Nazi triad of Kinder, Küche, Kirche ("children, kitchen, church") to confine women’s rights to the domestic sphere. The resurgence of such toxic ideologies poses a grave threat and demands unequivocal opposition from a society that must uphold the lessons of history.
Călin Georgescu, candidate for the presidential elections in Romania, ranked first after the first round of voting.
The Constitutional Court annulled the second round following revelations from the CSAT (Supreme Defense Council), citing external interference and support from Russia via the TikTok platform. This decision delivers a decisive blow to Călin Georgescu's candidacy, abruptly ending his unexpected ascent. Once more, history demonstrates that a return to toxic ideologies yields nothing but unequivocal rejection from a society that has learned from its past mistakes.
Anti-Semitism: A Dark History, from Its Origins to the Holocaust
Anti-Semitism, the hatred directed at the Jewish people, has been a dark thread woven throughout history, culminating in the incomprehensible horror of the Holocaust. As a history teacher and passionate history enthusiast, I, George, teach the course "Anti-Semitism and the Holocaust" at one of New Zealand’s most prestigious high schools. Over the years, I’ve often pondered the question: What has fueled this relentless hostility towards Jews through the centuries? My answer is a deeply unsettling one—envy, a characteristic entrenched in human nature. Throughout history, Jews have often been viewed as prosperous and influential. Their well-maintained homes, success in liberal professions, thriving businesses, and important roles in economies—including as bankers and moneylenders—often made them vital members of the communities they inhabited. Yet, rather than receiving the respect and admiration they deserved, this prosperity often turned into contempt and hatred. This toxic blend of envy and resentment became the engine that drove anti-Semitism for centuries, perpetuating itself across generations and continuing to manifest in modern societies. Its roots are deeply entrenched in stereotypes and prejudices, which evolved into ideologies that justified exclusion, persecution, and, tragically, genocide. Anti-Semitism is not merely a relic of the past; it remains a painful reminder of the dangers of unchecked prejudice. Understanding this phenomenon is crucial to ensuring that the mistakes of history are not repeated, and to fostering a society that is fairer, more inclusive, and respectful of all people.
"Biblical" Arguments: The Roots of Anti-Semitism
The origins of anti-Semitism can be traced back to biblical times, particularly to the era of Jesus. A personal memory highlights the persistence of this prejudice: as a five-year-old child in Romania, I once asked an elderly person, “Why do you hate Jews?” The answer I received left a lasting impression: “Because the Jews killed our Lord Jesus.” This response encapsulated a deeply ingrained bias, passed down through generations, unchallenged by historical facts. In truth, Jesus was condemned and crucified by Roman authorities, not the Jewish people. The only "fault" attributed to the Jews was their refusal to recognize Him as the Messiah—a theological stance rather than a criminal act. Nevertheless, this false myth has served as a justification for hatred and violence against Jews for centuries. In Romania, as across Europe, anti-Semitism became entrenched as a historical legacy, sustained by misinformation, superstition, and religious manipulation. Misinterpretations of sacred texts were weaponized to foster intolerance, which ultimately evolved into systemic persecution and, tragically, into large-scale atrocities. Understanding and dismantling these myths is a vital step toward addressing prejudice. By confronting these historical distortions, we can work to build a society rooted in tolerance, knowledge, and mutual respect.
Jesus Christ played by Robert Powell in the "Road to Calvary" sequence, from the famous film "Jesus of Nazareth", directed by Franco Zeffirelli in 1977.
The Middle Ages: An Era of Persecution
The Middle Ages were a period marked by relentless persecution of Jews, who were frequently scapegoated for the era’s hardships and crises. Rulers and nobles often accused them of being the source of societal woes, a convenient pretext to evade repayment of loans borrowed from Jewish lenders. The Church played a significant role in perpetuating these prejudices, branding Jews as "killers of Jesus," a charge that deeply stigmatized and isolated Jewish communities. This accusation, combined with a lack of critical understanding among the populace, solidified the perception of Jews as a perpetual "other". Influenced by these narratives, the general population began attributing every misfortune—be it plagues, droughts, floods, or wars—to the Jewish people. This pervasive hostility created a climate in which violence, discrimination, and mass expulsions became not only common but also socially sanctioned. The Middle Ages thus stand as a stark reminder of how fear, ignorance, and institutional bias can conspire to target vulnerable groups, with devastating consequences.
Representation of how the Jews were treated in those days.
Violence and Discrimination
One of the most brutal manifestations of anti-Semitism unfolded during the Black Death (1346–1353), a pandemic that claimed the lives of more than half of Europe’s population. Amid the widespread chaos and despair, Jews were scapegoated, falsely accused of poisoning wells and deliberately spreading the plague. These baseless accusations found fertile ground in a society steeped in ignorance and fear. In an atmosphere where rational explanations for the disease were absent, the Jewish population became the convenient "guilty party," bearing the brunt of collective anxiety. As a result, Jewish communities faced unspeakable violence, including massacres and expulsions. Entire communities were destroyed, leaving a legacy of trauma and further entrenching systemic discrimination. This period of unfounded hostility marked a turning point, embedding anti-Semitic myths deeply into the fabric of European society, where their toxic influence persisted for centuries.
Depiction of the Flagellants of the Netherlands flogging themselves in penance, believing the "Black Death" to be a punishment from God for their sins, circa 1349. Afterwards, the blame would be taken exclusively on the Jewish population.
Martin Luther and European Anti-Semitism
Martin Luther, hailed as the father of the Protestant Reformation, left a complex legacy, blending groundbreaking religious reforms with a profound contribution to the spread of anti-Semitism in Europe. In 1543, three years before his death, Luther published the treatise On the Jews and Their Lies, a virulent text marked by deeply hostile rhetoric and ideas. This work shaped European anti-Semitic thought for centuries, comparable in tone and intensity to Adolf Hitler’s Mein Kampf. Although Luther had limited personal contact with Jews during his lifetime, his prejudices reflected the prevailing theological and cultural norms of his era, particularly the accusation that Jews bore collective responsibility for the death of Jesus Christ. Interestingly, in his earlier writings, Luther adopted a more conciliatory stance. In 1523, he urged Christians to treat Jews with kindness, emphasizing that Jesus himself was Jewish. He hoped this approach would lead to their conversion to Christianity. However, when his efforts failed, his attitude shifted dramatically, becoming increasingly antagonistic.
"Chosen People" or "Devil's People"?
Luther's 1543 treatise, spanning approximately 60,000 words, represents the zenith of his anti-Semitic invective. He argued that Jews were no longer God’s "chosen people" but rather "the devil's people," advocating for violent actions against them. He called for the destruction of synagogues, Jewish homes, and even their sacred texts, fueling centuries of hostility. This radical shift in Luther’s perspective had dire consequences. His writings provided a theological justification for anti-Semitic persecution, influencing subsequent generations and perpetuating a legacy of hatred and intolerance that cast a long shadow over European history.
"Sharp Mercy" and the Call to Violence
Martin Luther, renowned as the architect of the Protestant Reformation, revealed an alarming anti-Semitic extremism in his later writings. In his 1543 treatise On the Jews and Their Lies, Luther invoked rigid interpretations of biblical texts, such as Deuteronomy 13, where idolaters are condemned to death, to support what he termed "sharp mercy" (Scharfe Barmherzigkeit). This concept reflected a chilling rationale: harsh measures against Jews were, in his view, acts of "compassion" aimed at saving their souls from damnation.
Luther’s proposed actions were unequivocally radical. He advocated for burning synagogues, which he deemed "places of blasphemy," declaring they "must never exist again". He also talked about destroying Jewish sacred texts, including prayer books, to eradicate what he described as "lies and blasphemies". Thirdly, Luther advocated for banning rabbis’ sermons, arguing that they propagated dangerous errors. Expropriating Jewish property and reducing Jews to the status of serfs or exiles, was another idea. Finally, by suggesting the expelling of Jews from communities, Luther was asserting they had no rightful place in society. One of his most extreme statements—"We are to blame for not killing them"—amounted to an outright call for violence. Luther warned that leniency would only exacerbate the situation, urging drastic action to remove Jews from European society entirely. The repercussions of these ideas extended far beyond Luther's time. His writings were later appropriated by the Nazi regime, offering a pseudo-theological justification for anti-Semitic persecution. Events like Kristallnacht (November 9–10, 1938), when Nazi mobs destroyed synagogues, Jewish homes, and businesses, eerily mirrored the actions Luther had advocated centuries earlier. While Martin Luther revolutionized Christianity, his venomous anti-Semitism casts a dark shadow over his legacy. His 1543 treatise did not merely reflect the prejudices of his era—it actively shaped the trajectory of anti-Jewish hatred in Europe. History demonstrates how even ancient rhetoric can fuel modern atrocities, underscoring the enduring danger of unchecked bigotry and intolerance.
The vision of artist Nate Ripp, who illustrated a Holocaust-inspired narrative with direct reference to Kristallnacht.
Intellectuals and Antisemitism in Modern Europe
During the 18th and 19th centuries, certain influential intellectuals directly or indirectly fueled anti-Semitic sentiments, shaping societal attitudes in Germany and Austria and profoundly influencing Adolf Hitler's worldview. This toxic synthesis of cultural philosophies, rising nationalism, and entrenched historical prejudices provided an intellectual scaffold for the Nazi ideology that justified the Holocaust. Bernhard Förster emerged as a key figure in this trend. A fervent German pedagogue and ardent anti-Semite, Förster's ideological convictions were intertwined with his family connections—most notably, his marriage to Elisabeth Förster-Nietzsche, Friedrich Nietzsche’s sister. Elisabeth was an outspoken proponent of German nationalism and played a central role in distorting Nietzsche's philosophies to align with nationalist and anti-Semitic ideologies. Martin Heidegger, one of Germany’s most prominent 20th-century philosophers, also remains a controversial figure due to his association with the Nazi Party. While his philosophical works lack explicit anti-Semitic content, his vocal support for the Nazis during their rise to power tied him to the regime's ideology, leaving a lasting stain on his legacy. Friedrich Nietzsche, however, occupies a more complex position. While his writings emphasized the concept of the "Übermensch" (overman) and critiqued egalitarianism, Nietzsche explicitly rejected anti-Semitism and denounced German nationalism. Nevertheless, after his death, Elisabeth Förster-Nietzsche selectively manipulated and reinterpreted his works to serve as propaganda for Aryan supremacy, which the Nazis eagerly embraced. The contributions of these thinkers, whether through direct anti-Semitic rhetoric or the later misappropriation of their ideas, reveal the troubling role of intellectualism in shaping the prejudices and ideologies that enabled widespread persecution. The legacy of these figures serves as a reminder of the responsibility intellectuals hold in ensuring that their works are not weaponized to perpetuate hatred or injustice.
Friedrich Nietzsche and his mother.
Ford and Wagner: Cars, Music, and Anti-Semitism
Henry Ford, the iconic American industrialist and founder of the Ford Motor Company, left an enduring legacy in both the automotive world and the dark history of anti-Semitism. Through his publication of The International Jew: The World's Foremost Problem, Ford disseminated virulent anti-Semitic rhetoric, casting Jews as a global threat. His wealth and influence lent credibility to these prejudices, amplifying their reach across America and beyond. Similarly, Richard Wagner, the celebrated German composer, fused his musical genius with an ideological fervor that had lasting consequences. His essay Judaism in Music (Das Judenthum in der Musik) is notorious for its critique of Jewish influence on German culture, reflecting his deep-seated anti-Semitic beliefs. Wagner’s operatic works, imbued with themes of Germanic nationalism, became emblematic of a cultural identity that excluded and vilified Jews. His ideas resonated profoundly with Adolf Hitler, who revered Wagner as a cultural and ideological inspiration. The works of Ford and Wagner exemplify how influential figures in industry and culture can propagate and normalize hatred. By cloaking anti-Semitic ideologies in what were seen as "rational" and "scientific" arguments, they contributed to an intellectual and cultural climate that justified prejudice. These ideas laid the groundwork for the Nazi regime's racist policies and the Holocaust, transforming abstract theories into organized hatred and systemic violence. The dark legacies of Ford and Wagner serve as a warning of the dangers posed by unchecked prejudice, especially when espoused by prominent figures. Their stories highlight the need for vigilance in opposing rhetoric that fosters hatred and division, ensuring that such ideologies never again gain traction to fuel atrocities on a massive scale.
Caricature on "Judaism in Music, as Richard Wagner Likes It - When He Pays 25 Guilders for an Armchair", in Kikeriki Magazine, 1872.
Hitler and Anti-Semitic Rhetoric
Adolf Hitler made anti-Semitism a central pillar of Nazi ideology, reinterpreting major events of contemporary German history through the lens of Jew-hatred. His rhetoric was used to mobilize popular support, reinforcing myths and conspiracy theories that fueled his regime's politics. Armistice of 1918 - Hitler called its signatories "November Criminals," accusing them of betraying the German nation. He argued that Germany was not defeated on the battlefield, but "stabbed in the back" (Dolchstoßlegende) by Jews and socialists, who would have undermined the war effort. This theory, rooted in post-war resentment, became a central element of Nazi propaganda, giving them a justification to marginalise the accused groups.
The Great Depression and the Jews
The Great Depression (1929–1933) was a period of profound economic turmoil that intensified existing prejudices against Jews. Amid widespread poverty and unemployment, Jews were scapegoated as orchestrators of the financial collapse and accused of profiting from the suffering of others. These unfounded accusations drew upon entrenched economic stereotypes, portraying Jews as manipulative financiers seeking global dominance. This rhetoric found fertile ground in Germany, where the Nazi Party seized upon the despair of the populace to craft a compelling but dangerous narrative. Adolf Hitler and his propagandists depicted Jews as the root cause of the economic crisis, leveraging this imagery to galvanize support for their agenda. The Nazi narrative framed Jews as both economic adversaries and existential threats, providing justification for their exclusion from society, systematic persecution, and eventual genocide. By exploiting the economic anxieties of the time, Hitler transformed deep-seated anti-Semitic prejudices into state policy. The Great Depression, with its social and economic upheaval, became a catalyst for the rise of Nazi ideology, demonstrating how economic crises can be weaponised to marginalize vulnerable groups. This tragic episode serves as a reminder of the devastating consequences when fear and hardship are channeled into hatred and oppression.
Cartoon from the Nazi propaganda newspaper 'Der Stürmer'. The text is as follows "Jewish banks and the German entrepreneur".
First Steps: The Systematic Persecution of Jews
After consolidating power, Adolf Hitler's regime rapidly instituted measures to marginalize and persecute Jews, embedding anti-Semitism into the foundation of Nazi Germany. A pivotal step in this campaign was the enactment of the Nuremberg Laws of 1935, also known as the Laws for the Protection of German Blood and German Honor. These laws prohibited marriages and intimate relationships between Jews and "Aryan" Germans. They also stripped Jews of German citizenship, reducing them to subjects without legal or political rights. Lastly, they severely restricted Jewish access to education, property ownership, and professional opportunities. These regulations formalized the "alien" status of Jews, effectively isolating them from Germany's social and economic fabric. A defining escalation occurred during Kristallnacht (The Night of Broken Glass), on November 9–10, 1938. Orchestrated by the Nazi regime, this pogrom targeted Jewish synagogues, businesses, and homes across Germany and Austria. The aftermath included the destruction of over 1,400 synagogues and thousands of Jewish businesses; the arrest of tens of thousands of Jews, many sent to concentration camps; and the imposition of financial reparations on the Jewish community to "compensate" for the damage inflicted during the violence. Kristallnacht was a turning point, marking the transition from social exclusion and economic marginalization to open, state-sanctioned violence. It also served as a prelude to the systemic atrocities of the Holocaust, demonstrating how discriminatory policies and propaganda could spiral into widespread persecution and genocide. The early measures of the Nazi regime, including the Nuremberg Laws and Kristallnacht, laid the groundwork for the Holocaust. They reflected a calculated strategy to isolate, disenfranchise, and dehumanize Jews, setting the stage for the horrors that would follow.
Poster with a sketch of the "Nuremberg Laws", just after September 15, 1935.
The Holocaust: The Darkest Chapter
From 1938 onwards, the Nazi regime escalated its persecution of Jews through a series of increasingly repressive measures, culminating in genocide. The first phase involved the expulsion of Jews from professional and economic life. Jews were stripped of their jobs, properties, and the right to participate in society. This marginalization paved the way for ghettoization, where Jews were forcibly relocated to overcrowded and unsanitary districts. These ghettos became holding areas, designed to isolate Jews and prepare for the deportations that would follow. In 1941, the Nazis began implementing the "Final Solution to the Jewish Question" (Endlösung der Judenfrage)—a policy of systematic extermination. The plan was formalized at the Wannsee Conference in January 1942, where 15 senior Nazi officials concluded that mass extermination was the "most effective" method to resolve the so-called Jewish problem. Earlier discussions about deporting Jews to Madagascar had been abandoned due to logistical and wartime challenges. Instead, the Nazis expanded existing concentration camps, converting many into extermination facilities. The machinery of death were Auschwitz-Birkenau, the largest of the extermination camps, which became synonymous with industrialized mass murder and other camps, and other camps such as Treblinka, Sobibor, and Belzec, which were dedicated to the same horrifying purpose. The Nazis aimed to exterminate approximately 11 million Jews, a figure based on European Jewish population estimates. While they did not achieve this goal, they succeeded in murdering over 6 million Jews, along with millions of other victims, including Roma, disabled individuals, political prisoners, and homosexuals. The Holocaust stands as a grim testament to the consequences of unchecked hatred and systematic dehumanization. Its meticulously organized brutality remains one of the most thoroughly documented atrocities in history, a chilling reminder of humanity's capacity for inhumanity. Recognising and remembering this tragedy is essential to ensuring that such horrors are never repeated.
Group of surviving children from the Birkenau-Auschwitz extermination camp, 1945.
Appeal to Memory and Reflection
Anti-Semitism, despite the horrors of the Holocaust, did not vanish after World War II. It persists today, manifesting in various forms, even though legal measures are in place to address it. The Holocaust remains the ultimate expression of this toxic social pathology—systematic hatred rooted in envy, ignorance, and prejudice. The Nazi regime exploited these emotions as tools of political manipulation and justification for their horrific crimes. But this hatred was not born from isolated events. It was a constant thread in human history, a mechanism by which societies projected blame for their failures onto a vulnerable, marginalized group. In reflecting on these tragedies, we are reminded of the importance of memory. Understanding the historical roots of anti-Semitism helps us dismantle the myths and false narratives that fuel such atrocities. Anti-Semitism, and any form of hatred, cannot exist in a just and humane society. Only through education, reflection, and the promotion of a society based on tolerance and mutual respect can we prevent the repetition of such horrors. This is the purpose of this article: to serve as a reminder, a call to action, and a commitment to ensuring the lessons of history are never forgotten.
The Legionary Movement from Romania
To prevent the repetition of tragic events in Romania’s history, it is crucial to understand the dangers posed by extremist movements, such as the Legionary Movement. A direct parallel to Italian fascism and German Nazism, the Legionary Movement espoused radical nationalism and anti-Semitism, promoting intolerance during the interwar period. It became a symbol of Romanian nationalist extremism. Like its European counterparts, the Legionary Movement aimed to "purify" Romania from what it viewed as "foreign" influences, with Jews deemed a direct threat to national identity. The movement's ideology blended nationalism, Orthodox religiosity, and the concept of a "pure" nation, mirroring fascist and Nazi principles but adapted to a local context. The impact of the Iron Guard, as the movement was known, was devastating: it fostered violence and persecution against Jews and other minorities, culminating in the 1941 Iași pogrom. The Legionary Movement allied with the Ion Antonescu regime during World War II, collaborating with the Nazis to enforce anti-Semitic and racist policies. Studying the Legionary Movement is not merely an academic exercise—it serves as an urgent warning for the present. In the face of rising extremism, the response must be grounded in education, awareness, and the promotion of a society built on tolerance, mutual respect, and fundamental values. Only through such efforts can we ensure that the atrocities of the past are neither forgotten nor allowed to repeat themselves.
Romanian legionnaires marching through the center of Bucharest, in 1940, during a demonstration intended to show the strength of the movement.
The Impact of the Legionnaires
Extremist movements in 20th-century Romania, particularly the Legionary Movement and the communist regime, left deep scars on the country's history. While the communists ruled Romania for 42 years, from 1947 to 1989, transforming the country into a totalitarian state, the Legionary Movement's influence was more ephemeral, lasting only five months—from September 1940 to January 1941. Despite this brief period in power, the Legionary Movement's impact on Romanian society was profound and enduring. The movement, driven by extreme nationalism, anti-Semitism, and the cult of political violence, left a lasting mark on the collective mentality of the interwar period. Its mythology, particularly the glorification of sacrifice and the "national mission" of the legionnaires, justified acts of violence and persecution against those deemed enemies of the state—especially Jews and political opponents. Although the Legionary Movement was swiftly ousted from power, its legacy continued to shape Romania's post-war context, influencing political and social dynamics for decades. The ideological and symbolic links to the movement persist, often generating controversy and division, despite condemnation from most postwar regimes.
In conclusion, while the Legionary Movement may have been short-lived in terms of political power, its ideological legacy remains deeply entrenched in Romanian society, continuing to provoke debate and tension today.
Some of the founders of the movement: Ion Moța, Ion Zelea Codreanu and Corneliu Zelea Codreanu.
The Archangel Michael Legion: Historical and Ideological Context
The Legionary Movement, also known as the Archangel Michael Legion, was founded in 1927 by Corneliu Zelea Codreanu, rapidly gaining support across various segments of Romanian society, including students, peasants, workers, intellectuals, and the clergy. The movement combined religious mysticism with radical nationalism, and its central objective was to "save the Romanian nation" from a period of profound political and social instability. This salvation was seen as necessary from three main perspectives: 1. Political Corruption: The political class in Romania was viewed as deeply corrupt, undermining the nation’s integrity and well-being; 2. The Jewish Presence: Jews were perceived as an economic and cultural threat, accused of undermining the traditional fabric of Romanian society; 3. Russian Communism (Bolshevism): The rise of Bolshevism was feared as a force that would erode Romania’s Orthodox Christian values and its national identity. The motto of the movement, "God and Fatherland", underscored the movement's commitment to Christian Orthodoxy and the idea of moral and spiritual "purity" for the nation. It was in this fusion of extreme nationalism, religion, and political violence that the Legionary Movement became a distinctive force within the broader context of interwar European extremism. Violence was not only justified but was considered necessary to achieve the movement’s goal of "national salvation," contributing to the radicalization of its supporters and its profound impact on Romania’s political landscape during the period. The Legionary Movement's ideology was a powerful catalyst for the extremist currents that swept across Europe in the early 20th century, making it a unique phenomenon in the broader history of European fascism and nationalism.
Document photo: Corneliu Zelea Codreanu and Văcăreștenii. Standing from left to right: Corneliu Georgescu, Tudosie Popescu and Ion I. Moța. Seated: Radu Mironovici, Corneliu Zelea Codreanu and Ilie Gârneață.
The Mystical, Religious Character of the Legionary Movement
The Legionary Movement was profoundly shaped by a deep mystical and religious element, which distinguished it from other extremist or fascist movements in interwar Europe. Its ideology transcended political boundaries, framing the political struggle as a sacred mission aimed at the spiritual and moral regeneration of Romanian society. The movement's connection to religion was not just symbolic but deeply integrated into its core identity, transforming political activism into a divine calling. The very name of the movement, Archangel Michael Legion, underscored this spiritual dimension. Archangel Michael was revered as the divine protector of both the movement and the Romanian nation, symbolizing the battle against perceived forces of evil—particularly corruption, Bolshevism, and Jewish influence. The movement viewed itself as a righteous force dedicated to moral purification as a necessary step toward national rebirth. Legionary symbolism was steeped in religious imagery, with the movement’s flags often adorned with crosses or other sacred symbols. Members regarded themselves as "soldiers of God,"
adopting an almost messianic role in Romanian national history. This spiritual self-conception was reinforced by their daily practices and rituals, which were heavily imbued with religious significance. The oath taken by each member when joining the movement carried a sacred character, binding them not only to the cause but also to a spiritual covenant. Violating this oath was considered not only political treason but a grave offense against the divine, underscoring the high moral and spiritual stakes attached to membership. Furthermore, the Legionary Movement promoted an austere lifestyle, governed by strict moral principles. Members were encouraged to renounce alcohol, tobacco, and other indulgences, embracing a monastic way of life. This rigorous approach to personal conduct was seen as essential for the creation of a spiritual elite capable of guiding Romania to a new era of national glory. Through the fusion of radical nationalism
and religious mysticism, the Legionary Movement cultivated an ethos where faith, sacrifice, and absolute loyalty were central values. These ideals not only bound the members together but also sanctified their struggle for the Romanian nation, positioning them as the moral vanguard against both internal and external perceived threats.
Corneliu Zelea Codreanu and members of the Legionary Movement in 1937.
Sacrifice and Loyalty
Sacrifice and loyalty were among the core values of the Legionary Movement, and the ultimate expression of these virtues was death for the cause. In the Legionary worldview, personal sacrifice was not merely an act of renunciation but was seen as a sacred offering that contributed to the moral and spiritual regeneration of the Romanian nation. This idea positioned the individual as part of a larger, divine mission, in which personal interests were subordinated to the greater good of national revival. The central figure in this cult of sacrifice was Corneliu Zelea Codreanu, the founder and leader of the movement. His assassination in 1938 became a pivotal moment, transforming him into a martyr and symbol of unwavering loyalty and sacrifice for the nation. Codreanu’s death was not mourned in the conventional sense but elevated to a spiritual event, where he was venerated as a prophet of Romania's national rebirth. His tomb became a sacred pilgrimage site, where members of the movement gathered to honor his memory and reaffirm their devotion to the cause. Codreanu's martyrdom was used to inspire the movement's followers, framing his sacrifice as an act of ultimate loyalty and devotion to the Romanian nation. The commemoration of fallen legionnaires further reinforced this message, with ceremonies that carried a profound emotional and solemn weight. These rituals were not only acts of remembrance but also served as a means of instilling deep devotion among the living members, emphasizing that the sacrifices made by their predecessors were to be honored by an even greater commitment to the movement's ideals. Such ceremonies created a strong sense of solidarity and connection between the individual and the collective mission. The very act of commemorating the dead became a call to action, urging members to strengthen their loyalty to the Legionary Movement and to carry forward its sacred mission, which was intertwined with the personal and collective sacrifice for the future of Romania. In this way, the cult of sacrifice not only served to honor the past but also to mobilize the movement’s followers for the continued struggle they perceived as necessary for the salvation of the nation.
The funerals of the leader of the Iron Guard, Corneliu Zelea Codreanu, and of the 13 legionnaires, the Nicadors and the Decemvirs, killed in 1938, by order of King Carol II, Bucharest, November 30, 1940.
Faith and Violence in Politics
The Romanian Orthodox Church played a crucial role in the ideological framework of the Legionary Movement, intertwining faith with extreme nationalism. While the Church as an institution did not officially endorse the Legionaries, a significant number of local priests lent their support to the movement, viewing the legionnaires as defenders of traditional Romanian religious values. Religious practices such as collective prayers, church services, and priestly blessings became integral to daily life within the Movement, further reinforcing the connection between Orthodox Christianity and the nationalist cause. The legionnaires exploited religious mysticism as a powerful propaganda tool, using it to justify their actions and to mobilize public support. The slogans like “God and Country” and “Faith, Sacrifice, Light” presented the movement’s mission as both a political struggle and a spiritual crusade, creating an image of a righteous fight to preserve the Romanian nation and its Orthodox faith. In this way, the Legionary Movement infused its extreme nationalist ideology with a divine and moral dimension, framing its activities not only as politically motivated but as part of a sacred mission. This sacralization of politics made the Legionary cause appear more legitimate, binding its members to an ideology they saw as both patriotic and religiously justified. The legionnaires, viewing themselves as the protectors of Romanian identity—both religious and national—embraced their role as moral and political crusaders. This connection between faith and politics provided them with a moral justification for their actions, including acts of political violence. Violence, such as the assassination of Prime Minister Ion Gheorghe Duca in 1933, became a defining feature of the movement's tactics. Duca, a strong opponent of the Legionary ideology, was targeted and killed by members of the movement as part of their effort to eliminate political opposition and to advance their cause. These violent acts were framed as divinely sanctioned actions, part of the righteous struggle to defend the Romanian nation and its Orthodox Christian heritage. While these acts of political violence did not stop the movement from gaining influence, they contributed to the deepening polarization in Romania during the interwar period. In this context, the Legionary Movement became a dangerous fusion of religious mysticism, extreme nationalism, and political violence, creating an ideology that was not only disruptive to the political order but also toxic for social cohesion. The use of religion to legitimize violence marked the Legionaries as an extremist force that threatened the stability and unity of Romanian society during the interwar years.
Illustration of the connection between the Orthodox faith and legionarism.
The National-Legionary State
The National-Legionary State emerged in the wake of a volatile political climate in Romania during the late 1930s and early 1940s, marked by the Legionary Movement's rise and the tensions between King Carol II and the movement. In December 1937, the Legionary Movement secured 15.6% of the vote in national elections, becoming the third strongest political force in Romania. This surge in popularity alarmed the political elite, especially King Carol II, who perceived the movement as a direct threat to his monarchical power. As a result, in 1938, King Carol ordered the assassination of Corneliu Zelea Codreanu, the charismatic leader of the Legionary Movement. Codreanu's death turned him into a martyr for the legionnaires, and the movement adopted the narrative of political victimhood, further galvanizing its supporters. The political landscape shifted dramatically in September 1940, when King Carol II abdicated under intense pressure, and General Ion Antonescu assumed power. Antonescu, seeing an opportunity to consolidate his rule, formed an alliance with the Legionary Movement, specifically with Horia Sima, the movement's leader. This alliance led to the establishment of the National-Legionary State, a fascist regime where Antonescu held the military leadership, while the legionnaires exercised considerable influence in the government. This power-sharing arrangement, however, was fraught with internal tension and conflicting agendas. With the rise of the Legionaries to power, the movement began to exact brutal revenge on its political enemies. Over the course of their ascendancy, almost 70 dignitaries, including intellectuals and politicians, were assassinated. Notable victims included prominent figures like Nicolae Iorga, Virgil Madgearu, and Gheorghe Argeșanu, who were symbols of Romanian culture and politics. The legionnaires justified these killings as part of a "cleansing" of society, ridding it of what they viewed as corrupt elements. These actions, however, backfired, causing significant damage to the Legionary Movement's public image and strengthening tensions with Antonescu. Antonescu, despite his initial alliance with the legionnaires, increasingly saw them as a disorganized and dangerous force. The relationship between him and the Legionary Movement grew fraught with political conflict and uncertainty. Eventually, in January 1941, Antonescu moved to crush the Legionary Movement, leading to violent clashes that would further destabilize Romania and set the stage for its alignment with Nazi Germany during World War II. The National-Legionary State, though short-lived, left a lasting imprint on the history of Romania, exemplifying the dangers of extremist alliances and the unpredictable consequences of political power struggles.
The leader of the state Ion Antonescu together with the deputy prime minister and leader of the Iron Guard, Horia Sima, at a demonstration in memory of the founder of the Iron Guard, Corneliu Zelea Codreanu, October 6, 1940. In the background, behind them is a portrait of Codreanu.
The End of the National-Legionary State
The National-Legionary State came to a sudden and violent end in January 1941, following mounting tensions between Ion Antonescu and Horia Sima, the leader of the Legionary Movement. From the beginning of their alliance in 1940, it was clear that the two leaders had conflicting visions for Romania’s future. Antonescu, as the military leader, sought a more centralized and authoritarian control, while Sima and the legionnaires aimed to assert their nationalist and religious ideals. The conflict between the two reached a breaking point in October 1940, when Antonescu sent Sima a clear warning, stating: "It is not possible for two conductors to lead the same orchestra at the same time." This phrase highlighted the rivalry and Antonescu's intent to consolidate power. In January 1941, these tensions culminated in the Legionary Rebellion, an armed uprising by the legionnaires against Antonescu’s government. The rebellion was short-lived, as the Romanian army, loyal to Antonescu, swiftly suppressed the revolt with brutal force. Following the defeat of the legionnaires, the Legionary Movement was officially disbanded, and many of its leaders were either arrested, executed, or forced to flee into exile. However, the legacy of the Legionary Movement did not disappear entirely. After the Communist takeover in Romania following World War II, many former members of the Legionary Movement were able to reintegrate into society and even became influential figures in the new regime. The nationalist rhetoric of the legionnaires was appropriated and adapted by Nicolae Ceaușescu’s Communist regime, which, although it modified some of the movement’s language and ideas, retained the core essence of its extreme nationalism and anti-Soviet sentiments. In this way, despite the formal end of the National-Legionary State, the ideological legacy of the Legionary Movement continued to shape Romanian political culture in the years that followed, especially in the context of Ceaușescu's authoritarian leadership.
A memorable photo from the commemoration of Corneliu Zelea Codreanu. In the foreground, in legionary uniforms, Prime Minister Ion Antonescu and Deputy Prime Minister Horia Sima. On the second plan, Wilhelm Fabricius (first from the right), the German ambassador to Romania and Gauleiter Ernst Wilhelm Bohle (third from the right).
The Legacy of the Legionary Movement
Although the Legionary Movement's rule was short-lived, its impact on Romanian history was both profound and lasting. The ideology it espoused—characterized by extreme nationalism, anti-Semitism, and a unique blend of religious mysticism and political violence—not only shaped the country's political discourse but also fueled tragic events such as the Iasi pogrom of 1941, where legionnaires played an active role in the persecution of Jews. The violence and repression carried out by the legionnaires significantly eroded public trust in their promises of "national salvation". The movement’s failure to deliver on its grandiose claims, coupled with its extremist actions, led to its rapid collapse by January 1941, when the Legionary Rebellion was crushed, and its leaders were either arrested or exiled. The aftermath of this rebellion marked the movement as a symbol of political destabilization and criminality, with the Romanian state having little choice but to disband the movement and distance itself from its extreme ideology. In the wake of World War II, the communist regime used the Legionary Movement as a cautionary tale, a negative example to justify the rise of totalitarianism and strengthen its own authority. It was portrayed as a fascist and anti-Semitic force, in stark contrast to the egalitarian ideals of the communist government. The cult of martyrdom surrounding the legionnaires, however, did not fully dissipate. In certain circles, especially among nationalist and far-right groups, the myth of the legionnaires as national martyrs continues to fuel extremist discourse to this day. The historical reality, however, remains implacable: the Legionary Movement came to power in 1940 promising national revival, but ultimately left behind a legacy of violence, chaos, and murder. From being hailed as heroes of the nation in September 1940, the legionnaires swiftly became symbols of instability and criminality after their revolt and the end of the National-Legionary State. The tragic conclusion of their brief experiment underscores a vital lesson: extremism and violence do not bring stability or progress to a nation, but rather lead to its destruction.
Legion sympathisers at a summer meeting.
Corneliu Zelea Codreanu: Portrait of a Leader
Charismatic for some, considered a criminal by others, Corneliu Zelea Codreanu was the founder of the Legionary Movement and the architect of a deeply mystical nationalism, infused with virulent anti-Semitism and radical anti-communism. Born on September 13, 1899, in Huși, Romania, Codreanu grew up in a family with deep ties to Orthodox Christianity, which would strongly shape his future political and ideological convictions. Codreanu's early life was marked by a passion for Romanian nationalism, and from a young age, he demonstrated a profound commitment to the ideals of national unity and purity. At just 16, he applied to volunteer for World War I, but was rejected due to his age. Though his military ambitions were thwarted, he redirected his energy into academic pursuits, enrolling at the Faculty of Law in Iași. However, Codreanu's reputation at the university was not defined by academic success, but by his growing role as a nationalist student leader. It was during this time that he began to cultivate his ideology, blending intense nationalism with a deep religious outlook, and turning his focus towards a crusade against what he saw as the twin dangers to Romania: Jewish influence and communism. His rhetoric, laced with violence, was particularly aimed at Jews, whom he viewed as a threat to the Romanian national identity. His inflammatory speeches and actions eventually led to his expulsion from the university, but this setback did little to deter him. Instead, it served to solidify his commitment to a more radical agenda. Codreanu’s personal charisma and his ability to inspire fervent loyalty among his followers eventually propelled him to found the Legionary Movement (also known as the Iron Guard) in 1927. Under his leadership, the movement would become a potent force of extreme nationalism, anti-Semitism, and violence, embracing a mystical vision of the nation’s redemption through purification and sacrifice. Codreanu's leadership would leave an indelible mark on Romania’s political landscape, and while he was revered by his followers as a martyr, his legacy remains a controversial and dark chapter in Romania's 20th-century history.
Corneliu Zelea Codreanu, leader of the Legionary Movement, in folk costume and on a white horse.
Restoring "National Purity"
Despite the setback of his expulsion, Corneliu Zelea Codreanu remained steadfast in his ideological path, continuing to deepen his commitment to Romanian nationalism. His travels to Germany proved to be a pivotal moment in his intellectual evolution. There, he came into direct contact with the rising tides of fascism and National Socialism—movements that were reshaping Europe in the 1930s. The extreme nationalism and the authoritarian, militaristic visions promoted by figures like Mussolini and Hitler had a profound influence on Codreanu, reinforcing his belief that Romania needed a similar political movement to restore its "national purity." Upon returning to Romania, Codreanu sought to apply the fascist model he had encountered abroad, but with a unique twist. He infused the Legionary Movement with a deeply mystical and religious dimension, setting it apart from other European fascist movements. While inspired by fascist principles of national unity, discipline, and the supremacy of the state, Codreanu’s movement also embraced Orthodox Christianity as its spiritual foundation. This religious-nationalist fusion gave the Legionary Movement a distinctive character, blending extreme nationalism, political violence, and mysticism in a way that was both compelling and dangerous. Codreanu's vision of a "pure" Romanian nation, free from the perceived threats of Jewish influence, corruption, and Bolshevism, resonated with many segments of Romanian society, especially those disillusioned with the political establishment. His rhetoric was powerful, combining calls for national salvation with the promise of a spiritual rebirth for the country. Codreanu became a symbolic figure for his followers, revered as a leader willing to sacrifice everything for the "purification" of Romania. However, for all his charisma and the devotion he inspired, Codreanu’s ideology was deeply controversial and sparked vehement opposition. His blend of nationalism and religious fervor, coupled with his justification of violence as a means to achieve political goals, made him a figure of both admiration and revulsion, cementing his place as a divisive character in Romanian history.
Călin Georgescu, candidate for the Presidency of Romania in 2024, in folk costume and on a white horse, in his campaign videos on Tik-Tok.
Political Ascent: From Crime to Hero
Corneliu Zelea Codreanu’s political ascent was deeply intertwined with acts of violence and martyrdom. On October 25, 1924, Codreanu committed his first major act of political violence by shooting Constantin Manciu, the police prefect of Iași. Codreanu justified this act as a self-defense response to the brutal repression faced by nationalist students, framing it as part of a broader struggle for justice and national independence. The assassination sparked a highly publicized trial that captured the attention of both the Romanian public and the media, symbolizing the tension and polarization within Romanian society at the time, particularly around nationalism and anti-Semitism. Despite the gravity of the crime, Codreanu was acquitted in the spring of 1925, an outcome that marked a key turning point in his life. His acquittal not only bolstered his reputation as a victim of an unjust system, but also served to elevate his political stature. To many, Codreanu became a hero—a champion of the struggle against corruption and foreign influence. The court’s decision gave him a sense of vindication, which he expertly leveraged to further his political ambitions. In 1927, Codreanu founded the Legion of the Archangel Michael, formally known as the Legionary Movement, a nationalist and anti-Semitic organization that would eventually dominate Romanian politics in the following decades. By presenting himself as a savior of the Romanian nation, Codreanu cultivated an image of a divinely ordained leader, determined to purify the country from moral decay and foreign influences. Codreanu’s personal image was carefully curated to evoke spiritual purity and divine mission. He frequently appeared in public dressed in white and riding a white horse, invoking religious symbolism that reinforced his message of national redemption. This image not only cemented his status as a political leader but also as a messianic figure—someone sent by God to lead Romania to a new era of moral and spiritual renewal. Through such symbolic gestures, Codreanu effectively blended nationalism with religion, making his cause more compelling to his followers.
Codreanu arrived on horseback to various popular gatherings.
Codreanu's Peak and Decline
Corneliu Zelea Codreanu’s political peak came in 1937, when his Legionary Movement achieved a significant milestone by securing 15.6% of the vote in the Romanian elections, making it the third strongest party in the country. This marked the height of his influence, signaling a widespread appeal for his nationalist, anti-Semitic, and authoritarian ideologies. His movement seemed poised to transform the political landscape of Romania. However, this rapid rise triggered alarm among the political elite and King Carol II, who saw the Legionnaires as a direct threat to his power and the stability of the monarchy.
In an effort to curb the growing threat posed by the Legionary Movement, Codreanu was arrested in April 1938, charged with treason and plotting against the state. His arrest, however, did little to quell the movement's momentum. In November 1938, while in police custody, Codreanu and 13 other legionnaires were killed during a prisoner transfer. The official narrative claimed that the deaths occurred during an escape attempt, but it is widely believed that this was a premeditated act by the authorities aimed at permanently eliminating Codreanu as a political figure. Codreanu’s death marked a tragic end to his leadership of the Legionary Movement, which had risen to prominence through a combination of violence, charismatic leadership, and the cult of martyrdom. While some groups within Romanian nationalist and extremist circles continue to idolize him as a martyr and a symbol of resistance, Codreanu’s legacy is fraught with controversy. His vision of a nationalist Romania, rooted in intolerance, fanaticism, and extreme anti-Semitism, left a deep scar on the country's history. Despite being revered by some as a hero of the right-wing, Codreanu’s actions and ideology undermined the stability of Romania and tarnished its international image. His rise to power, beginning with the murder of Constantin Manciu in 1924, set the tone for his authoritarian and violent political approach. In a tragic irony, Codreanu’s end mirrored the violent tactics he had championed. As he had often proclaimed, "He that lifteth up the sword shall perish by the sword." This phrase encapsulates the fatal paradox of his life—a man who, having preached violence and extremism, was ultimately consumed by the same forces he sought to unleash. His death not only ended the Legionary Movement's political momentum but also highlighted the inherent dangers of extremism, which, while capable of temporarily seizing power, ultimately leads only to chaos, destruction, and self-destruction.
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