Studia Politica 4-2009-A.indd

Romanian Political Science Review vol. IX, no. 4 2009

STUDIA POLITICA Romanian Political Science Review

The end of the Cold War, and the extinction of communism both as an ideology and a practice of government, not only have made possible an unparalleled experiment in building a democratic order in Central and Eastern Europe, but have opened up a most extraordinary intellectual opportunity: to understand, compare and eventually appraise what had previously been neither understandable nor comparable. Studia Politica. Romanian Political Science Review was established in the realization that the problems and concerns of both new and old democracies are beginning to converge. The journal fosters the work of the first generations of Romanian political scientists permeated by a sense of critical engagement with European and American intellectual and political traditions that inspired and explained the modern notions of democracy, pluralism, political liberty, individual freedom, and civil rights. Believing that ideas do matter, the Editors share a common commitment as intellectuals and scholars to try to shed light on the major political problems facing Romania, a country that has recently undergone unprecedented political and social changes. They think of Studia Politica. Romanian Politica Science Review as a challenge and a mandate to be involved in scholarly issues of fundamental importance, related not only to the democratization of Romanian polity and politics, to the ”great transformation” that is taking place in Central and Eastern Europe, but also to the make-over of the assumptions and prospects of their discipline. They hope to be joined in by those scholars in other countries who feel that the demise of communism calls for a new political science able to reassess the very foundations of democratic ideals and procedures.

UNIVERSITY OF BUCHAREST DEPARTMENT OF POLITICAL SCIENCE INSTITUTE FOR POLITICAL RESEARCH

Romanian Political Science Review

STUDIA POLITICA

vol. IX, no. 4 2009

BUCUREŞTI

STUDIA POLITICA (ISSN 1582-4551)

Romanian Political Science Review is published quarterly by the Institute for Political Research of the Department of Political Science at the University of Bucharest and is printed and mailed by the Nemira Publishing House

International Advisory Board Alain BESANÇON (Paris), Dominique COLAS (Paris) Jean-Michel DE WAELE (Bruxelles), Raffaella GHERARDI (Bologna) Guy HERMET (Paris), Hans-Dieter KLINGEMANN (Berlin) Marc LAZAR (Paris), Ronald H. LINDEN (Pittsburgh) Pierre MANENT (Paris), Gianfranco PASQUINO (Bologna) Antoine ROGER (Bordeaux), Giovanni SARTORI (New York) Daniel-Louis SEILER (Aix-en-Provence)

Editorial Board Daniel BARBU (editor), Cristian PREDA (associate editor) Alexandra IONESCU (assistant editor), Andrei NICULESCU (manuscript editor)

Editorial Assistants Ionela BĂLUŢĂ, Mihai CHIOVEANU, Silvia MARTON Camil-Alexandru PÂRVU, Miruna TĂTARU-CAZABAN

Editorial Staff Dana MOROIU (graphic designer), Constantin NIŢĂ (manuscript production) Cornel ALEXANDRESCU (manuscript processing)

© Institutul de Cercetãri Politice

Contents

ARGUMENTUM JEAN-MICHEL DE WAELE, L’Europe Centrale et Orientale: terroir de la recherche en science politique . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 593 DANIEL BARBU, Les questions De Waele . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 603 ARTICULI STELU ªERBAN, Migration and Development Models in Dobroudja, 1880-1913. Contribution to the Study of the Topic . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 609 ARMIN HEINEN, Die Krise der rumänischen Monarchie von 1940, die persönliche Bewährung der Königsfamilie und das Scheitern der Neufundierung monarchischer Herrschaft in den Jahren des Holocaust . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 621 ANDREI MIROIU, Oil: The Doom of Communist Romania? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 629 MIREL BĂNICĂ, L’Orthodoxie rurale et la modernité. Un essai monographique . . . . 647 AITANA BOGDAN, Hamas and Palestinian Politics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 673 MARIUS I. LAZĂR, The Salafism in Europe. Between Hijra and Jihad . . . . . . . . .. . 691 MONICA VLAD, Does American Indian Law Reflect Indian Values? A Study on Native American Identity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 709 RECENSIONES PIERRE MANENT, Raţiunea naţiunilor. Reflecţii asupra democraţiei în Europa, Romanian transl. and preface by CRISTIAN PREDA, Editura Nemira, Bucureşti, 2007 (DAN ALEXANDRU CHIŢĂ) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 751 A. JAMES GREGOR, The Faces of Janus: Marxism and Fascism in the Twentieth Century, New Haven, CT, Yale University Press, 2000 (MIHAI CHIOVEANU) . . . . . . . . . . . 754 BEN SHEPHARD, After Daybreak – The Liberation of Belsen, 1945, Pimlico, London, 2006 (LETIŢIA POP) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 756 CHARLES PATTERSON, Un éternel Treblinka, French transl. by Dominique Letellier, Calmann-Lévy, Paris, 2008 (ANA-MARIA TANAŞOCA) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 760 JEFF GOODWIN, JAMES M. JASPER (eds.), The Social Movements Reader: Cases and Concepts, 2nd ed., Wiley-Blackwell, UK, 2009 (MONICA ANDRIESCU) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 763

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BEN LEWIS, Hammer and Tickle – A History of Communism Told Through Communist Jokes, Orion, London, 2009 (ION ENACHE) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 767 JEAN ROCHET, Cinci ani în fruntea DST: Misiunea imposibilă, foreword by GEORGE MAIOR, Romanian transl. by Răzvan Ventura, Editura Fundaţiei Culturale Române, Bucureşti, 2008 (FLORIN DIACONU) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 770 GEORGE CRISTIAN MAIOR, Noul aliat. Regândirea politicii de apărare a României la începutul secolului XXI, RAO International Publishing Company, Bucureşti, 2009 (FLORIN DIACONU) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 772 LAURA SITARU, Gândirea politică arabă: Concepte-cheie între tradiţie şi inovaţie, Editura Polirom, Iaşi, 2009 (FLORIN DIACONU) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 774 RUXANDRA IVAN, La politique étrangère roumaine (1990-2006), Éditions de L’Université de Bruxelles, coll. ”Science Politique”, Bruxelles, 2009 (ªTEFAN TURCU). . . . . . . . 777

ABSTRACTS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 781 AUTORES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 785

ARGUMENTUM Le 5 octobre 2009, le Professeur Jean-Michel De Waele de l’Université Libre de Bruxelles a reçu le titre de docteur honoris causa de l’Université de Bucarest. La laudatio prononcée par Daniel Barbu, ainsi que son discours de réception sont publiés en ouverture de cette livraison.

L’Europe Centrale et Orientale: terroir de la recherche en science politique JEAN-MICHEL DE WAELE

Mais que vas-tu faire la bas? Mais que trouves-tu de tellement intéressant dans cette région? Ne changerais-tu pas de sujet de recherche? N’as tu pas écrit tout ce que tu avais à dire sur l’Europe centrale? Ils sont membres de l’Union européenne donc cela n’a plus de sens de se focaliser sur un groupe particulier d’États! Mais qu’est-ce qui te lie à cette région? Travailles tu pour le gouvernement roumain (bulgare, polonais, à choisir selon la destination de mon prochain déplacement). Tu y vas si souvent! As-tu des enfants cachés là bas? Combien de fois n’ai je pas entendu ces interrogations, ces sous entendus et boutades amusées de mes amis et de mes collègues… Je trouve toujours une réponse factuelle et ironique que j’enrobe d’un ton mystérieux. Cela tombe bien, car pour beaucoup de mes interlocuteurs cette «zone grise» est mystérieuse; voir la réincarnation du mystère, et surtout cela corrobore toutes les explications, rumeurs, ragots, doutes et interrogations sur mon investissement et mes voyages. Ainsi l’autre est satisfait car il avait bien raison. Tout cela est bien mystérieux! Et moi je ne dois pas trop réfléchir pour répondre à ces satanées questions. Pourtant, peut-être est-il temps de tenter de réfléchir et de tenter d’expliquer ce qui continue à me faire courir par monts et par vaux dans la région, à me mobiliser autant, à me faire lancer tant de projets. Commençons donc par le plus facile, donc évidement le plus complexe. Le plus facile car je n’ai pas de réponse. Il y a l’aspect personnel. C’est une évidence: j’aime être «là-bas», chez vous, chez moi. Qu’est ce qui fait que je me sens bien, que je me sens chez moi à Bucarest, Sofia, Wroclaw, Budapest? Que tout me semble intéressant, me touche, éveille mes sens, ma curiosité, suscite chez moi attention, réaction, passion, questions, rires, pleurs, énervements et colère! Rien ne semble pouvoir me laisser insensible. Je me transforme en éponge qui absorbe ce qu’il vit, entend, sent, touche… Alors pourquoi? La recherche de mes racines familiales certainement. La chaleur humaine? La complexité des rapports humains? L’accueil et la place qui m’a été faite? La musique? La cuisine? (pas que les papanaşi). La place de la famille? Cette impression que tout bouge, que rien n’est acquis, mais que tout est possible? Cette surprise permanente? Cet imprévu finalement toujours prévisible? Le besoin de défendre les perdants, les pauvres, les boucs émissaires, les incompris? Cette émotion pour cette génération qui lutte souvent avec l’énergie du désespoir après 1989 pour se construire quelque part là bas ou ici un avenir meilleur pour les siens? Sans doute un peu de tout cela… Sans doute aussi d’autres éléments dont j’en ai moins conscience. Peut-on savoir cela? Et surtout est-ce que cela a de l’importance? C’est un fait, une donnée qui est devenue consubstantielle à ma vie et à mon parcours. Romanian Political Science Review • vol. IX • no. 4 • 2009

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JEAN MICHEL DE WAELE

On peut prendre la question autrement et cela nous permettra d’arriver à des propos moins nombriliques. Quand est-ce que le virus a frappé? Depuis quand cette attirance? Je dois confesser que cela ne date pas d’hier. Lycéen fort politisé, voulant changer le monde j’étais déjà frappé par ce «virus». Les régimes «communistes» me semblaient tout bonnement incompréhensibles. Les tonnes de littérature variée qui étaient envoyées d’ici me semblaient surréalistes par leur côté figé, irréel. Qui pouvait lire cette logorrhée? Mais en Occident, les analyses étaient d’une grande pauvreté intellectuelle. Nous avions pour toute grille d’analyse le totalitarisme et ses critiques plus ou moins acérées. Pour un jeune homme, pétri de culture marxiste et fasciné par Gramsci, dont l’esprit critique était encouragé par un père qui redécouvrait la beauté du politique et de la contestation à travers les interrogations de son fils, il était difficile de comprendre la Pologne de Solidarnosc par le totalitarisme! Il y avait quelques petites contradictions! Et puis comment ne pas voir que la Corée du Nord n’était pas le Cuba et que la Roumanie n’était pas la Hongrie. Mais on avait droit aux «pays de l’Est» et à la soviétologie qui tenait souvent plus de l’analyse de texte que de l’étude des sociétés. Certes il existait des nuances dans les ouvrages, mais rares, très rares étaient les ouvrages qui montraient les évolutions profondes, qui s’intéressaient à la production artistique, à la société, «les vrais gens» comme disent aujourd’hui les hommes politiques belges. Les différences en étaient systématiquement occultées. On s’intéressait au PCUS, mais pas aux sociétés. Surpris par mon insistance à comprendre, j’ai eu la chance de bénéficier de l’aide de mon père, professeur d’Université, qui était prêt à beaucoup pour que les bonnes traditions familiales perdurent. Il fut donc vite convaincu de me mener à Berlin Est, de passer «le mur», d’établir de contacts avec ses collègues psychologues est-allemands pour justifier ses déplacements avec son fils! Il ne fut pas non plus effrayé quand quelques années auparavant, encore au lycée, je décide d’aller plus de vingt jours en Albanie communiste dans un groupe marxiste-léniniste français. Un jeune belge de 17 ans perdu dans 25 marxistes-léninistes français. Une expérience inoubliable! Comment expliquer le nombre anormalement élevé d’enfants qui, à l’époque, portaient des lunettes à Tirana? Par la sollicitude de l’État socialiste voyons! Pourquoi ne pouvons nous pas sortir seuls? Pour ne pas déranger nos hôtes qui construisent le socialisme! Voyons! J’ai beaucoup appris sur l’aveuglement que produit la religiosité. Ni l’enfer et l’uniformité décrits ici, ni la «société idéale» en construction disséminée par la propagande ne pouvaient me satisfaire. Il y avait là une énigme gigantesque et j’ai pris le goût pour la résolution des énigmes, ce qui est une partie du travail du chercheur. Je ne fus pas le seul, mais nous ne fûmes pas très nombreux à lutter contre les missiles américains ET contre les missiles soviétiques, à manifester contre les violations des droits de l’Homme en Amérique latine ET dans le monde soviétique. À manifester devant l’ambassade du Chili et de la Pologne. Les héros n’étaient pas Lénine ou Mao ou Reagan, mais Mandela! Ces questionnements furent consolidés de façon définitive à l’Université par un professeur qui me marque encore profondément: Marcel Liebman. Il m’a transmis son goût pour l’analyse des contradictions et de la complexité. Il m’a aussi vacciné contre les recherches à la mode. En sciences humaines, il faut accumuler la connaissance durant des décennies… Romanian Political Science Review • vol. IX • no. 4 • 2009

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On peut donc dire que ce virus, cet intérêt remonte bien avant 1989! Après, ce fut, aussi, question de chance, d’abnégation et de passion. Une thèse sur les partis politiques en Europe centrale m’a permis de me «promener» dans la région, de faire des centaines de rencontres, de suivre des congrès, de rencontrer la première génération de politologues, de suivre la naissance des processus, des transformations. Tout changeait tout le temps. Chaque élection semblait historique. Les partis naissaient, se divisaient, fusionnaient, mourraient plus vite que mes séjours. Internet n’existait pas. Un autre siècle! Les députés que je rencontrais changeaient plusieurs fois de parti entres mes voyages, les sièges des partis bougeaient sans cesse. Que d’heures perdues, que d’heures passées dans les Parlements. Mais surtout que de rencontres fascinantes, que de liens créés et que de projets menés. Il y a donc l’aspect personnel, le parcours académique. Mais ceci ne suffit pas à répondre aux questions de mes amis et collègues. Il se fait que l’Europe centrale pose des questions intellectuelles qui hantent mes pensées! «Par hasard» les grandes questions de la science politique – qui me fascine – se retrouvaient en Europe centrale. Les révolutions, les réformes, le poids du passé, les transformations sociales. Tout cela est présent et combien! Expliquons-nous. Il me semble qu’il faut admettre que malgré les nombreuses recherches de qualité menées ces dernières années, malgré la naissance de sciences politiques nationales dans chacun des États, il reste d’immenses pages blanches et de gigantesques points d’interrogation! Ceci s’explique par plusieurs raisons: En dehors des difficultés et contingences nationales, des transformations profondes des universités et des centres de recherche il faut remarquer que le grand intérêt que les nouvelles démocraties d’Europe centrale et orientale ont suscité fut de courte durée. Une fois que les stabilisations démocratiques semblèrent acquises, une fois que les doutes sur l’adhésion de ces États à l’Union européenne furent levés, l’attention de la communauté scientifique diminua rapidement et se concentra sur d’autres sujets à la mode. De plus, l’Europe centrale n’a cessé de connaître des «premières fois». Les premières élections, les premières crises, les premières élections européennes, les premiers al ter nan ces, les pre miers blo ca ges cons ti tu tion nels, les pre miè res reconductions d’alliance, les premières démissions, les premiers effets des négociations, les premiers effets de l’adhésion etc. Nous avons tous travaillé et analysé dans l’urgence. Tant de choses se sont passées en si peu de temps. Le trop plein d’événements, de succès, d’échec, d’avancées, de recul mais aussi le besoin de constituer des bases de données, car tellement d’éléments semblables se déroulent et doivent être comparés, tout cela explique en partie le manque de travaux de fond. Les travaux abondants sur les politiques européennes en vue de préparer l’adhésion et aussi les futures carrières dans les institutions européennes sont aussi un facteur à prendre en compte. Mais il y a des facteurs nettement plus lourds et complexes qu’il nous faut envisager. Pour comprendre ce qui se construit, il faut comprendre ce qui se détruit. Mais qu’est ce qui se détruisait en Europe centrale? Quelle fut la nature des régimes qui ont existé entre 1945/1947 et 1989/1991? Que s’était-il passé durant ces décennies? Force est de constater que les sciences humaines ont cessé de travailler sur ces grandes questions presque le jour du décès des régimes en place. Romanian Political Science Review • vol. IX • no. 4 • 2009

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Bien entendu, des travaux de grande qualité furent menés sur les entreprises en RDA, sur les architectes en Bulgarie, mais pas sur les questions fondamentales: la légitimité de ces régimes, leur maintien au pouvoir, les procédés d’accommodation des sociétés, le fonctionnement politique. Pour preuve, on ne sait toujours pas trop bien comment les nommer: «démocratie populaire» est presque comique pour des régimes qui ne furent ni démocratiques, ni populaires. Régime «totalitaire» est hyper-idéologisé et gomme toute existence de la société avec ses dynamiques et ses contradictions et surtout les différences importantes à l’intérieur de ces régimes. Le Ceauşescu de 1968 n’est pas celui de 1985! Régime communiste? Régime socialiste, régime de l’Est? Mais que savons-nous de plus aujourd’hui sur ces régimes? Les politologues ont déserté ce terrain en estimant que c’était la tâche des historiens. Ceux-ci ont fait un travail remarquable dans les archives. Des millions de pages ont été classées, lues et analysées. Cela a permis des analyses détaillées sur des thématiques ponctuelles. Certains événements ont été précisés, leur enchaînement est parfois mieux connu, leurs chiffres plus précis. Certains doutes sont levés. Mais, il n’y a eu aucune découverte spectaculaire, aucun renversement de perspective suite à ces recherches. Il y a encore un travail titanesque à réaliser sur cette période. Durant la guerre froide et quelques années plus tard, il était sans doute difficile de réaliser des analyses scientifiques alors que le sujet était hyper-politisé. Mais aujourd’hui? La liste des questions qui restent ouvertes demeure considérable. Que s’est-t-il déroulé durant ces décennies? Qui furent les gagnants? Qui furent les perdants? Quelles furent les politiques publiques? Quels groupes sociaux existaient? Quels étaient les réseaux internes? Quels étaient les différents intérêts? Il faudrait aussi mener des analyses comparatives en amont et en aval sur la façon dont les régimes ont récupéré – chacun à sa façon – leurs sociétés, leur histoire, leurs cultures politiques, leurs traditions. Les communistes tchèques se trouvaient face à une société industrielle développée alors que les communistes bulgares devaient gérer une société agraire. En dehors de se trouver à la périphérie de l’Europe, ces États présentent de grandes différences durant l’entre-deux-guerres et durant les premières années du communisme. Mais des recherches doivent être menées aussi en aval. De quelle façon les différents types de régimes communistes ont influencé les situations présentes? Un de mes autres centres d’intérêt – les rapports entre le sport et la politique – serait aussi un biais intéressant à explorer, tout comme la justification des condamnations ou la façon dont les familles ont transmis une mémoire historique de la nation en leur sein. Comment? Je pourrais continuer longtemps cette liste. Je ne veux pas, je le répète, dire que rien de bon n’a été produit. Loin s’en faut. De plus, c’est une des mes principales frustrations, je suspecte que les meilleurs travaux n’ont pas été traduits dans une langue qui m’est accessible. Mes questions de base n’ont donc pas encore trouvé de réponses! Il faudrait aussi pouvoir travailler sur les rapports complexes et contradictoires que ces sociétés entretiennent avec la mémoire du communisme: les traces laissées, les représentations mentales, symboliques, architecturales. Il est remarquable d’observer combien le passé est discuté et instrumentalisé au présent, non seulement en termes de nostalgie – comme dans toutes les sociétés le passé parait plus doux, moins exigeant, moins insécurisant, mais il oblige à mettre à jour le type de contradictions et de tensions dont nous avons besoin pour analyser Romanian Political Science Review • vol. IX • no. 4 • 2009


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et comprendre les dynamiques à l’œuvre. Se pourrait-il que sous le régime précédent il y ait eu des choses qui fonctionnaient mieux? Alors tout n’était pas l’enfer? Partout les attitudes durant le communisme ont fait l’objet de discussions et dénonciations souvent hystériques et de manipulations continuelles. La chasse aux anciens communistes d’abord, aux membres des services secrets ensuite a été un élément commun aux sociétés d’Europe centrale. La volonté de nettoyer la société, de la purger ne semblait pas avoir de fin. Loin de moi l’idée de nier les graves problèmes éthiques, moraux, politiques, économiques et parfois de sécurité nationale qui sont ainsi posés. Des solutions différentes ont été appliquées dans les différents États mais le débat et les accusations n’ont cessé nulle part. Il est intéressant et important de se demander pourquoi. Comment pourrais-je ne pas ouvrir de grands yeux et me poser de questions en me rendant dans des États où des millions de personnes étaient membres du parti unique, pour des raisons très différentes, et de n’avoir rencontré que très rarement un citoyen me disant «j’étais membre»; et si jamais cela arrive c’est qu’il luttait de l’intérieur pour la démocratie et la liberté, ou que le totalitarisme était tel que… Mais où sont-ils passés ces millions de membres du parti au pouvoir? Evaporés? Ils n’étaient pas tous des assassins, des tortionnaires, ils pouvaient être critiques face aux dérives du régime. Ils méritent aussi notre intérêt scientifique. Leurs visions, leurs expériences du régime, leurs explications de sa crise et de sa chute doivent être prises en compte dans la compréhension complète des dynamiques. L’histoire ne doit pas être écrite par les vainqueurs. C’est d’autant plus dangereux que les «vainqueurs» peuvent très bien – et c’est souvent le cas des anciens membres qui ont senti le vent tourner aux bons moments ou qui avaient plus de ressources sociales pour réussir leur transition que d’autres. Comment pourrais-je ne pas vouloir comprendre cette constatation que je me faisais un jour en revenant de Bucarest? Donc 99,99% de la population a résisté au totalitarisme sanguinaire et 99,99% de la population est accusée ou suspectée par son entourage d’avoir entretenu des liens directs ou indirects avec la Securitate! Tous coupables donc tous innocents, ou tous innocents mais tous coupables. Cela pose évidemment la question du poids de l’histoire. Ah, elle a bon dos l’histoire! Elle explique tout… après coup! Je suis un grand partisan de l’étude de l’histoire. Contrairement aux tendances actuelles du rational choice, je pense que si on ne connaît pas l’histoire des sociétés on ne comprend tout juste rien. C’est le terreau sur lequel tout le reste pousse! On ne peut pas en faire l’économie. Mais on ne peut pas s’arrêter là et créer des automatismes simplificateurs. Car il y a des continuités et des ruptures dans nos sociétés et cette chimie complexe reste en grande partie à étudier. Je pense que la question des continuités et des ruptures est la question centrale de mes recherches. Celle qui m’obsède, celle qui m’empêche de dormir. Celle qui m’intéresse pour de vrai! Et l’Europe centrale et orientale s’est révélé un terrain d’analyse et d’observations fantastiquement fructueux. On peut approuver ou non les paroles du chant symbole de la gauche, l’Internationale. Il y a là une phrase qui est une erreur! Du passé, faisons table rase. Et bien non! Du passé on ne fait pas table rase. Comme l’ont montré les théories de la path dependence. Le présent se construit avec les ruines du passé et non pas ex nihilo! Raison de plus d’étudier les ruines et comment la maison est tombée en ruine! La démocratie post-1989 c’est donc construite avec les ruines du communisme et les mythes et les représentations de l’entre-deux-guerres. Romanian Political Science Review • vol. IX • no. 4 • 2009

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Quelles furent les ruptures que produisit le communisme? Mais aussi en quoi fut-il une continuité? Et les régimes démocratiques actuels? Quelles sont les ruptures (c’est le plus évident) mais quelles sont aussi les éléments de continuité? Ce qui est fascinant dans cette problématique c’est que ce ne sont pas les mêmes éléments dans tous les États. Pourquoi peut-on voire une continuité dans certaines formations politiques historiques là-bas et pas ailleurs? Comment expliquer l’incroyable stabilité du comportement électoral dans certaines régions? Il y a parfois des permanences lourdes au niveau électoral entre l’entre-deux-guerres, le régime communiste (en termes d’opposition ou d’adhésion aux régimes) et aujourd’hui. Alors que la démocratie chrétienne maintient sa force de l’entre-deux-guerres dans certains États, elle faiblit très largement dans d’autres anciens bastions comme la Slovaquie. Pourtant la sécularisation communiste a joué partout! Nous pourrions multiplier les exemples et les questions sur le champ partisan sur lequel nous avons concentré nos efforts. Mais les études sur la réforme de la justice par exemple ou sur les élites politiques sont tout à fait éclairantes. Mais il ne s’agit pas simplement de cela. Cela serait trop simple. Il ne s’agit pas d’étudier les continuités versus les ruptures, mais bien leur mélange! Ce n’est pas rupture ou continuité mais rupture ET continuité. C’est de leur mélange, de la chimie de ces nouveaux équilibres différents produits par des rapports de force différents que naissent les nouvelles situations qui portent en elles des éléments de rupture et de continuité. Je ne prétends pas du tout ici être original ou novateur. Je ne prétends pas non plus que seule l’Europe centrale et orientale permet d’observer ces processus du neuf fait avec du nouveau et de l’ancien. Mais je pense qu’il est plus visible, moins caché, ici qu’ailleurs. De la même façon, la difficulté que les nations d’Europe centrale éprouvent envers le passé communiste n’est pas une caractéristique spécifique. Les choses sont plus brutes, plus évidentes, moins policées. Aucun peuple n’a l’approche facile avec les pages noires de son histoire. La France doit faire face à Vichy, la guerre en Algérie, et continue d’entretenir le silence sur le massacre de Madagascar! L’Espagne avait cru tourner la page de la guerre civile et il a fallut attendre que le petit fils d’un républicain assassiné par les franquistes devienne Premier ministre pour que l’on décide enfin de reconnaître des droits et de donner des sépultures décentes aux républicains antifascistes! Les statues de Franco sont restées debout plus longtemps que celles des secrétaires généraux des partis communistes. Mais ce qui est intéressant c’est que chaque État de l’Europe centrale à l’impression de vivre à ce propos une situation unique, d’avoir plus de difficultés que les autres à affronter son passé, que ses communistes continuent à jouer un rôle plus important alors que l’on sait depuis longtemps que dans les changements de régimes les anciennes élites sont récupérées au minium pour assurer le bon fonctionnement de l’État. Il n’en demeure pas moins que constater que certains hauts responsables en place depuis 1989 ont tous été membres d’une organisation communiste en dit long sur la problématique de la rupture et de la continuité! Celle-ci peut être étudiée sous de nombreuses facettes! Les partis politiques, le rapport à l’État, la politique étrangère, les élites, les politiques publiques, le rapport à l’identité nationale et au fait religieux. J’ai déjà souvent donné l’exemple de Wroclaw, l’ancienne Breslau. Le développement économique de cette ville, son comportement politique et électoral, son Romanian Political Science Review • vol. IX • no. 4 • 2009


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organisation remarquable, la qualité de sa main d’œuvre… s’expliquent par «le poids de l’histoire». Autrement dit, il s’agit même aujourd’hui d’une ancienne ville industrielle allemande. Superficiellement, l’explication semble tentante mais…. C’est oublier…. L’histoire! Breslau a été très largement vidé de ses habitants expulsés à la fin de la Seconde Guerre mondiale. Ils furent remplacés par la population de l’Est de la Pologne de l’entre-deux-guerres qui allait être rattachée à l’Union soviétique. Or cette population était et de loin la plus en retard de développement économique et culturel! Alors comment peut-on expliquer cette situation? Des citoyens de l’Est de la Pologne occupent les maisons et les appartements d’Allemands (certains possèdent encore aujourd’hui la vaisselle abandonnée) et quelques années après (ce n’est pas clair pour moi quand) on constate qu’ils ont hérité d’un grand sens de l’organisation, d’une forte éthique du travail! Ils sont parmi les Polonais les plus «occidentalisés». Ce sont les murs ou les rues ou l’atmosphère qui transmettent cela? Y a-t-il de fantômes? Comment expliquer cette «occidentalisation?». Je pense que tant que je n’aurai pas de réponses à ce genre d’énigme, je continuerai à courir l’Europe centrale et à parcourir les rues de Wroclaw et à poser mes centaines de questions et à chercher partout des éléments de réponses! On peut aussi arguer évidement que la science politique peut vérifier un grand nombre de ses théories à l’Europe centrale qui lui a offert un champ remarquable à ce niveau. Lois électorales, politiques publiques, théories de l’intégration européenne, théories des organisations partisanes et des groupes d’intérêts etc. C’est trop évident pour devoir être explicite plus longuement. Mais ceci comporte des dangers que nous avons déjà maintes fois dénoncés dans nos travaux sur les partis politiques: les occidentaux qui viennent chercher un terrain de plus pour démontrer la valeur de leur école et de leur modèles. Parfois l’emploi du chausse-pied est évident pour permettre à l’Europe centrale d’entrer dans le modèle. Parfois celle-ci résiste, ce qui fait conclure non plus que le modèle n’est pas performant ou global, mais que la zone est trop instable, pas assez mûre pour être étudiée. Mais en Europe centrale aussi, une tendance contraire à la typologie persiste. Les modèles explicatifs, les théories – c’est très bien pour les autres cas dans le monde, mais chez moi c’est tout à fait spécifique. La Pologne et son catholicisme, son pape, Solidarnosc, la Roumanie et le régime Ceauşescu, la Hongrie, qui est un cas à part, la Tchéquie et ses traditions démocratiques… Je continue à penser que la comparaison des différents cas d’Europe centrale et orientale est indispensable pour comprendre ce qui est propre aux transformations en cours à la région et ce qui est propre au cas nationaux. Souvent, les chercheurs de la région sont plus intéressés à comparer leur pays à la Suède ou aux USA qu’à leurs voisins. Cela aboutit parfois à des erreurs d’évaluation, car ce qui est considéré comme spécifique, comme «grave» ou «important» peut apparaître commun à tous les pays de la région ou même à une image inverse. Si l’on compare avec les États-Unis et la Suède, on a une perspective pessimiste, mais si l’on compare avec les autres États de la région, le bilan peut apparaître beaucoup plus optimiste. Ceci ne veut pas dire qu’il ne faut pas comparer les nouveaux membres de l’Union avec les anciens. Cela apporte aussi à l’analyse et à la compréhension. Mais, il nous semble dans tous les cas qu’une comparaison régionale s’impose et ne saurait être évitée. Un des plus beaux exemples de ce que nous dénoncions fut l’application de la transitologie à l’Europe centrale. Un modèle tout à fait intéressant pour l’Europe du Sud fut plaqué sur l’Europe centrale. Certes, on peut comprendre l’intérêt des Romanian Political Science Review • vol. IX • no. 4 • 2009

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élites en place à la recherche d’un guide et de conseils pour réussir la démocratisation, mais cela ne prouve pas la validité du modèle. L’idée de transition linéaire d’un point A connu vers un point B connu aussi a déjà été amplement critiquée pour son côté idéologique et normatif. De plus, les différences avec l’Espagne, la Grèce et le Portugal où le capitalisme existait déjà et ou l’armée jouait un rôle central doit être rappelé. Le rôle des questions internationales est aussi très différent. Au concept de transition, nous préférons le concept de transformation qui nous semble beaucoup moins connoté, plus large et plus riche. Mais il est vrai que ces transformations posent de nombreuses questions sémantiques compliquées. Le vocabulaire employé fourmille de «post» et «d’ex»! Le post-communisme! Ca veut dire quoi? Ca commence quand? Et surtout ça finit quand? La Pologne était post-communiste le 30 avril 2004 et est devenu un pays «normal» le 1 mai 2004 quand elle est devenue membre de l’Union européenne? On est post-communiste pendant combien de temps? Des héritages des ces décennies seront présents longuement dans ces États. C’est une évidence de peu d’intérêt. Dit-on aujourd’hui de l’Espagne qu’elle est post-franquiste ou de la France post-1968 ou post-1789? Il y a aussi les ex-communistes? Ca veut dire quoi? Il y a d’anciens membres du parti communiste dans tous les secteurs et dans tous les pays. S’agit-il des partis qui ont un lien avec l’ancien parti unique? Mais à nouveau, un jeune député de 35 ans membre d’une de ces formations est-il post-communiste? Et ces partis seront ex-communistes durant combien de temps? Chaque État a aussi ses expressions qui valent la peine d’être notées. «Les événements de 1989», comme on dit souvent en Roumanie, démontrent bien la difficulté de nommer ce qui s’est déroulé. Une révolution? Un coup d’État? Un complot du KGB? Alors faute de savoir…. De nombreux citoyens emploient cette délicieuse expression «des événements de 1989». L’emploi surabondant du terme totalitarisme mériterait aussi quelques remarques et interrogations. Une autre problématique beaucoup trop peu étudiée jusqu’à présent et que nous n’avons pas le temps de développer ici est la question de la structuration sociale de ces sociétés. Quels sont les groupes sociaux qui existent et qui défendent au sein de l’État et dans l’arène politique et sociale leurs intérêts? Peut-on parler de classe ouvrière? Peut-on parler de classe moyenne? Les professions libérales sont elles organisées et structurées? Ont-elles conscience d’un intérêt commun? Cela repose d’une autre façon la question des clivages sociaux existant dans les sociétés de l’Europe centrale. Je pourrais continuer longuement à démontrer l’intérêt fantastique de l’étude de l’Europe centrale. La recherche y permet de suivre les évolutions depuis le début de la démocratie. Elle permet de se poser de grandes questions de science politique. Des choses nouvelles se déroulent. Mais en même temps, les grandes tendances observables dans les autres démocraties sont aussi à remarquer: rôle des médias, malaise démocratique, montée du populisme, repli identitaire, recherche de leader charismatique. Mais comme ailleurs ces évolutions générales sont à chaque fois différentes dans chacun des États, influencées par les instituions, par la situation sociale, par les rapports de forces, par l’histoire et par les accidents imprévisibles. Enfin, comment ne pas terminer en évoquant ces nombreuses amitiés qui sont nées des projets de recherche. Sans mes collègues des universités partenaires je n’aurais pas pu faire grand chose. Les nombreux colloques et projets de recherche ont Romanian Political Science Review • vol. IX • no. 4 • 2009


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fait naître une remarquable dynamique qui m’a considérablement enrichi scientifiquement et surtout humainement. Mon dynamisme leur doit beaucoup, tout comme aux doctorants de la région dont j’ai pris tant de plaisirs à diriger les travaux. L’Université de Bucarest tient évidement une place à part. C’est là où j’ai donné le plus de cours, le plus de conférences. C’est de la Faculté de science politique que viennent ces étudiants remarquablement formés qui ont défendu parmi les meilleures thèses de sciences politiques de mon département – en cotutelle ou pas – avec l’Université de Bucarest. Je ne peux non plus oublier l’école doctorale en sciences sociales, soutenue par la Francophonie où là aussi j’ai eu le plaisir de diriger de nombreux travaux. Je dois confesser que je suis devenu – par je ne sais quel mystère – un peu Roumain! D’ailleurs on a cessé de me dire «Tu ne peux pas comprendre, tu n’es pas d’ici». C’est un très beau compliment.


Les questions De Waele DANIEL BARBU

C’est avec un sentiment tout à fait particulier que je m’adresse à Jean-Michel De Waele lors de cette cérémonie qui, bien que festive, renvoie à un contenu intellectuel lourd de sens. La raison en est simple. Comme j’enseigne à la Faculté des Sciences Politiques de l’Université de Bucarest depuis sa fondation en 1991, j’ai eu le privilège, sur une durée qui est longue dans la vie des hommes, d’être un témoin constant de l’engagement scientifique et institutionnel du Professeur De Waele dans l’étude de la politique et des politiques de l’Europe centrale et orientale après la chute du communisme. Étude qu’il a entreprise lui-même, étude qu’il a suscitée à travers les centres et équipes de recherches qu’il a fondés ou aidés constituer à l’Université Libre de Bruxelles ou ailleurs, les colloques qu’il a organisés, les thèses qu’il a dirigées et fait publier, les volumes qu’il a édités. Pourtant, je ne vais pas parler de sa présence, aussi attachante et influente soit-elle. Je ne voudrais pas apporter de louanges à l’homme, à l’ami, au collègue. Je crois que, dans une circonstance qui voudrait reconduire une pratique académique qui remonte à la culture universitaire médiévale, il vaut mieux discuter de la pensée du récipiendaire du titre de docteur honoris causa de l’Université de Bucarest. Ce n’est pas tant l’homme, que l’auteur qui nous honorons aujourd’hui. D’autant plus qu’il s’agit, il me semble, d’un auteur qui aime procéder, à l’instar de la scolastique, plutôt par questionnement que par exposé, selon l’exemple de l’érudition moderne. L’œuvre du professeur bruxellois est balisée par ce qu’il convient peut-être d’appeler «les questions De Waele», interrogations charnières dont la juste formulation avance le savoir plus que toute repose. La vertu fondamentale des recherches de science politique menées par Jean-Michel De Waele est d’avoir su, à partir de l’étude de l’expérience post-communiste d’invention et réinvention du parti comme agent du phénomène politique, de rendre compte de la nature même des régimes qui se sont succédés en Europe centrale et orientale dans la seconde moitié du XXe siècle. Aussi, au moyen d’une exploitation intensive des archives juridico-politiques et des pratiques institutionnelles, l’auteur a pu repositionner la question des partis dans un cadre de théorie politique, voire de théorie de la démocratie. Ce qui distingue avant tout le parcours intellectuel de Jean-Michel De Waele c’est l’élégance méthodologique avec laquelle il a réussi d’éviter le double piège de l’empirisme trivial et de la banalité des interrogations auquel échappent rarement les politistes, engouffrés dans le post-comportementalisme d’une science politique dominante, entendue comme étude des choix publics. Il me semble que, à travers ses recherches, l’auteur que nous célébrons aujourd’hui a été amené à interroger au rebours le processus qui est souvent décrit, d’une manière plus normative qu’explicative, comme «incarnation» de la démocratie. Simplement dit, une certaine pensée sur la possibilité de la liberté et de l’égalité de se croiser et de se fertiliser mutuellement s’est trouvée dans la situation stratégique de pouvoir prendre un corps politique et de générer, ou inspirer, une carnation que les politistes nomment «régime» et que les comparatistes s’appliquent à saisir Romanian Political Science Review • vol. IX • no. 4 • 2009

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dans une multiplicité d’aspects et de manifestations variées. De là, plusieurs questions, toutes dépassant par leur portée l’horizon empirique de l’Europe centrale et orientale: de quoi la démocratie post-communiste, dans les pays de cette région jadis sous influence soviétique, est-elle faite? Quelle est sa nature ultime? Est-elle vraiment différente de la matière première politique dont feu le totalitarisme a été bâti? Quels sont ses agents et d’où viennent-ils? Autant que je puisse la saisir, la question centrale de Jean-Michel De Waele, jamais perdue de vue au fil des argumentations les plus diverses, gérant toujours ses raisonnements, ainsi que leur validation empirique, semble s’inscrire au creux même d’un dilemme constitutif de la science politique comprise comme approche, à la fois normative et descriptive, à la démocratie: la démocratie vaut-elle une science qui lui soit propre, comme l’avaient pensé les fondateurs américains de la political science universitaire, au titre de l’unicité du sujet politique que celle-ci assume en tant que discipline, ou bien la démocratie se prête mieux à une histoire du phénomène politique moderne ancré dans le social et qui ne postulerait pas une différence de nature entre les sociétés démocratiques et leurs contraires. Si la décomposition de la démocratie a bien engendré le totalitarisme dans l’entre-deux-guerres, tel que le processus à été saisi par nombre d’ouvrages classiques, est-ce que l’écroulement du totalitarisme après la guerre froide ne l’a pas écroué à l’intérieur de la démocratie post-communiste? Certes, ces questions interpellent la manière dont nous, à l’Institut de Recherches Politiques de l’Université de Bucarest, avons pris l’habitude d’approcher le contenu politique de la démocratisation roumaine des années 1990 et 2000. Est-ce que nous sommes à même d’en apporter quelques éléments de réponse, aussi quodlibetales que les interrogations qu’ils explorent? Comment se fait-il qu’une société qui n’a connu, durant quatre décennies, que «communistes» et «sans partis» a spontanément engendré, en 1990 et après, de «démocrates-chrétiens», de «libéraux», de «socio-démocrates» ou de «démocrates» tout court? Voilà une question qu’on pourrait appeler «dewaelienne». Voilà aussi, dans ce qui suit, une tentative de transformer en objet de recherche un tel enjeu intellectuel qui, en dépit des usages multiples auxquels il s’est prêté au niveau du discours public, reste indéterminé dans l’espace politique post-communiste. On ne saurait expliquer la transition post-communiste, nous met en garde Jean-Michel De Waele, uniquement comme somme d’actes politiques et de faits sociaux présents et observables. Elle est également à comprendre comme rencontre et affrontement entre une mémoire collective fragmentée et une pluralité de projets de société. Le plus souvent, les références au passé récent relèvent du domaine des contingences et visent plus la compétition partisane post-communiste que le communisme lui-même en tant qu’expérience lisible et intelligible de la société roumaine. Gérer politiquement la mémoire du socialisme d’État en Roumanie après 1989 serait donc un processus d’attribution, sinon d’imputation, et non de compréhension de cette expérience. Les acteurs qui utilisent le passé dans leur discours le font seulement afin d’impartir la responsabilité à leurs adversaires et de se soustraire de tout partage de ce même passé. Un pareil dispositif éthico-politique semble enclenché par une réflexion: le communisme n’est pas pertinent comme champ d’expérience historique parce qu’il s’est produit en dehors de la volonté des Roumains; au contraire, en tant qu’expression d’un acte collectif de volonté nommé «révolution», le post-communisme se constitue en horizon d’attentes, mais d’attentes rétrospectives, d’attentes définies avec Romanian Political Science Review • vol. IX • no. 4 • 2009

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l’appareil intellectuel fourni par la culture politique du régime renversé. Autrement dit, l’opposition ex-communistes/anti-communistes, dont le lieu exclusif est le discours public, a fonctionné surtout dans les années 1990 comme un clivage idéologique dont le rôle était de rationaliser un paysage partisan autrement indistinct au niveau de ressources humaines et des projets politiques. Il me semble que la refondation de la communauté politique n’a jamais été en Roumanie un choix politique fort, ni même au lendemain de l’intégration européenne: la seule tradition utilisable, et utilisée par tous les acteurs, y compris pour porter le pays en Europe, a été la tradition du socialisme d’État. La révolution s’est déclinée par ailleurs dans la vulgate discursive mise en place sous le communisme. Le langage des proclamations révolutionnaires en est la preuve: combat sans merci contre un système odieux, décision des ouvriers, intellectuels, étudiants et paysans de lutter quel que soit le prix jusqu’à la victoire de la démocratie, vigilance à l’égard des actes contre-révolutionnaires, le courage du peuple à affronter l’oppression, piété devant les héros, les idéaux d’une révolution faite par le peuple, nécessité de rédiger un court traité politique comme instrument d’éducation des masses. L’anticommunisme se déploie donc dans la pensée et se dit avec les moyens intellectuels de la culture communiste. C’est justement dans une telle perspective qu’on pourra mieux comprendre pourquoi le débat publique du lendemain des événements de décembre 1989 porta notamment autour de Ceauşescu. Dénoncer «le culte de la personnalité» faisait bel et bien partie de l’inventaire de la culture politique de type soviétique. Cibler le régime, en tant que projet de société, au delà de ses incarnations, s’est avéré une tache qui n’a pas été menée à bien ni même en 2006. Le Rapport final de la Commission présidentielle pour l’analyse de la dictature communiste conclut, dans des termes qui auraient paru familiers dans les années 1950, que le communisme a été le fait d’un groupe politique «hostile aux intérêts et aspirations du peuple», illustré par soixante quatre biographies exposées à l’opprobre des masses. Continuité de culture et référentiels politiques, mais aussi continuité juridique entre le régime communiste et sont successeur, mise en évidence de bonne heure par le procès des Ceauşescu, qui est peut-être à penser comme une continuité de l’État. Nicolae Ceauşescu lui-même n’a pas manqué de le juger de la sorte: il ne misait plus sur la fidélité des troupes et des autorités publiques, mais il s’attendait en revanche à ce que le peuple en insurrection contre l’armée et la Securitate vienne à son secours. C’est également entre les mains du peuple représenté par la Grande Assemblée Nationale qu’il entendait remettre son destin. Il est mort en chantant l’Internationale et non pas l’hymne national ou un autre chant patriotique. Considéré dans une pareille perspective, Ceauşescu est le premier post-communiste roumain qui se défait du Parti et de l’État pour se tourner vers le peuple. De la sorte, il annonce que l’emprise de l’État sur la société sera reconduite au moyen d’un projet plus modeste que celui léniniste, mais qui n’est pas sans rapport avec le remploi du léninisme par le Parti-État roumain: le peuple comme porteur de la démocratie. De Nicolae Ceauşescu à nos jours le peuple, défini par l’unité d’une volonté indivisible, reste l’alternative politique que les dirigeants préfèrent à la société plurielle et civile. Le Parti-État d’antan s’est sans doute relogé dans un État des partis, mais il a tendance à se manifester, surtout à la veille et au lendemain de son intégration européenne, comme un État-peuple, déjà annoncé dans les années 1980 par la vulgate intellectuelle communiste. Si le rapport institutionnel au passé des partis post-communistes devrait être compris moins en tant qu’acceptation, fut-elle tacite, de l’héritage du parti unique Romanian Political Science Review • vol. IX • no. 4 • 2009

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que comme résultat d’une attitude à l’égard de l’État façonné par ce parti, il s’ensuit que tous les partis de l’après communisme sont des partis successeurs puisque aucun d’entre eux n’a jamais mis en cause la continuité de l’État et n’a demandé ou procédé au démantèlement des institutions où cette continuité est la plus visible: l’armée, les services secrets et le système judiciaire. Quant aux biographies des dirigeants, et si l’on fait exception des anciens prisonniers politiques qui ont été un moment à la tête des partis dits «historiques», elles mènent toutes (directement ou indirectement) aux appareils du Parti-État et aux «fronts» professionnels que celui-ci s’appliquait à coordoner. À mon sens, ni la compréhension et l’emploi de l’État, ni les parcours individuels n’expliquent pourquoi les partis se sont formés et distribués en familles politiques. Ceci n’a été qu’un modeste exercice de lecture «dewaelienne» de la genèse des partis roumains. Ainsi mises à l’épreuve, les «questions De Waele» n’ont pas d’importance seulement pour la compréhension scientifique du passé récent et de la politique actuelle dans un pays comme la Roumanie, mais posent des enjeux intellectuels et méthodologiques qui se dressent devant tout politiste, sans égard à la pluralité multiple et variée des domaines possibles de recherche. En fait, au delà de son terroir empirique central- et est-Européen, Jean-Michel De Waele met en cause quelques prémisses théoriques de la science politique comme science de la démocratie, comme savoir fabriqué et étoffé pour rendre compte de la nature et du fonctionnement d’un régime politique qui, en tant que type idéal, ne connaît plus, après 1989, d’alternative pensable. Il convient donc de reconnaître que Jean-Michel De Waele a dirigé ses recherches avec une maîtrise qui lui vaut bien toutes les honneurs dans une discipline, la science politique, qu’il n’a pas simplement enrichie d’un nouveau cas, l’Europe centrale et orientale, assez intéressant, bien découpé et bien exploré par ailleurs, mais qu’il s’est efforcé d’interroger au niveau des présupposés les plus fondamentaux.


ARTICULI

Migration and Development Models in Dobroudja, 1880-1913 Contribution to the Study of the Topic STELU ŞERBAN

The modernization of the traditional societies is a similar process in almost all the European area. There are still strong discrepancies because of the initial situation of the national societies, as well as the different accents between the European countries. What is more, the modernization inside each country generated socio-economic and cultural tensions, which increased by the sudden constraint of the the mass politics distorted the definition and approach of the modernization problems. The main cause for this state is the acceptance of the homogenuous nation model as a fundamental landmark of modernization. In most of the cases the traditional society already on its way to the organic modernization, rejected the model of the homogenuous nation. This way its structures were oriented on the basis of the adaptation to the immediate socio-historical contexts, than followed the abstract purposes of development under the umbrella of the political nation. Come inside the Romanian state in 1878, only 12 years after 1866, the year when the Romanian Principalities decisevely stepped on the way of political and economic modernization of western model, Dobroudja1 represents an extreme revealer of the problems and conflicts of this modernizing programme2. It is significant that at the Berlin Congress in 1878 the Romanian delegation has been replaced the disscusions of the ethnic issues with the programme for the economic development. Although at the negociation the representatives of the Romanian Principalities defended the cause of Bessarabia, with a dominant Romanian population, the problem of the Romanian population in Timok Valley (Bulgaria and Serbia) was not in the attention of the authorities from Bucharest. It was approached by the Romanian diplomacy much later under the circumstances of the two Balkan wars3. In 1878 they prefered to integrate Dobroudja, a province where the Romanian population was outnumbered by the Slavs (Bulgarian, Russians, Lippovans) or Moslems (Turks, Tartars)4, a solution which had ample economic consequences. 1 Let’s say that all over this material we refer to the present part of Dobroudja from Romania. At South Dobroudja, the Cadrilater, which is in Bulgaria, we refer rarely and in examples (see the monograph of Ezibei village made by C.D. Mirceşti at the end of the interwar period). We have to say that a comparative study of social history between the two areas would be extremely fertile and would bring to light new dimensions of both cases. 2 Catherine DURANDIN, Discurs politic şi modernizare în România, secolele XIX-XX, Romanian transl. by Toader Nicoară, Presa Universitară Clujeană. Cluj-Napoca, 2001, pp. 99-110. 3 Ştefan VÂLCU, ”Românii uitaţi: o introducere în chestia timoceană”, Buletinul Institutului de Studii Sud Est Europene, IX-A, 1998, pp. 98-110/p. 100 ff. 4 In written works, under doubtful circumstances, Bulgarian authors doubt the intentions of the Romanian diplomacy of keeping Dobroudja inside the Romanian state. In their opinion Dobroudja was only a solution for the transition (Milan G. MARKOFF, The Political Lost of Dobroudja after the Berliner Congress, Lausanne, 1918).


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The economic stake of this decision was seen in the next years. We will try to trace its principles and premises as follows.

Models of Development in Dobroudja between 1878 and 1910 The economic potential of Dobroudja was seen clearly before the half of the 19th century. The first monography of the area is contemporary with the age of Tanzimat, period whose ideas affected all the south-eastern European area1. More over, the author of this monography, Ion Ionescu dela Brad2, was a controversial and refractory personality, the fan of the principles of social changing through reforms, which sometimes reached the limits of an utopia3. Together with the interest of the Ottoman administration we have to remember some attempts of Moldavian and Wallachian boyars in the middle of the 19th century4. It is about two plans of granting some parts of Dobroudja by the Ottoman administration. The first brought together six Moldavian and Wallachian boyars who would have liked the establishing of some ”principauté indépendante” in the area of the former village Carasu, distroyed in the war between 1828-1829. All the Romanians from Dobroudja, as well as the participants at the revolution in 1848, followed by the repression would have settled on its edges. The project was not finalised. The second attempt belonged to Ion Ghica. Counciled by Ionescu de la Brad, Ghica wanted to establish a model farm and an agriculture school, in the area of the present village Topalu. A consortium of six share holders was created, to which the Turkish part participated, with private persons and representatives of 1 Stevan K. PAVLOWITCH, A History of the Balkans, 1804-1945, Addison Wesley Longman Limited, Essex, 1999, pp. 64-68. 2 The monograph to which we refer appeared in French in 1850 under the title Excursion agricole dans la plaine de Dobrodja, Paris. For the present work we use the translation in Romanian found in Ion IONESCU DE LA BRAD, Opere, vol. II, Bucureşti, 1944, pp. 81-121. We must precise that the author refers to a Dobroudja lying from Varna to the Danube Delta, including the Cadrilater. 3 Ion Ionescu dela Brad studied Agronomy in France (at Roville, as it is written on the back cover of his monography about Dobroudja). In 1848 he conducted the works of the Property Commission from the temporary government installed as a result of the revolution in Wallachia. When the revolution was defeated, he hired as a councellor on economic problems of the pashalic in Tesalia. Under this quality he will elaborate more works having as an immediate purpose the economic development of some regions from the Ottoman Empire (Dobroudja, Tessaly and Asia Minor). In 1860, having written some critical articles to the government he was given forced domicile at Neamţ Monastery in Moldavia. He came back to politics in 1866 and activated for two decades, dedicating a part of his time to the elaboration of an excellent county monographies. He wanted to put his ideas into practice by settling a model farm on a property he bought in Moldavia. Henri H. Stahl emphasizes his place in the social history of Romania (Henri H. STAHL, Gânditori şi curente de istorie socială românească, Editura Universităţii Bucureşti, Bucureşti, 2001, pp. 163-166). The figure of Ionescu de la Brad in still popular in the area of the villages Prăjeşti, Negri and Brad, Bacău, within the Roman Catholic population (personal observation, made in the summer of the year 2002 on the occasion of a field research in the area). 4 Tudor MATEESCU, ”Projets roumains d’exploitation agricole en Dobroudja au milieu de e XIX siècle”, Revue Roumaine d’Histoire, XI, no. 4, 1972, pp. 655-663/p. 656 ff.


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the administration. Among the Romanians, together with Ion Ghica, were Vasile Alecsandri, C. Negri and Gr. Al. Ghica, the last ruler of Moldavia. The plan supposed the construction of a terrestrial line of communication between Cernavodă and Constanţa as a prolonging of the natural link on the Danube. At the beginning of the year 1851 the project was abandoned. Meanwhile Ionescu de la Brad hired as a councillor of the visir of Tesalia, at the invitation of the Ottoman ministry of agriculture. These attempts were contemporary with the extremely interesting research of Ion Ionescu de la Brad, as a result of which we have his well known monography. He also called Dobroudja the California of Romania1, which proves that his interest for Dobroudja was high above the situations. If we limit to the quoted work, we have to no tice that de la Brad wanted for the eco nomic fu ture of Do broudja mainly the development of the transportation network, terrestrial and fluvial, from the east to the west, so that we could valour the opening at the Black Sea. From the point of view of the goods production his proposals were less revolutionary. He noticed the good quality of the soil, but also the lack of water sources. He also noticed that even if Dobroudja could offer the existence of 2 million people, there were only 60 000 who lived on its edges at the time2. He proposed the colonization of the province in such a way that the extra soil could be exploited. In the way of organising such an agricultural regime, he thought that the practices of the local economy should be taken into account, especially the balance between agriculture and cattle breeding3. We went through all these projects because after 1878 a big part of their ideas will serve as a basis for the elaboration of a legislation that changed profoundly Dobroudja economic and social structure. We notice, in the first place, the Law of Organization of Dobroudja (1880) and the one regarding the reglementation of land property (1882). Different interests lay at the basis of this laws4. It was first, an economic interest. The development of the labour capital and the transportation network was followed, as well as the diking in of the Danube Delta, and the transformation of Constanţa in a free area (porto-franco). In close relation with the economic programme was the ”national interest”, with Vasile Kogălniceanu’s expression, which meant the colonization of Dobroudja. The effects of these two directions of action were canalized, at least in the authorities intention, by the political interest which imposed that all the people of Dobroudja, ”Romanian and non Romanian” (V. Kogălniceanu) to enjoy ”freedom and political rights”. Depending on the balance of the political forces in the capital of the country, each of these interests was prior. The liberals, for instance considered the economic interest more important. Ion I. Nacian was preoccupied with the costs of the colonization of Dobroudja and with the strictly economic efficiency of such an action5. In his opinion, since the local society did not have enough resources, the 1

Ion IONESCU DE LA BRAD, Opere, vol. II, cit., p. 657. Ibidem, p. 101. 3 Ibidem, p. 108. 4 Vasile M. KOGĂLNICEANU, Dobrogea 1879-1909. Drepturi politice fără libertăţi, Socec, Bucureşti, 1910, p. 263. 5 I.I. NACIAN, La Dobroudja economique et sociale, Paris, 1886; IDEM, Dobrogea. Reformele economice şi sociale ce ea reclamă, Bucureşti, 1892. 2


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state should have taken the initiative of the social and economic development of Dobroudja. This way, on a long term, the province would become a source of incomes for the public budget (through the state domains, the state enterprises, and the tax collecting)1. In Nacian’s ideas we can see the influence of the modernization model of the Romanian liberals of the time. Among these, we remember the centralization of the political decision, the direct intervention of the state and the rapid development of the economy. The neglecting of the liberal government of the political aspect, ”the political interest” (V.M. Kogălniceanu), in the matter of Dobroudja, led to a paradoxical situation. Almost three decades the political and civic rights of the inhabitants of Dobroudja were cut off. Thus, the limitation of exerciting of these rights, which was initially meant as a temporary situation lasted until 1909, when, by a special law, the Law to giving political rights to the people in Constanţa and Tulcea counties, was established the right to have representatives in the two Chambers of the Romanian Parliament, as well as the right to choose them under the limits of the censitary electoral regime of the time. We will refer to this matter further. Here we notice only that at the beginning the local weakly structured elite matured and raised a political opposition towards the authoritary centralism of the regime from Bucharest. Among the members of this opposition there were personalities with a moderate conservative orientation, such as Vasile M. Kogălniceanu or Ioan Bănescu, as well as local leaders without political commitments but with functions in the local councils, such as Ioan N. Roman. Vasile M. Kogălniceanu describes this situation like this: ”The allmightiness of the administration is strenghthened through the new methods of ’energetic’ nationalization. The prefect (the government’s representative – o.n.) reaches everything. Needing new powers in order to put down the dangerous aspirations of the ’foreigners’ in Dobroudja, the governments from Bucharest give them gladly. All over the place come foreigners to smother every initiative and independence of the elective councils, no matter if they are communal or county. The so-called national politics covers everything”2.

Kogălniceanu says that ”with the help of the intelectuals...as well as of the Romanians settled there the local society organized the opposition against this pressure...They typed newspapers. They wrote leaflets and books, they organized protest delegations and worked for the idea of emancipation”3. 1 Nacian anticipated a situation which was already a reality at the beginning of the 1900. Thus I.N. Roman, a powerful local personality, in a work published in 1905 shows that Dobroudja was massively plundered through the fiscal policies. He notes that in the financial year 1902-1903, while the sums earned by the state in Dobroudja were of 13 474 724 lei, the budgetary allocations for this province hardly reached 4 969 036. The surplus remained in Bucharest under the conditions in which ”almost all the schools and churches in Dobroudja are built by the local people” and some vital necessities, the diking in of the pools, the construction of the railway Constanţa- Tulcea, were ignored (Ioan N. ROMAN, Dobrogea şi drepturile politice ale locuitorilor ei, Constanţa, 1905, p. 88). 2 Vasile M. KOGĂLNICEANU, Dobrogea 1879-1909...cit., pp. 209-210. 3 Ibidem, p. 211.



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Kogălniceanu, who had big properties in Tuzla1, led press campains in Steaua Dunării and Agrarul publications and presented interpellations as a deputy of the Parliament in Bucharest2.

Topics of Maximum Divergence We were saying earlier that there was a certain competition for influence among the repersentatives of the central power in Bucharest and the local personalities supported by groups of interest in full development. After the Law of Organization of Dobroudja in 1880, which was only a juridical frame, being also called ”The Constitution of Dobroudja”, followed the Law about real estate properties, in 1882, which was the first confrontation between the divergent interests and ideas. That was why it was modified many times, in 1884, 1885, 1889, 1893 and, the last time in 19093. The cause were the abuses the new owners made benefiting the intricacies of the law. Thus the area that could become a property and at the beginning of the 1900s decreased from 100 ha to 10 ha and the people who did not have the housing in Dobroudja or did not pay the state the value established for the property started being dispossessed4. It seems that the Romanian state had a strictly fiscal interest regarding the reglementation of the land property. The taking over of the juridical state of the land property from the Ottoman administration was not an easy problem to solve. V.M. Kogălniceanu points the four main measures taken by the law in 18825: I) the recognization of the absolute property, mulk, inherited before1878, and whose owners were the religious settlements and the public interest institutions; II) the buying back of the usufruct property, mirî, which in fact represented the largest part of the land property in Dobroudja (the buying back was made by the Romanian state, by giving one third of the surface owned as ”mirie”); III) the centralization of the lands left by the emmigrants, mostly Turks, who had ”ciflik” type exploitations; IV) the centralization and exploitation of the lands owned by the state (pools, quaries, mines). The problem of the Romanian citizenship was closely linked to the one of the property. Although the Law of Dobroudja organization in 1880 stated in art. 3 that: ”The inhabitants of Dobroudja, who became Romanian citizens, are equal in front of the law, enjoy all the citizen rights, and can be named in public functions, no matter their origin or religion”6, regarding the political rights, the law that stated this principle clearly was issued in 1909. During the period between these dates the term of ”Dobroudjan citizenship” was used, and it represented an ensemble of 1 See further Kogălniceanu, who defined himself as an ”agriculturist”. He brought an important contribution to define and solve the agrarian problem in that period (Henri H. STAHL, Gânditori şi curente...cit., p 180; Valeriu BULGARU, Reforma agrară din 1921. Fundamente economice, Editura de Vest, Timişoara, 2003, p. 20). 2 The liberals did not let these campaigns unanswered. Around the 1900s Scarlat Vârnav, the prefect of Constanţa wrote several leaflets and a very good ”general situation” of the county (Scarlat VÂRNAV, Situaţiunea generală a judeţului Constanţa la începutul anului 1903, Constanţa, 1904). 3 Constantin N. SARRY, Chestiunea proprietăţii din Dobrogea, Bucureşti, 1910. 4 Ibidem, pp. 11-16; Ioan N. ROMAN, Dobrogea şi drepturile politice...cit., pp. 98-99. 5 Vasile M. KOGĂLNICEANU, Dobrogea 1879-1909...cit., p. 166. 6 Ibidem, p. 124.


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heterogenuous civil categories with serious limitations of the constitutional rights. This way because of the reason of the maintaining of the political stability and of the ”full assimilation of Dobroudja with Romania”1, the inhabitants of Dobroudja had only the right to vote and to be represented in the local councils2. The mayors were named by the prefects, who were named by the government from Bucharest. As we said, the Dobroudjans did not have the right to representation or to vote at the level of the central power and many of their civil rights (the free association, the expressing of the personal opinion) were limited. Regarding the heterogenity of the civil categories of the period, I.N. Roman, for example, mentions four categories of ”Romanian citizens”: I) come in Dobroudja after April 11 1877 from the left of the Danube as Romanian citizens; II) all the Ottoman subjects who became Romanian citizens before this date; III) Romanian ethnics, come from the provinces outside the Romanian State (from Ardeal, Bucovina, Basarabia) who, according to article 9 of the Constitution needed to be recognized by the Romanian state (they had already bought land in Dobroudja) and IV) agricultors of a different origin (Germans, Lipovans, Bulgarians etc.) established between 1877, April, 11 and 1882, April, 3 (when the real estate property law was adopted)3. In this last context it is easy to think that the problem of granting the Romanian citizenship was an extremely sensitive subject for the authorities in Bucharest. The different constraints that were pressing this politics were illustrated by two situations. First it is about granting the Romanian citizenship to the people in Ardeal who were shepherds (they went with the sheep in Dobroudja in winter, in their places of origin in summer, usually in the south of Transylvania) and had the opportunity to buy land and to settle in the places of the old sheep folds. Juridically, they were citizens of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, that was why they had some restrictions in buying land and having the possession recognised. That was why there were campaigns regarding the relaxing of the conditions of granting the citizenship, of which benefitted the other ethnies (especially the Germans). The data and intensity of this process remain to be established in some further research. A second significant situation is that of the people of other ethnies who indirectly recognized the authority of the Romanian State. It is about demands to the Romanian state adressed by members of the Reformed communities to be given Romanian passports to travel in Transylvania. The purpose of these trips was to collect funds for the community to build new prayer houses in regions in Dobroudja where there lived Protestant people. The same community addressed many demands to the local authorities (prefect’s office) to be given construction land, or to sell them land prefferentially (the case of Caramurat commune, today Mihail Kogălniceanu).

Demographic and Land Property Transformations The political projects of administration and development of Dobroudja did not miss, either the interests and commitments regarding one of these projects. Did they have thorough effects at the level of the local society? And if they did what were the effects? 1

Ibidem, p. 115. Ioan N. ROMAN, Dobrogea şi drepturile politice...cit., p. 28 ff. 3 Ibidem, pp. 71-72. 2



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One of the most visible effects of the new status of Dobroudja is the demographic change which had as a cause the migratory phenomenon.The starting point is the situation of the population, which, fortunately, was researched by Ionescu in 1850 (Table 1 in the Annexes). We think that a brief comment on the situation in the Table 1 is useful. First we notice that the province was ethnically diverse in that period. If the Romanians were superior on number in Tulcea, Isaccea and Măcin areas, they were not in Mangalia, Balcic and Bazargic. Baba was the most balanced ethnically. We also have to show the extreme diversity of the sizes of the villages (Table 2 in the Annexes). If the average was about fourty families per village all over the province, it differs a lot from caza to caza. In Tulcea, which was majoritary Romanian, a village had about 329 families, while in Mangalia and Balcic, caza-s with mostly Turkish population, the average was about 11, respectively 13 families per village. On a long term perspective this situation can be compared with the data of two general censuses of Romania: the census of the population in 1899 and published by Leonida Colescu in 1905, and the general census of the population in 1930 published since 1938 and coordinated by Sabin Manuilă. Although before 1899 there were attempts of taking the census of the population of Romania (1884, 1889, 1894), an authorized source, Leonida Colescu, contests the valability of the data. It must also be said that the census coordinated by him (1899) lacks information about the ethnic belonging of Romania’s population. Among the indicators of this situation, we can only find citizenship and religion. Not always did they overlap with the ethnic belonging (there is no data about the mother tongue), although L. Colescu starts from the premises that almost all the Romanian citizens are Romanian ethnically. As a result, the numbers refering to this last situation are aproximative. Certain data are offered by the census in 1930. In Constanţa at that date there was a population of 253 093 persons whose belonging was as follows: 66.2% Romanian, 8.9% Bulgarian, 6.8% Turks, 6% Tartars, 3.8% Germans, 1.8% Greeks, 1.5% Russians, 1.3% Armenians (the rest of the nationalities had below 1%). From the point of view of the residence, 67.5% of the total of the population lived in villages1. The overlaping of the residence and ethnic belonging indicators give us the following situation: – The Romanians showed a slight preference for the urban area (68.7% in towns, with two and a half percent more than the general percentage of 66.2%), the Russians (1.7% to 1.5%), the Turks (7.3% to 6.8%). – This tendency was more emphasized with the Greeks (5.2% to 1.8%), the Armenians (3.9% to 1.3%), the Jews (2.2% to 0.7%) and the Hungarians (1.7 to 0.6%). – Opposite tendencies, a strong preference to the rural area was showed by the Bulgarians (2% in towns to 8.9% totally) and the Tartars (2% to 6% totally). – A special place was held by the Germans who lived mostly in the rural area (2.5% in towns to 3.8% totally). The community of the Dobroudjan Germans had a slightly different evolution towards that of the other ethnies, despite its reduced percentage in that period (1900-1930) playing a main role in the social development of the area2. We have to remember that the Germans were the only important nationality in Constanţa confesionally divided in Protestants and Roman-Catholics. 1 We also have to remember that the Organization Law of Administration in 1925 did not have clear criteria of clasifying the localities in towns and villages, from where appeared justified criticism even at that period. 2 See further the cases of the villages from Tuzla, Sarighiol, Cogealac, the case of the German school in Constanţa as well as the article about the oral histories in Nicolae Bălcescu village, ex


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The above situation shows that in the context of the migratory flux which changed the social structure of Dobroudja in that period the nationalities who participated at this process had different orientations and preferences. We will detail this thesis by giving as examples concrete cases. The clues about the greatness of these migrations come from the comparison of the data of this census with the data of that in 1899. In 1899 in Constanţa there lived 141 056 inhabitants, which represents only 56% of the population in 1930. If we compare to the year 1884, when in Constanţa lived 88 151 inhabitants we can say that between 1884-1930, the population of the county almost tripled. A part of this extra population comes from the natural raising (the excedent of births to deaths). The same L. Colescu, specifying that the two counties of Dobroudja at that time, Constanţa and Tulcea, had the biggest excedent of the kind among other counties in Romania, gives figures about the excedent of births in the years 1897-1901. For Constanţa the figures are: 1677 (in 1897), 2178 (1898), 2321 (1899), 2542 (1900), 2618 (1901). We have to add that the infant mortality was extremely high. For the cases we refered to (the villages of Tuzla and Sarighiol (today Albeşti)) it reached in some years (of the period 1881-1899) 80-90% of the total of the deaths (according to the situation from the civil state registers). The average of the above mentioned years was of 2267 excedent births, meaning 16‰. If we consider this annual average as corresponding to the entire period (without the years from the First World War and the Balkan Wars, 1916-1919, respectively 1911-1912, 7 years less than those 46 of the period) we reach the number of 88 413 (39x2267), population come from the natural excess. The absolute raise of the population of the county was of 164 942 inhabitants, it results that almost half of this growth was due to the migratory flux. These data are aproximative; we have to detail the annual evolution of the demographic growth of the period. Still, they offer us a perspective over the phenomenon of migrations of the period. Globally, the good environment for these migrations was the urban one, since in 1899 the population of the towns of the county was 20.4% from the total, and in 1930 it was 32.5% (there is a contribution of the administrative reorganization after which a number of localities were declared towns; but its help is small). Religiously in 1899 the situa tion was: 68.3% Orthodocs, 25% Muslims, 2.3% Roman-Catholics, 2.1% Protestants, 0.9% Lipoveans, 0.8% Mozaics, 0.6% Armenians. As citizens, they were: 63.28% Romanians, 19.5% Turks, 6% Greeks, 3.55% Austro-Hungarians, 2.3% Italians, 1.28% Bulgarians, 0.9% Germans. The citizenship does not represent the ethnic structure faithfully. Without going into detail this thing results from the comparison between the situation of the citizens and of the religious belonging. Overlapping in order to compare with the year 1930, the religious belongings and the residence we can state: – The Orthodox population had a preference for the urban area (69.6% from the total of urban population; here we have to include the Romanians, the Bulgarians, the Greeks and the Russians as nationalities). – The Jews prefered the towns (3.9% Mozaics in towns) and the Armenians (2% in towns). – An opposite preference was showed by the Muslims (only 19.4% in towns to 25% of the population). Danachioi (Stelu ŞERBAN, Ştefan DORONDEL, ”L’histoire orale entre document et récit. Continuité et changement dans la société rurale de Roumanie”, in Elena SIUPIUR [coord.], Peuples, États et Nations dans le Sud Est de l’Europe, Anima, Bucureşti, 2004, pp. 45-82).



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– The German minority (Roman-Catholics and Protestants) had a special situation, the Roman-Catholics prefered the towns (together with other faithful Catholics they represented 4.1% of the urban population) while the Protestants lived in the rural area. These interpretations are based on the data of the archive fund of the Evangelic Community in Constanţa, to which we will refer further. Starting from this context we selected the social units with a multiconfessional and multiethnic character in order to thorough our archive research at a microsocial level. According to the 1899 census there were seven rural communes in which three confessions/nationalities were in a relatively numeric balance (Cicrâci had even four such confessions: Orthodox, Protestants, Muslims, Lipovans), while in other 19 communes, two of these confessions lived together. The rest up to the 73 rural communes of the county were inhabited exclusively or majoritarily by the same confession. Not even in this case is the multiethnic character excluded, the Orthodox being Romanian or Bulgarian and the Muslims, Turks or Tartars. For the present moment we took as starting point of our research the seven communes above mentioned as having the highest ethnic and confessional dispersion. The data from the civil state registers during the period 1881-1899 in the villages from Tuzla and Sarighiol (today Albeşti) show a continuously changing demographic situation1. The great population movement in the three villages of Tuzla (hamlets as they were called at that time) is suggested by the extremely reduced number of marriages. At a population of 1456 people (502 Orthodox, 251 Roman-Catholics, 699 Muslims and 4 Protestants) and 307 nuclear families (in 1899) only 22 marriages were celebrated during the six years of the period, years for which there is available data (it is about the years 1881, 1884, 1888, 1890, 1891, 1894). 17 marriages were between people of Orthodox confession (Bulgarians, Romanian, Lipovans, Greeks, Albanian). The rest were made between Muslims. Many of the involved people were not born in Tuzla (20), although the majority declared living in that commune. In the case of seven marriages, one of the husbands lived in Tuzla, the other in another commune. As a result, even on this reduced basis of the statistics of marriages we can state that the matrimonial alliances were not the main way of access to the community. More data is offerd by the situation of the births. This way in 1881 9 new born babies are registered, four of whom in Orthodox families (the rest Muslims), in 1884 there are 41 new born babies (10 Orthodox, 31 Muslims), in 1888, 32 (13 Orthodox, 19 Muslims), in 1890, 25 new born babies (18 Orthodox, 7 Muslims) and in 1894 from the 18 births whose documents were kept (there were 64 births that year) in 5 the new born babies were in Orthodox families. It is quite difficult to precise the ethnic belonging of these people. In the villages of Sarighiol commune, which were 7 in 1899 with a population of 1916 inhabitants (841 Oorthodox, 315 Protestants and 760 Muslims) there wasn’t any marriage for those three years for which there is archive data. In exchange the number of births is big, 35 in 1887 (7 in Orthodox families, 28 in Muslim families), 32 in 1888 (7 in Orthodox families, 25 in Muslim families), respectively 30 in 1889 (8 in Orthodox families, 22 in Muslim families). We have to notice the massive preponderance of Muslim families, as well as the total absence of the Germans (although the statistics of the Lutheran communities in Constanţa offer a number 1

To collect the data we used the Civil State Registers from the National Archives, Constanţa.


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STELU ŞERBAN

of 183 believers in Sarighiol in 1892). On the other hand, the quasi absence of the Muslims (Turks and Tartars) is contradictory in the case of the marriages. On one hand, the migratory phenomenon had a notable importance for the land property distribution. On the other hand, the latest situation was, as I said, strongly influenced by the intervention of the Romanian state in 1882. The final date of this process is considered the middle of the 1920s. This is because on the one hand the interwar agrarian reform, although juridically stated in 1921 was finished only at the end of the decade (the putting in possession) and on the other hand, in 1923 the government of Romania issued another law of ”organization of Dobroudja”, which completely changed the data of the problem. The property distribution can accurately be reconstituted taking as a source of documentation the funds of the cadastre of Constanţa county. We started this research studying the land property distribution in Tuzla and Cogealac, in the period 1882-1889. The property structure was relatively balanced, there were small properties (less than 5 ha),the middle and the big properties were consistent. A certain tendency of separating the land property on ethnic criteria can be also followed. In Tuzla, for example the members of the Romanian upper class society of the time bought big properties – the members of the families Costinescu, Kogălniceanu and Murgescu (24 persons totally), while the middle properties were bought by the Bulgarians (in this category we have to include also the people of Turkish or Tartar nationality, who owned properties as a result of their inheritance, but recognized by new documents by authorities). In Cogealac the big property was limited, but the middle property, bought or inherited (10-50 ha), was prevailing. In this case the biggest number of owners were of German origin. To detail this situation we specify, in the case of Cogealac commune, the entering into possession between May-August 1883 of 22 Turkish-Tartar families resident in Iman Cişme hamlet. The total surface which made the object of this action was of 759 ha arable land. There is no mention about the common property of the village commons or forests. It’s worth remembering the fact that from the 22 owners, 3 had their properties diminished or expropriated. As a result of this action big surfaces remained in individual property (the biggest of 63 ha). At the opposite pole the smallest property had 5 ha, while most of these owners had surfaces between 9 and 11 ha. After that a big part of these properties were sold directly by their owners to two persons in Babadag (100 ha), of Romanian nationality. The reorganization of the land property involved the sale of big surface of agricultural land, more than 1000 ha, by the Romanian state to a number of 45 people, most of them of Bulgarian nationality, in September 1889. A similar evolution happened in Tuzla. Here the entering into possession was accompanied by the systematization of the settlement, together with the surfaces of arable land parceled in the boundary of the village, each family (42 recognized as having the right of property from the 54 existing) received 2000 square metres inside the village with the obligation of building their houses according to the plans made by the architects authorized by the Romanian state. In 1882 these owners received a surface of 854 ha. All the 42 owners were of Turkish-Tartar origin, and taking into account the data from civil state registers (births) the majority of them may have been established in the village for a short time. A year after this, because 26 families settled in the village, the parceling of the arable land of the village was repeated, admitting the right of property for a total of 52 families who were given a surface of 904 ha. The following year, on the basis of the reorganization of Romanian Political Science Review • vol. IX • no. 4 • 2009


619

the land, the rights of property resulted after the expropriations, the allotments, the entering into possession and the sales were constituted. The nominal situation of the owners shows that: – From the 42 owners entered into possession in 1882, all of Turkish-Tartar nationality, 25 were expropriated a third of the surfaces, which became lands owned by the state. – 10 families of the same nationality were alloted surfaces between 2 and 10 ha. 21 families were given land (10 Bulgarian, 7 Romanian and 4 Turkish-Tartar) in equal parts from a surface of 180 ha (100 depossessed from a certain Gabriela Cerchez and 80 from the state). – A number of 14 owners (most of them Bulgarians) bought surfaces of 10 ha either from the existing owners, or from the Romanian state. – 24 people, most of them Romanian, bought big properties (100 ha and more) the same way. Among them were members of the families Murgescu, Costinescu and Kogălniceanu. The continuous changing of land owners led in 1889 to a new action of allotment, whose result was the recognizing of the property right of 74 owners with surfaces between 10 and 80 ha. The theme of the present work, beyond its strictly historic character, is important as it sends us to research a vaster problem, the long term changing of the South-Eastern European regions on Danube Valley. In further projects we will show to what extent these regions had a similar evolution and where they differ. We take into account, at least for Dobroudja, the social and economic transformation after the integration in Romania, although it happened without a preestablished action programme and had profound effects. The ability of the local and colonized population to adjust to sudden changes and to take risks regarding its own biography mattered more. In this article we limited to the presentation of the general frame in which these modifications took place.


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STELU ŞERBAN

ANNEXES Table 1

–

–

18 Măcin

501

15

591

92

33 Hârşova

165 688

496

–

A

71 Baba

557 1075

674 871

V

37 Chiustendje 352

A

36 Mangalia

405

84 Balcic

620 1912

Total

363

Jew

–

Armenian

183

German

11 Isaccea

1290 200 250 787 200

Arab

–

Gypsy

105

Greek

9 Tulcea

S

Ukrainian

Tartar

Lipovan

Turkish

Bulgarian

Romanian

Number of families Caza

No. village

County

Statistics of the Population in Dobroudja in 1850

20 –

50 30 30

2962

163 29

23 –

–

3 20

93

25

20

23 –

1

3

–

–

–

6

–

8

–

1 100 –

–

40 69

3544

I L

784

I S T R

R N A

89 Bazargic

Total 388

442

242

5

–

5

–

–

–

–

40 117

26 364

–

1364

–

1363

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

1426

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

415

482

–

–

–

–

2 –

–

–

1104

538

–

–

50 40 143 –

50

–

2733

4800 2225 3656 2214 747 1092 300 212 145 59 126 119 15695

Source: Ion IONESCU DE LA BRAD, Opere, vol. II, cit., p. 104. As I noticed errors I corrected the numbers in the last column, respectively last line.

Table 2

Tulcea

Isaccea

Măcin

Hârşova

Baba

Chiustendje

Mangalia

Balcic

Bazargic

Dobroudja

The Size of the Village

No. Families

2962

784

1364

1363

3544

1426

415

1104

2733

15695

No. Villages

9

11

18

33

71

37

36

84

89

388

75.77

41.30

49.91

38.54

11.52

13.14

30.70

40.45

Average no. families/village

329.11

71.27


Die Krise der rumänischen Monarchie von 1940, die persönliche Bewährung der Königsfamilie und das Scheitern der Neufundierung monarchischer Herrschaft in den Jahren des Holocaust ARMIN HEINEN

Die rumänische Monarchie hat nach 1989 in der rumänischen Öffentlichkeit größere Aufmerksamkeit gefunden. Dabei stehen drei Deutungsmuster zur Geschichte des Königtums in Rumänien einander gegenüber. In der ersten, der pro-monarchischen Variante ist die Monarchie Symbol der Uneigennützigkeit des Monarchen, der Unbestechlichkeit und der Überparteilichkeit innerhalb eines von wenig Skrupeln belasteten politischen Ringens. Die Monarchie war, so die Erklärung, jene zentrale Verfassungsinstitution, die das politische Spiel überwacht und den Interessenausgleich und die Verläßlichkeit politischen und administrativen Handelns sichergestellt hat. Zugleich steht die Monarchie für die Kontinuität rumänischer Geschichte und den Zusammenhalt der rumänischen Staatsbürger, unabhängig von der ethnischen Herkunft. Schließlich kulminiert die Schilderung in der Darstellung von Mut und Widerstandswillen, den das Könighaus seit 1940 im Konfrontation mit rechten und linken Diktaturen bewiesen habe. Die zweite Deutungsvariante, vorgebracht von Republikanern und einem Teil der früheren kommunistischen Historiker, verschweigt die Rolle der Monarchie für die Geschichte Rumäniens oder sieht sie als zeitgebundene Institution, die sich spätestens 1940 überlebt habe. In der dritten Variante gilt die Aufmerksamkeit der Herrschaft Carols II. mit seiner Prunksucht, den persönlichen Ausschweifungen und der autoritären Neigung. Die Institution der Monarchie biete keine Sicherheit vor persönlichen Verfehlungen des Herrschers, so die Argumentation. Die drei Narrationen spiegeln sich auch in der Einschätzung der Rolle der Monarchie in den Jahren des Holocaust. 1. Die Anhänger der Monarchie verweisen auf den persönlichen Mut der Mitglieder des Königshauses, auf das erfolgreiche Eintreten der Königinmutter Helene und des jungen Königs Michael für die jüdischen Verfolgten und auf den Staatsstreich gegen Antonescu im August 1944. Posthum wurde Königin Helene im März 1993 als Gerechte unter den Völkern in Yad Vashem geehrt. 2. Bis 1989 wurde der rumänische Holocaust von kommunistischer Seite weitgehend verleugnet. Daher war es nur konsequent, wenn in den Erzählungen nationalkommunistischer Historiker auch die Rolle des Königshauses ausgeblendet blieb. Freilich konnten auch unabhängige Historiker die Geschichte des rumänischen Holocausts erzählen, ohne ausführlich das Wirken des Königshauses zu würdigen. Romanian Political Science Review • vol. IX • no. 4 • 2009

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3. Ausgerechnet ein Abkömmling des Königshauses, wenn auch gewiß ein „nichtadliger“ Nachfahre, Paul Lambrino, Enkel Carols II. und seiner ersten, „illegitimen“ Ehefrau, „Zizi“ Lambrino, hat der königlichen Familie jüngst Antisemitismus vorgeworfen und Verstrickung in die Judenverfolgung. Welche Erzählung wird von den Quellen gestützt? Was berichten die Dokumente über das Handeln der Königinmutter und des Königs in den Jahren 1940 bis 1944? Welchen Einfluß besaßen sie auf das Geschehen? Hat ihr persönliches Auftreten die Monarchie als Institution gestärkt oder geschwächt? Ich werde von persönlicher Integrität berichten, von Menschlichkeit und Mut, gleichzeitig aber vom Niedergang der rumänischen Monarchie sprechen. Meine Kernaussage werde ich in drei Abschnitten entwickeln, die – so hoffe ich zu zeigen – nur scheinbar einander widersprechende Thesen enthalten. 1. These. Die rumänische Monarchie hatte mit dem Scheitern Carols II. 1940 ihren Anspruch eines ruhenden Pols in der rumänischen Verfassungsordnung verwirkt. Es gab seither alternative Legitimationen für die politische Struktur des rumänischen Staates. 2. These. Auch wenn bislang nur wenige Quellen die Rolle des Königshauses während des Holocausts beleuchten, steht die persönlich integre Haltung der Königinmutter Helene und des zwanzigjährigen Königs Michael außer Zweifel. 3. These. Nicht als männliche Macht gewann das Königshaus in den Jahren der Verfolgung von Juden und Roma Einfluß, sondern mit der narrativen Figur einer „mitfühlenden Mutter“. Damit verschob sich die Legitimation für die Monarchie von einer männlich bestimmten Institution zu einer weiblich-meritokr atisch-charismatisch bestimmten Deutung. Nicht mehr die Institution selbst überzeugte, sondern nur noch die historisch kontingenten, tendenziell mit „weiblichen“ Zuschreibungen charakterisierten Persönlichkeiten, die der Institution seit 1940 ihr Gepräge gaben.

Das Scheitern der rumänischen Monarchie während der Herrschaft Carols II. und die neuen Formen der Legitimation staatlicher Ordnung Die Herrschaft Carols II. ist nicht unumstritten, schließlich läßt sich argumentieren, daß er den Pressionen ehrgeiziger und selbstsüchtiger Politiker unterlag, daß seine Regierungszeit überschattet war von Wirtschaftskrisen und von außenpolitischen Konflikten und daß er Helena Lupescu, seine Lebensgefährtin und spätere Ehefrau aufrichtig verehrt hat, während seine standesgemäße Ehe mit Helene von Griechenland immer unglücklich blieb und deshalb 1928 geschieden wurde. Aber dann gibt es eben doch auch ganz andere Erzählungen, Erzählungen von sexuellen Ausschweifungen (in den Tagebüchern von Constantin Argetoianu findet sich dazu einiges), von Korruption und Prunksucht. Der selbst mit einer „Jüdin“ liierte König (der Vater Helena Lupescus hatte sich taufen lassen) sorgte zwar dafür, daß die offenen antisemitischen Ausschreitungen seit 1938 abnahmen, aber die von der Regierung Goga-Cuza initiierte Überprüfung der Staatsbürgerschaft jüdischer Mitbürger ließ er auch während der Königsdiktatur fortführen, so daß etwa ein Drittel der rumänischen Juden sein Bürgerrecht verlor. Juden blieb eine Mitarbeit in der staatlichen Einheitspartei verwehrt, und die alltäglichen kleinen Schikanen waren allgegenwärtig. Mihai Sebastian notierte am 9. Januar 1940 in sein Tagebuch: Romanian Political Science Review • vol. IX • no. 4 • 2009

Die Krise der rumänischen Monarchie von 1940

623

„Heute hat mir Ghiţă Ionescu im Adjutantenzimmer gesagt (er leistet dort seinen Reservedienst), die kommende Einberufung vom 15. Januar sei speziell für Juden. Es werden 1.500 Juden einberufen und kein einziger Christ. «Ich verstehe nicht, warum», sagte er. «In Kriegszeiten ist das noch klar. Man bildet spezielle Trupps mit Juden, um sie an die vorderste Linie zu schicken und sie dezimieren zu lassen. Aber jetzt, welchen Zweck soll es jetzt haben?» Ich ging deprimiert fort. Alles ist erträglich bis zu dem Augenblick, in dem man sich nicht mehr als Soldat oder als Bürger betroffen fühlt, sondern als Jude. Tausende, Zehntausende Juden werden einberufen, um in Bessarabien und der Dobrudscha Steine zu schleppen und Schützengräben auszuheben. Auch das ist eine Form von Sklaverei“1.

Als im Sommer 1940 die geopolitische Lage Rumäniens verzweifelt wurde, entschied sich Carol, die Neutralitätspolitik aufzugeben, sich Berlin zuzuwenden und den Schwenk demonstrativ innenpolitisch kenntlich zu machen. Die Eiserne Garde wurde an der Regierung beteiligt und die Juden endgültig aus dem rumänischen Staatsverband verdrängt, denn ein Sondergesetz griff fast wörtlich die Nürnberger Rassegesetze auf. Als trotz allem Carol die Territorialverluste (Bessarabien, Nord-Bukowina, Nordsiebenbürgen und Süddobrudscha) nicht verhindern konnte, mußte er abtreten. Damit war zugleich die Monarchie desavouiert. Der König hatte alle Verantwortung auf sich genommen. Er war gescheitert. Er hatte die Korruption nicht zurückgedrängt, sondern gestärkt. Er hatte nicht zwischen den Politikern vermittelt, sondern unmittelbar Partei ergriffen. Er war Partei und damit war die Monarchie endgültig gescheitert, denn weder hatte sie durch ihre politische Performanz überzeugt noch durch moralische Integrität und bewußte politische Zurückhaltung. Als Antonescu die Regierungsverantwortung übernahm, beruhte die Legitimation der politischen Ordnung auf ganz anderen Säulen. Die Legionäre reklamierten die Jugend für sich und erhoben die Bewegung zum neuen politischen Prinzip. Antonescu sah sich zeitweise als von der Vorsehung auserkorener charismatischer Herrscher, dann wieder argumentierte er wie ein klassischer Militärdiktator, der Ruhe und Ordnung garantierte. Jedenfalls war die Monarchie entbehrlich geworden, hatte sie ihre Funktion für das Staatsgebilde verloren. Seit dem September 1940 entwickelte sich das politische Geschehen unter Ausschluß des eigentlichen Staatsoberhauptes. Den Eintritt Rumäniens in den Krieg gegen die UdSSR erfuhr der junge Monarch aus der Zeitung2.

Der Widerstand des Königshauses gegen die Verfolgung der Juden und Roma und die begrenzten Möglichkeiten einer Einflußnahme Was meint der Begriff „Monarchie“ im Rumänien der Jahre 1940-1944? Als Carol II. im September 1940 abdankte, war sein Sohn und Nachfolger Michael I. 1

Mihail SEBASTIAN, „Voller Entsetzen, aber nicht verzweifelt“. Tagebücher 1935-44, Claassen, Berlin, 2005, S. 369. 2 Monika BECK, „Helena von Rumänien – Mutter von König Michael I“, Israel Nachrichten, no. 7, Mai 1993.


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ARMIN HEINEN

gerade einmal 19 Jahre alt. Das rumänische Königshaus war 1866 durch Volksabstimmung installiert worden, es stellte mit Michael den vierten Throninhaber und hatte seit seiner Begründung einen Bruch in der Verwandtschaftslinie, eine Regentschaft, Liebesskandale und manch andere Turbulenzen erlebt. Daher konnten weder der König, noch seine in der Öffentlichkeit beliebte Mutter auf eine über die formelle Verfassungsordnung hinausreichenden Amtsbonus zurückgreifen. Ihnen verblieb ein breites soziales Netzwerk, auf das sie zurückgreifen konnten, und ein gewisses Prestige, das sie durch angemessenes Handeln vermehren konnten, schließlich eine nennenswerte Aufmerksamkeit in der Öffentlichkeit. Die Dokumente zum Widerstand des Königshauses gegen die Verfolgung von Juden und Roma in Rumänien 1940 bis 1944 sind aufgrund der Überlieferungsbed ingungen nicht zahlreich, aber sie zeigen, daß seit dem Frühjahr 1941, also seit der Alleinherrschaft Antonescus, die Königinmutter Helene und Michael I. immer wieder interveniert haben, um Schlimmeres zu verhüten, den Unterdrückten Hilfe zukommen zu lassen, einzelne zu schützen und eine Kehrtwende der Politik zu erreichen. Am 30. März 1941 lag dem deutschen Gesandten eine Nachricht vor, daß die Königin-Mutter ihrem jüdischen Augenarzt versprochen habe, es würden bald Schritte für eine Besserung des Judenregimes in Rumänien unternommen1. Am 26. August 1941 berichtete der amtierende Ministerpräsident Mihai Antonescu, er habe sich geschämt, als die Königin ihn zum zweiten Mal auf die ungünstige Situation der jüdischen Arbeitsechipen in Sinaia aufmerksam gemacht habe. Man treffe dort bekannte Intellektuelle an, die Besseres verdient hätten, als in Sand und Wasser zu waten. Deshalb riet der amtierende Ministerpräsident, diese Persönlichkeiten sollten zukünftig an weniger besuchten Plätzen eingesetzt werden2. Alexandru Şafran, der junge rumänische Oberrabbiner, hat in seinen Erinnerungen berichtet, daß sich die Königin und der König mit dem Patriarchen, den beiden Antonescus und dem deutschen Gesandten, Baron von Killinger, zu einem Abendessen getroffen hätten, mit dem Ziel, die Vertreibung der Juden nach Osten zu stoppen. Aber ob tatsächlich, wie Şafran vermutet, die Intervention bewirkt hat, daß die Abschiebungen im Herbst 1941 zunächst verlangsamt erfolgten und dann zeitweise ausgesetzt wurden, bleibt ungewiß3. Im Dezember 1941 suchten Königinmutter Helene und Michael I. den Papst in Rom auf und unerrichteten ihn über das menschliche Unglück in ihrem Land, um so ein offenes Wort des geistigen Führers zu erreichen4. Zur selben Zeit soll Königinmutter Helene beim Staatsführer erwirkt haben, daß den nach Transnistrien Vertriebenen Hilfsgüter zugesandt werden durften5. Effektive Unterstützung erhielten die Kranken und Hungernden allerdings erst deutlich später. 1 Ottmar TRAŞCĂ, Dennis DELETANT (Hrsg.), Das Dritte Reich und die „Judenfrage“ in Rumänien. 1940-1944, Manuskript, Dokument 166. 2 Lya BENJAMIN (Bearb.), Evreii din România între anii 1940-1944, Bd. 1: Legislaţia antievreiască, Editura Hasefer, Bucureşti, 1993, S. 319ff. 3 Alexandru SAFRAN, Resisting the Storm, Romania, 1940-1947. Memoirs, Yad Vashem, Jerusalem, 1987, S. 83f. 4 „O datorie morală. Documente, corespondenţă şi note privind acordarea titlului de Dreaptă între Popoare Reginei Mamă Elena“, Dialog. Demokratischer Kreis der Deutschland-Rumänen, Iulie-Decembrie 2003. 5 Alexandru SAFRAN, Resisting the Storm...cit., S. 86.



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Auch als die Königinmutter um Vergebung für drei 17 jährige bat, die der zionistischen Organisation Hashomer Hatsair angehörten und die zum Tode verurteilt worden waren, blieb die Intervention erfolglos1. Wie energisch Helene für Menschlichkeit im Ungang mit den jüdischen Mitmenschen stritt, zeigt ein Vermerk des deutschen Judenberaters Gustav Richter. Er notierte am 30. Oktober 1942: Der Arzt Dr. Victor Gomoiu habe sich wegen des Philologen Barbu Lãzãreanu mit der Königinmutter Helene in Verbindung gesetzt. „Die Mutter habe dem König gesagt, daß es eine Schande sei, was man in diesem Lande mit den Menschen treibe und daß sie dies weiter nicht mehr mitansehen könne, umsomehr, als der König, ihr Sohn und dessen Name, in der Geschichte Rumäniens dauernd mit den an den Juden begangenen Untaten gebunden sein werde, so daß seine Regierungszeit als die «Michaels des Schrecklichen» benannt werden würde. Die Mutter hätte dem König ganz ernsthaft in Aussicht gestellt, daß sie, sofern die Deportierungen nicht sofort eingestellt würden, das Land verlassen würde. Der König habe sich darauf mit dem Ministerpräsidenten Mihai Antonescu in telefonische Beziehung gesetzt und darauf hin habe der Dauer-Ministerrat stattgefunden, nach welche nicht nur die Verhafteten sofort entlassen wurden, sondern dazu auch noch ein Kommunique vom Präsidium herausgegeben worden sei“2.

War Helene also verantwortlich für die Kehrtwende der rumänischen Judenpolitik im Oktober 1942, wie Richter andeutet? Zahlreiche Quellen zum Entscheidungsablauf sprechen eine andere Sprache. Das Regime Antonescus war im Sommer 1942 in eine Krise geraten, weil die Wirtschaft daniederlag und immer mehr Kriegstote beklagte wurden, und dies für einen Krieg, der offenbar allein deutschem Interesse diente. Die Korruption erreichte einen Höhepunkt, und die wirtschaftliche Lage drohte noch schlimmer zu werden, wenn Roma und Juden aus dem Altreich vertrieben wurden, die man zwar nicht liebte, deren Arbeitskraft man aber schätze. Die soziale Elite verachtete die Willkür der Staatsverwaltung und die primitiven Prügelszenen der Polizisten und Gendarmen, die immer wieder zu beobachten waren, wenn sie die Juden und Roma „einfingen“. Das Ausland war über die Ereignisse in Rumänien informiert. Cordell Hull, der amerikanische Außenminister, drohte mit Repressionen gegen die in Amerika lebenden Rumänen, wenn den Juden weiterhin nachgestellt würde. Die Deutschen dachten nicht an eine Rückgabe Nordsiebenbürgens, gleichzeitige punktete Ungarn, weil es seinen Juden einen gewissen Schutz gewährte. Immer mehr Mitarbeiter um Antonescu distanzierten sich vom Diktator und vor allem von dessen Judenpolitik, so daß die Intervention der Königinmutter nur bestätigte, was Ion Antonescu bereits wußte: Das Festhalten an der Abschiebepolitik und eine weitere Verschlechterung der Lage der rumänischen Juden und Roma würde sein Ansehen weiter schmälern und die wirtschaftliche und politische Lage verschlechtern. Deshalb änderte er im Oktober 1942 seine Politik. An die Stelle der autoritär-faschistischen Herrschaftslegitimation trat ein paternalistischer Autoritarismus. Erst jetzt konnten die Königinmutter und König Michael ihren Einfluß tatsächlich geltend machen und sicherstellen, 1

„O datorie morală...cit.“ Jean ANCEL (Hrsg.), Documents Concerning the Fate of Romanian Jewry during the Holocaust, Bd. 4, Jerusalem, 1986, S. 314f. 2


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daß Hilfsgüter ihr Ziel erreichen, ein Teil der Abgeschobenen zurückkehren durften und vor allem die jüdischen Waisenkinder Unterstützung erhielten. Warum blieben die Interventionen des Königshauses zunächst weitgehend wirkungslos? An anderer Stelle habe ich dargelegt, daß der rumänische Holocaust keiner einheitlichen Logik folgte1. Das Gewalthandeln gegenüber den Juden resultierte aus unterschiedlichen Szenarien, die nur begrenzt über soziale Netzwerke und symbolische Handlungen des Königshauses angesprochen werden konnten. Ohne die Argumentation an dieser Stelle im einzelnen zu entfalten, ist zu unterscheiden zwischen der diktatorischen Gewalt der politischen Führung in Bukarest, der faschistischen Gewalt der Eisernen Garde, der militärischen Gewalt zu Kriegsbeginn, der absoluten, durch nichts kontrollierten Polizeigewalt in Bessarabien und Transnistrien und den kollektiven Gewaltaktionen während der Phase des Interregnums im Sommer 1941. Im rumänischen Staatsgebilde existierten territorial und zeitlich geschieden Normenstaat, Maßnahmestaat und Behemoth nebeneinander. Das Königshaus konnte seinen Einfluß aber allein unter den Bedingungen des Normenstaates entfalten.

Die Feminisierung der rumänischen Monarchie und die meritokratische Legitimation des Königtums Die Führung der Juden und Roma appellierte an die Königinmutter in der Gewißheit, Verständnis und Mitgefühl zu finden. Der Appell galt von jüdischer Seite, wie Alexandru Şafran in einer Rede im November 1944 ausführte, der „wahren Mutter“, jener weiblichen Verkörperung allen menschlichen Lebens, die in der Bibel mit den ersten Frauengestalten beschrieben sind2, mit Sara, der Frau Abrahams, Rahel, der Mutter von Josef und Benjamin, Ruth, der Urgroßmutter Davids. Das jüdische Frauenverständnis bindet das Überleben der Eigengruppe an die weibliche Stärke und damit an eine Vorstellung, die Güte und Wärme einfordert, Aufrichtigkeit und Treue, aber in ihren femininen Konnotierungen der Idee der konstitutionellen, das politische Geschehen Rumäniens bändigenden Monarchie zuwiderläuft. Auch die Appelle der Roma richteten sich an Helene als auserwählte Frau und Mutter. Bezeichnend ist ein Schreiben, das Einwohner Craiovas am 6. November 1942 an die Königinmutter richteten: „Heute, Majestät, sind wir Beute jener, die uns in ferne Orte ausstoßen wollen. Wie die Hunde wollen sie uns vertreiben aus unserem geliebten Land, an das wir durch die heilige Erde gebunden sind, mit unseren geliebten Toten, die uns das Leben geschenkt haben, den Gräbern unserer Eltern, Brüdern und Verwandten, tapfere Helden, die im Vereinigungskrieg von 1916-18 ihr Leben gelassen haben. Majestät, wir knien vor Ihnen nieder, als herzensguter und verehrter Mutter, von uns und von allen Rumänen. Bitte nehmen Sie uns in Schutz und helfen Sie Ihren Kindern“3. 1

Armin HEINEN, Rumänien, der Holocaust und die Gewalt, Manuskript, 2006. Victor NEUMANN, Istoria evreilor din România. Studii documentare ºi teoretice, Editura Amarcord, Timişoara, 1996, 220ff. 3 Vasile IONESCU (Hrsg.), Deportarea rromilor în Transnistria. De la Auschwitz la Bug, Editura Centrului rromilor pentru politici publice Aven amentza, Bucureşti, 2000, S. 144f. 2



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Das von den Führern der Roma angesprochene Frauenbild, rekurrierte weniger auf das Alte als auf das Neue Testament. Aber indem Helene als neue „Maria“ angesprochen wurde, als Urmutter aller Rechtschaffenden und Aufrechten, wurde wiederum ein Mythos angesprochen, der sich kaum auf die Monarchie als zentrale, die Verfassungsordnung sicherstellende Institution übertragen ließ. Selbst der spätere Staatsstreich König Michaels gegen Antonescu war eher Ausdruck persönlichen Muts als Beweis für die Stärke der Monarchie als Institution. Gewiß hatte die Mitwirkung des Monarchen den Umsturz erleichtert. Aber letztlich resultierte er doch aus dem Wirken der politischen und militärischen Elite.

Schluß Im August 1944 kamen die Monarchin und der Monarch persönlich gestärkt aus den Jahren des Holocausts hervor, ohne daß hierdurch die Monarchie als Institution gefestigt worden wäre. Dabei bedurfte Rumänien nichts dringender als einer starken konstitutionellen Monarchie, die die politischen Gegensätze bändigte und die politische Kultur des Landes festigte. Das jedenfalls war die Lehre des Jahres 1866 mit dem Sturz Alexandru I. Cuzas und die Folgerung der politischen Aufruhr in den Jahren der Regentschaft, 1927-1930. Nach der Rückkehr aus dem Exil bewies Carol II. allerdings, daß der Glaube, eine Erbmonarchie würde die politische Modernisierung und Zivilisierung Rumäniens vorantreiben, trog. Mit dem Territorialverlust 1940 sowie dem moralischen Offenbarungseid nach zwei Jahren der Königsherrschaft (Korruption, Willkür der Administration, Übernahme der deutschen Rassegesetze) war die Monarchie im September 1940 endgültig desavouiert. Seither beruhte die Legitimation politischen Handelns im gesamtstaatlichen Interesse auf argumentativen Figuren, die dem Parteienkonflikt unterlagen. Die Monarchie als Institution war nicht mehr selbstverständlich, war nicht mehr unhinterfragbar. Daran konnte auch die meritokratisch-charismatische Legitimation des Wirkens von Königinmutter Helene und des Königs Michael in den Jahren 1940-1944 wenig ändern. Nicht die Institution, sondern die Persönlichkeiten, die die Institution repräsentierten, überzeugten. Ihnen galt die Aufmerksamkeit, aber sie unterlagen auch einem permanenten Bewährungsdruck und sie waren dem Spiel der Interessen ausgesetzt. Zudem war das Eintreten der Monarchenfamilie für die Rechte der Minderheiten kaum geeignet, unter den Rumänen wirkliche Bewunderung und Bindung zu provozieren, denn ein gemäßigter Antisemitismus blieb nach 1944 weit verbreitet. Die feminine Umdeutung der Monarchie gab ihr einen Glanz, der sich in der Folgezeit gegen das Königtum richtete. Denn die Monarchie stand für karitative Hilfe und für moralische Fürsprache, aber nicht für einen zupackenden Griff in den brausenden Wogen des politischen Geschehens, trotz der Verhaftung Antonescus durch den König am 23. August 1944.


Oil: The Doom of Communist Romania?* ANDREI MIROIU

The purpose of this paper is twofold: first, to establish the existence of a certain pattern of analysis, which I will call an academic canon, of analyzing the problems caused by the oil crises of the 1970’s on the economy of Communist Romania. The canon seems to hold that a series of economic decisions taken in the 1960’s and 70’s by the communist leadership concerning the vast expansion of the petroleum industry led to huge problems after the enormous increases in the price of oil at the end of the 1970’s, which led to the virtual destruction of the economy and the huge deprivations of the 1980’s, thus helping to explain the popular rejection of the socialist regime. The second goal is to analyze what the Romanian communist leadership thought of the oil industry and what was their general strategy related to it. If the first part of the article deals generally with secondary sources, in the last part I use a significant amount of primary sources, mainly speeches given by the party leaders in order to pursue my research. All the speeches I use were public, most of them broadcasted on radio and television, printed in mass circulation newspapers and afterwards bound together in volumes of documents. The paper is structured in four sections. The first offers a brief historical introduction to the issue, focusing on oil as one of the three main commodities that ever put Romania or the Romanian principalities on the economic map of the world. The second section deals extensively with the development of the academic canon and with the main authors concerned with it. The third part is dedicated to the analysis of primary sources, while in the conclusions I link the main parts of the paper and suggest directions for possible further research.

A Short Explanatory Introduction The economies of small states are often, at least from a historical foreign trade perspective encompassing the modern world economic system, dependent of a particular product or commodity. Seldom can one find a case such as Switzerland, which for centuries exported men, clocks, chocolate, and banking services. Usually we encounter cases when a small country produces for the foreign markets just bananas, rubber, T-shirts, or I-pods. Romania and before it came into existence the Romanian principalities were, if we would take a longer perspective, perhaps of Braudelian inspiration, a little bit more interesting1. From a historical point of view at least three commodities – cattle, grain and oil – dominated the foreign * This paper was first presented to the Romanian Studies Organization`s Second Conference, Indiana University, Bloomington, 28 February 2009. The author would like to thank Maria Bucur and Justin Classen for their help and suggestions in writing this article. 1 Fernand BRAUDEL, ”Histoire et science sociale: La longue durée”, Annales. Économies, Sociétés, Civilisations, vol. 13, no. 4, 1958, pp. 725-753.


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trade and internal economic structure of Romania, and, before it came into being, that of the Romanian principalities. Probably the first thing that placed the Romanian voievodates on the economic map of Europe, from the 15th to the 18th centuries, was cattle. Vast exports of cattle, in herds numbering perhaps thousands of heads moved from Moldavia and Wallachia through southern Poland to Danzig and from the Baltic Sea port to the markets of the German principalities, the Low Countries and England; other routes took them to Hermannstadt and from there to the southern Habsburg lands1. Grain was the second commodity vastly exported by the Romanian principalities, mainly into the Ottoman Empire for many centuries because of the commercial monopoly the latter enjoyed in relation to them since the subjection of those principalities in the 15th century. After 1829 this monopoly ceased because the Russo-Turkish peace treaty and vast demand of grain from Western markets, especially British led not only to larger exports, but indeed to a total shift of the internal agrarian economy towards an intensive production of grain, deeply altering labor and property relations. According to certain authors this led to the effective colonization of the principalities (and Romania itself after the union of 1859), their transformation in a periphery of the British industrial economy2; other scholars, of local extraction, saw this as the moment when the local bourgeoisie started its quest for power and for a transformative role in the Romanian state3 . Then the economies of the Western world accelerated their path towards industrialization; technological changes and energy needs led to new uses for a very old substance, of which Romania happened to possess an abundance: oil. Local industrialists started the exploitation of the resource as soon as Pennsylvania’s oil drillers, namely in the late 1850s, using roughly the same methods, but also benefitting from the faster development of drilling techniques in neighboring Polish Galicia4. Yet mass exploitation of the two main oilfields in the Prahova region and at Bărcăneşti in Moldavia started just at the dawn of the 20th century, after massive investments by American and British capital. The industry was so important that, when it became obvious that the Romanian army could not defend the oilfields while facing a joint Austrian-German-Bulgarian invasion in the autumn of 1916, the British intelligence dispatched Colonel John Norton-Griffiths to organize the Romanian-government led effective destruction of the extraction and refinery capacities of the Prahova facilities5. In the interwar period, the oil industry grew 1 Marian MALOWIST, ”The Trade of Eastern Europe in the Later Middle Ages”, in M.M. POSTAN, Edward MILLER (eds.), The Cambridge Economic History of Europe, vol. II, Trade and Industry in the Middle Ages, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 1987, p. 556. The author also points to the integration of the Moldovan cattle-based economy into a regional one, comprising also Podolia (contemporary western Ukraine). 2 Daniel CHIROT, Social Change in a Peripheral Society. The Creation of a Balkan Colony, Academic Press, New York, 1976. 3 See for that Ştefan ZELETIN, Burghezia română: originea şi rolul ei istoric, Ed. Humanitas, Bucureşti, 1991 and IDEM, Neoliberalismul: studii asupra istoriei şi politicii burgheziei române, Ed. Scripta, Bucureşti, 1992 and Mihail MANOILESCU, Rostul şi destinul burgheziei româneşti, Ed. Albatros, Bucureşti, 2002. 4 See for the beginning of oil drillings and struggles in Pennsylvania the classic work of Daniel YERGIN, The Prize. The Epic Quest for Oil, Money and Power, Simon and Schuster, New York, 1991, ch. 1. 5 Ibidem, pp. 180-182. However, Romanian oil was also extremely important for the Central Powers, who poured enough capital and work, that they restored 80 % of the 1914 production by 1918.


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even more, insignificantly deterred by the effects of the Great Depression; in World War II the significance of the Romanian oilfields for the German war machine was so great, that it completely molded the political relations between the two allies, and provoked the most spectacular American bombing operation to date, Operation Tidal Wave on August 1st, 19431. By the time the Soviet Army conquered Romania in the late summer and fall of 1944, the oil industry had dominated foreign trade for decades. After a communist government came to power and the creation of a new economy based on the Soviet model began, vastly oriented towards building a modern and industrial society, it became obvious that the oil industry would become one of the most significant aces in the hand of the new power elite. The topic of this paper is deeply related to what the Romanian communist leaders thought of the petroleum industry, its uses and problematic The most important factor that peaked my interest while researching this paper was the commonly held belief that permeated academic circles, especially Western, that specific decisions concerning the oil industry led to the grave problems that the Romanian economy faced after 1979, which led to a vast and cruel austerity program that incurred the wrath of the population, thus leading to a possible explanation for the population’s participation in or at least the acceptance of the popular riot of December 1989, a significant part of the events that led to the fall of the Romanian communist regime. An academic canon was formed on the matter, and it sounds pretty much like this: in the 1960’s and early 1970’s the Romanian communist government gambled with the economic future of the country by deciding to vastly expand the oil-refining capacities and the chemical industry in order to sell petroleum-derivatives on the world market for much-coveted Western currency that could be used for acquiring newer technologies. The bet went sour in the context of declining internal oil production and especially because of the oil crises of 1973-79, which led to a growth of oil imports, huge trade deficits and in the end a need to reschedule foreign debt, which in turn led to the awful decision to pay the foreign debt by imposing a harsh austerity program. My purpose is not so much to challenge or argue in favor of this argument, but rather to see if this position can be sustained by analyzing a different type of evidence, namely the Romanian Communist Party`s political and economic documents related to the broader perspective of the Romanian economic development. I will analyze a specific selection of first-hand documents to see if the Romanian Communist Party’s oil policy was indeed a gamble; if oil industry expansion was a goal onto itself in the political-economic thinking of the Party leaders; and if the Romanian leaders were so unaware that their decisions may generate so much trouble and indeed lead to their demise. Looking through their lenses is, from my point of view, a more interesting approach than just analyzing different tables and particular policies. These speeches, being very large and generally addressing subjects related to the society and the economy as a whole have a better chance to put the entire oil discussion in a wider, more relevant framework. My main hypothesis is that, at least according to their planning, petroleum-derivatives industry was just one of many areas of the socialist economy, rather than something on which the Romanian communist leadership would bet the economic future of the country, 1 A good depiction of the connection between oil politics and military cooperation between the two allies is provided by Larry WATTS, Incompatible Allies: Neorealism and Small State Alliance Behavior in Wartime, Umea University, Umea, 1998.


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much less their political survival. First, however, I turn to the accepted academic canon and its interesting, if questionable, arguments.

The Academic Canon A concerted view of what was going on with the Romanian economy because of the investment blunders and the oil shocks is formulated quite early after the first problems appeared. According to my research, in the middle-to-latter part of the 1980s the story took full shape and the two decades that followed the fall of communism merely perpetuated the scholarly narrative. One of the first things that needs to be mentioned here is that the main creators of the canon were not professional historians, but economists, such as Marvin Jackson or William Crowther, economic geographers like David Turnock, sociologists such as Michael Shafir or international security scholars like Daniel Nelson. Only after the 1989 Revolution the historians take center stage in reiterating the canon as the dominant discourse related to the economic problems of the late period of Romanian communism. Among the first to notice the problems connected to the oil crises was Marvin Jackson, and he soon became the most important source of all the other academics who worked on this particular issue. Already in 1981 he noticed that the main problem of the Romanian economy was that investments in petroleum, which took very large shares of total industrial investments, resulted in little growth of capital stock. Hit by a crisis in the price of oil and petroleum-based products, Romania was bound to suffer1. Just a few years later, Walter Bacon, a historian of international relations also noticed that the petroleum crisis was a factor affecting not just the economy, but also the foreign relations. He saw that the overtures made by Nicolae Ceauşescu towards low-development countries (LDC), especially in the Middle East, were deeply connected to the problems with the oil supply2. But probably the best portrayal of the canon belongs to Michael Shafir, written in 1985. Shafir noticed that from 1973 to 1978 the oil refining capacity increased from 18.5 to 25.4 million tons; up to 1975 the country was a net oil exporter, but after 1976 it becomes a hungry petroleum importer3. A few figures are important in this framework and he duly provides them: the production of Romanian crude oil follows the following trend – 1975 14.6 million tons, 1976 14.7, 1977 14.7, 1978 13.7, 1979 12.3, 1980 11.5, 1981 11.6, 1982 11.7, 1983 11.6 – as we see, very respectable figures if one doesn’t take into account the parallel increase in refining capacity. The trend of imports has a far steeper slope: 1975 5 million tons of crude oil, 1976 8.4, 1977 8.8, 1978 12.9, 1979 14.2, 1980 15.9, 1981 12.9. It is at this point where Shafir also introduces the issue of relations with the LDCs: due to poor relations with the Soviet Union at the beginning of the 1970s, Romania was forced to rely more and more on the petroleum imports from 1 Marvin R. JACKSON, ”Perspective on Romania’s Economic Development in the 1980’s”, in Daniel N. NELSON (ed.), Romania in the 1980’s, Westview Press, Boulder, Colorado, 1981, p. 267. 2 Walter M. BACON, ”Romania”, in Teresa RAKOWSKA-HARMSTONE (ed.), Communism in Eastern Europe, Indiana University Press, Bloomington, 1984, pp. 175-176. 3 Michael SHAFIR, Romania. Politics, Economics and Society. Political Stagnation and Simulated Change, Lynne Rienne Publishers, Boulder, Colorado, 1985, p. 110.



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those countries1. He notices that by 1980 77 % of trade with Romania’s petroleum suppliers (including Soviet Union and China) was represented by imports and, in 1981 – 80% of petroleum imports came from developing ”friendly Arab countries”2. Shafir is among the first to insist on the idea that, although the crisis might have had some positive aspects for the country, because it would lead to a better balance of trade with the European Economic Community, the most negative aspects stem from the government’s reaction to the crisis: impose deprivations on the population in order to pay the debts and to harness more resources in the economic growth program3. In 1986, Olga Narkiewicz introduces another important element of the academic canon when analyzing the economic crisis of Romanian communism. While she notices some important political problems which aggravated the country’s circumstances, like the concentration of power in the hands of just one family – a process that led to the diminishing importance of the party structures and subsequently to the concentration of decisions concerning the oil policy in a very small circle – she also points out that the economy skips the effects of the 1973 petroleum crisis, but is hardly hit instead by the1979 increase in oil prices. In an economy based on ”import-led” growth since 1967, the increase in the price of oil couldn’t have anything else but bad effects4. The idea that the 1979 crisis was indeed the most important moment that led to a general crisis of the Romanian economy is reinforced by John Pearce Hardt and Carl H. McMillan who argue that the second oil shock precipitated a balance of payments crisis which forced Romania to reschedule its external debt, which in turn led to the austerity program of the 1980’s5. One should probably note a very important thing here. Most of those authors, especially those writing in the early and mid-1980’s were somehow constrained in their analysis by living in the midst of the events. It is therefore easier to see why their perspective is limited: events were just unfolding plus the information coming from Romania itself was either scarce, either untrustworthy. In 1988, Daniel Nelson made important contributions to the propagation of the narrative. According to him, the causes of the severe austerity conditions that characterize the Romanian economic life in the 1980s are to be found in the extensive growth strategy. The loans from the West to build excessive capacity (related to Romania`s own capacity to use them) in such heavy industries such as petrochemical and steel plants in Piteşti, Hunedoara, and Galaţi meant that the strategy backfired when Romania was forced to reschedule its payments after the second oil shock6. Nelson, who is fundamentally interested in the hard security aspects of politics, such as the composition and training of the military, also notes that the second oil shock was also making its impact in the continuous decline of military budgets and preparedness (especially mobility) after 19797. 1

Ibidem, p. 111. Ibidem, p. 115. 3 Ibidem, pp. 113-114. 4 Olga A. NARKIEWICZ, Eastern Europe 1968-1984, Routledge, London, 1986, p. 74. 5 John Pearce HARDT, Carl H. McMILLAN (eds.), Planned Economies: Confronting the Challenges of the 1980s, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 1988, p. 3. 6 Daniel N. NELSON, Romanian Politics in the Ceauşescu Era, Gordon and Breach Science Publishers, New York, 1988, pp. xiii-xiv. 7 Ibidem, p. 185. 2


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This canon is an integral part of the solid book by William Crowther published in 19881. The author writes in a consciously-assumed anti-Wallersteinian perspective (thus directed against the framework Daniel Chirot worked in the same time), stressing the fact that Romania’s role in the world economy is largely a product of internal economic circumstances, not of its presumed role in a periphery of the world-system. According to Crowther, the necessity of obtaining oil was the most pressing problem in the Ceauşescu era. Oil production grew just 1.6% annually from 1966 to 1973, while the ambitious expansion of Romania’s petroleum industry due to the need to acquire more currency through the export of refined products increased demand at a much greater rate, in a context in which it was difficult to get oil at promotional prices from the Soviet Union due to the problems with the Council of Mutual Economic Aid (CMEA)2. The beginning of the international oil crisis in 1974 not only increased the cost of imports, but also shrinked the market for the export of Romanian refined-petroleum products, turning what had been a substantial trade surplus into a huge deficit practically overnight. As petroleum imports rose from 10 000 barrels/day in 1976 to 16 000 barrels/day in 1980 and in the context of sluggish prices for refined products, by 1980 Romania was losing as much as $900 000 per day on its exports of refined petroleum products, thus leading the total debt to 10.35 billion dollars in 1981. This happened while at the same time Romania was desperately trying to boost links with the LDCs in order to buy oil from them, the commerce with these countries jumping from 7% of total trade to 25% in 1980. According to Crowther, those links were maintained either through political-symbolic steps, such as the recognition of the Palestine Liberation Organization, which was also given a quasi-official embassy in Bucharest, or through arms trade. The author estimates that weapons worth 2 billion dollars were exported by Romania to the LDC`s from 1978 to 1982 and that during the Iran-Iraq war (1980-1988) Romania sold weapons worth 825 million dollars to Iraq in exchange for crude oil3. All of these occurences and crises led to the austerity policies that marked the 1980’s in Romania and were bound to lead to greater problems. Even Mary Ellen Fischer, who provided a substantive, if somehow under researched4 biography of Nicolae Ceauşescu and was therefore bent on explaining crises and policies largely by psychological means, was admitting in 1989 that the economic and social failures of the 1980’s are primarily the responsibility of Ceauşescu’s own strengths and weaknesses and also changes in the balance of trade in petroleum and petroleum products after the oil crises5. Fischer offers a full, late-1980s version of the canon, worth retelling for the purposes of this paper, in the sense that it is the most complete version of it before the fall of communism in Romania. According to her, the causes for the economic difficulties after 1979 are deeper, the initial sign of crisis being the shortage of hard currency resulting apparently from structural imbalances in the international petroleum market. Romania, 1

William E. CROWTHER, The Political Economy of Romanian Socialism, Praeger, New York,

1988. 2

Ibidem, pp. 131-134. Ibidem, pp. 138-142. 4 Fischer hardly pays any attention to the period spent by Ceauşescu as a major-general commanding the Superior Political Directorate of the Army in the early 1950`s and to his alleged studies in the Soviet Union, at the prestigious ”Frunze” Military Academy. 5 Mary Ellen FISCHER, Nicolae Ceauşescu. A Study in Political Leadership, Lynne Rienner Publishers, Boulder & London, 1989, p. 3. 3



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who had a long-term specialization in petroleum-related products, continued to develop major refining capacity throughout the communist era, but especially in the 1960’s and 70’s. In contrast to Shafir, Fischer points out to a surge in petroleum imports (when compared with production) since the late 1960’s and notices that the country didn’t experience initial problems with the 1973-74 crisis because the price of Romanian exports – refined petroleum products also grew. However, after the second oil shock the prices for refined products didn’t grow as fast as the price of oil itself and thus the problems of the economy became truly grave1. The problems became even more difficult after the Shah’s fall from power and the beginning of the Iran-Iraq war, because these developments hindered access to the most important sources of cheaper oil; the Romanian leadership was thus forced to import petroleum from the Soviet Union in the early 1980’s, which it could only do at the market prices, due to the political problems caused by earlier ”dissidence” – namely Romania’s presumed distancing from the economic policies of the CMAE and the foreign policies stances of the Warsaw Treaty Organization since the mid 1960’s. According to Fischer two crucial economic decisions of the 60’s and 70’s – namely to invest heavily in petroleum and petro-chemical products and to minimize the cooperation in Comecon increased the dependency on hard currency imports of technology and raw materials, thus forcing the economy either in a spiral of acquiring more and more hard-currency or on a path towards autarky. After the 1981 Polish crisis that creates a significant crisis of confidence for Western bankers, making lending far more difficult and forcing Soviet block countries to reschedule the payments for the external debt, the Romanian leadership decided to try harder on the autarky strategy of development2. It is interesting to see how the canon is maintained, if not developed after the fall of communism. One might think that more access to sources, people in important decision-making positions, comparative approaches might change some of the cannon. Indeed, this was not the case. The canon stands pretty much the same as it was formulated in the mid-to-late 1980’s. In 1993 Gale Stokes provided a discussion of the Romanian petroleum industry as a source of the country’s economic troubles in the 1980’s; Romanian had the largest oil fields in Eastern Europe except those of the Soviet Union and thus had the basis for a strong oil industry throughout the century. He makes the connection between the huge external debt – 10.3 billion dollars3 by 1981 and oil imports from the lesser developed countries, almost all of them ruled by dictators well connected with Ceauşescu (Iraq, Iran, Libya, Algeria), and points to the link between the disastrous decision to pay the debt and the internal deprivations which led to the convulsions of 19894. In his 1995 book Dennis Deletant clings to the same story of the link between oil imports, increase in oil prices, huge external debt that Ceauşescu decided to pay while leading the country on an autarky path and its nefarious consequences in the daily lives of Romanians5. 1

Ibidem, p. 249. Ibidem, p. 250. 3 Why is this particular figure huge from a political point of view? Romania had a population of 21-22 million in the early 1980’s and the GDP per capita was around 2000$. Thus, the external debt, all in hard currency, was about 25% of the GDP. 4 Gale STOKES, The Walls Came Tumbling Down: The Collapse of Communism in Eastern Europe, Oxford University Press, Oxford, 1993, p. 58. 5 Dennis DELETANT, Ceauşescu and the Securitate: Coercion and Dissent in Romania, 1965-1989, M.E. Sharpe, New York, 1995, p. 322. 2


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It is even more interesting to see that the canon is the same in monographs dedicated to Eastern Europe in general and to the books that address Romania in particular. R.J. Crampton retells in a book dedicated to the history of the region in the 20th century the story of how the economic strategy of the 1970’s went wrong (to borrow from the West to build refinery capacity for Arab crude oil, but to face declining internal oil production and be forced to rely on expensive petroleum imports while the prices for refined petroleum products don’t rise fast enough). According to him, when a country like Romania is trapped between the anvil of the world market and the hammer of Ceauşescu’s ego, the troubles were to be expected, were even unavoidable1. In the same time, in a book dedicated to the last few decades of Romanian history, Steven Roper links economic losses due to increase of petroleum prices in the 1970’s to debt, debt repayment policies and austerity, and thus perpetuates the same discourse2. In one of the more recent treatments of the problem a well known specialist of Romanian economic geography, David Turnock falls prey to the same canon, relinquishing his usual balanced views for a critique of the gigantism of excessive capacities for oil refining and treating the oil problems of the time under the title ”Policy Aberrations of the 1980`s: The Climax of Sultanism”3. There are,however, works that either provide a far larger economic and social framework for understanding the problems of Romanian communism, or focus entirely on political and even personal intricacies, occluding the fact that Romania was a country of over 20 million inhabitants, not just the ”Primăverii” neighborhood in northern Bucharest4. Among the first group of studies, one can cite especially left-wing sociologists and political scientists such as Silviu Brucan or Vladimir Pasti5. They acknowledge the impact of the oil crises on the Romanian economy, but they focus more either on the general crisis of the communist bloc or on the relations of power between the layers of leadership in the Romanian society. Among the second group one finds important scholars like Vladimir Tismăneanu or Stelian Tănase, who tend to describe the realities of the Romanian communist period in the framework of personalities’ struggles for acquiring and maintaining power positions, and thus paying far less attention to economic or societal aspects6. I provided a lengthier account of the academic canon that relates investments in the petroleum industry and the oil crises of the 1970’s with the economic and social troubles in the 1980’s Romania in order to see how old, persuasive, and pervasive this way of reasoning truly is. I turn next to examining how the Romanian 1 R.J. CRAMPTON, Eastern Europe in the Twentieth Century – and After, Routledge, London, 1997, p. 385. 2 Steven D. ROPER, Romania: The Unfinished Revolution, Routledge, London, 2000, pp. 55-56. 3 David TURNOCK, Aspects of Independent Romania’s Economic History with Particular Reference to Transition for EU Accession, Ashgate, London, 2007, p. 33. 4 The ”Primăverii” neighborhood was the preferred place of living for the Romanian nomenklatura. 5 Silviu BRUCAN, Pluralism and Social Conflict: A Social Analysis of the Communist World, Praeger, New York, 1990 and Vladimir PASTI, The Challenges of Transition. Romania in Transition, East European Monographs, Boulder, Colorado, 1997. 6 Vladimir TISMĂNEANU, Stalinism for All Seasons. A Political History of Romanian Communism, University of California Press, Berkeley, 2003 and Stelian TĂNASE, Elite şi societate: guvernarea Gheorghiu-Dej, Humanitas, Bucureşti, 1998.



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political leadership viewed the role of the oil industry in the larger framework of the Romanian economy. My main purpose is not so much to challenge the academic canon, but to provide nuance to it. The main authors who elaborated the canon were political scientists and economists usually working with statistics; they usually avoided discussing the problems in terms of the official party view regarding Romania’s development strategy. One of the most important problems of this type of research is how to avoid scrap paper, wooden-tongue and worthless literature1; therefore, my personal option was to research first and foremost the most important speeches that the leaders of the party were giving in paramount occasions such as Party Congresses or Party National Conferences. Why these speechesand not laws, budgets or other type of documents, doubtlessly useful for a complete research of the matter? Because these are the kind of speeches that give the broader perspectives, which can give us a true measure of what the Romanian communist leadership assigned to a particular sector of economy and society, and of the relations between these sectors. The speeches to these occasions are long, obviously written by teams of specialists, indeed full with a lot of propaganda – which can easily be detected through exercise and by pursuing a systematic lecture of these documents. The entire public policy process and the entire party rhetoric were based on these speeches, by quoting them relentlessly and incessantly in books, magazines, newspapers, radio and TV-programs in the years between Congresses and National Conferences. These are my main reasons why I based the research for this paper mainly on them.

The Romanian Communist Leaders Face and Mold Petroleum The Romanian communists took power over the economic sectors of government in 1945 and their grip on this power was evident after the nationalization of ”the main means of production” on June 11th, 1948. However, this cannot be the starting point of my analysis due to a very important reason for which we cannot analyze independently any sector of the Romanian economy for almost a decade after the end of World War II, namely the Soviet-imposed forms of economic cooperation known as the ”Sovroms”. These were economical conglomerates dedicated either to the production of a particular commodity, such as steel or quartz, or for a specific activity of the economy, such as transportation, in which the Soviet part would usually participate with the financial and fixed capital of the former German societies in Romania (given to the Soviet Union after the signing of the 1 The main objection with using these sources is their trustworthiness and especially the wooden-tongue used in it. Wooden-tongue is not a communist occurrence; any document emanating from the European Commission, the United Nations and for that matter the State Department is full with wooden-tongue, be it, bureaucratic, universalistic or capitalist. My main point is that exercise in reading them provides the patient researcher with the ability to separate the precious information from sheer propaganda. Relating to trustworthiness, I tend to think that the data provided in the documents researched are reliable in the sense in which we can think that we can trust the Communist leaders; if we were simply to conclude that they were lying all along, no serious primary-source analysis of Communist regimes is possible, as no independent reports existed in closed societies.


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Armistice Convention of September 1944) and Romania would participate with labor, capital, and its own economic societies. They were usually controlled by a board of directors whose leaders were overwhelmingly Soviet citizens and whose main function was to exploit and export Romanian goods to the Soviet Union. Not surprisingly, due to its huge importance in the general framework of the Romanian economy, petroleum was the first product that fell under the sway of the Soviets, Sovrompetrol being the first such company, as early as July 17th, 19451. After the nationalization of 1948, all the government-owned petroleum companies joined Sovrompetrol, who by 1950 was controlling the entire crude oil production of the country2. According to David Turnock, the virtual nationalization of the Romanian oil industry during World War Two (specifically in 1942) made it quite easy for the USSR to create Sovrompetrol and, in his estimates, as much as two thirds of the Romanian oil production was exported to the Soviet Union forthwith3. Thus, it is irrelevant for the purposes of this paper to analyze in depth the speeches and policies of the Romanian communist leaders related to the oil industry of the times: the relevant decisions were taken in Moscow4. Only in the mid-1950’s, when the decision to dissolve the Sovroms was taken – usually the Romanian government having to buy-back the Soviet share – can my research truly begin5. And so it does, with the speech of Gheorghe Gheorghiu-Dej at the second congress of the Romanian’s Workers Party (RWP) in late 19556. Thus, in December 1955, after more than 7 years since the previous congress, and with the dissolution of the Sovroms looming, Dej was free to set his own vision of industrial development, and he truly did so. Oil industry was seen as the engine of the economy, and a significant number of pages was dedicated to its particular place. Oil industry was the first to fulfill the first Five Year Plan (1950-1955), the production of crude oil being 10575 thousand tons in 1955 (compared to 6594 thousand tons in 1938, usually considered the best year of the pre-communist Romanian economy)7. Of the total investments in industry, 28.3% went to oil and gas industry, which meant by far the largest investment when compared to the other sectors (electric power received 13.1%, the iron extraction and steel industry 10%), thus making oil the first branch of industry in the mid 1950’s8, despite huge investments in other sectors, for instance the metallurgical plants of Hunedoara or Reşiţa. It was too soon 1 Florian BANU, Asalt asupra economiei României. De la Solagra la Sovrom (1936-1956), Bucureşti, Nemira, 2004, p. 130. 2 Ibidem, p. 151. 3 David TURNOCK, The Romanian Economy in the Twentieth Century, St. Martin’s Press, New York, 1986, p. 157. 4 For relevant scholarship considering the commanding position the Soviets had in the Romanian Politburo see the classic, or soon to become classic books of Ghiţă IONESCU, Communism in Rumania, 1944-1962, Oxford University Press, London, 1964; Robert LEVY, Ana Pauker. The Rise and Fall of a Jewish Communist, University of California Press, Berkeley, 2001; Vladimir TISMĂNEANU, Stalinism for All Seasons...cit. 5 Sovrompetrol, together with Sovromquarţ, was the last disbanded, on October 22nd, 1956, Florian BANU, Asalt asupra economiei României...cit., p. 173. 6 This moment also denotes an important shift in the leadership of the party, with Dej returning as first secretary after ceding this position to Gheorghe Apostol for more than a year. 7 Gheorghe GHEORGHIU-DEJ, Report on the Work of the Central Committee of the RWP to the Second Party Congress, Foreign Languages Publishing House, Bucureşti, 1956. The date of the speech is December 23rd, 1955, pp. 47-48. 8 Ibidem, p. 51.



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not to mention the importance of the Soviet Union in matters of development in the petroleum industry in the decade after the Second World War and the establishment of the communist regime. Therefore, Dej makes the expected amends, stressing the fact that after the 1945-47period, when the capitalist oil trusts launched the theory of the fatal decline of the Romanian oil production by the exhaustion of oil reserves, the help of the USSR through Sovrompetrol meant the discovery of new oilfields and thus the reassurance that the geological reserves were much bigger than in 1950. Therefore, in order to again exceeding the plan, the communist leadership stressed raising scientific knowledge through Soviet training, in order to keep the status of oil as the main industry in Romania1. In the next section of the speech, dedicated to the directives concerning the realization of the Second Five-Year Plan, Dej mentioned that the investment share in the oil industry will still be the highest, although it will decline to 20.5% of total, but will still be huge when compared to the investments in chemical industry – 13% or iron and steel at 12%2. The first sign that conservation and economy were important in the general framework of development appears as early as this speech of 1955 by the provision that the petroleum industry should continue to develop on the basis of an important extension of exploration for newer resources3. This provision is of paramount importance for understanding a very important factor, which the academic canon usually ignores. Conservation, the fear for the exhaustion of reserves, of oil wells, was a permanent fear for the Romanian communist leaders, from the very moment they got their autonomous grip on the levers of the national economy4. Far from being careless, they always mentioned the need for conservation and for the discovery of new fields. At a certain period, this fear turned into desperation and they will try to develop other sources of energy – some with a mixed success, like coal or hydro-power plants, other ending in failure, such as nuclear/heavy water plants. Dej’s speech is thus important not only because some important leitmotifs appear in it, but also for what was left out or ignored in the next speeches of the party leadership: the central role of the oil industry for economic growth. Starting with the next party congress, oil ceases to be the main branch of industry and it becomes just a major helper for the development of steel or chemical industry. The stress on the economy and the need for new sources of energy for the intensive development of other sectors of the economy became evident from the next speeches, even those of Gheorghiu-Dej. Four and a half years later, at the Third Party Congress, Dej was already pointing out to the fact that the continuous progress of the economy is conditioned by the corresponding growth of the energy basis of the country. Thus, he indicated as main tasks for the future the development of the lignite extraction, the improvement in the use and in the conservation of petroleum resources. This corresponded with another significant task, 1

Ibidem, pp. 53-54. Ibidem, p. 94. 3 Ibidem, p. 102. It became apparent to the Communist leaders as soon as they took back the control of the oil reserves that the blood of the economy needs to be controlled tightly if the general program of industrial growth and development is to be fulfilled. The correlation between the output of energy and the economy’s consumption of energy is obvious to the political leadership and will become an leitmotif from now on. 4 One can probably connect that with the quite excessive commitment to oil drilling and electrification of the early 1950’s, which took a heavy toll on resources and money, see David TURNOCK, The Romanian Economy in the Twentieth Century, cit., p. 162. 2


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recurrent in all party documents, that of the growth of petroleum reserves1. However, the party still had significant plans for the development of the refining utilities and also for building new capacities for extracting and refining petroleum in locations such as Brazi, Borzeşti and Teleajen2. Somehow surprisingly if we were to take into account just the academic canon, the arrival in power of Nicolae Ceauşescu didn’t increase the stress on petroleum industry in his political speeches, but instead relegated the industry, at least rhetorically, to the margins of political discourse. In his first report to a party congress in his new capacity of secretary-general of the party, on July 19th 1965 Ceauşescu mentioned just the successes of the chemical industry in the Third Five-Year Plan (who got as a whole one fifth of the total allocations for industrial development), which led to the effective creation of the petro-chemical branch of the economy3. The communist leader already stresses the need to discover new oilfields and the development of the coal-extraction industry, in order to increase the production of electricity faster than the growth of the entire economy4. However, this is not entirely surprising when putting these sections into the general framework of the congress and the speech. The congress itself was an opportunity for Ceauşescu to develop his own ideological stance, and his speech is thus merely rhetoric and marks his continuation of the nationalist line begun by Dej. Furthermore, he couldn’t and he wouldn’t report great successes, not because they simply didn’t exist, but actually because they would have been attributed to his predecessor, whom the new leader already targeted for symbolic denunciation. All the results in the field of oil industry so far were obtained under Dej and furthermore the short span between the death of the former party leader and the congress made the clarification of political and ideological stances far more imperative than an economic design that couldn’t be presented as wholly original. The next party congress, held in 1969, brought more of the same: a report from the secretary general that was still hugely concerned with political and ideological issues rather than the economy. In a very scant note, the conservation of oil reserves and discovery of new petroleum reserves were thought of as extremely important tasks5, but the report stops here. However, more significant for my 1 Gheorghe GHEORGHIU-DEJ, ”Raportul Comitetului Central (CC) al Partidului Muncitoresc Român (PMR) cu privire la activitatea partidului în perioada dintre Congresul al II-lea şi Congresul al III-lea al partidului, cu privire la planul de dezvoltare a economiei naţionale pe anii 1960-1965 şi la schiţa planului economic de perspectivă pe 15 ani”, in Articole şi cuvântări. August 1959-mai 1961, Ed. Politică, Bucureşti, 1961, pp. 116-117. 2 Ibidem, p. 118. See for the development of these particular refineries and oil facilities in the general framework of analyzing the pattern of economic development of Romania in the 1960’s David TURNOCK, ”The Pattern of Industralization in Romania”, Annals of the Association of American Geographers, vol. 60, no. 3, September 1970, pp. 540-559. 3 Nicolae CEAUŞESCU, ”Raportul CC al PCR cu privire la activitatea partidului în perioada dintre Congresul al VIII-lea şi Congresul al IX-lea al PCR”, in Opere alese, vol. I, Ed. Politică, Bucureşti, 1982, p. 8. A few things need to be mentioned here for clarity: at the 1965 congress the party switched its name from the Romanian Workers Party – which it had from its union with the Social Democratic Party in 1948 – back to the Romanian Communist Party and thus it renumbered the party Congresses. Thus, the Fourth Congress of the RWP became the Ninth Congress of the RCP. Also, the name of the country changed from the People’s Republic of Romania to Socialist Republic of Romania and the top leadership position was now designated as secretary-general rather than first-secretary of the party. 4 Ibidem, p. 16. 5 Congresul al X-lea al PCR, 6-12 August 1969, Ed. Politică, Bucureşti, 1969, p. 29.



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purpose are the party directives concerning the 1971-75 Five-Year Plan. There, the party leadership called for maintaining oil extraction at the 1970 level throughout the period, at the level of 13.1-13.5 million tons, thus admitting that the reserves are limited and no new oilfields were expected to be opened1. This is the moment when the party clearly decided to boost the chemical industry and to rely on petroleum refined products, by boosting the production by 85-92% in the next five years2. In the same time, for the communist leaders it is obvious that the oil consumption, which was essentially for the purpose of producing electricity, was unable to keep up with the demand for energy (thus admitting the failure to raise the production of electricity faster than the pace of growth of the economy). For the first time the need for building nuclear power-plants was mentioned, a recurrent theme in subsequent economic planning3. A few years after the Tenth Congress, Ceauşescu reiterated the subordinate role of the petroleum industry as a pillar of economic growth in socialist Romania: the priorities were the modernization of the industrial structure with an accent on production of superior steel and the pursuit of nuclear energy. The stress on the intensification of geological research in order to increase the volume of available reserves and for the discovery of new fields is always present4. This theme, as I said before, turned entirely into an obsession of the political leadership, as soon as the oil crisis began. At the Eleventh Party Congress, on 25th November 1974, the party secretary-general Nicolae Ceauşescu was making only one mention of oil industry in his entire report to the congress. This mention is the first provision in his entire speech devoted to economics, stressing the need to intensify geologic activity in order to identify new energy resources and also new raw materials deposits (sign that the coal and iron industry was also going through tough times)5. From this point on the diversification of the resources for energy production becomes far more important than any other consideration when related to the matters concerning oil. Already before the main effects of the oil crisis hit the Romanian economy, its communist leaders already knew they were in trouble if they couldn’t find the necessary energy resources to sustain the rhythm of industrial growth. In 1977 (thus two years before the second oil shock to which most of the academic canon alludes to as the turning point) Ceauşescu stressed the need for a rational use of raw materials and energy6. For the oil production in particular, as the existing fields proved that the reserves were more and more limited, the leadership envisioned deep and offshore drilling, still hoping to find on an internal basis the necessary resources to fuel up the industrial growth7. More references to the oil industry problems are to be found in the documents of the Twelfth Party Congress, held from 19 to 23 November 1979. This is probably the most famous congress of the entire Ceauşescu era because the only open and 1

”Directivele Congresului cu privire la planul cincinal 1971-1975”, in ibidem, pp. 675-676. Ibidem, p. 681. 3 Ibidem, p. 714. One should note the failure of the communist regime in completing its nuclear-energy project. The first nuclear reactor was producing electricity for the first time in 1994, five years after the fall of communism. 4 Conferinţa naţională a PCR, 19-21 July 1972, Ed. Politică, Bucureşti, 1972, p. 467. 5 ”Raportul CC cu privire la activitatea PCR în perioada dintre Congresul al X-lea şi Congresul al XI-lea şi sarcinile de viitor ale partidului”, in Nicolae CEAUŞESCU, Opere alese, vol. II, ed. cit., p. 582. 6 Conferinţa naţională a PCR, 7-9 December 1977, Ed. Politică, Bucureşti, 1978, p. 223. 7 Ibidem, p. 388. 2


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internally-visible dissidence of an elderly communist leader took place during it, namely the speech of former party leader Constantin Pârvulescu against the reelection of Nicolae Ceauşescu as secretary-general of the party (his intervention was removed from the official collection of documents concerning the Congress)1. In his report, the leader of the party accentuates the need for saving energy and, extremely important especially in the decade to come, on the use of coal in the production of electricity and heating and on the development of hydroelectric energy – and of maintaining the level of oil extraction at least at the 1980 level2. The crisis conditions were known and recognized by the party leadership, who devised a ”Directive-program for research and development during the 1981-1990 decade” which stressed the need, almost the obsession with autarky evident from now on, to make Romania independent from the point of view of the production of energy3. This program was so ambitious (and also unrealistic) that it called for the decrease of the percentage of petroleum-produced electric energy from 39.7% in 1980 to 5 or 4% in 19904. Most relevant for my discussion here is the evidence this speech brings about the extent to which, in the middle of the second oil shock, the political leadership was completely aware of the consequences of its decisions and tried everything in its power to avoid the deepening of the problems they faced. This was extremely obvious as soon as a decade that was marked by the rescheduling of payments and the decision to pay as soon as possible the external debt started in 1980. On November 25th 1981, Ceauşescu openly admitted in front of the political and economic leadership that there were difficulties in insuring the energy bases of the economy, due largely to the failure to fulfill the coal extraction and oil-drilling plans, and also due to excessive consumption of energy5. The president of the republic gives a thorough assessment of the crisis, discussing the specifics of the [international oil?] crisis and its stronger effects on the developing countries. In an ideological twist worth mentioning here, he calls the problems of the financial situation – namely the increase of interests on foreign loans – a new form of ”imperialist and colonialist oppression and exploitation created by the financial capital”6. It was openly admitted that the orientation for the purchase of raw materials and especially energetic resources was focused outside the CMEA, towards friendly developing countries but also capitalist states. More than 80% of the petroleum imported came from the LDC’s and especially friendly Arab countries7. The global implications of the energy crisis were further discussed at the March 31st 1982 party plenary session, which stressed the need to increase coal extraction, to build electric plants based on coal, hydroelectric plants and, again, nuclear power-plants (who were supposed to provide 14% of the total energy output 1 Constantin Pârvulescu (1895-1992) was briefly member of a triumvirate which led the Party in 1944. His speech can be listened at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QvvUQz34C3o (last visited at October 13, 2009). 2 Congresul al XII-lea al PCR, Ed. Politică, Bucureşti, 1981, pp. 32-34. 3 Ibidem, p. 767. 4 Ibidem, p. 774. 5 ”Expunere la plenara comună a CC al PCR şi a Consiliului Suprem al Dezvoltării Economice şi Sociale”, in Nicolae CEAUŞESCU, Opere alese, vol. IV, ed. cit., 1986, p. 217. 6 Ibidem, p. 219. This particular theme will be a recurrent one in the rhetoric of the regime and of its press, see for instance the article of Dr Ilie ŞERBĂNESCU, ”Dobânzile excesive – mijloc de spoliere neocolonialistă”, Scânteia, 18th March 1986. 7 Ibidem, pp. 232-233.



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by 1990)1. As the year went by, the problems became more and more acute and the communist leaders felt the need to address them in more and more determined ways. On December 16th 1982 Nicolae Ceauşescu was telling his fellow leaders that the economic crisis is worse than the 1929 Great Depression. Desperate measures were in order, namely the faster development of the energy basis even by utilizing minerals with a lesser content of useful substances. The Party also announced at that moment that it was fully decided to cut electricity consumption2. One could easily follow the preoccupation for the reducing of energy consumption and the stress on saving and better utilization of oil by looking for instance at certain articles in the main Romanian newspaper, Scânteia (the official organ of the CC of the RCP). Scânteia was the largest circulated Romanian newspaper, all institutions were obliged to subscribed to it and it was where the most official party line was to be found throughout the communist decades. If there were any changes or important messages to be sent to the population, they would be found in this newspaper, that largely had the same role as Pravda in the Soviet Union. I think that a look at five consecutive months in 1984, directly preceeding the Thirteenth Party Congress is particularly relevant. In January, a front-page article by Dan Constantin with the title ”Mai mult ţiţei, mai multe gaze naturale” attempted to mobilize workers to fulfill the plan, also emphasizing the need to find better ways of extracting oil, especially using mixed methods and deep-drilling3. The next month, under the banner of the recurring rubric ”Energia electrică şi combustibilul – riguros gospodărite – sever economisite” a large article appeared appealing on the citizens conscience to became a counter for rational consumption of energy4. The leading article of the March 21st issue had the title ”În spiritul indicaţiilor tovarăşului Nicolae Ceauşescu – consumurile energetice – reduse substanţial, la fiecare produs, în fiecare întreprindere”5. The rubric ”Energia electrică şi combustibilul – riguros gospodărite – sever economisite” reappeared in April with a huge analysis of deficiencies in production, wondering how come that the Câmpulung factory was consuming more energy than the Târgu-Jiu factory to produce the same amount of cement6. Even more interesting and telling is the May 24th number, which asked on the second page for full awareness while saving energy in all branches of industry, while the first page hosted a huge materiel dedicated to the visit of general Gnassingbe Eyadema, the Togolese dictator (this largely shows who were the friends of Nicolae Ceauşescu by that moment – dictators from the Third World Countries, devoid of international stature but possibly rich in material resources)7. The same recurring themes of conservation, the need to increase the output of the other energy-producing sectors of the economy came at the time of the 1 ”Hotărârea plenarei CC al PCR cu privire la realizarea planului de producere a energiei în cincinalul 1981-1985 şi dezvoltarea bazei energetice a ţării până în 1990”, in Epoca Nicolae Ceauşescu. PCR centrul vital al întregii naţiuni. Documente ale plenarelor CC şi ale Comitetului Politic Executiv al CC al PCR 1965-1985, vol. IV, Ed. Politică, Bucureşti, 1986, pp. 61-62. 2 ”Raport cu privire la stadiul actual al edificării socialismului, la realizarea planului unic de dezvoltare economico-socială, la programele speciale şi la măsurile pentru îndeplinirea cu succes a cincinalului, a hotărârilor Congresului al XII-lea al partidului”, in Nicolae CEAUŞESCU, Opere alese, vol. IV, ed. cit., 1986, pp. 395-404. 3 Scânteia, 11 January 1984, no. 12871. 4 Scânteia, 2 February 1984, no. 12890. 5 Scânteia, 21 March 1984, no. 12931. 6 Scânteia, 8 April 1984, no. 12947. 7 Scânteia, 24 May 1984, no. 12985.


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Thirteenth Party Congress. On November 19th 1984 the Romanian leader spoke about the dire consequences of the world economic crisis especially on the production of oil and petroleum-refined products. Although the chemical industry’s output was by now 39% of the entire economic production, the energy resources needed to be boosted by the same much discussed means: increase of the coal output and the development of hydro energetic projects and nuclear energy1. A year after the Congress, on November 13th 1985 Nicolae Ceauşescu stressed at the party plenary session that deficiencies in the output of coal led to an increase in the import of oil2. The communist leader stressed again and again the need to save energy; to show the dire state of the economy, he mentions the need to develop the railways transportation system and to curtail road-transportation, which was 10 times more expensive3. In 1987 the energy crisis is still out in the open; in March Nicolae Ceauşescu was openly admitting that the plan quotas for the extraction of oil were unfulfilled and that the most important economic problems are caused by the excessive consumption of energy and the failure to meet the Five-Year Plan commitments4. The nervousness of the party leadership concerning the problems of the economy is more and more obvious in the press. Let us take for instance just the interval 20-25 September 1987. The front editorial of Scânteia on Sunday, September 20th 1987 was signed by Ion Lazăr and was entitled ”În întâmpinarea conferinţei naţionale a partidului. Noile capacităţi energetice – neîntârziat în funcţiune” which stressed the need to implement by the end of the year power plants that could provide a total output of 1700 MW5. On Wednesday, the newspaper hosted a big article on page two dedicated to the preparation of the homes for the cold season, asking citizens to isolate the windows and door of their homes to save more energy6. Friday, the paper printed a first page editorial by Dr Engineer Ilie Paraschiv on the role of scientific research in the process of the development of the raw materials reserves and a third page article about the preparation of power-plants for winter7. Thus, one sees very easily that matters concerning the saving of energy were out in the open, not at all a secret of the communist leadership. The documents of the last years of the communist regime play the same tune over and over again. At the 28-29 March 1988 plenary Ceauşescu states that the major problems of the economy are related to the excessive interest rates demanded by capitalist financial institutions, which led to a heavy burden for the developing countries8. At the last party congress, held in November 1989, the party secretary-general was again denouncing the financial-banking capital and supranational monopolies as the main form of the exploitation of different peoples and 1 Nicolae CEAUŞESCU, Report of the CC on the Activity of the RCP between the Twelfth Congress and the Thirteenth Congress and on the Future Activity of the Party with a View of Attaining Romania`s Economic and Social Development Targets under the 1986-1990 Five-Year Plan and, in the Long Run, until the Year 2000, Ed. Politică, Bucureşti, 1984, pp. 10-19. 2 ”Cuvântare la plenara CC al PCR”, in Nicolae CEAUŞESCU, Opere alese, vol. IV, ed. cit., 1986, p. 846. 3 Ibidem, p. 849. 4 Speech at the 24-25 March 1987 plenary of the CC of the RCP in Munca de partid, vol. 31, no. 4, April 1987, p. 3. Munca de partid was the monthly publication of the CC of the RCP. 5 Scânteia, 20 September 1987, no. 14022. 6 Scânteia, 24 September 1987, no. 14024. 7 Scânteia, 25 September 1987, no. 14026. 8 ”Cuvântare la plenara CC al PCR”, Munca de partid, vol. 32, no. 4, April 1988, p. 4.



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especially of the subordination of developing countries1. The same old themes reappeared, with an emphasis of the multiplication of the oil reserves, the improvement of output in the extraction of coal and the vast development of nuclear power-plants (the leadership envisioned that 50% of the electric energy would come from nuclear sources by 1995, in the context in which Romania didn’t have a single operational nuclear reactor in 1989)2. On December 4th, 1989, a desperate Romanian delegation that included Ceauşescu and the prime-minister Constantin Dăscălescu met with Mikhail Gorbachev and the Soviet premier Nikolai Ryzhkov in Moskow, a day after the famous Malta summit between Gorbachev and George H.W. Bush. The Romanian leader made a self criticism for not listening to Brezhnev in the 1970’s and going into debt and let the prime-minister to beg for bilateral economic talks regarding the import of energy and raw goods from the Soviet Union3. On December 16th, 1989, five days before the fall of the regime, and on the day when the repression against the protesters in Timişoara began, Nicolae Militaru published a front-page editorial in Scânteia calling for the broadening of the energy and raw-materials basis of the country as priority objectives of the entire economic activity4. The regime was indeed dying with the energy issues hanging from its neck.

Interpretation and Conclusion What are the general conclusions of my research? How can we look at the academic canon in the light of the primary-sources research presented above? As I mentioned earlier, the purpose of this particular paper was not to refute or to drastically amend the academic canon. Indeed, a research project bent on refuting the canon would be more focused on the actual processes inside the economy, to look for trends in the national budget, prices, trends in public debt, investment in the industry, and the economic interconnections between the petroleum industry and the economy as a whole, as well as external forces. Such work would imply a research into historical public policies and economics. The purpose of my paper instead were first to establish and discuss the existence of the academic canon and secondly to see whether the research of the public speeches of the Romanian communist leadership can shed any supplementary light regarding the established theory. From my point of view, the research that I pursued in this paper offers some important developments and amendments to the canon. First, it points out to the fact that – at least for the stated policy – the oil industry was not the main concern of the communist regime starting at least in the early 1 Nicolae CEAUŞESCU, ”Raport cu privire la stadiul actual al societăţii socialiste româneşti, la activitatea CC între Congresele al XIII-lea şi al XIV-lea, la realizarea Programului-Directivă de dezvoltare economico-socială în cincinalul al IX-lea şi în perspectivă până în anii 2000-2010, în vederea îndeplinirii neabătute a Programului de făurire a societăţii socialiste multilateral dezvoltate şi înaintare a României spre comunism”, Munca de partid, vol. 33, no. 12, December 1989, p. 44. 2 Ibidem, p. 21. 3 ”Minutes of the Meeting between Nicolae Ceausescu, and Mikhail S. Gorbachev, Moscow”, December 4th, 1989 available at http://www.wilsoncenter.org/cwihp/documentreaders/eotcw/ 891204b.pdf (last visited at December 1st, 2008). 4 Scânteia, 17 December 1989, no. 14722.


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1960`s. Except for a short period immediately following the recuperation of sovereignty related to oil policy in the mid 1950’s, the petroleum industry was never an end in itself for the Romanian communists. A closer look to their grasp of the industrial development of Romania shows, in my opinion, that oil was just one very important means to fire up the general industrial development of the country, whose accent actually lies more on more on metallurgy, the construction of heavy and advanced machinery, and chemical products. Energy was just blood in the veins of the economy, not a purpose in itself. I think that the idea that Ceauşescu wanted only to build a strong petrochemical industry is an overstatement; the development of the economy was far more complex in the mind of the communist leaders. Secondly, the problems with the supply of energy didn’t start with the oil crises of the 1970s, but were merely aggravated by them. Romania was growing faster from an industrial point of view than its ability to provide enough energy to all its industry plus its booming urban population. Oil was just one of the ways to provide energy to the economy, as always since the 1960’s the stress was on developing other sources such as coal, hydro-energy and nuclear energy. The failure of the projects related to these three, plus the decline of the production of petroleum AND the oil crisis led to the general industrial crisis of the 1980`s, in conjunction with Romania`s shaky base of raw materials. Third, the research pointed out that the communist leadership and after a certain moment the general public was deeply aware of the problems of the structuring of the economy, because all those problems were exposed in public broadcasts, speeches and articles published in the mainstream press. The Romanian leaders did not keep the crisis in the dark, but rather they discussed it out in the open, even though they were blaming the foreign banks and industrial monopolies for it, leaving only small references to the inability of the workforce and the machinery to fulfill the yearly or five-year plans. The decision for autarky was not a permanent characteristic of the communist regime. Indeed, this preliminary research leads to an idea that needs further work, namely that the regime wanted at least initially to connect Romania with international trade and develop it as a net exporter of advanced industrial products, using the heavy currency obtained from trading refined petroleum products for buying newer technologies. The general conclusion of the paper is that a deeper research on the party documents and economic policies lead to a wider understanding not only of the worldview of the Romanian communist leaders, but also to nuances when describing the economic causes of political and social change. If somehow dull and unrewarding at first, after a certain mastery of eliminating the wooden-tongue passages, these documents can become deeply relevant for understanding a certain communist regime. This research project reinforced my view that good research must not be confined to a particular event or even time period; a medium, if not a longue durée is a far better methodological approach.


L’Orthodoxie rurale et la modernité Un essai monographique MIREL BĂNICĂ

Objet et méthode de recherche Comme le faisait remarquer le sociologue canadien Guy Rocher il y quatre décennies déjà, les recherche monographiques en sociologie ont «une vocation singulière et paradoxale»1. D’une part, les monographies se présentent sous des apparences modestes, discrètes, «presque timides», avec un appareil technique et statistique réduit ou inexistant. D’autre part, la plupart des monographies ont exercés sur la sociologie une influence profonde et durable. Pour le seul cas roumain, l’école socio-monographique de Dimitrie Gusti est le cas le plus connu. À mon avis, les recherches monographiques pratiquées dans le domaine de la religion éclairent l’évolution des mentalités et des attitudes religieuses qu’entraîne le processus de modernisation, ainsi que l’activité religieuse «en train de se faire», pour citer le titre de l’ethnologue français Albert Piette2. Il faut aussi dire que la présente micro-monographie représente aussi la rencontre nécessaire, mais difficile, entre la sociologie et l’activité religieuse habituelle dans une paroisse orthodoxe. Je pense que le fait d’observer des situations, les décrire et en rendre compte, parler avec les croyants et les prêtres montre la difficulté de l’objet «paroisse orthodoxe», longtemps négligé, pour les sciences sociales de la religion. Il faut également attirer l’attention sur le fait que la compréhension du christianisme oriental doit se faire aussi «par en bas», sur le terrain. Un enjeu épistémologique majeur et aussi, dans sa totalité, un petit exercice de mise en question du «canon» des sciences sociales des religions et de leur exercice d’intelligibilité dans un autre espace que celui modelé par le catholicisme et le protestantisme occidental. Les cadres de la recherche sont les suivants: d’abord, la limitation du terrain à une paroisse unique, sans négliger pourtant l’interaction avec les deux autres paroisses de la localité, orthodoxe et baptiste. Ianca est à la fois un village «traditionnel» et une ville agroindustrială, fruit de la modernisation forcée de la fin des années 1980. La population y est donc d’une grande variété du point de vue de la profession, du niveau social et de l’origine géographique. Ensuite, j’ai pris en compte une limitation de l’amplitude de la recherche. Il est en effet impossible de passer en revue tous les rites, les dogmes et leurs interprétations de la part des croyants sans parler de l’inventaire de toutes les «réponses» de l’Orthodoxie devant la modernité. Mes critères de sélection ont été d’une part l’importance que les divers 1

Guy ROCHER, préface à Colette MOREUX, Fin d’une religion, Presses de l’Université de Montréal, 1969, p. 9. 2 Albert PIETTE, La religion de près: l’activité religieuse en train de se faire, Éditions Métailié, Paris, 1999.


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éléments choisis représentent pour l’Orthodoxie (par exemple, la participation à la messe) et d’autre part, la valorisation locale de certains points précis de la pratique (les kolives, gâteaux aux morts, le rôle et la position de la femme dans l’Église etc). Dans la partie introductive, j’ai essayé de poser cette étude dans un contexte social plus large à la fois dans le temps et dans l’espace, car pour bien comprendre l’évolution d’une communauté religieuse, il est important de la situer dans l’histoire locale, celle qui a préparée et modelée son état social et religieux. Sur la méthode: dans l’espace religieux modelé par l’Orthodoxie, il n’y pas une recette miracle pour l’étude d’une paroisse. Dans le temps que j’ai passé sur le terrain (aout-novembre 2008) j’ai essayé d’avoir le maximum d’interaction avec les membres actifs de la paroisse et son prêtre. L’observation directe a doublé l’interview semi-directive. Ce travail étant ma première recherche entreprise dans une paroisse, je n’ai pas mis au début aucune hypothèse de travail concernant aussi bien l’état religieux de la paroisse que l’influence de la modernité sur la mentalité et la pratique de la population observée. Difficultés et restrictions de la recherche: dans la longue liste possible, une sélection de plus importantes: une certaine réticence, voire la peur de dialogue, de la part des prêtres des paroisses orthodoxe face au chercheur. Souvent harcelés par la presse, tributaires du complexe de la «cité assiégée», et peu disposés en ensemble de collaborer avec des chercheurs hors cadres officiels de l’Eglise, les prêtres orthodoxes restent pourtant indispensables pour le bon déroulement de la recherche; il faut préciser que le prêtre de la paroisse étudiée constitue plutôt une exception par son ouverture d’esprit et sa curiosité intellectuelle native – l’une des raisons pour lesquelles nous avons choisi cette paroisse et pas une autre. Une autre difficulté réside dans le manque d’une bibliographie roumaine sur la recherche monographique dans les sciences sociales de la religion et la sociologie rurale. Enfin, comme remarque finale, j’ai ressenti souvent les limites de viabilité (application) des recherches et théories occidentales sur la sécularisation et le binôme religion-modernité dans l’espace d’extraction orthodoxe, étant ainsi obligé de composer seul sur un terrain ou le tout (ou presque) est à faire.

Ianca, un cadre général La localité Ianca est située dans la grande plaine de Bărăgan, au sud-est de la Roumanie. Le développement de cette petite ville de 12 000 habitants est lié à celui de la ville voisine de Brăila, chef-lieu du département ayant le même nom. Une monographie de la localité écrite par un enseignant de Ianca en 1939 avance l’année 1820 comme date de fondation de la localité. Pourtant, jusqu’à présent, il n’existe pas de traces écrites où de documents officiels attestant la date exacte de fondation. Une localité «jeune» donc par rapport aux villages environnants, vieux de 200-300 ans. Une autre particularité de Ianca est qu’elle n’a jamais eu des petits boyards, la noblesse locale. «Les habitants de la région sont nombreux et très pauvres, car dans le département de Brăila, il n’y a jamais eu des boyards», note le grand historien roumain Nicolae Iorga, en faisant référence de manière indirecte au fait que Brăila a été jusqu’en 1829 raia turque. D’ailleurs, l’un des anciens noms de la localité était Adunaţii de la Malul Buzăului (Les colons de la Rivière Buzău), à cause de ses habitants, des éleveurs saisonniers de bétail, établis dans la zone. Romanian Political Science Review • vol. IX • no. 4 • 2009

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Au début du XXe siècle, Ianca possédait sur son territoire deux églises. La première, ayant comme patron La Sainte Trinité, érigée en 1834, a été bâtie avec l’argent d’un riche propriétaire terrien local1. La deuxième église, ayant comme patron Saint Jean Baptiste, a été érigée en 1885, par souscription publique et mobilisation collective (les habitants de l’époque ont transporté de la pierre de taille et autres matériaux de construction). Seule l’église Saint Jean Baptiste a traversé le temps; l’autre a été détruite par les canons bulgares et allemands pendant la Première Guerre mondiale. Autour de l’année 1900 font leur apparition les germes d’une industrie locale: une fabrique d’alcool, une presse d’huile, plusieurs moulins, etc. Pourtant, la mémoire collective des habitants n’a gardé aucune trace de ce passé «préindustriel» de la localité. La première école de la localité date de 1840, mais des «écoles itinérantes» tenues par des moines existaient avant cette date2, subsistant jusque dans les années 1860, les sommes demandées par les moines pour apprendre aux enfants à lire et écrire étant très modestes. Le premier bâtiment de l’école date de 1880, il subsiste encore de nos jours. Entre les deux guerres, Ianca devient l’un des centres les plus importants du commerce de blé de toute la région. Des signes de prospérité font leur apparition (des grandes maisons en brique, des commerces et des bars) mais l’église détruite pendant la guerre n’est pas rebâtie. L’église existante est devenue trop petite par rapport au nombre des habitants (environ 5000) mais pourtant elle n’est pas agrandie. La fin de la Seconde Guerre mondiale marque l’apparition des kolkhozes dans la région. La maigre couche de commerçants et entrepreneurs a disparu dans le tourbillon de l’historie. En 1952, est fondée l’une des plus grandes Coopératives agricoles de production (kolkhozes) de tout le pays. Elle a disparu sans laisser des traces, brulée par la foule en janvier 1993. J’ai été témoin oculaire de la destruction du kolkhoze de Ianca; en moins de 48 heures, la foule en a détruit l’infrastructure, qui s’étendait sur plus de 15 hectares. Les gens sont partis à la maison soit avec un bout de bois, soit avec un cheval, comme le disait l’un de mes informateurs sur le terrain, comme si les gens voulaient reprendre au moins une partie des biens confisqués par la force dans les années 1950. La mutation la plus importante dans la vie de la localité se produit au début des années 1960, quand, suite à des prospections géologiques très poussées, des gisements de pétrole et de gaz sont découverts dans les environs de Ianca. Ils sont exploités intensivement de 1967 à 1989. De nos jours, il existe seulement encore un peu du gaz, le pétrole s’est tari. L’existence d’une mini-industrie pétrolifère autour de Ianca pendant presque quarante ans a entraîné d’importantes mutations dans le tissu social de la localité. Beaucoup des jeunes des localités environnantes ont choisi de déménager à Ianca et ont mené un style de vie hybride, mi-urbain, mi-rural. Ainsi, cette population migrante habitait le bloc (logement social à prix réduit) et travaillait dans l’industrie locale d’une part et cultivait le champ et les jardins potagers, comme ses ancêtres, d’autre part. Ce mode de vie a eu des répercussions importantes aussi sur la pratique religieuse. L’apogée de «l’industrialisation» a été atteinte au milieu des années 1980. Dans le cadre du plan de «systématisation» des campagnes roumaines de Nicolae Ceauşescu, une fabrique de conditionnement de la betterave (sucre), un abattoir 1

Grigore TOCILESCU, Marele dicţionar geografic al României, Socec, Bucureşti, 1889. Collectif, Activitatea Comitetelor de Construcţie din Judeţul Brăila, 1922-1924, Tipografia Românească, 1924, p. 310. 2


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de volaille, une champignonnière et des élevages de poules voient le jour en seulement quelques années. La vie des habitants connaît aussi des améliorations. Les autorités communales construisent des logements sociaux, avec de l’eau courante et tout le confort de l’époque, le réseau téléphonique se développe. En novembre 1989, Ianca est déclarée ville agro-industrielle, un statut dont les habitants sont encore très fiers. Après 1990, on constate un déclin dramatique des industries de la région. La fabrique de sucre est fermée, puis démontée et vendue pièce par pièce pour la ferraille. Les gisements de pétrole sont épuisés et les exploitations agricoles individuelles, hésitantes. L’économie locale ressemble à une économie de subsistance, soutenue par l’abattoir de volaille qui travaille encore, l’exploration du gaz naturel et quelques services. Comme l’ensemble du pays, Ianca a connu aussi la migration des jeunes vers l’Occident. Pourtant, le phénomène migratoire ne met pas en danger l’existence de la localité, comme c’est le cas dans le sud de la Moldavie, par exemple. Malheureusement, la dimension exacte de ce phénomène n’est pas connue, car il n’y a pas des statistiques exactes ni à la mairie locale, ni auprès des autorités départementales. Personnellement, j’estime le nombre des migrants à environ 250 personnes, la plupart des jeunes ayant moins de 35 ans. En 2008, en tant que nombre d’habitants, Ianca tenait la deuxième place dans le département, avec 13 000 habitants.

Les environs de la chapelle La chapelle consacrée à la Dormition de la Vierge fonctionne depuis 2001 au rez-de-chaussée d’un immeuble de logements HLM (forme d’habitations appelée bloc par ses habitants), dont elle occupe la moitié de l’espace disponible. Il s’agit d’une ancienne salle de travail d’une pâtisserie qui a appartenu à l’ancienne Cooperativa de Consum, forme d’association commerciale spécifique pour le régime communiste. Dans l’autre moitié se trouve le siège de la banque Bankoop, une banque qui a fait faillite dans le tourbillon des grands scandales financiers qu’a connu le pays au début de l’année 1990. Sur les murs, plusieurs affiches: «Recherche cheveux bouclés ou ondulés, longueur minimale 25 centimètres» ou «Achète terrains agricoles, grandes parcelles». Sans aucun doute, cette dernière appartient à des spéculateurs de terrains, originaires d’Italie ou de Grèce. Après l’entrée de la Roumanie dans l’Union européenne, ils ont donné naissance à une véritable folie de vente des terrains chez les habitants de la région. Ainsi, un hectare de terre fertile se vendait à la fin de l’année 2008 à 800 euros. De l’autre coté de la rue se trouve «l’avion», point de repère incontournable. Il s’agit d’un ancien MIG 15, l’un des premiers jets soviétiques, monté sur une structure métallique, à environ cinq mètres du sol. L’avion portant le numéro de série 766 rappelle le fait que jusqu’en 1993 à Ianca a fonctionné un grand aérodrome militaire. Situé au nord-ouest de la localité, l’aérodrome et ses infrastructures sont désormais laissés à l’abandon, dans l’attente d’un avenir meilleur. En 2006, les autorités de Brăila, le chef-lieu du département, ont soumis à l’attention de l’opinion publique, un projet de reconversion de celui-ci comme base de transit pour des vols cargo, afin de desservir le sud-est du pays. Un projet irréalisable, mais qui montre bien le manque de solutions fiables de sortie de la crise pour la région. Romanian Political Science Review • vol. IX • no. 4 • 2009


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L’avion 766 et son «installation» sont devenues au fil du temps un lieu de mémoire ad-hoc, investi de toutes les attributs d’un tel endroit: il s’agit d’un reste d’une histoire qui a cessé d’exister, il est controversé et apprécié en même temps, une reconstruction minimale du passé1. Il a été érigé sur cet échafaudage en 2000, pour des raisons pratiques et non «esthétiques-mémorielles» comme nous avons eu tendance à le croire. «Les enfants habitant les blocs environnants avaient l’habitude de monter dans la carlingue. Un jour, un enfant y est resté coincé» (D.B., ancien conseiller de la mairie). Il faut remarquer aussi l’étrange phénomène de confusion mémorielle qui a fait son apparition, entre cette «installation» et les monuments des héros de la Seconde Guerre mondiale de l’Union Soviétique. Plusieurs équipes de télévision, de passage dans la ville, ont parle de l’avion dans de reportages ironiques, un fait qui en apparence n’a pas déplu aux habitants. Entre les «blocs» construits à la fin des années 1980 se trouve un espace d’environ 80 x 120 mètres, résultat de la démolition des maisons des commerçants qui peuplaient auparavant le périmètre. Au beau milieu de cet espace, se trouve désormais le chantier de ce qui sera un jour la nouvelle église de la localité. Sur la plaque de chantier, obligatoire, la date du commencement de travaux est mentionnée, mais non pas celle de la fin, comme si le long processus de la construction, parsemé d’événements et d’interruptions imprévues, était prévu d’avance. Une attente planifiée, prévue dès le début de la construction. Le terrain de construction a été cédé par la mairie d’Ianca, suite à un échange amiable avec les anciens propriétaires.

La chapelle L’espace dans laquelle fonctionne la chapelle de la paroisse «Ianca 2» a une histoire plutôt compliquée. Dans les années 1980, quand l’immeuble à été inauguré, il appartenait à la fabrique de sucre (betterave). Sur place fonctionnait une banda caldă, un restaurant self-service, qui n’a pas connu trop de succès, ce qui fait que en 1988 il a changé de propriétaire et est devenu laboratoire de pâtisserie. Pendant l’été 2001, l’espace est cédé pour une durée de 10 ans à la paroisse nouvellement fondée. S.D. 60 ans, ancienne ouvrière dans la pâtisserie se rappelle d’une manière nostalgique la période de l’industrialisation de la localité: «Notre église se trouve au rez-de-chaussée d’un immeuble communiste, il faut le reconnaître, c’est un fait. Un ancien laboratoire de pâtisserie, en plus. Je suis parfois tentée par la nostalgie quand, pendant le service, je revisite les lieux: là-bas se trouvait le malaxeur, la longue table en inox qui servait à modeler les gâteaux. On a cédé le tout à la Mairie, et la Mairie a tout cédé ensuite à l’Église. Et nous, les anciens de la pâtisserie, on est rarement mentionnés dans les prières pour notre générosité. On dit souvent que le mérite appartient exclusivement à la Mairie, mais, vous voyez, je ne suis pas fâchée, le bon Dieu se souviendra de nous un jour!».

Sur la carte, l’espace entre les blocs, sur lequel a commencé la construction de la nouvelle église, se trouve très proche de la principale intersection de la localité, 1

Pierre NORA, «La fin de l’histoire mémoire», IDEM (sous la dir. de), Les Lieux de mémoire, tome I, Éditions Gallimard, Paris, 1984, p. 5.


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les routes vers Brăila, Buzău et Feteşti, anciens centres du commerce entre la plaine, le Danube et la Mer Noire. La plupart des gens qui ont accepté de discuter avec nous tenaient à mettre en avant le fait que l’emplacement est bien choisi, une bonne place, au centre etc., comme si l’ancien symbole du carrefour était encore présent dans leurs esprits. «Tout comme la position de la route, le carrefour domine l’esprit du paysan». La représentation de l’espace trouve ici un terrain d’expression intéressant 1. Concernant la consécration d’un espace sacré, Mircea Eliade écrivait que «le lieu n’est jamais choisi par l’homme, il est seulement découvert par celui-ci»2. Sans ironie aucune, on peut dire que l’affirmation se confirme dans le cas que nous étudions, prenant des formes inattendues à un premier regard. Le prêtre nous a dit que «l’idée de faire une église dans la confiserie appartenait à Monsieur Paţilea, l’ingénieur en chef qui s’occupe de la construction de l’église. Au début, nous voulions élever une tente et célébrer là [les services religieux], à titre provisoire. Il a dit que s’il y a un peu de vent, la tente va s’envoler. Cet endroit-là est bon pour en faire une église, nous a-t-il dit et puis il a montré de la main la confiserie. Alors, au tout début, nous utilisions cet espace pour y garder les matériaux, car on nous les volait. Puis l’évêque local est venu, il a vu que le futur autel de la chapelle était orienté vers le Nord. Mais il n’y avait rien à faire, on ne pouvait quand même pas faire déplacer l’immeuble» (N.M., 41 ans).

Les personnes qui ont accepté de parler avec moi savaient que l’autel était orienté vers le Nord et qu’il n’obéissait pas aux canons de l’Église; il s’agit donc d’un écart toléré. Mais ceci ne semble pas les déranger: «Oui, cela pose quelques problèmes. Mais le père l’a expliqué dès le moment de la consécration [de la chapelle], il l’a expliqué! Et l’évêque a dit lors de la consécration qu’il n’y a pas de meilleure place, mais que tout sera bien, car nous en ferons une autre [église] toute neuve» (I.M., 40 ans). «Ça ne me dérange pas, car l’important c’est l’homme. Lorsque j’écoute les sermons du père, j’irais même en plein champ, j’aurais toujours quelque chose à apprendre. Il faut avoir de la patience jusqu’à ce que la nouvelle église sera construite (I.V., 39 ans, fidèle pratiquante, elle participe aux services religieux).

Dans l’histoire récente de l’Orthodoxie roumaine, de tels écarts à la règle canonique sont de plus en plus fréquents. Dans la ville de Paşcani, une cathédrale dont l’autel est également orienté vers le Nord est en construction depuis 2004 et à Sibiu a été consacrée en 2007 une église orthodoxe dont l’autel est orienté vers l’ouest. Les deux exceptions à la règle ont été justifiées par la configuration de l’espace urbain où elles allaient être placées3. Les gestes fondateurs d’un espace sacré débutent par le choix de l’emplacement et des matériaux destinés à la fondation et continuent avec l’établissement, la 1

Ernest BERNEA, Spaţiu, timp şi cauzalitate la poporul român, Editura Humanitas, Bucureşti, 1997, p. 48. 2 Mircea ELIADE, Traité d’histoire des religions, Petite Bibliothèque Payot, Paris, 1964, p. 312. 3 Pour plus de détails concernant les règles de la construction des églises orthodoxes, v. l’œuvre de Ioan FLOCA, archidiacre, Canoanele Bisericii Ortodoxe: note şi comentarii, IIIe édition, EIBMBOR, Bucureşti, 2005.



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consécration et l’édification des ses centres et de ses limites spatiales1. Du moment où a été obtenu l’espace de l’ancienne confiserie, un réel effort collectif d’aménagement de la chapelle s’est déclenché, mobilisation jamais réitérée par la suite, comme l’indiquent les opinions des interviewés: «Cette église, la chapelle a été faite comme une maison. Par un effort collectif. Tout est venu comme ça... L’iconostase nous a été louée. Au début, nous n’avions pas de Vases Sacrés, mais le père du village voisin m’a dit: „J’en ai deux paires, je t’en loue une!“. Les gens ont acheté les icônes et ils les ont apportées, chacun apportait ce qu’il avait, mais ils écrivaient leurs noms sur le dos des icônes. Un geste auquel je ne trouve aucune explication logique: ils désirent probablement avoir une relation plus directe avec leur offrande, avec leur don et avec le saint qui y est représenté. Et laisser ainsi une trace de leur passage sur Terre, peut-être…» (N.M., prêtre).

Chaque nouvelle construction humaine est dans un certain sens une reconstruction du monde2. L’effort réel de rendre l’espace de la chapelle utilisable pour les services religieux est assimilé au travail investi dans la construction d’une nouvelle maison: «Chacun a apporté ce qu’il a pu. Qui une serviette, qui un tapis. Même rien que ça [il montre de la main, les doigts serrés], un bout de corde, ils ont apporté ça. Comment vous le dire... ça a été comme ça, comme pour une nouvelle maison. Toi, tu apportes un tapis en jute, toi, une chaise. J’ai été là, j’ai peint les murs à la chaux, on a mis des rideaux. J’étais plus gaillard il y a dix ans. Depuis, ça ne se passe plus tout à fait comme ça, les gens ont changé» (D.D., 72 ans).

Le prêtre nous a fourni un autre détail intéressant qui montre comment les considérations pratiques de la construction vont parfois à l’encontre des règles canoniques, ces dernières faisant l’objet d’un processus de négociation permanent. Les Canons de l’Église Orthodoxe requièrent qu’au pied de la table de l’Autel soient placés des fragments de reliques de Saints, coutume établie à l’époque où les églises étaient construites sur les tombes des martyrs chrétiens et confirmée par la suite par plusieurs Synodes Œcuméniques3. De ce point de vue aussi, notre chapelle est une exception et en même temps une solution de transition. Comme la majorité des immeubles résidentiels de la zone, en raison des défauts de planification et du faible entretien des systèmes d’échauffement et de ventilation, le sous-sol du bloc où se trouve la chapelle est inondé et en mauvais état. C’est pourquoi on a décidé de ne plus introduire des fragments de reliques au pied de l’autel, car «le sous-sol est sale et j’ai peur que des cafards et d’autres ordures ne touchent les Saintes Reliques », nous a dit le prêtre. La Liturgie peut cependant être célébrée grâce à la présence du Saint Antimésion placé sur l’autel, qui contient des reliques de saints cousues dans une petite poche. À l’entrée même de la chapelle se trouve une fresque peinte à même le mur du bloc, représentant la scène de la Dormition de la Mère de Dieu. Durant l’été, 1

Vlad GAIVORONSCHI, Matricile spaţiului tradiţional, Editura Paideia, Bucureşti, 2002,

2

Mircea ELIADE, Traité d’histoire…cit., p. 315. Ene BRANIŞTE, Liturgica generală, vol. I, Editura Episcopiei Dunării de Jos, Galaţi, 2002.

p. 54. 3

p. 56.


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celle-ci se transforme en un lieu de dévotion ad-hoc, étant décorée par des fleurs et des cierges allumés. La chapelle a également une entrée secondaire qui la lie à la cour intérieure du bloc. À cet endroit se trouvent encore les restes d’une centrale de chauffage du quartier, abandonnée dès le début des années 1990. Jusqu’à cette époque, celle-ci était liée à l’unique fournisseur d’énergie thermique de la ville, la Fabrique de Sucre Ianca, depuis longtemps en faillite. Les familles qui habitent les immeubles des alentours se sont installées depuis longtemps des centrales de chauffage individuelles, à gaz. Il n’existe pas de centrale de chauffage collective pour desservir plusieurs appartements, voire des immeubles entiers, solution qui aurait été plus économique et qui aurait cadré mieux avec l’architecture de l’ensemble: on peut voir dans cela aussi l’absence d’un esprit communautaire. La chapelle est elle aussi dotée d’une centrale à gaz dont le prêtre et les fidèles1 sont très fiers. «Nous sommes très bien là, il fait chaud, c’est intime [sic!] et nous songeons à garder la chapelle après qu’on se sera installés dans la nouvelle église» – argument lié au binôme norme/pratique religieuse.

À l’intérieur de la chapelle Près de l’entrée se trouve une longue table en bois de sapin, destinée à la présentation des koliva au cours du service religieux et à leur consommation après la fin des offices. Par l’observation directe, nous avons pu conclure que cette table joue un rôle central dans l’organisation de la hiérarchie de la présence des fidèles dans l’église. Ainsi les femmes qui portent les koliva à l’église sont en général les premières à arriver au début du service, ce qui leur permet d’occuper de leurs offrandes les meilleures places sur la table. Une brève note supplémentaire: au cours des six services religieux auxquels j’ai assisté dans leur intégralité je n’ai vu aucun homme apporter une assiette de koliva à l’église; ceci est donc pour l’essentiel l’apanage des femmes. Symbole de la résurrection des corps, faite de grains de blé cuits et de miel, pour les orthodoxes la koliva représente l’un de ces «biens du salut» (Salvation goods) au sens wébérien du terme, essentiels du point de vue symbolique et de la ségrégation sociale. Dans les sociétés traditionnelles, une telle composition (du blé, du miel, du lait mais aussi, parfois, certaines drogues) est typique pour les «gâteaux des morts», pour les libations et offrandes rituelles à un esprit gardien du monde de l’au-delà2. Il y a des koliva simples, qui ne sont pas accompagnées par du vin, apportées par les vivants à l’occasion de leur fête onomastique et la koliva accompagnée par une certaine quantité de vin, signe de communion, de commémoration ou d’appréciation pour une personne décédée. À remarquer le vocabulaire employé dans l’église à l’égard des koliva: ce sont des termes soignés (însoţită [accompagnée]) et il y a une séparation claire entre celles pour les vivants et celles pour les morts. Puisque la quantité de vin n’est prescrite par aucune règle, j’ai vu des koliva pour les morts accompagnées de quantités de vin très variables, d’un demi-litre 1

Le terme «fidèle» est employé dans ce contexte pour désigner une personne qui fréquente l’église d’une manière plus ou moins systématique. 2 Andrei OIŞTEANU, Ordine şi haos. Mit şi magie în cultura tradiţională românească, Editura Polirom, Iaşi, 2004, pp. 394-395.



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(la quantité minimale symboliquement admise) jusqu’à des bouteilles de Coca-Cola de 2,5 litres. L’étiquette ajoutée concernant les «0,5 litres GRATIS» était encore visible sur la bouteille en plastique, alors que celle de la base avait été soigneusement grattée. À première vue, le fait qu’on apporte à l’église une vingtaine sinon plus de koliva lors des jours de fête (la fête du Saint patron, les offices de commémoration des morts etc.) atteste une remarquable vitalité de la pratique religieuse – voir dans ce sens les témoignages du terrain1 –, un aspect que je souhaite approfondir dans l’avenir. D.P. a 70 ans. Je lui parle sur la suggestion de sa fille, qui me la présente comme «une bonne ménagère et qui sait bien comment on fait les choses à l’église». Elle me parle longuement sur la manière de préparer une koliva «propre», sur comment on la «porte» à l’église. «Ici, chez nous, il y a une compétition des koliva, [pour voir] qui la fait plus belle, plus alléchante; plus riche, quoi, mais les femmes ne veulent pas vraiment l’admettre». Le gobelet en plastique jetable est devenu un précieux auxiliaire à la distribution de la koliva aux fidèles après sa bénédiction par le prêtre. D.P. me demande exprès de mentionner sa grande utilité pour les «femmes qui viennent avec leur koliva dans des verres en plastique. Avant, on salissait des piles d’assiettes, alors que maintenant... grande innovation!». La fabrication de la koliva, le fait de la porter à l’église, sa présentation et puis sa distribution aux parents, aux amis, aux connaissances, etc. représentent tous des véhicules essentiels de la perpétuation de la mémoire dans le cadre de la religiosité orthodoxe. Le sociologue français Maurice Halbwachs a donné à ce terme le sens suivant: la mémoire perpétuée par une religion est l’expérience individuelle de l’appartenance à un groupe plus l’enseignement reçu de la part d’autrui2. B.E., 59 ans, reconnaît que: «Je ne suis pas encore allée à l’église avec les koliva. En règle générale, c’est ma mère qui y va. Ma mère vit encore, et lorsqu’elle ne sera plus là, j’irai à mon tour. Je ne sais pas faire des koliva, mais je ne pense pas que ce soit grand chose que de faire une koliva. Je demanderai à tante Ioana [une voisine connue pour sa piété et pour la fréquence de sa participation à la liturgie dominicale] comment on la fait, comment on y va avec... Je n’accepterais point une koliva préparée par autrui ou achetée au magasin».

Vis-à-vis de la table utilisée uniquement pour les koliva se trouve une autre que j’appellerai la «table multi-rôle» en raison de ses multiples usages: elle sert d’espace d’exposition pour les icônes vendues dans la paroisse, de support pour la «fontaine» à eau fraîche apportée là pour désaltérer les fidèles durant les jours caniculaires. Toujours à la base du «L» résultant de la forme spécifique de l’espace disponible à l’entrée se trouve une autre table qui sert tant de pangar (terme désignant l’endroit de l’intérieur d’une église où l’on vend des chandelles et d’autres accessoires liturgiques) que de support pour l’ordinateur et l’imprimante. Indice de la bureaucratisation croissante de l’Église, la présence de ces deux objets – symboles 1

Pour une approche ethnographique des pratiques funéraires récentes, y compris la fabrication de la koliva, v. l’étude de Ionuţ SEMUC, «Permanenţă şi schimbare în practicile funerare», Anuarul Institutului de Etnografie şi Folclor Constantin Brăiloiu, vol. XVIII, 2007, pp. 65-66. 2 V. Maurice HALBWACHS, Les cadres sociaux de la mémoire, Éditions Félix Alcan, Paris, 1925.


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de la modernité – ne semble pas trop déranger les personnes présentes. Durant l’interview réalisée en août 2008, j’ai demandé au sacristain, qui est en même temps l’homme à tout faire de l’église de me décrire le pangar. Une précision: le sacristain a travaillé à la fabrique de sucre d’Ianca, à présent abandonnée et après quelques mois de chômage et de travail précaire il a emprunté cette voie-ci, comme il me l’avoue sur un ton pénitent. Il me semble qu’il n’occupe pas cette fonction par une vocation certaine, mais plutôt pour gagner son pain quotidien: «Nous avons une petite bibliothèque: Glasul Bisericii, Ortodoxia Română1. En bas, à droite: des cierges que je dois ranger, mais je n’y suis pas encore arrivé. En haut, il y a des icônes du Doyenné (Protoieria) de Făurei. À gauche, nous avons d’autres icônes un peu spéciales, avec du papier en argent, il y a aussi des lampes à huile et d’autres babioles... En bas, sur la dernière étagère, il y a tous les actes comptables depuis 2000 jusqu’à présent, depuis que l’église existe. Ici nous avons un ordinateur, nous l’avons obtenu depuis peu de temps, il est fait de plusieurs pièces disparates. L’écran est un peu vieux, le prêtre l’a apporté de chez lui, on l’a connecté à Internet, peut-être pouvons-nous trouver des matériaux de construction meilleur marché, quelques programmes... Puisque la construction de la nouvelle église stagne, nous avons commencé à mettre un peu le nez dans l’internet pour voir si l’on y trouve des matériaux plus économiques. Ces cierges que vous voyez ici, ceux exposés là-devant, ça se vend le mieux, ils sont petits, j’en achète plusieurs. Mais nous en avons aussi de plus grands, à 12 000 lei anciens pièce, du charbon et de l’encens, des brochures sur l’enterrement, le mariage et tout cela. On apporte tout ça du Doyenné. Sur la table j’ai aussi le livre Jurnalul unui copil nenăscut2: une fidèle, Madame S. m-a dit de le donner gratis à quelqu’un qui sera intéressé. Nous avons aussi différents numéros de Călăuza ortodoxă, que nous offrons aux fidèles de la paroisse, nous sommes abonnés».

Nous n’avons pas pu obtenir trop de détails sur le nombre de cierges vendus depuis l’ouverture de la chapelle et jusqu’à présent: le sujet était trop délicat pour toutes les personnes présentes. Puisqu’il s’agit de l’une des principales sources de revenus de la paroisse et de l’Évêché du Bas-Danube, celui-ci à pris la décision de marquer les cierges fabriqués dans ses propres ateliers et vendus à travers les paroisses de son territoire administratif et canonique d’un timbre spécial. Il n’est pas interdit d’acheter les cierges de l’extérieur, mais la pratique est tacitement découragée. Tant dans l’Église Orthodoxe que dans l’Église Gréco-Catholique il existe une ségrégation spatiale entre les hommes et les femmes3. Traditionnellement, dans une église orthodoxe «classique», les hommes occupent la nef (la part centrale de l’église, devant l’autel) et les femmes le narthex (derrière les hommes, près de l’entrée). L’architecture spéciale de la chapelle, en «L» perturbe cette forme traditionnelle 1 Il s’agit de la revue Biserica Ortodoxă Română, le bulletin officiel de la Patriarchie Roumaine. Éditée dans de bonnes conditions graphiques, la revue paraît sans interruptions (mais avec des délais) depuis 1882. 2 Petit livre dévot, tiré d’une Power Point qui circule librement sur Internet, en tant que manifeste anti-avortement. 3 Gail KLIGMAN, Nunta mortului. Ritual, poetică şi cultură populară în Transilvania, IIe édition, trad. roum. par M. Boari, R. Petringenaru, G. Fârnoagă et W.P. Barbu, Editura Polirom, Iaşi, 2005, p. 49. Disponible aussi en anglais, The Wedding of the Dead: Ritual, Poetics and Popular Culture in Transylvania, University of California Press, 1988.



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d’organisation spatiale. La division ancienne semble ne plus être respectée de nos jours: tous les espaces sont mixtes, les femmes et les hommes étant mélangés, à l’exception d’un petit espace bien délimité, tout près de l’autel, réservé à un faible nombre d’hommes âgés. À côté de la chapelle, une soupe populaire fonctionne depuis 2002, ayant pour but d’offrir «un repas chaud aux enfants provenus des familles pauvres de la paroisse» et qui fonctionne grâce au volontariat de sept personnes1. En principe, il s’agit d’un espace assez restreint où peuvent déjeuner vingt personnes, doté d’eau courante et de groupes sanitaires, espace ayant appartenu à l’ancienne confiserie. Depuis le début de la construction de la nouvelle église, la soupe populaire (les personnes auxquelles j’ai parlé l’appellent «le social», contraction de la «cantine sociale») a été reconvertie en un lieu de préparation de la nourriture pour les équipes de travailleurs. Le social sert aussi de lieu de stockage et de préparation de la nourriture à l’occasion de la fête patronale de la chapelle ou des grandes fêtes du calendrier liturgique orthodoxe. À un moment donné, au cours des discussions avec le sacristain, celui-ci a justifié l’existence de la soupe populaire en disant que «c’est une bonne chose, c’est plus européen ça».

Les icônes, la boîte à aumônes, le «coin patriotique» Les icônes présentes à l’intérieur de la chapelle sont d’une remarquable diversité. La plus ancienne est une icône de grandes dimensions de St. Ménas (datée de 1840, apportée de l’église de Suteşti, localité voisine, fondée par la grande famille princière Soutzu), suivie, par ordre chronologique, par d’autres icônes de grandes dimensions représentant le Christ en gloire et la Vierge à l’Enfant. Vu le style et leur état de conservation, elles pourraient dater du début du XXe siècle. Les trois icônes, peintes sur bois, ont été des donations des prêtres des paroisses voisines qui les ont offertes à cette paroisse lors de la mise en place de la chapelle: il s’agit donc d’un exemple d’«entraide» orthodoxe. «Cette icône plus ancienne, je l’ai de Suţu, leur iconostase avait des doublets et ils me les ont donnés afin que nous puissions nous aussi charger l’espace avec quelque-chose de plus... [il hésite, comme s’il avait voulu dire de plus vieux, de plus authentique]. Nous avons songé à la placer ici, tout le monde la voit» (N.M., prêtre).

Les autres icônes sont soit des reproductions d’icônes célèbres, collées sur des panneaux en bois et vernissées, soit des icônes de série produites dans des ateliers de Grèce, d’Ukraine ou de Russie. La topographie de l’immeuble, de son rez-de-chaussée ne permet pas de respecter les registres iconographiques traditionnels des églises orthodoxes; l’autel improvisé respecte pourtant le canon iconographique. Il est intéressant de noter la provenance des différentes icônes. Ainsi avons-nous appris qu’il existe ce qu’on appelle la «filière Bessarabie» des icônes, 1

Source: http://www.edj.ro/activ_social, site officiel de l’Évêché du Bas Danube (consulté le 12.09.2008).


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formée d’agents commerciaux qui parlent bien le russe et qui connaissent le «marché roumain» des icônes. Leurs centres d’approvisionnement se trouvent quelque part au sud de Moscou et la distribution des icônes se fait en voiture, en fonction des demandes de la paroisse. Lors de la réalisation de l’interview (septembre 2008), les paroisses de la zone étaient dans une situation difficile car le «garçon de Bessarabie» qui les approvisionnait avait pris une décision courageuse: il avait rejoint la Légion Étrangère française et on n’avait pas encore trouvé quelqu’un pour le remplacer. Sur les murs de la chapelle il y a quelque trente-cinq icônes, mais leur nombre dépend toujours des donations faites par les fidèles de la paroisse. La boîte à aumônes est en réalité un parallélépipède en bois vernissé de 35 x 20 centimètres. Sur le devant il est écrit, blanc sur bleu, «CUTIA MILEI» [boîte à aumônes]. La boîte est fermée en permanence par un cadenas de fabrication chinoise, trop grand pour les dimensions de la boîte. Tant dans l’Église Orthodoxe que dans l’Église Catholique, la boîte à aumônes est l’un des «biens du salut» les plus significatifs pour la compréhension du phénomène de la sécularisation. «Les biens du salut représentent la rencontre de la religiosité individuelle avec la vie quotidienne sur un terrain économique. Ce rapport est très variable en fonction de sa nature et du type de religiosité», écrit Max Weber1. La boîte à aumônes semble avoir perdu dernièrement de son importance dans la hiérarchie des biens du salut. Le prêtre m’a dit que «ces boîtes, on les retrouve encore dans les églises, mais on ne les utilise plus tellement. La boîte à aumônes a été remplacée par le carnet de quittances. Elle est utilisée seulement pour la petite monnaie». Comme pour démontrer ce qu’il m’avait dit, le prêtre a ouvert, à grands gestes, le cadenas de la boîte devant moi. Elle n’avait plus été ouverte depuis une semaine, m-a-t-on dit. Dedans, il y avait quelque 8-10 RON (environ 4 euro) – des monnaies et des billets d’un leu. «Il nous arrive parfois de trouver dans la boîte des boutons; je pense qu’ils y sont introduits sans mauvaises intentions, par des gens plus âgés», dit le prêtre. Le sujet de la «boîte à aumônes» est revenu encore deux fois dans les dialogues du terrain. D.D., 72 ans m’a raconté, avec une satisfaction visible, comment lors de la constitution de la chapelle, l’un de ses gendres s’était occupé de la construction, du vernissage et du montage de la boîte dans sa forme actuelle. C.I avoue qu’ «elle n’est plus ce qu’elle était, la boîte à aumônes. C’est une négligence... Souvent j’y passe et je regarde, y a-t-il encore quelqu’un qui met de l’argent dans la boîte? Franchement, j’ai observé que ceux qui y mettent quelque chose sont de très petits enfants. J’observe que, ici aussi, c’est précisément le segment de ceux qui n’ont pas fait de [cours de] religion à l’école qui est coupé de tout ça. Ces petits savent exactement ce qu’il y a à faire, je suis très impressionnée lorsque je vois qu’ils savent ce qu’il faut faire de la boîte à aumônes».

L’observation directe confirme le fait que ceux qui mettent de l’argent dans la boîte durant le service sont, dans leur majorité, des enfants ou des vieux. Dans l’une des niches formées par la structure de résistance de l’immeuble se trouvait, en août 2008, date du début de notre investigation sur le terrain, un drapeau tricolore roumain en position verticale et une icône de St. Étienne le Grand2. 1

Max WEBER, Introduction à la sociologie des religions, Éditions Gallimard, Paris, 1996, pp. 358-363. 2 Saint Étienne le Grand (Sfântul Ştefan cel Mare), 1433-1504. Prince-régnant de Moldavie, canonisé en 1992, l’un de symboles du nationalisme roumain.



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Nous avons appelé cette «installation» ad-hoc le «coin patriotique» dans les discussions ultérieures avec le prêtre et avec les autres membres de la paroisse. Alors que j’ai demandé au prêtre si ce coin de l’espace de la chapelle pourrait être qualifié de «patriotique», sa réponse a été une négation véhémente de la formule que j’avais employée: «J’ai reçu l’icône du Doyenné de Făurei», dit le père, « et j’ai eu l’idée de placer près d’elle un tricolore, il m’a semblé qu’Étienne le Grand est un saint qu’on voit comme ca, comme plus „nationaliste“. Je n’ai eu aucune remarque des fidèles, ni que c’est bien, ni que c’est mal. J’ai considéré qu’une chose comme ça n’allait pas déranger dans un espace ecclésiastique».

Lors de notre investigation suivante sur le terrain (début du mois de septembre 2008), le «coin patriotique» avait été modifié. Une icône de la Vierge placée sur un support massif en bois sculpté avait été placée au même endroit; le prêtre a habilement évité mes questions concernant le changement qui s’était produit et ses motivations. Cet épisode est illustratif pour la compréhension des difficultés du rapport avec un certain type de nationalisme qui, il y a quelques années, était une présence courante dans bien des églises roumaines. Le thème de l’Église et de la nation, plus répandu en Transylvanie, s’est-il diffusé dans les autres provinces de la Roumanie, moins sensibles à ce type de message public?

Les grands thèmes de discussion Parmi les interviews (semi-dirigées) du terrain, j’ai fait une sélection de trois thèmes principaux, résultat de l’orientation des questions autour de quelques thèmes préétablis (comme la construction de la nouvelle église et l’apparition d’un esprit communautaire embryonnaire); certains thèmes se sont constitués d’eux-mêmes, au fil des discussions, mais aussi avec l’augmentation de la quantité des informations rassemblées. D’autres sont l’expression de mon intérêt de longue date pour la nature des changements survenus dans le culte, comme par exemple l’usage de plus en plus fréquent des chandelles à base de stéarine.

La construction de la nouvelle église et l’esprit communautaire Tous ceux avec qui nous avons discuté se mettent d’accord sur la nécessité de la construction d’une nouvelle église au centre-ville. Il y a un consensus unanime. Les motivations qu’on donne pour la construction sont pourtant différentes: B.T., ancien conseiller de la mairie entre 2000 et 2004, lie la nécessité d’un nouveau lieu de culte à la croissance de la population du centre de la localité: «Oui, cette église était vraiment nécessaire, car la population croît. Les gens ont besoin de l’Église. Au moins pour les moments plus spéciaux de leur vie. Ils y viennent alors et ça compte quand même, la construction est justifiée. Sans Église, sans prêtre... ce n’est pas possible! Nous, les gens d’ici, nous croyons encore, il s’agit d’une crainte de Dieu. Moi je ne sais pas beaucoup de théologie, mais je sais que les gens ont cette crainte de Dieu».


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Pour M.E., 31 ans, la plus jeune des personnes interviewées, l’idée de la construction d’une nouvelle église est dominée par des considérations esthétiques. M.E. ne finit jamais ses phrases; le dialogue avec elle comprend une série de réflexions jamais exprimées jusqu’au bout: «Oui, je me suis réjouie, c’est vrai, lorsque j’ai entendu que nous aurons une nouvelle église. Ici, à l’endroit où nous nous trouvons, on dit la liturgie, mais une église... Je ne veux pas dire qu’ici, dans ce rez-de-chaussée, ça ne me plaît pas, que je n’y suis pas bien... Du moment qu’il y a le prêtre pour dire les offices, je ne vois aucun problème. C’est vrai, j’ai entendu dire beaucoup de gens: „Nous ne nous marions pas à la chapelle, car ce n’est pas une église“, ou „Que voulez-vous qu’on fasse là, dans cet immeuble?“. Ils se marient donc de l’autre côté, à l’église ancienne, l’église de la colline... moi je n’ai aucun complexe: c’est ici que je me suis mariée, que j’ai baptisé des enfants... tout fait ici».

Le plus grand problème continue d’être l’identification des sources de financement nécessaires pour faire aboutir le projet. Ce qui a été construit depuis 2000 jusqu’à présent s’est réalisé presque exclusivement à l’aide de l’argent reçu de la Mairie de Ianca. Il m’a été impossible de savoir quel était le coût initial prévu pour la construction, mais il est vrai que je n’ai pas insisté beaucoup sur cet aspect sensible. E.I., ingénieur sylviculteur, maire adjoint de Ianca me dit qu’ «il s’agit d’un grand investissement pour une communauté aussi petite que Ianca. Avec le budget qu’on lui attribue chaque année, la construction va s’étendre sur les 10-15 ans, malgré le fait que chez nous les avancées ont été plus grandes que celles pour les autres lieux de culte en construction de cette région [...] Non, je ne pense pas que la stratégie des petits pas est une réponse de l’Orthodoxie aux temps modernes; ils sont tout simplement dépendants de l’extérieur, plus précisément des fonds attribués de l’extérieur. Avec ce qu’on a amassé des fidèles de la paroisse, on n’a presque rien construit, tout ce que vous voyez est fait avec l’argent attribué du budget de la mairie. Je connais un cas extrême à Suceava, je l’ai appris d’un ancien collègue de la faculté. Un homme très riche de la région a deux garçons étudiants en théologie: il a construit pour eux une église, pour quand ils auront fini leurs études. C’est ça le troc qu’il a fait avec l’évêque local, de construire une église avec des fonds privés, mais aussi de garantir l’avenir des enfants pour quand ils seront prêtres».

Il faut dire qu’E.I. a été l’un des meilleurs interviewés que j’ai eu sur le terrain; c’est une personne qui a longtemps médité sur la micro-communauté au sein de laquelle elle vit, en l’approchant d’une manière réfléchie et en présentant un discours alternatif très utile pour quelqu’un qui arrive sur le terrain avec un certain «schéma mental» préétabli. P.I., 59 ans, l’un des hommes d’affaires les plus prospères de la région est peut-être la personne la mieux informée concernant les réalités politiques et économiques locales. Son discours est plutôt prudent, comme s’il craignait les éventuelles conséquences négatives de notre discussion: «Cette construction, elle est plutôt à la merci de Dieu, dit P.I., narquois, malgré le fait que les gens voudraient avoir une belle église au centre-ville. Elle est bien projetée, c’est vrai. Mais il y a une certaine distance entre la direction de la Mairie et... Le prêtre a fait une erreur lui aussi, il a fait un peu de politique à l’église et donc l’argent qui aurait dû venir de la mairie à l’église n’y vient plus! Les gros sous, ça va toujours où il y en a plus. Comme ça, avec



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les dix millions de lei anciens (environ 250 euro) donnés par les gens et les cinq millions que j’ai donné, cette église ne s’élèvera plus...».

I.P. a été le seul interviewé qui a parlé ouvertement de la question de la relation entre l’Église et la politique, telle qu’elle est vécue dans une communauté de petites dimensions comme Ianca. Les sympathies politiques y ont donc leur poids. Une solution de compromis concernant la main d’œuvre a été trouvée par l’emploi de «cas sociaux», comme on appelle dans le jargon local ceux qui bénéficient des dispositions de la Loi no. 416/2001 sur le revenu minimum garanti. Pour bénéficier de cette aide sociale, l’une des personnes majeures aptes au travail de la famille bénéficiaire a l’obligation de travailler au bénéfice de la communauté locale. Le non-accomplissement des obligations de ce type mène dans un premier temps à la suspension des paiements, puis à l’annulation de l’aide sociale. «Je suis directement responsable des cas sociaux», me dit l’un des employés de la mairie qui a voulu que notre discussion reste complètement anonyme. «Les prêtres de Ianca les ont demandés. Il y a eu quelque dix personnes, à présent [novembre 2008] il n’en reste que six. Entre eux il y a même des constructeurs, qui figuraient dans la catégorie „revenus sociaux“ parce qu’ils travaillaient au noir. Ils y ont travaillé, en aidant l’équipe de maçons. Les femmes ont aidé à faire la cuisine, pour le repas des ouvriers. Maintenant les travaux sont interrompus, il en reste seulement six, mais il y a longtemps qu’ils ne font plus de choses utiles pour l’église, car il n’y a plus d’argent».

Je n’ai pas pu apprendre le nombre exact de «cas sociaux» qui ont travaillé au cours des dernières années sur le chantier de l’église. J’ai été impressionné par la manière dont notre interlocuteur prononçait à chaque fois le terme «cas social» (des marginaux, des exclus), avec dans la voix un mélange de mépris et de sincère pitié pour leur état actuel. Le sacristain de la chapelle est plus sévère en ce qui concerne les ressources alternatives: «Chez nous il y a un grand problème avec ce ramassis de Ianca. Nous leur demandons toujours de l’argent pour cette nouvelle église, mais ça n’aide pas... J’ai dit au père qu’il faudrait aller faire du porte à porte. Mais ils ne donnent rien, car ici, chez nous, il n’y a plus de maisons, il y a des immeubles résidentiels. Ce n’est pas ainsi qu’on fait une église».

Il accepte de répondre à notre question concernant les travailleurs envoyés par la mairie de Ianca pour le compte du versement des aides sociales: «Le travail patriotique1? Comme ça, sans argent, deux personnes sont venues seulement, l’une de la rue Sărăţeni, l’autre de RENEL (entreprise électrique). Aucun de ces gens des immeubles n’est venu. Lorsqu’on a déchargé la majeure partie des briques, il y a les frères et les cousins du père de Bordei Verde [un village à quelque 15 kilomètres de Ianca] qui sont venus. Du social, de la Mairie, il y a eu quelque 13-14 de ces garçons, des gars comme ça... Bien sûr, on leur donnait à manger, un peu de vin, de la ţuica2, ce qu’on avait. Ils 1 Expression héritée du temps de Nicolae Ceauşescu, désignant tout travail imposé par la force, non payé. 2 Alcool de mauvaise qualité fait maison.


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L’une des questions que j’ai posées à la majorité des personnes interviewées a été si les futurs bénéficiaires directs de la nouvelle église font du travail bénévole pour accélérer l’élévation de la construction. J’ai évoqué préalablement le fait que l’autre église de la ville, ayant pour patron St. Jean Baptiste, avait été élevée en 1885 grâce à une collecte publique et à la mobilisation collective des habitants. Il y a eu une seule réponse: il n’y a personne qui veuille faire du volontariat, la construction du nouveau lieu de culte n’a pas réussi à coaliser autour d’elle un esprit communautaire. A.S., professeur de langue et littérature roumaine à la retraite s’exprime à cet égard d’une manière tranchante: «La nouvelle église n’a pas donné de nouveau souffle à la communauté. Chez nous, la notion de bénévolat n’existe pas, parce qu’il y a un niveau trop élevé d’indifférence. Le bénévolat n’existe pas dans notre esprit orthodoxe (elle dit « n’existe pas » en pesant sur les mots et en les articulant d’une manière ferme). Et si quelqu’un faisait quelque chose, on entendrait immédiatement autour de lui la question: „Ils ont quel intérêt, ceux-là?“».

Je lui demande s’il existe quand même quelque part un véritable esprit communautaire agrégé autour de l’église et de la paroisse. «Oui, dans mon village, dans le département de Galaţi, dans la province de Moldavie. Et en général dans tous les villages moldaves. Ici à Ianca on a une ancienne communauté de commerçants avec une église tellement petite, l’église de la colline, que c’est pesant, comment dire, quand on est à l’intérieur. Il s’agit donc aussi de la tradition locale de Ianca... beaucoup de gens venus d’ailleurs, avec des intérêts distincts qui les séparent».

A.S. est originaire d’un ancien village de paysans propriétaires du sud du département de Galaţi. Le fait que Ianca est un «ramassis», une communauté hétéroclite de migrants et déplacés économiques des années 1970-1980 est revenu plusieurs fois dans le discours de plusieurs interviewés. Ce «ramassis» n’est pas capable de solidarité, ne semble pas «vraiment» attaché aux lieux de culte existants non plus. «L’esprit communautaire n’existe pas ici, chez nous et cela me fait même de la peine. Ianca est un ramassis, ceux qui sont nés et ont grandi ici sont en réalité trop peu nombreux. Même si les gens viennent parfois ici, à la chapelle, leur attachement va à l’église de leur village, même si c’est ici à Ianca qu’ils se marient ou qu’ils baptisent leurs enfants. La nouvelle église ne soude pas [la communauté], elle produit plutôt des controverses financières et éthiques. Songez donc: il y a des gens de Bordei Verde (localité voisine de Ianca) qui sont venus travailler ici, parce qu’on n’a pu trouver personne pour faire un peu de travail bénévole?! » (I.M., 40 ans, ancienne professeure de religion).

Pour B.T., l’«esprit communautaire» se manifeste seulement à l’occasion des grandes fêtes religieuses: Romanian Political Science Review • vol. IX • no. 4 • 2009


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«L’esprit communautaire? ...cela existe comme ça, quand les gens vont à l’église à certaines occasions, les grandes fêtes, à Pâques et à Noël. On a l’impression que les gens croient. Mais ce sont plutôt les vieux qui viennent. Dans les années trente, les prêtres se plaignaient aussi du fait que seuls les vieux allaient à l’église. Beaucoup viennent demander de l’aide immédiate, à la proximité des examens».

Une dernière remarque concernant la relation entre l’esprit communautaire et le travail bénévole pour l’entretien de la chapelle existante: celui-ci est strictement délimité selon le critère du genre. Certains types de travaux sont réservés aux femmes. «En ce qui concerne le travail volontaire, je crois qu’ils sont un peu... je ne trouve pas le mot juste. Les hommes qui viennent chez nous à l’église ne sont pas tout à fait aptes au travail, ils sont plus vieux, ils ne sont pas capables de travailler réellement. Les jeunes qui seraient aptes au travail ne viennent pas comme ils le devraient. Moi ça me fait plaisir d’y aller pour nettoyer».

Je demande comment ces actions s’organisent: «Moi je suis membre du Comité des Femmes et chaque semaine deux femmes... eh, nous nous sommes mobilisées pour cuisiner pour les travailleurs durant la construction [...] Le travail patriotique [mes italiques – M.B.] devrait provenir des véritables citoyens de la ville. Ça me dérange de voir des groupes tout entiers d’hommes et de retraités aptes au travail qui ne font rien et qui pourraient aider. Oui, c’est une indifférence totale, tu ne fais rien et à 50 mètres il y a des groupes de travailleurs qui construisent la nouvelle église... c’est mal pour tout le monde».

Je demande si elle trouve normale l’existence de la séparation entre le Conseil de la paroisse, composé d’hommes uniquement et le Comité de la paroisse, comprenant seulement de femmes, alors que ce sont les femmes qui travaillent le plus pour la paroisse; C.I., ancien cadre de CPADM Ianca, hésite à répondre: «Les questions d’organisation, je ne les connais pas en détail. Je sais, le Conseil de la paroisse est formé d’hommes uniquement et le Comité des femmes seulement de femmes. Je trouve normal qu’ils ne soient pas mélangés».

Nous rencontrons le même type de séparation selon des critères de genre dans le dialogue avec A.V., fidèle pratiquante fervente: «Moi, en tant que femme, je peux travailler seulement à la cuisine, pour y donner un coup de main. Mais je prie toujours mon mari d’aller travailler, d’y poser une brique et il me dit: „Pourquoi moi?“. Ne comprend-il pas que chacun travaille pour son âme?».

La chandelle en stéarine La quasi-généralisation de l’emploi des chandelles en stéarine représente l’un des changements les plus visibles et les plus «dramatiques» dans la pratique et dans l’économie des biens du salut, dans le sens susmentionné. Dans la paroisse Romanian Political Science Review • vol. IX • no. 4 • 2009

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étudiée, l’usage à grande échelle des chandelles à stéarine ne passe pas inaperçu. Aucun des interviewés n’a déclaré qu’il employait régulièrement les chandelles en stéarine au détriment des cierges en cire. Des considérations pratiques-utilitaires sont souvent évoquées pour justifier leur présence et leur usage. «Les chandelles? Bon, lorsque je prie ou parfois à la maison, le dimanche, je les allume dans des verres spéciaux. Des cierges en vraie cire [mes italiques – M. B.], je ne sais plus où ça existe, peut-être dans quelque monastère, ça et là» (M.E.).

Elle hésite beaucoup avant de répondre, elle voit la «vraie cire» comme le symbole d’une Tradition perdue, conservée seulement de manière isolée. Une ancienne professeure de religion rejette fermement l’idée de l’emploi des chandelles en stéarine pour l’usage personnel, mais elle essaie d’expliquer la signification théologique de la lumière, quelle que ce soit la source dont elle provient: «Non, je ne les utilise pas, car j’aime la cire, moi. Les enfants, de toute façon, aiment ce qu’il y a de plus neuf et de plus moderne, mais ils ne m’ont jamais demandé aux cours de religion s’il vaut mieux brûler de la cire ou des chandelles [en stéarine]. Il y a des leçons spéciales où l’on présente les matières et matériaux de l’Église et ils savent ce que c’est que la cire et la chandelle. Je ne pense pas que cela ait tant d’importance pour eux si c’est de la cire ou de l’aluminium, ils doivent savoir clairement ce que c’est que la lumière du point de vue théologique».

P.I., technicien agricole, met en évidence le côté pratique de l’emploi des chandelles en stéarine: «Moi je les trouve plus pratiques, tiens, par exemple lorsqu’on va au cimetière. Si on les vend à l’église, c’est que les prêtres les acceptent. Sinon, je ne les aurais pas achetées, moi non plus. Tiens, ou pour un office de la Lamentation au Tombeau [le Vendredi Saint], au lieu de tenir la chandelle dans la main, de te salir partout de cire, ça me paraît mieux avec celles-là... plus facile à tenir».

De même, I.H., 60 ans: «Franchement, je les trouve utiles, mais je ne sais pas si l’Église les accepte ou pas, quand je viens avec les koliva. Ça brûle mieux, et lorsque l’église est pleine de monde, on n’a plus le temps de vérifier en permanence si la chandelle brûle correctement».

Le fait que les chandelles de stéarine «ne fument pas» est lui aussi pris en compte (S.D.) dans la mise en évidence du caractère «pratique» de leur usage: «Maintenant qu’on a repeint les murs de l’église, le fait que ça ne fait pas de fumée m’apparaît comme pratique. Vraiment, elles ne font pas de fumée!». Le sacristain de la chapelle, celui qui est responsable de la vente des cierges et de l’approvisionnement en produits cultuels me répond avec nonchalance: «Nous avons arrêté de vendre des chandelles [en stéarine]. Dans un premier temps, nous en avons vendu, mais plus tard... comme on les mettait toutes sur la table, ça salissait tout. Donc à l’église, quand les gens viennent avec des chandelles, moi j’essaie de leur dire ça, qu’ils n’apportent pas trop souvent de petites chandelles comme ça. Le Doyenné de Făurei n’en a plus en stock non plus».



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Je demande quelle est l’attitude des autorités ecclésiastiques concernant l’usage des chandelles en stéarine. «On n’a eu aucun signe de l’évêché indiquant qu’on devrait les interdire. À Pâques, il y en a qui viennent avec de grandes chandelles rouges avec l’insigne de l’évêché. Elles sont bonnes, la flamme ne s’éteint pas, même si le vent souffle... Mais nous ne vendons plus de chandelles [en stéarine] au pangar».

Enfin, A.V. résume la situation: «Peu importe ce que tu allumes, pourvu que ce soit acheté de l’église! Moi j’fais une offrande pour l’Église, je n’en achète pas ailleurs. C’est ce que je sens, c’est ce qui me paraît normal. Je n’ai lu dans aucun livre qu’il faut mettre des cierges en cire ou d’un autre type... Le père nous a dit maintes fois d’acheter des cierges ici, à l’église, mais pour les koliva les gens apportent des chandelles de chez eux. Ces petites chandellettes en plastique. Je ne sais pas qui les fabrique et d’où ils les apportent, mais on les trouve à l’église. Pas toujours, mais on les trouve. Tiens, c’est vrai, ce dernier temps je crois que je ne les ai plus vues».

La participation liturgique. Que réserve l’avenir à l’Orthodoxie? Le sujet de la fréquentation de l’église par les jeunes revient dans la majorité des discussions sur le terrain, empruntant des formes différentes. Est mise en évidence la fréquentation saisonnière de l’église par les jeunes, leur manque de concentration et d’attention durant la Liturgie, leur ignorance des règles de comportement généralement acceptées dans l’Église: «J’ai l’impression que de moins en moins de gens viennent à l’église, c’est mon opinion. C’est ainsi que je vois les choses. Et les jeunes, lorsqu’ils viennent... des téléphones sonnent, ils se poussent. Je leur dis, faites silence, qu’est-ce que c’est que ce comportement?! Leur téléphone mobile sonne et ça dérange juste au milieu du service. Les jeunes viennent surtout à Pâques et à Noël pour se rencontrer, en fait ils ne viennent pas vraiment à l’église» (A.G., 58 ans).

L’un des observateurs privilégiés de la présence aux services religieux est le sacristain de la chapelle. Après avoir discuté la question des jeunes partis travailler en Italie («Voilà ce que j’ai vu là, à l’église... ils ne disent presque rien sur ce qu’ils ont vu là, à quelle église ils vont, s’ils sont jamais allés à une liturgie»), N.V. parle surtout des jeunes de sa paroisse: «Les jeunes ont emprunté une voie [mes italiques – M.B.], ils ne pratiquent plus, ils ne viennent plus à l’église. Surtout ces jeunes de 16-17 ans... ils sont perdus, ceux-là! Tiens, Pâques arrive, qu’ils assistent aux Vêpres (Denie), quelque chose... rien, ça ne les intéresse pas. Ils s’intéressent seulement à leur groupe. L’école, elle devrait s’impliquer plus, au moins s’ils se confessaient trois ou quatre fois par an... ».


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MIREL BĂNICĂ Pour B.T., 60 ans, les jeunes sont «médiocres, le fait qu’ils partent à l’étranger change leur manière de voir le monde et la religion. Même s’ils viennent au service de la Lamentation au Tombeau ou à d’autres grands services liturgiques, ça n’aide point. Ils ne font pas attention, ils plaisantent, ils dérangent les autres».

La manière dont les jeunes se présentent à l’église, leur comportement énerve et agace, étant perçu comme une transgression des normes généralement acceptées: «Lorsque je vois de jeunes adolescentes, le nombril découvert, qui, lorsqu’elles s’agenouillent, on leur voit tout, comment dire... le dos, moi je ne suis pas d’accord! J’attire leur attention, je leur dis ceci cela. Elles me regardent, elles ne disent rien, elles ne comprennent rien. Il faudrait mettre un panneau à l’entrée de l’église, comme il y en a aux monastères: „Tenue décente exigée!“ (B.E., 61 ans, enseignante à la retraite).

Ce qui amène les jeunes à l’église (le groupe d’âge exact n’est jamais précisé par les interviewés, mais nous estimons qu’il s’agit de la catégorie des 18 à 30 ans), ce sont les cérémonies familiales: «Ces jeunes, pas vraiment! C’est la même chose à Făurei, Mircea Vodă, Brăila. Ils sont partis la plupart du temps, certains sont même à l’étranger, ils travaillent là-bas. Il y a bien des gens de Ianca qui sont partis. Ils viennent seulement comme ça, pour les services et fêtes de commémoration des morts. Ils sont contraints de venir pour celles-ci».

L’information est récurrente dans les interviews: les services de commémoration des morts sont le principal évènement qui entraîne une participation liturgique familiale. Le niveau réduit de pratique religieuse des hommes a été remarquée par tous les interviewés. E.I., ingénieur sylviculteur, voyage beaucoup dans les villages du département de Brăila pour son travail. Après avoir avoué que «les femmes sont partout plus nombreuses à l’église», il parle de leur participation aux rituels en la mettant en relation avec la particularité de la pratique féminine: «Nous, les hommes, avec les coutumes... C’est la femme qui les maîtrise le mieux. Je ne peux pas expliquer pourquoi les hommes sont moins forts en matière de coutumes que les femmes; peut-être parce que nous, les hommes, nous faisons moins attention à ce qui est canonique, à ce qu’il faut faire dans une église».

La longue durée du service religieux, le fait qu’il exige beaucoup d’attention et que le fidèle doit rester debout immobile un certain temps sont des raisons invoquées par P.I., une personne dynamique, l’un des hommes d’affaires les plus prospères de la région: «Monsieur, moi j’vais à l’église, mais pas souvent! Je n’y reste pas pour les offices! Moi je suis un homme qui bouge, je n’aime pas rester dans un même coin. J’ai toujours des choses à faire. J’allume un cierge, je reste un peu et puis je m’en vais».

Le plus souvent, l’absence des hommes aux services religieux est acceptée comme un fait, comme une constante de l’Orthodoxie: Romanian Political Science Review • vol. IX • no. 4 • 2009


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«Ça se passe ainsi depuis que le monde existe, c’est spécifique pour la religion orthodoxe. Ça ne se passe pas seulement chez nous, à Ianca, c’est la même chose partout. Chez nous, à Ianca, il y a toujours les mêmes hommes qui viennent aux services» (E.B., 60 ans, enseignant).

J’ai pu confirmer la véracité de cette dernière affirmation par l’observation directe. Une autre justification intéressante de la non-participation liturgique des hommes est également évoquée: dans les familles où la femme ou la fille est pratiquante, sa participation liturgique est considérée comme suffisante pour représenter la famille devant l’autel. Il s’agirait donc d’une forme de participation déléguée: «Mon père ne va plus à l’église, il dit que ma mère va pour lui aussi et qu’il n’est plus nécessaire qu’il y aille. Je crois qu’il y a aussi l’orgueil de chaque homme qui intervient. Mon père a été déçu par le prêtre et c’est pour cela... mais chacun est responsable pour soi-même. Mon mari? Il ne va pas à l’église, j’ai eu une grande dispute avec lui, je ne sais pas comment faire pour le convaincre. Comment justifie-t-il le fait qu’il ne va pas à l’église? C’est trop tôt, il n’a pas le sentiment d’avoir de la vocation pour y aller. Souvent, il me taquine parce que je vais à l’église trop souvent, parce que je ne suis pas comme le reste du monde, le monde où nous vivons. Peut-être avec de la patience, soigneusement, pourrai-je le ramener sur la bonne voie», déclare A.V.

Lors de la dernière discussion avec le prêtre, celui-ci avait l’air «résigné» quant à la faible présence liturgique des hommes. Leur non-fréquentation de l’église est acceptée presque comme une fatalité, le prêtre réalisant une bonne synthèse des faits que nous avons constatés sur le terrain et discutés avec les interviewés: «Les hommes qui ne viennent pas à l’église? C’est une tare ancienne. À l’époque de l’entre-deux-guerres, ils voulaient être vus, être élus dans les Conseils de la paroisse... Puis, pendant le communisme ceux qui allaient à l’église étaient perçus comme impotents et vieux. L’idée que: „Qu’importe, c’est ma femme qui va aux offices, elle allumera un cierge pour moi!“ est encore très répandue. J’accepte la situation comme un fait accompli, les prêtres, mes collègues font de même. Comment dire?! Pour les hommes, c’est une honte en quelque sorte, ils n’aiment pas le fait que le monde les regarde, qu’ils seront considérés comme des pécheurs. C’est une attitude qui se transmet aux enfants, ils feront de même. Si les parents ne vont pas à l’église, ce sera difficile d’y faire aller l’enfant [...] Le pourcentage des hommes qui fréquentent [l’église] est très réduit, quelque 2 ou 3%. Des 100-150 personnes qui viennent à la Liturgie, 20 au plus sont des hommes!».

Que réserve l’avenir? Pour les interviewés, le «danger» principal qui menace l’Orthodoxie consiste dans le développement anarchique et la consommation exagérée de «produits» média. Ianca est une ville qui connaît une explosion du nombre des connexions à Internet, service offert par la compagnie Romtelecom. On reconnaît à Internet des aspects positifs, mais il est perçu comme une potentielle menace à la formation des enfants, puisqu’il «contribue à leur éloignement des choses sacrées», selon les dires de M.E., 31 ans, mère de deux filles d’âge scolaire. Romanian Political Science Review • vol. IX • no. 4 • 2009

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MIREL BĂNICĂ «Il y a la télévision, l’ordinateur pour les enfants. Ils ont accès à toutes sortes de sites maintenant, grâce à Romtelecom. Ils n’étudient même plus, pas même pour les cours de religion, lorsqu’ils font leurs devoirs, c’est toujours là-bas qu’ils vont chercher. C’est ça le monde, c’est ça la nouvelle génération, il n’y a pas grand chose à faire».

Alors qu’il accepte de me répondre à la question concernant l’avenir de l’Église, P.I., homme d’affaires, le type du businessman local, me demande d’éteindre tout d’abord l’enregistreur: «Moi j’vous dis ce que j’ai à dire... éteignez le truc à enregistrer! Les prêtres, c’est eux qui gâchent tout! Je suis allé récemment à une fête avec 40 prêtres. Ils sont devenus avares, rapaces. Des prêtres qui se baladent en Volkswagen à 38-40 mille euros! Ben voyons! Et lorsque l’évêque les interroge, ils disent qu’elle est à leur frère et ils vont aux réunions de l’évêché dans une Dacia toute pourrie».

Suit une longue intervention critique concernant la surreprésentation des prêtres dans l’espace public roumain. B.T., enseignant, est l’unique interviewé qui évoque l’influence du communisme sur l’Église, mais dans un contexte personnel: il aurait voulu devenir prêtre, mais cela n’a pas été possible. L’implication des prêtres dans les luttes politiques lui apparaît comme un danger réel pour l’Église: «En général, je suis content des prêtres de nos jours et de leur niveau intellectuel, affirme B.T., mais j’aimerais qu’ils s’impliquent moins dans la politique. Ils sont humains, donc ils sont attirés eux aussi par la politique. Le plus grand danger, c’est l’implication de la politique dans l’École et dans l’Église: cela mène à la discorde».

Le thème des «sectes» en tant que «menace» pour l’Orthodoxie, très répandu aux années 1990 n’apparaît pas de manière spontanée dans les réponses: «Les sectes? Elles sont venues à Ianca, mais elles sont parties comme elles sont venues. Elles sont restées avec le même nombre d’adhérents, leur prosélytisme n’a pas réussi» (B.T., 60 ans).

Le sacristain de la chapelle me parle d’une équipe de médecins américains envoyée par l’Église Baptiste en été 2008 pour «consulter les gens. Les baptistes leur donnent deux-trois vitamines colorées, comme ça, ils les font souffler dans un tube en plastique et... voilà! Ils disent qu’ils sont sauvés! Est-ce une manière de travailler, ça?». Lors de la rédaction de cette étude nous n’avons pas pu apprendre quel est le nombre des membres du culte baptiste de Ianca (quelque 40 personnes?). Il existe une église baptiste de petites dimensions; elle a été élevée par les efforts collectifs des membres de la communauté à presque un kilomètre du centre de la ville. Enfin, deux réponses recueillies sur le terrain révèlent un certain «optimisme» concernant l’avenir. I.M., ancienne professeure de religion, est la seule à employer spontanément le terme de sécularisation, en cherchant à expliquer pourquoi l’Orthodoxie est moins touchée que d’autres confessions. I.M. nous a semblé très convaincue de ses affirmations: «La sécularisation? Je ne pense pas qu’elle soit en fait un danger réel pour l’Église Orthodoxe. La Tradition, écrite ou orale, c’est elle qui a préservé



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l’Église sur la voie juste. Tout le temps! Nous avons une Église tellement libre que chacun peut choisir de faire ce qu’il veut pour la sentir! Le sentiment, c’est tout ce qu’on exige! Je ne pense pas que nous ayons des problèmes avec la sécularisation, je ne crois même pas que nous devrions nous poser ce problème. L’Orthodoxie a résisté tellement bien dans le passé, elle résistera tout aussi bien dans l’avenir. Ma pensée n’est pas du style pessimiste de la „Mioriţa“1, ma nature est pragmatique» .

Pour B.E. (enseignante à la retraite) non plus, l’avenir ne réserve pas de «menaces» pour l’Orthodoxie. Dans sa réponse, le problème des jeunes revient, mais on y trouve aussi l’antidote à leur faible fréquentation de l’église: le temps qui passe... «Je ne pense pas qu’il y ait des dangers pour l’Orthodoxie dans l’avenir. La religion va perdurer, j’en suis convaincue. Ces enfants qui viennent maintenant à l’église, les jeunes qui font tout et n’importe quoi... mais lorsqu’on devient plus âgé, on ressent... [elle hésite et ne dit pas ce qu’on ressent] et il faut venir à l’église. Mais elle aussi [l’Orthodoxie roumaine] a su s’adapter... Tenez, la radio et la télévision Trinitas, par exemple? Savez-vous combien de gens suivent leurs émissions? Beaucoup de gens simples, comme ça».

Options, évaluation, conclusions Lors du commencement et de la conclusion d’une étude consacrée à un domaine peu ou pas du tout étudié, le chercheur se trouve face à plusieurs dilemmes concernant, d’une part, le choix des hypothèses de travail et, d’autre part, la formulation de conclusions où, hélas, plusieurs des questions initiales demeurent partiellement ou complètement sans réponse. Son choix final est déterminé par beaucoup de facteurs liés au domaine de recherche et aux méthodes de travail et par leur interaction. Puisqu’il s’agit de travail sur le terrain, le chercheur – un être humain – est parfois subjectif. Je l’affirme parce qu’il est évident que les préférences et les interprétations personnelles à l’œuvre durant la recherche sur le terrain auront un impact d’autant plus significatif durant la rédaction de l’étude2. J’ai choisi donc de ne faire que quelques observations mais qui dépassent le cadre d’une étude qui, d’un point de vue «classique», aurait dû proposer des conclusions. Tout d’abord, j’ai essayé de transposer les expériences issues de l’élaboration de ce thème de recherche dans le cadre d’une démarche comparative. Ensuite, j’ai tenté de suggérer que ce qui m’a aidé le plus à avancer a été une certaine forme de curiosité intellectuelle, certes nécessaire mais pas suffisante. Enfin, la logique de la présente recherche est «comprimée» ci-dessous, chaque élément présenté méritant d’être approfondi dans l’avenir. L’effort d’adaptation, y compris par la transgression des règles canoniques est plus évident alors qu’il est question de construire une nouvelle église. Pourquoi? Nous avons l’impression que, parfois, on désire construire une nouvelle église 1 Poème populaire roumain considéré souvent comme le plus important du folklore roumain sur le plan artistique, ayant une note tragique et pessimiste. Souvent associé à la passivité des Roumains face à l’Histoire. 2 Amia LIEBLICH, Rivka TUVAL, Tamar ZILBER, Cercetarea narativă. Citire, analiză şi interpretare, trad. roum. par A. Toplean, Editura Polirom, coll. «Collegium», Iaşi, 2006, p. 253.


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comme s’il s’agissait de conquérir un nouveau territoire: s’y mêle aussi la crainte de perdre, dans un laps de temps indéfini, le privilège-même de construire, tout simplement. La crise financière, les spéculations immobilières, les prix des terrains toujours à la hausse, les aléas de la politique locale, tout cela ne fait qu’aggraver ce sentiment. La présence et la consommation de la koliva sont-elles un «indicateur de la sécularisation»? S’agit-il d’un indicateur significatif pour l’Orthodoxie contemporaine? L’apparition de sites Internet tels www.coliva.ro1 représente-elle une mutation majeure dans le fonctionnement des rites de passage orthodoxes? Sur le terrain, on a pu constater que la pratique des «fêtes commémoratives au restaurant» devient de plus en plus populaire. La monétarisation croissante du village roumain ne semble pas être l’unique explication valide dans ce cas-ci. Il m’a été impossible d’obtenir des informations sur le nombre et la quantité exacte des cierges vendus dans le cadre de la paroisse. L’étude devenue classique de Gabriel le Bras, sa Sociologie de la pratique religieuse dans les campagnes françaises présente la «consommation» de cierges dans une paroisse comme l’indicateur fondamental de la sécularisation et de la fréquentation de l’église2. Réalisée dans les années 1940-1950 à l’aide des prêtres catholiques des paroisses de Bretagne, l’étude du sociologue français nous montre que (malgré la simplicité apparente de l’idée) l’inventaire des cierges vendus dans un laps de temps est l’unique indicateur fiable pour mesurer la pratique religieuse dans une paroisse. À partir d’un détail apparemment négligeable (la non-collaboration des prêtres pour l’identification du nombre de cierges vendus et des sommes d’argent obtenues par leur distribution), nous pouvons nous demander comme le sociologue magyare Miklos Tomka si certaines méthodes et notions-clé de la sociologie occidentale des religions ne prennent pas d’autres significations et implications spécifiques dans le contexte socioculturel est-européen3. C’est un thème de réflexion très vaste pour l’avenir. Pourquoi créer des soupes populaires dans une ville où l’assistance sociale et la «piété publique» ont tout simplement d’autres formes d’expression que celles de l’Occident? En plus, comme nous nous sommes efforcés de montrer à travers les interviews sur le terrain, sa destination initiale a été modifiée, puisqu’elle sert à présent d’espace pour la préparation de la nourriture pour les travailleurs employés à la construction de la nouvelle église ou comme cuisine pour les jours de la fête patronale de la chapelle ou les autres grandes fêtes religieuses. Ne s’agit-il pas ici de la pression de la société et des mass-médias qui ne cessent de clamer que l’Église Orthodoxe Roumaine est insuffisamment impliquée dans l’assistance sociale qui a mené à la création de cet établissement? Sur le terrain, on retrouve des 1 V. le site www.coliva.ro. Sur la page de présentation du site on peut lire: «Nous avons créé ce service [mes italiques – M.B.] dès 1996 pour venir à l’encontre des citadins [italiques dans le texte] qui n’ont plus de rapports avec leur village d’origine ou qui, tout simplement, n’ont jamais fait de koliva. La raison la plus importante est que de nos jours il n’y a plus de temps pour ces choses-là, même si on les fait assez rarement, le temps étant devenu plus précieux pour le métier, pour la carrière. Nous pouvons vous aider à l’occasion de ces évènements en résolvant tous ces problèmes à votre place. Nos produits sont toujours frais, car ils sont faits uniquement à la demande et sur la base de la commande du client» (consulté le 3.01.2009). 2 Gabriel LE BRAS, Sociologie de la pratique religieuse dans les campagnes françaises, PUF, Paris, 1955. 3 Miklos TOMKA, «Is Conventional Sociology of Religion Able to Deal with Differences between Eastern and Western European Developments?», Social Compass, no. 53, 2006, p. 251.



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formes hybrides, imparfaites de présence de l’Église dans le domaine de l’assistance sociale. Une étude future de l’engagement réel de l’Orthodoxie roumaine dans ce domaine, sur ses formes et sur les moyens concrets par lesquels il se réalise pourrait apporter plus de détails significatifs. La boîte à aumônes: la fiscalisation croissante provenant de l’intérieur de l’Église mène à la disparition des formes traditionnelles des donations spontanées d’argent. La boîte à aumônes est devenue presque un objet décoratif auquel on ne renonce pourtant pas (pour des considérations théologiques?). À un moment donné, lors de ma présence sur le terrain (août 2008), j’ai remarqué la présence d’une icône d’Étienne le Grand, le prince moldave canonisé en 1992 et d’un «coin patriotique» dominé par un drapeau tricolore. J’en ai parlé au prêtre. En septembre 2008, elle avait été masquée par une table en bois sculpté, par des fleurs en vases et par une autre icône ayant un thème nettement plus «neutre» (la Vierge à l’Enfant). Comme dans le cas de la soupe populaire, je me demande si on n’a pas affaire ici à la perception d’une pression de la «société civile» sur le prêtre qui vit dans la personne du chercheur l’un de ses représentants «déguisés». S’y ajoutent les considérations sur l’impact de la présence de l’anthropologue sur le terrain, sur lesquelles je ne vais pas insister. Le thème des sectes est apparu assez rarement dans les dialogues sur le terrain – en tout cas moins qu’au début des années 1990. Il serait intéressant de savoir, d’une perspective comparative, si dans les paroisses rurales autour de Ianca le thème des sectes est encore présent dans le discours des gens. Las chandelles en stéarine: leur diffusion est une mutation visible, dramatique on pourrait dire, dans la structuration de la hiérarchie des «biens du salut». Le prêtre et l’Église en général n’encouragent pas leur emploi systématique, mais les fidèles les préfèrent en raison de leur caractère «pratique»: elles émettent moins de fumée, elles résistent au vent, elles sont facilement transportables puisqu’elles ont plus de stabilité. L’aspect financier de ce changement d’attitude et de pratique et ses conséquences à long terme sur les revenus de la paroisse n’a pas encore été assez étudié. Dans les localités «semi-rurales» comme Ianca, touchées par le phénomène de la migration économique (mais pas massivement, de manière à mettre en danger l’existence-même de la communauté1), on ne peut pas parler de phénomènes de transfert rituel ou de l’importation de certains types de comportement dans le cadre du culte religieux local. Les jeunes migrants qui reviennent de manière périodique sont plutôt «discrets» tant dans le paysage religieux que dans la vie économique de la ville. Enfin, dans le cas étudié on peut constater de nouvelles variations, considérables, en fonction de l’âge des personnes interviewées; elles sont plus importantes que les variations déterminées par l’appartenance à une catégorie sociale, par le niveau d’éducation ou le contexte social2. Sans assumer cette conclusion comme définitive, nous sommes de l’avis qu’on peut constater un déclin des pratiques et 1

Pour comprendre les processus démographiques à l’œuvre de nos jours dans les zones rurales de la Roumanie, v. l’étude de Ilie BĂDESCU, «Procese sociale şi demografice în România rurală», in Cristian HERA (éd.), Lumea rurală – astăzi şi mâine, Editura Academiei Române, Bucureşti, 2006, pp. 101-119. 2 Apud Mattei DOGAN, «Erodarea credinţelor religioase în Europa contemporană», in IDEM, Sociologie Politică, Editura Alternative, Bucureşti, 1999, p. 307.


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de la foi plus rapide dans le segment jeune de la population que dans la population âgée et très âgée. L’étude de la religion à l’école a eu des effets visibles, puisque la majorité des jeunes et des enfants que nous avons vus à l’église connaissaient les «règles de comportement» imposées par la présence dans un espace sacré. Mais très peu de jeunes de plus de 20 à 23 ans sont pratiquants, aspect qui peut avoir deux interprétations distinctes mais qui, loin d’être incompatibles, devraient être considérées comme ayant des effets cumulés: la pratique religieuse varie en fonction du cycle de la vie (leur temps n’est pas encore venu, comme l’observaient les interviewés) et d’une génération à l’autre. Des enquêtes visant à mesurer la pratique religieuse pourront apporter les informations supplémentaires nécessaires pour compléter et vérifier ces hypothèses enregistrées sur le terrain.


Hamas and Palestinian Politics AITANA BOGDAN

The rise of Islamist movements has long been a matter of great concern for both Western and secular Arab governments. While the first are suspicious of their ultimate goals, the Arab governments are fearful of the growing power of any movement they have trouble controlling. The first Islamist movements started to appear in the 1930s and increased dramatically in numbers in the 1950s and 1960s. By the late 1970s they were already becoming important political players in many different Arab states. At the time the main goals of these organizations were to establish an Islamic state and impose the Shari’a. As these radical goals proved to be unattainable they were soon replaced by a more moderate and pragmatic approach. This was not, however, the case with all Islamist organizations. In time a split occurred among the various movements. A minority of them turned to terrorism, at home and abroad, while the majority renounced violence and focused on creating grassroots networks to attract popular support. It was this latter category that in the end decided to enter the political arena through the electoral process. As a result most of these Islamist movements moved in the direction of establishing political parties, where this was permitted by the authoritarian regime in power1. The aim of this article is to focus on the second type of Islamist organizations in an attempt to determine whether their inclusion in politics is beneficial or harmful for the process of democratization in the Middle East. Because of the vastness of the subject I decided to select only one movement, which I consider to be representative for this group, namely the Palestinian Hamas. The arguments comprised in this article will fit into two categories. On one hand I will attempt to demonstrate that Hamas is undergoing a process of transformation, moderating its ideology according to the political and historical context. On the other hand, I intend to prove that some of Hamas’ distinctive features make its inclusion in Palestinian political life an advantage for Palestinian democratization.

Historical Background Palestinian Islamism represents a unique case in the history of Islamist movements in the Middle East. On one hand, it appeared later than most Islamist movements in the region, acquiring its final shape only at the beginning of the First Intifada in 1987. And secondly, its origins are not closely tied to the decline of 1 Nathan J. BROWN, Amr HAMZAWY, Marina OTTAWAY, ”Islamist Movements and the Democratic Process in the Arab World: Exploring the Gray Zones”, Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, no. 67, March 2006, pp. 1-19/p. 5.


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Arab secular regimes. Quite the opposite, Palestinian political Islam, after 1970 became eclipsed by the strong Palestinian national movement1. As in other countries from the region, the disaster of the 1967 war triggered an ideological shift in the Palestinian territories, as the focus shifted from the external arena (against foreigners and Israel) to the internal arena (against the ruling elite). Therefore, people came to believe that the Palestinian struggle could only be successful if all secular Arab regimes were eliminated2. Nevertheless, starting with the 1970’s a series of important events made the Islamic radicals in the Palestinian territories quickly lose the influence they had acquired immediately after 1967. The first of these factors was the emergence of the Palestinian Liberation Organization (PLO), a secular movement, which took upon itself the responsibility of conducting armed struggle against Israel3. The second factor was the growing influence of the Muslim Brotherhood in the Palestinian territories starting with 1967. The Muslim Brothers had a reformist approach to the idea of establishing an Islamic state, and they applied this ideology to the Palestinian territories4. The rise of political Islam in the Territories was partially facilitated by the Israeli authorities who viewed this new ideologi cal trend as a use ful tool for un der min ing the power of Pal es tin ian nationalism5. The Brotherhood was represented in the Palestinian territories through three main bodies that constituted the base for the later formation of Hamas. These bodies were: the Islamic Centre (al-Mujamma’ al-Islami), the Islamic Association (al-Jam’iyya al-Islamiyya) and the Islamic University. The spiritual leader of the Islamic Centre was Sheikh Ahmed Yassin, who later on became the spiritual leader of Hamas6. All three organizations were constructed around the reformist approach of the Brotherhood. They were designed to reform Palestinian society in order to prepare the new generations for the future jihad against the state of Israel. This is why the members of these organizations restrained from performing anti-Israeli activities and instead concentrated their effort toward de-legitimizing the PLO7. Once the Intifada erupted the members of the Muslim Brotherhood were faced with a serious dilemma. They could either renounce its de facto accommodation with the Israeli occupation or lose completely Palestinian support for their cause. After an initial stage of hesitation, they settled for a compromise, which consisted in the creation of a separate organization out of the Muslim Brotherhood to take responsibility for its participation in the Intifada. Thus, in the case 1

Beverley MILTON-EDWARDS, Islamic Politics in Palestine, I.B.Tauris Publishers, London and New York, 1999, p. x. 2 Meir HATINA, Islam and Salvation in Palestine, The Moshe Dayan Center for Middle Eastern and African Studies, Tel Aviv University, 2001, p. 17. 3 Ibidem. 4 Ibidem, p. 19. 5 Grahan USHER, ”What Kind of Nation? The Rise of Hamas in the Occupied Territories”, Race & Class, vol. 37, no. 2, 1995, pp. 65-80/p. 66. 6 Ibidem. 7 Ibidem.


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the Intifada failed, the Muslim Brotherhood could shed all the blame on Hamas, and thus escape possible Israeli repercussions1. Hamas, which means zeal in Arabic, being an acronym for al-Muqawama al-Islamiyya (The Islamic Resistance Movement) was formed on December, 8th 1987, as the Palestinian branch of the Muslim Brotherhood. In a way the outbreak of the Intifada and the appearance of Hamas were the consequences of two different but parallel changes that were taking place in the Palestinian territories at the time. While the first event reflected the general Palestinian mood towards the failure of all struggle against Israel, the second event represented the increasing consciousness of resistance and confrontation among Palestinian Islamists2. Through its active participation in the Intifada and the growing awareness of its relationship with the Brotherhood, Hamas managed to put an end to the PLO’s critics concerning the nonparticipation of the Muslim Brotherhood in the armed struggle. From that point on, Yassin and other Muslim Brotherhood leaders began to admit openly the connection between Hamas and the Brotherhood, forwarding the idea the Hamas is nothing but a reformed active wing of the Palestinian branch of the Muslim Brethren3.

Structure and Leadership In what concerns its structure, Hamas is composed of three interrelated wings. The po liti cal and so cial wel fare wings deal with the organi za tion’s so cial, administrative, political and propaganda activities. The military wing en gages in covert activities such as executing suspected collaborators, surveilling potential targets, procuring weapons and carrying out guerrilla and terrorist attacks4. The executive body of Hamas is the Political Committee, which is believed to be composed of around fourteen members, located both within and outside the Palestinian territories. This body directs the activities of Hamas representatives overseas, the political office, the information office, the para-military apparatus and the Department of Affairs of the Occupied Lands (responsible with the movement’s charitable and teaching activities). The Political Committee acts a consultative council and decisions are usually taken through consensus. In all its actions, the Political Committee must take into consideration the opinions expressed by the external members of the Political Bureau, the members of the Gaza Strip Steering Committee and the prison leadership5. The external members of the Political Bureau are based primarily in Lebanon, Syria, Qatar and Iran. They include prominent leaders, such as Musa Abu Marzuq, 1

Ibidem. Khaled HROUB, Hamas. Political Thought and Pratice, Institute for Palestine Studies, Washington DC, 2000, p. 36. 3 Ibidem, p. 12. 4 Matthew LEVITT, Hamas. Political, Charity, and Terrorism in the Service of Jihad, Yale University Press, New Haven and London, 2006, p. 9. 5 ”Dealing with Hamas”, International Crisis Group Report, no. 21, Amman/Brussels, January 2004, pp. 1-42/p. 10. 2


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Khaled Mishal, Imad Alami, Mohammad Nazal and Usama Hamda. The exiled leadership is especially influential in formulating Hamas’ relations with the Arab world and Iran1. The Gaza Strip Steering Committee was initially led by Sheikh Ahmed Yassin and comprised Brotherhood veterans, such as Abd-al-Aziz Rantisi, Mahmoud Zahhar, Ismail Haniyya. This organization plays a key role in the decision-making process within Hamas, as it reflects the views of the internal membership of the Political Committee and its input is solicited on almost every issue. On some matters affecting the Palestinian Territories it acts as an autonomous body, while on broader issues, like negotiations with Israel it needs to consult with the external members2. The West Bank political leadership has been seriously diminished by Israeli arrests and killings, and all efforts to rebuild it have been hampered by the continuing Israeli military actions. Today, it no longer has identifiable public leaders, it does not operate cohesively and it is geographically fractured, thus exerting only a limited influence in the region3. The prison leadership has been another key-element in Hamas policy-making, especially because its members enjoy a special legitimacy that allowed them to impose their own vision regarding the organization’s actions. It is therefore unlikely that any political initiative within Hamas would succeed without their consent4. Aside the Political Committee, in the beginning Hamas was divided in several functional branches whose operations were further broken down by region. These branches included: a. a social welfare and administrative branch – the dawa – responsible for recruitment, funding and social services; b. Al-Mujahideen al-Filastinun, a branch responsible for arms procurement and military activities; c. a security branch – Jehaz Aman – responsible for collecting information and identifying, interrogating and killing suspected collaborators; d. a media branch – the A’alam – responsible for producing and distributing leaflets, staffing press offices and addressing propaganda issues5. This structure remained unchanged for the first years of Hamas activity and started to transform only in the 1990s in order to adapt to the continuous Israeli attacks against the organization. Thus, in 1991, the Mujahideen al-Filastinun branch was incorporated into a recognized Hamas military wing under the name of Izz al-Din al-Qassam Brigades6. Although in principle autonomous, the Izz al-Din al-Qassam Brigades are known as a disciplined body whose commanders implement policies devised by the Hamas leadership rather than their own. According to Israeli sources, the size of the Qassam Brigades revolves around 1000 men, located mainly in the Gaza Strip7. 1

Ibidem, p. 11. Ibidem. 3 Ibidem. 4 Ibidem. 5 Matthew LEVITT, Hamas…cit., p. 10. 6 Ibidem, p. 11. 7 ”Dealing with Hamas”, cit., p. 11. 2



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Ideology Hamas’ ideological platform is best reflected in its Charter which was issued on August, 18th 1988. At the beginning of this charter Hamas defined itself as a ”Palestinian branch of the Muslim Brotherhood” and the general content of the Covenant does not differ much from positions taken by the Muslim Brotherhood on the same issues. However, it is clear even from the beginning that unlike the Brotherhood, Hamas’ main aim is not the reformation of society but the liberation of Palestine through violent jihad1. In the charter, the religious discourse is dominant. In what concerns Palestine the document states that ”the land of Palestine is an Islamic trust (waaf) upon all Muslim generations until the Day of Resurrection. It is not right to give it up nor any par of it” (art 11)2.

The solution to this problem is, according to Hamas, the resort to violent jihad. Jihad, as set forth in the charter is designed to prevent infidels from ruling over the land of Islam3. In regard to peace negotiations and initiatives, the charter clearly states: ”What are called ’peaceful solutions’ and ’international conferences’ to solve the Palestine question all conflict with the doctrine of the Islamic Resistance Movement, for giving up any part of the homeland is like giving up part of the religious faith itself” (art. 13)4.

The Hamas Charter also mentions other organizations active in the Palestinian territories, like the PLO, which is portrayed as a ”father, brother, relative or friend” as the two movements have a common goal. However, in another section of the document, Hamas’ criticizes the PLO’s secular orientation and its recognition of the State of Israel5. In addition, Hamas’ ideological platform has important pan-Arab and pan-Islamic elements. This is reflected in the way Hamas portrayed the Palestinian cause as the foremost cause for Muslims throughout the world because of Palestine’s unique sanctity and its special status within Islam6. However, as the organization evolved so did its ideology. For example in the first two years of Hamas’ existence (1987-1989), the preliminary identification of friends and foes presented no difficulty, as the picture was rather oversimplified. However, in subsequent years, Hamas’ discourse entered a phase of transformation as its leadership became aware of the fact that it was unwise to expand the list of one’s enemies. Hence, the movements started to reduce and neutralize its enemies whenever possible7. 1

Ibidem. Khaled HROUB, Hamas. Political Thought…cit., p. 273. 3 Ibidem, p. 269. 4 Ibidem, p. 274. 5 Ziad ABU-AMR, ”Hamas: A Historical and Political Background”, Journal of Palestine Studies, XXII, no. 4, Summer 1993, pp. 5-19/p. 13. 6 Khaled HROUB, Hamas. Political Thought…cit., p. 48. 7 Ibidem, p. 49. 2


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While at the beginning the Charter mentions ”enemies” in very general and vague terms, leaving much to the imagination, since the early 1990s Hamas’ political thinking has been re-orientated, much under the influence of the organization’s external leadership. This new attitude has been reflected in several of Hamas’ actions, such as the establishment of contacts with Western states and international bodies1. In the following years, Hamas’ political view of the ”enemy” and of Israeli supporters refined even more. In regard to the ”principal enemy” Hamas began to clearly differentiate between Judaism as a religion and Zionism as a political movement. Thus, the primary enemy of the Palestinian people became the Zionist movement and the Zionist entity. This type of distinction can be observed in the following quote, attributed to the leadership of Hamas: ”The non-Zionist Jew is one who belongs to the Jewish faith, whether as a believer or due to accident of birth, but does not relate to the above ideas and takes no part in aggressive actions against our land and our umma. The Zionist, on the other hand, is one who embraces the aggressive Jewish ideology and becomes an instrument for the realization of those ideas on our land and against our umma. On this basis, Hamas will not adopt a hostile position in practice against anyone because of his ideas or his creed but will adopt such a position if those ideas and creed are translated into hostile or damaging actions against our umma and our nation”2.

The relationship established between politics and morality is yet another central issue for Hamas’ ideological stance. As many other Islamist movements, whether conscious or not, Hamas has the tendency of transferring individual morality (consistent with Islamic values) to the political activities of groups, states and international organizations, without regard for the huge differences between individual and group behavior3. For example, Hamas has constantly rejected such principles as those expressed by Hans Morgenthau, who stated that ”there is no morality in politics” and ”interests come before principles”. Despite being reluctant to publicly compromise its ultimate objectives, Hamas has not let its actions be solely governed by religious and moral dictates. Rather, it operates in a context of opportunities and constraints, conflicting interests and cost-benefit considerations and is attentive to the fluctuating needs and demands of the Palestinian people4. Through the relations it established with the Palestinian Authority (PA) and the Palestinian Liberation Organization (PLO) in the post-Oslo period, Hamas proved itself capable of political pragmatism and political awareness. Since its foundations in the 1980s Hamas became the second major player on the Palestinian political arena, constituting an alternative to the PLO and other pre-existent factions. At a time when the PLO was seeking accommodation with Israel and the United States, Hamas emphasized the need for a continuous resistance until the full recovery of Palestinian rights. However, this secondary status 1

Ibidem, p. 50. Ibidem, pp. 50-51. 3 Ibidem, p. 55. 4 Shaul MISHAL, ”The Pragmatic Dimension of the Palestinian Hamas: A Network Perspective”, Armed Forces and Society, vol. 29, no. 4, Summer 2003, pp. 569- 589/p. 570. 2



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was both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, its position did not allow it a say in decisions concerning the rights of Palestinians. While on the other hand, the same incapacity both relieved the movement of compromises made during periods of crises and gave it a flexibility of action that was not available to the Palestinian leadership1. The signing of the Declaration of Principles (DOP) in September 13th, 1993 between Israel and the PLO became a turning point for the evolution of Hamas’ ideological platform, as the provisions listed in the document contradicted its most basic principles. Firstly, the DOP renounced violence and relinquished the Palestinian claim to 78% of British Mandate Palestine, thus effectively challenging Hamas’ long-term goal of establishing an Islamic state in all of Palestine via a violent jihad. Secondly, by acknowledging the legitimacy of the Palestinian Authority and its auxiliary structures, the declaration threatened Hamas’ own legitimacy, military capabilities and social service network2. Nevertheless, the high level of popularity enjoyed by the Palestinian Authority prevented Hamas from challenging it directly, and forced the organization to renounce some of its more radical claims and enter a phase of moderation. This pressure to moderate led Hamas to adopt several policies driven by self-interest and self-preservation rather than ideological convictions. Consequently, Hamas subdued its criticism of the Oslo Accords and refrained from directly denouncing the Palestinian leaders associated with Oslo, such as Yasser Arafat. In the same time, the organization started to use its welfare services to increase its influence and popularity at the expense of the PLO3. Yet, Hamas could not afford to distance itself completely from its original ideological roots, for this threatened to alienate its more radical supporters. Hence, its leaders decided to opt for a middle path that best served their interests. While avoiding using strong religious arguments to denounce the Oslo Accords, they employed a more pragmatic method by criticizing the PLO for gaining meager territory and abandoning Jerusalem and the settlements to Israeli control. Furthermore, Hamas justified its refusal to abandon jihad on practical grounds, such as the fact that the Israeli withdrawal was incomplete according to UN Resolution 242. This position was by its nature inherently paradoxical as the 242 Resolution contravened Hamas’ ideology by recognizing the State of Israel. Still, did not stop Hamas from using this argument in its criticism of the Oslo Accords4. As a consequence in the aftermath of Oslo, Hamas appeared as a pragmatic political force, with a flexible ideology. Musa Abu Marzuq, the head of Hamas’ Political Bureau at the time clearly expressed this perspective by stating that tactics and policies could change, depending on the advantage to be gained5. Another key historical moment for Hamas’ relations with the PA and PLO was the signing on September 28, 1995 of the Oslo II Agreements. At the time, the 1 Khaled HROUB, ”Hamas After Shaykh Yasin and Rantisi”, Journal of Palestine Studies, vol. 33, no. 4, Summer 2004, pp. 21-38/p. 23. 2 Shai GRUBER, ”Hamas: Pragmatic Ideology”, al Nakhlah – The Fletcher School Journal for Issues Related to South East Asia and Islamic Civilization, Spring 2007, pp. 1-10/p. 5. 3 Ibidem. 4 Ibidem. 5 Ibidem, p. 6.


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Palestinian Authority found itself under considerable international pressure of putting an end to Hamas’ terrorist activities, which was reflected in Article 14.3 of the agreement. Hamas was also torn between the need to preserve some of its more basic ideological principles and the threat of entering an armed conflict with the PA. The organization’s solution was to develop a policy of controlled violence that was formalized in a 1995 agreement between Hamas and the PLO. According to the agreement, Hamas would refrain from attacks against Israel from PA-controlled areas, but left open the possibility of attacks from areas remaining under Israeli control. This agreement is yet under proof of Hamas’ pragmatism and awareness of the political context1. A third important re-evaluation of Hamas’ ideological stance took place in 1996 in the context of the first Palestinian elections. Islamist thinkers distinguish between four main strategies that mark the behavior of Islamic movements: reformist (operating through education and preaching), communal (focusing on social services), political (operating through mass mobilization) and combatant-political (use military force to put pressure on the ruling elites). In reality, starting with the 1940s most Islamic movements, depending on the social and political context, have adopted mixed elements from these strategies. Therefore it comes as no surprise, that a close study of Hamas’ strategies would reveal the same type of approach. Moreover, we encounter here the same ambiguity I have discussed in the previous chapter, in what concerns adopting a firm position on key issues. As such Hamas neither fully accepted, nor totally rejected the PA’s legitimacy, which becomes apparent if we look at the organization’s behavior over the issue of participating in the PA’s executive and representative institutions2. On one hand, Hamas needed access to the power and resources offered by the Palestinian Authority in order to ensure its survival and continuous growth. On the other hand, col labo rat ing with the PA would have lead to a se ri ous de crease in the organization’s legitimacy and popularity, especially as this decision could have been interpreted as a deviation from the Islamic principles. In the end, it was precisely this dilemma that defined Hamas’ strategy for the future3. In his book The Palestinian Hamas, Shaul Mishal identifies four possible strategies that Hamas could adopt in regard to participation in elections and attempts to evaluate the possible advantages and disadvantages of each of the four alternatives: One: Hamas participates in the elections Two: Hamas boycotts the elections and is contented with calling the people also to boycott the elections Third: Hamas boycotts the elections and also attempts to disrupt them by force in order to de-legitimize them as well as the whole peace process Fourth: Hamas participates under a different name4. 1

Ibidem. Shaul MISHAL, Avraham SELA, The Palestinian Hamas: Vision, Violence and Coexistence, Columbia University Press, New York, 2000, p. 51. 3 Ibidem, p. 52. 4 Ibidem, p. 54. 2



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Table 1 Advantages and Disadvantages of the Alternative Positions Toward the Elections1 Alternative

Advantages

1. Hamas participates in the elections

Gaining the highest percentage of the votes Confirming the movement’s popularity Preventing political isolation Preserving the popular support won during the Intifada Securing a greater chance to influence the evolution of the Palestinian politics and especially of the peace process Diminishes the legitimacy of the elections and consequently of the entire negotiation process If it manages to stop the elections entirely then it puts a stop to the process of negotiations Affirming Hamas’ capability of political action Deepening Hamas’ popularity and power

2. Hamas boycotts the elections and calls the people also to boycott

3. Boycott and attempt to disrupt the elections by force

4. Participation Guaranteeing non-isolation and under a preservation of popular basis different name

Disadvantages Difficulty in playing both the role of political participation and violent resistance Giving significant legitimacy to elections, thus indicating Hamas’ compromise toward the two-state solution If it does not win a majority, the act will appear as a reflection of popular consensus Political isolation of Hamas, which may lead to an increase in the strength of Fattah The movement loses the political warranty that supports the policy of resistance to the occupation

It may lead to the outbreak of civil war, for which Hamas would be held responsible by the Palestinian people It may not succeed in foiling the elections which means popular losses in addition to human casualties The PA may force the organization into political isolation It may not gain the same percentage of votes, as through participation in the name of Hamas Confusing the public

In 1996 in spite of the internal debate, the political leadership remained opposed to participation. They supported their decision by making reference to several practical considerations. Firstly, although the elections were to be held under international supervision, it was doubtful they would be fair. By adopting a majoritarian method, rather than proportional representation, Arafat had effectively increased the chances of Fattah, the ruling party at the expense of the other popular political forces. Secondly, even if the elections were fair Hamas had to 1

Ibidem.


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evaluate which of the four alternatives was most beneficial. According to a poll conducted in May 1995 by the Palestinian Research Centre in Nablus, Hamas had only 12 percent of the population’s support, hence its chances of winning were close to zero1. There were also considerable differences in opinion between the Hamas leadership located in the Gaza Strip and those from the West Bank. Because of the PA’s tighter control in the Gaza Strip, the former were more inclined to participate in elections, than the latter2. In the end, Hamas reached a compromise with the PA, by agreeing to do not more than passively boycott the elections and not to interfere with the Palestinian public’s freedom to decide. Mishal defined Hamas’ attitude as a kind of ”positive ambivalence”. In practice this meant avoiding official participation in elections while at the same time displaying an informal presence in the election process to avoid political marginalization3. On the other side, Yasser Arafat, the leader of the Palestinian Authority pursued a two-fold policy when it came to Hamas aimed at both co-opting and weakening it. On one hand he started a systematic crackdown, by arresting Hamas activists and closing the movement’s newspaper (Watan). In the same time, however, he held official talks with Hamas leaders encouraging them to participate in the elections. He even offered to extend the candidate registration period beyond that stipulated in the election law to give the Hamas leadership more time to take a decision regarding participation4. The situation changed dramatically with the new Palestinian elections in 2006, yet another turning point in Hamas’ ideological and political evolution. The death of Yasser Arafat and the decline of the ruling party Fatah were only two of the key factors that determined Hamas leadership to actively participate in the electoral process, something they had refused to do ten years before. The period between the outbreak of the Second Intifada in 2000 and the Palestinian legislative elections in 2006 can be characterized by Hamas’ short relapse into ideology and then a return to pragmatism. The Al-Aqsa Intifada increased popular support for Hamas and allowed the organization to reach the same power status as that enjoyed by Fattah. Between 2000 and 2004 there was a pattern of rising Hamas support paired with failing Fattah support that concluded with Hamas receiving 44.45 percent of the votes compared to Fattah’s 41.43 percent in the 2006 Palestinian legislative elections. With these votes, Hamas managed to gain an overwhelming parliamentary majority: 74 seats compared to the 45 of Fattah5. Hamas’ relapse into a rigid ideological stance is most noticeable through its behavior at the beginning of the Second Intifada. In early March 2000, when the Intifada was entering its sixth month, Hamas launched the first suicide attack since 1997. Through these violent measures, the movement managed to regain its position at the forefront of Palestinian politics and outbid Fattah and all other political and military factions. Furthermore, suicide bombings were not the only methods 1

Ibidem, p. 58. Ibidem. 3 Ibidem. 4 Lamis ANDONI, ”The Palestinian Elections: Moving Toward Democracy or One-Party Rule?”, Journal of Palestine Studies, vol. 25, no. 3, Spring 1996, pp. 5-16/p. 7. 5 Shai GRUBER, ”Hamas: Pragmatic Ideology”, cit., p. 6. 2



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used by Hamas to strengthen its position, its also deployed roadside bombs, organized armed attacks on IDF posts and targeted settlements and military installations with mortars, grenades and Qassam missiles1. This situation lasted up to 2003, when with the help of the Egyptians and American support, Hamas was persuaded into declaring a hudna, a one-sided ceasefire that was to last for one year. Here we can notice again, the pragmatic character of Hamas’ actions, who realized that it had more to gain from accepting this compromise then by continuing with terrorist attacks. It had become clear at the time that the Palestinian population were not willing to support any longer an organization that continuously attracted Israeli attacks in the Territories. However, Israel decided not to respect the provision of the agreement and on 21 August 2003, seven weeks into the undeclared truce, Israeli forces assassinated Isma’il Abu Shanab, one of the more moderate voices within Hamas and the ”engineer” of the hudna. Angered by this action, Hamas resumed its suicide attacks2. After the death of Yasser Arafat in 2004, Hamas’ ideology underwent another significant transformation, easily noticeable in the organization’s electoral platform drafted for its campaign in the fall of 2005. This draft was proposed to the other Palestinian factions in May 2006 by a victorious Hamas as a basis for a coalition cabinet. Although Hamas leaders continuously emphasized their strong adherence to the organization’s basic principles, the aforementioned document clearly reveals a dramatic change in ideology. The fourteen-page Electoral Platform for Change and Reform constitutes the most detailed vision that Hamas has ever presented concerning all aspects of Palestinian life. What is most surprising about this document is the virtual absence of military resistance from the platform. In the single direct reference to “armed struggle” the emphasis is on the right to end the occupation by using all means available, including military ones. Furthermore, the participation in elections is presented as a way of supporting the resistance3. In addition, the document focuses mostly on the domestic scene, laying particular emphasis on governance and reform. In fact, religious references are relatively few, only amounting to about a page and a half out of the document’s fourteen pages. Despite being very few the references to Islam are nevertheless very important for the understanding of Hamas’ electoral platform. Islam is clearly mentioned as a basic reference point in six vital fields: education, social policies, religious guidance, legislative policy, family issues and culture policies. The remaining eleven articles of the electoral platform (internal politics, foreign policy, administrative reform, public freedoms and citizens rights, youth issues, housing policy, health and environment policy, agriculture policy, economic, financial and fiscal policies, labor issues and transport policies) make no mention of religion whatsoever4. The same ideological shift can be observed in the cabinet platform document delivered by Hamas Prime Minister, Ismail Haniyeh on 27 March 2006 in a speech before the newly elected Parliament. All throughout the speech, Haniyeh’s tone was moderate and conciliatory toward the other Palestinian factions. The theme of “dialogue, cooperation and consultations” was a constant. Nevertheless, Hamas did not 1

Khaled HROUB, ”Hamas After Shaykh Yasin and Rantisi”, cit., p. 26. Ibidem, p. 27. 3 Khaled HROUB, ”A ’New Hamas’ Through its New Documents”, Journal of Palestine Studies, no. 140, Summer 2006, pp. 6-24/p. 8. 4 Ibidem, pp. 11-12. 2


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substantially alter its position regarding two significant points: the recognition of the PLO-Israel agreements and the two-state solution proposed by the international resolutions on Palestine. Haniyeh did not completely reject these points, but promised that his government will deal with both ”with high national responsibility” while protecting the rights and interests of the people and national principles1. All in all it’s clear that both these documents indicate Hamas’ desire to present itself as a moderate Islamist movement that can be trusted by both secular and religious Palestinians. Furthermore, although this ideological evolution has been promoted by the middle ranking leadership (technocrats and Western-educated elite) with some of the more orthodox elements expressing their reservations, there has been no visible internal rift concerning the new direction, which appears to have been embraced and advocated by all members of the movements2.

Political Integration Taking into consideration Hamas’ historical background and its ideological evolution scholars worldwide have been able to construct some very strong arguments both in favor and against the organization’s integration in Palestinian political life. Among the scholars who have strongly argued in favor of Hamas’ inclusion are Khaled Hroub, Alastair Crooke, Beverly Milton-Edwards, Shaul Mishal and Avraham Sela, while in the opposite camp we encounter Matthew Lewitt, Robert Satloff and Martin Kramer. According to the first, the presence of Hamas on the Palestinian political scene and its competition with PLO is a definite advantage. On one hand, Hamas’ creation led to the establishment of a system of checks and balances within the Palestinian political system. By constantly challenging the PLO’s decisions and actions, Hamas took upon itself the role of a political opposition. Through its actions, it tried to prevent Yasser Arafat and the ruling party Fattah from gaining complete control over the Palestinian society and establishing a personalistic authoritarian regime. Secondly, by always formulating its strategies in accordance with the needs and demands of the Palestinians, Hamas has acted as a political party representing the interests of a particular social group. Hence its integration in Palestinian politics would come as a natural step, towards achieving a higher level of political pluralism in the Territories. While the more secular forces within Palestine were represented by the PLO, the more religious factions had in turn their own representative, through the voice of Hamas. If we take into consideration the fact that both political pluralism and the presence of a political opposition are key features of democracy, then we can safely state that at least from this point of view, Hamas’ presence proved a stimulus for Palestinian democratization. A third argument in favor of Hamas’ integration takes into consideration the evolution of the peace process. Alastair Crooke and Beverly Milton-Edwards emphasize the fact that a successful peace settlement with Israel requires a critical mass of ground support and cohesion3. Therefore, a peace process capable of 1

Ibidem, pp. 17-18. Ibidem, p. 22. 3 Alastair CROOKE, Beverley MILTON-EDWARDS, ”Elusive Ingredient: Hamas and the Peace Process”, Journal of Palestine Studies, vol. 33, no. 4, pp. 39-52/p. 42. 2



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reaching a lasting conclusion must be as inclusive as possible, requiring the support of all significant political actors within the Palestinian Territories1. In their opinion, the possibility of Hamas recognizing Israel as a political reality is not a utopia if we look at the movement’s concept of a long-term cease-fire, which is deeply rooted in the Islamic approach to conflict resolution. This concept can be considered an ”interim option” which provides Hamas an exit from its formal position demanding the recovery of all historical Palestine2. As mentioned above, such references have been present in Hamas’ rhetoric starting with the early 1990s and repeated since by various spokesmen, the most recently by Prime Minister Haniyeh in his 2006 speech before the Palestinian Parliament. Nevertheless, the basic question remains: can the leopard change its spots? There are scholars who argue that Hamas’ involvement in the peace process or resolution cease-fire is a strategic mistake. They perceive such participation as an Islamist strategy to position themselves better to pursue armed struggle in the name of Islam and begin a process of Islamization of Palestinian society. However, Crooke and Milton-Edwards challenge this opinion by emphasizing Hamas’ constant ideological transformation. According to them Hamas has developed a political agenda and ideas that have considerable distanced the movement from its original 1988 Charter which called for the liberation of Mandate Palestine. Furthermore, the movement’s mechanism for recognizing Israel, based on the concept of a long-term cease-fire is analogous to the political evolution that occurred at an earlier stage with Fattah3. In regard to the accusation that Hamas’ integration would inevitably lead to an Islamization of Palestinian society, the two authors are equally skeptical. It is their belief that it is impossible to predict the impact that regional Islamist movements may have on the West Bank and Gaza. On the other hand, it is clear the continuation of the current socio-political conditions cannot but strengthen Islamism’s appeal to the population as ”in a situation where ordinary life supports collapse, when the governing authority fails, employment evaporated, food become scarce and hope is abandoned, Islamists offer a meaningful alternative”4.

Nevertheless, recent events have not supported Crooke and Beverley Milton-Edwards’ theory as Hamas’ refusal to disband its military wing and stop its attacks on Israel has led to the outbreak of a new conflict in the Gaza Strip. Not only did the peace negotiations not improve but the peace process was halted entirely, as neither the West nor Israel have accepted Hamas as a legitimate political actor. A fourth argument in favor of Hamas’ inclusion has been formulated by Mahmoud Abbas, the new president of the Palestinian Authority. Abbas decided to adopt an entirely different strategy when dealing with Hamas than his predecessor. He opted to deal with the Islamists. Abbas’ agenda consisted of policies aimed at stabilizing both the domestic and international political environment, something he could not hope to achieve without Hamas’ cooperation. In addition, Abbas was interested in organizing new elections that would enable him to remove rival 1

Ibidem, p. 43. Ibidem, p. 45. 3 Ibidem, p. 49. 4 Ibidem, p. 50. 2


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Fattah power centers and regenerate the Palestinian political arena. As a consequence, in exchange for cooperation, he offered Hamas power-sharing through integration in PA institutions on the basis of elections. He argued that once in the Palestinian Legislative Council, Hamas could no longer ignore the laws that were passed by it. Hence it would have to reject either the logic of political incorporation or the logic of military independence; it could not embrace them both1. Abbas’ strategy was based on the idea that once elected; politicians generally focus on staying in office. Consequently, the advocates of Hamas’ integration hold that Hamas officials will be more concerned with delivering services and governing than with planning and committing acts of terrorism. Furthermore, Hamas’ inclusion would avert the risk of civil war that would push the Palestinian society further on the road to violence and authoritarianism. Abbas’ approach was additionally supported by the fact that the Palestinian Authority no longer had the means to disarm Hamas through force. Hence, any attempt from the part of the PA’s security forces to arrest Hamas militants or confiscate their weapons would have met violent opposition2. Abbas also took into consideration the process of Palestinian democratization, which could not be achieved without the participation of all segments of Palestinian society, including the Islamists. By encouraging Hamas’ integration Abbas hoped to regulate Palestinian politics so as to ensure that any divergence of views could be expressed through legitimate political channels rather than violence3. However, Palestinian political reality appears to contradict Abbas’ strategy. Firstly, after acquiring political power Hamas did neither eliminate its military wing, nor renounce terrorist activities. Secondly, in spite of all Abbas’ efforts a civil war did start in 2006 in Palestine between the rival factions of Fattah and Hamas, a conflict that is still active in 2009. The fact that the two main political groups in the territories still consider military conflict a valid way of solving their differences is an indicator of the slow pace of Palestinian democratization. Although nowadays the prospect of a unity government is yet again on the negotiating table, the reality is that Palestinian politics are still caught in a deadlock. The fifth argument supporting Hamas’ positive impact on Palestinian politics refers to the legitimacy factor. On one hand, by participating in elections as part of the political system defined by the PA and created under the Oslo framework Hamas has conferred de facto legitimacy on the system. This is a very important step for Palestinian democratization, as elections, are according to Dahl a fundamental institution of democracy. By joining the electoral process, Hamas has both recognized its importance and accepted its limits, which marks a positive departure from its previous terrorist behavior. In addition, Hamas’ inclusion confers the Palestinian government with a legitimacy that the PA has always lacked4. In the long term this would allow Palestinian elites to engage in a much-needed reform of the institutional system, which would enhance its democratic character. A last argument brought in favor of Islamist integration in Palestine takes into consideration Hamas’ long experience with social services. It is important to note 1

”Enter Hamas: The Challenges of Political Integration”, Crisis Group Middle East Report no. 49, 18th January 2006, pp. 1-46/p. 3. 2 Haim MALKA, ”Forcing Choices: Testing the Transformation of Hamas”, Washington Quaterly, vol. 28, no. 4, Autumn 2005, pp. 37-54/p. 43. 3 Ibidem, p. 44. 4 Ibidem.



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here that Hamas won the 2006 elections by presenting an alternative to the corruption and incompetence of Fattah. From this perspective, the Palestinian society needs a government that doesn’t use foreign aid for personal purposes and is dedicated to the solving of the critical social and economic problems affecting Palestinian society. In this respect, Hamas has a certain experience, as throughout time it has developed a social welfare network which has replaced in a certain degree the lack of a state social welfare system. This commitment to social issues is reflected in the organization’s electoral promises, as they were summed up by Mahmoud Zahar: the creation of an efficient education system, the reconstruction of Palestinian infrastructure and the establishment of an efficient healthcare system1. Nevertheless, Hamas’ reputation for able administration seemed to crumble, when the organization was actually forced to address concrete Palestinian social problems. Its inability to meet the challenges of governance after forming the government soon became obvious for everyone. In the end, it was this inability that encouraged Hamas to sign the Mecca Agreement with Fattah, opting for the solution of a National Unity Government2. When the organization entered office on 29 March 2006, the government coffers were all but empty, as a result of a series of political decisions that had eliminated most of the PA’s regular income sources. For example, the most significant source of revenue was the monthly transfer of $50-60 million in Palestinian taxes and fees collected by Israel, which was severed by the Israeli government after Hamas’ victory. Another important source of revenue was the direct and indirect donor subventions to the PA’s Single Treasury Account, which were halted pursuant to the Quartet decision to discontinue relations3. Consequently, it becomes clear that the poor performance of the Hamas government was not entirely its fault. Thus, the argument in favor of Hamas’ integration remains valid. What needs to be taken into consideration is the fact, that the inclusion of Islamist organization in the political process may prove detrimental for Palestinian politics because of an indirect effect, such as foreign intervention. Because of the fact that the international community a priori decided not to recognize the Palestinian electoral option and adopted several drastic economic measures, we cannot efficiently evaluate Hamas’ performance as a governmental party. Among the most fervent critics of Hamas’ integration is Western scholar, Robert Satloff. From the start he dismisses all arguments in favor of Islamist inclusion, by cataloging them as either naïve or defeatist. Satloff challenges the opinion of Alistair Crooke and Beverley Milton-Edwards by stating that an acceptance of Hamas as a legitimate partner for negotiations would permanently endanger the entire peace process, as the organization will never make peace with Israel. The only two options available are either a tahdiya (brief lull in fighting) or a hudna (long-term armistice) – neither of which approximates peace, or even recognition of Israel4. 1

Esther PAN, ”Hamas Role in Palestinian Elections”, December 2005 at Council on Foreign Relations, http://www.cfr.org/publications/9485/hamas_role_in_palestinian_elections.html (accessed on 01.06.2009). 2 ”After Mecca: Engaging Hamas”, Crisis Group Middle East Report, no. 62, 28 February 2007, pp. 1-40/p. 2. 3 Ibidem. 4 Robert SATLOFF, Robert MALLEY, ”The Hamas Dilemma: A Debate on Alternative Strategies”, Policy Watch Special Forum Report, no. 1359, 26th March 2008 at http://www.


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Furthermore, Satloff does not believe in Hamas’ capability to change. Although the organization may exhibit strategic flexibility and occasional moderation, it is highly unlikely to change any aspect of its fundamental strategy. Once in government, Hamas will begin by focusing on fighting corruption and improving social services and gradually proceed to Islamize social, cultural and education life in Palestinian society. Hamas’ immediate objective is according to Satloff to expand and deepen its control over all aspects of Palestinian society1. Moreover, the author puts forth three main arguments against Hamas’ integration. Firstly, by voting for Hamas, Palestinians have expressed their support for a party that advocates violent jihad as a form of achieving Palestinian legitimate rights2. From this perspective, Hamas’ victory instead of symbolizing a new stage of Palestinian democratization is actually a step backwards toward a violent approach on politics. Secondly, the case of Hamas cannot be compared to that of other moderate Islamist movements participating in elections because several key factors are absent. The relatively few successful examples of cooptation of Islamic parties, such as Turkey, occurred only in countries that enjoyed strong institutions, powerful security apparatuses and a supreme guarantor of the sanctity of the political system. Neither of these elements can be found in the Palestinian case3. Hence, the argument that the inclusion of Islamist groups has had no recorded negative effects is not applicable in this case. Thirdly, Satloff draws the attention on the long-term effects that Hamas’ inclusion would have on the Palestinian society. He criticizes those scholars who argue in favor of Islamist inclusion by stating that once in power Islamist movements fail in government, thus undermining the appeal of the Islamist model. It is his belief that this type of approach overlooks the potential of radical Islamist parties, who once in power may decide to maintain their position despite political failure4. However, Satloff’s last argument does not confirm in reality, as none of the Islamist groups gaining political power through participation in elections has refused to step down at the end of their mandate. Satloff’s opinion has been shared by two other renowned Western scholars, Matthew Lewitt and Martin Kramer. The first believes that Hamas’ participation in the electoral process is a way of fulfilling the group’s main objective of undermining the Palestinian secular authority and promoting its violent Islamic agenda. In support to this claim, Levitt bring a direct quote from Mahmoud Zahar one of Hamas’ leaders who states that ”Hamas’ participation in the parliamentary elections will completely destroy the Oslo Accords5”. Similarly to Satloff, Martin Kramer questions the veracity of Hamas’ ideological shift, which he believes to be only superficial rhetoric. To support his argument, Kramer makes references to the organization’s history. According to him, Hamas has acquired political power much too easily. Before 2006, Hamas has never sat in washingtoninstitute.org/templateC05.php?CID=2735 (accessed on 09.06.2009). 1 Robert SATLOFF, ”Hamas Triumphant: Implications for Security, Politics, Economy and Strategy”, Policy Focus, Washington Institute for Near East Policy, no. 53, February 2006, pp. 1-63/p. 5. 2 Ibidem, p. 7. 3 Ibidem, p. 8. 4 Ibidem. 5 Matthew LEVITT, Hamas…cit., p. 240.



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opposition, joined a larger coalition or accepted any type of compromise. As we cannot speak of a long-term commitment to political participation, it is only natural to question the organization’s sudden desire to engage in legal political activity1. Furthermore, by acquiring power so easily, with little compromise, Hamas has been able to preserve its military wing intact. Kramer’s belief is that in such a situation the organization has no incentive to transform. Instead, Hamas can focus on its three main goals. First, it will seek to consolidate its control over all Palestinian institutions in the detriment of Fattah. Second, it will gradually proceed to Islamize Palestinian life. And third, it will impose its own view of the Palestinian future, drifting away from the proposed two-state solution2. By implementing these objectives, the Hamas government would effectively put an end to Palestinian democratization. Kramer and Satloff’s arguments appear to be supported by some inflammatory statements made by the organization’s main leaders. For example, Khaled Mishal stated that in more than one occasion that the democracy preferred by the United States and its allies is a democracy that fits the norms and agenda of those states, but is completely different from that of Hamas. The Hamas version of democracy is based on the Islamic democracy which has as a founding principle divine sovereignty3. On the other hand, there is little evidence yet of Hamas officials seeking to implement the Shari’a, either at a local or national level. Moreover, where vigilantes or ”morality police” have surfaced, Hamas officials have been quick to characterize them as isolated incidents and not general policy4. Mishal himself has claimed that Hamas does not intend, at this stage to apply the Shari’a within the Palestinian Authority5. In addition to the authors previously mentioned, there is another category of scholars who have adopted a middle path regarding Hamas’ integration. Among them is David Makovsky who supports Hamas’ participation in politics, as he considers it a sign of Palestinian democratization. He introduces, however one important condition. According to Makovsky the international community must stay united and force Hamas to choose between its political and military wings. To grant de facto legitimacy to the organization would be wrong, as it would undermine Palestinian moderates6. All in all, a comparison of the arguments mentioned above with the political reality in the Palestinian Territories cannot lead to any valid conclusions. The strong determination of both the Quartet and Israel not to recognize Hamas as a legitimate political actor makes it almost impossible for any research to efficiently evaluate the impact of Hamas’ integration in Palestinian politics. Although, up until now Hamas did neither attempt to Islamize Palestinian society or tried to unlawfully 1 Martin KRAMER, Power Will Not Moderate Hamas, 27 March 2006 at http://www. washingtoninstitute.org/print.php?template=C06&CID=919 (accessed on 02.06.2009). 2 Ibidem. 3 Asaf MALIACH, ”Hamas’ Post-Election Strategy: Step-by-step to the liberation of Palestine”, 5 February 2006 at http://insct.syr.edu/Events_and_Lectures/IDC_Videoconference/ Hamas%20reading.htm (accessed on 02.06.2009). 4 ”Enter Hamas…cit.”, p. 13. 5 Asaf MALIACH, ”Hamas’ Post-Election Strategy…cit.”. 6 David MAKOVSKY, Don’t Make Exceptions for Hamas, 24 January 2006 at http://www. washingtoninstitute.org/templateC06.php?CID=892 (accessed on 02.06.2009).


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increase its power within Palestinian institutions, this does not mean it has had a positive impact on Palestinian democratization. On the contrary, a result of Hamas’ integration was the outbreak of a civil war, a worsening of socio-economic conditions in the Territories and finally the outbreak of a new military conflict with Israel in Gaza. Furthermore, the international community has put and end to all peace negotiations as long as Hamas stays in power. Therefore, it is my belief that more time has to pass in order for scholars to be able to draw some relevant conclusion regarding the impact of Islamist inclusion on the democratization process in Palestine.


The Salafism in Europe Between Hijra and Jihad MARIUS I. LAZĂR

Salafism represents a conservative interpretation of the Islamic doctrine and of the political history of the Muslim world, which emerged in the first years of Islam. In fact, its very name testifies to its origin: Salaf al-Sahilin, ”the pious ancestors”, that is the Prophet, the circle of his followers and the first four caliphs, regarded as authentic models for Muslim behaviour and religious practices. Along the centuries, some Sunni theologians have often interpreted the religious or political failures of the Muslim world as a consequence of the estrangement from this original archetype. For this reason, they will suggest successive reformations of the society and of Islamic conscience in order to restore them to their authentic, original state. The best known of these reformers are: Ibn Handbal, 9th century, Ibn Taimiyya, 13th-14th centuries, Muhammad Abd-ul Wahhab, 18th century, Jamal al-Din al-Afgani (1838-1897) and, more recently, Abdelaziz Ben Baz (former great mufti of Saudi Arabia until 1999) and Nasir ud-Din al-Albani (1914-1999). The Salafi movements, which islamologists such as Olivier Roy have also labelled ”neo-fundamentalist”, decline to integrate Europe in the area of Dar al-Islam and regard the European territory either as Dar al-Solh (land of the pact, in which Muslims take no violent action against the non-believers – this is the position of pietistic Salafism) or as a part of Dar al-Harb (land of the war). This option carries considerable weight because it motivates the attitude of rejecting the cultural and religious Western values, as well as legitimising radical actions taken in the name of a Jihad against the non-believers. However, like the Muslim Brotherhood, European Salafism should be understood in all its complexity, since it is nothing but a generic term that covers a diverse range of movements and tendencies in constant rivalry and disagreement with one another. Any attempt at classifying the Salafite movements, whether in the Muslim world or in Europe and other countries, first needs to differentiate between the pietistic and the radical Salafism, the latter also known as Jihadist.

”Shaykhist” Salafism The pietistic Salafi movements are also known as ”shaykhist” because they strictly follow the teachings of various sheiks and ulemas in the Arabic Peninsula (apart from Ben Baz and al-Albani, the most important ones were or are Ibn Uthaymin (who died in 2001), Salih al-Fawzan, Rabi Ibn Hadi al-Madkhali, Al-Cheikh – the new great mufti of the Saudi Kingdom, and Muqbil ibn Hadi (who died in 2001)1. These pietistic movements generally promote a conservative vision of Islam in the manner of Wahhabism. They place emphasis on developing 1

François BURGAT, L’Islamisme à l’heure d’Al-Qaida, La Découverte, Paris, 2005, pp. 32-39.


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a universal type of Muslim, with no specific cultural allegiances, whose identity is based on the strict observance of a clearly spelled out theological and behavioural catechism. Their founding principle is that social changes meant to increase observance of Islamic norms must be based, above all, on improving individual behaviour. In fact, the emergence of Salafi movements, especially in Europe and North America, comes as a consequence of the transformations brought about by globalisation: ”Déstructuration des sociétes traditionnelles, refondation de communautés imaginaires à partir de l’individu”1. Their ideology is founded on observance of a rigid set of rites, obligations and interdictions which define the ”abstract” Muslim, who is completely detached from any cultural or social influence (Islamic or not, such an influence is regarded as unacceptable). Therefore, such a person is no longer the representative of a culture and becomes a homogeneous code, ready to adjust to any society: ”Le néo-fondamentalisme est très clairement un produit et un agent de la déculturation des sociétés musulmanes, ce qui explique et son succès et son transnationalisme”2. Thus, the Salafites refuse to build a multicultural Muslim community; instead, they criticise local Islamic traditions, ethnic-based communities, modern legal definitions of identity (citizenship), as well as any form of assimilation to Western culture3. Such an understanding appeals to those in search for an identity: ”Le nouveau communautarisme se construit sur l’individualisme, c’est-à-dire à partir de l’adhésion individuelle, par le retour personnel à la pratique religieuse stricte, celle du code”; the fact that Salafism has been successful mainly among Muslim communities living abroad is explained by its compensating for, as well as being a product of, a ”crise de l’autorité”4. Although there are various ideological approaches and a strong rivalry within the Salafi movement, all its directions focus on several main themes: the superiority of Islam over the Western world, the decay of Muslim societies because of their estrangement from the true faith, the need for a return to the original Islamic teachings, an apocalyptic vision of a global battle between good and evil, fought by two generic entities called the Islam and the West (similar to the Weltanschauung of the American neo-conservatives but in reversed axiological polarity). Unlike the Muslim Brothers, Salafi representatives oppose any political involvement and disregard national identity; most Salafi movements strongly reject contemporary political concepts (state, nation, citizenship) and regard their implementation in the Muslim world as an essential cause for the ”separation” (fitna) which has fragmented the Islamic community. The only legitimate reference is made to ’Umma, the congregation of all Muslims, irrespective of their geographical location. Therefore, Salafism presents a very special geopolitical vision, which is focused on two main concepts: Muslim individuals defined as such and their unity of religion and identity as represented by ’Umma. Apart from these two elements, all other references to politics, culture or ethnicity are regarded as illegitimate and rejected. There are some Salafists, however, in particular those who have responded to the Jihadist message, who believe that the return to an authentic Islam is not possible without resurrecting the institution of the caliphate, a fundamental category in the Muslim political tradition, the only legitimate source of authority. 1

Olivier ROY, L’Islam mondialisé, Seuil, Paris, 2002, p. 144. Ibidem, p. 145. 3 Abderahim LAMCHICHI, Islam-Occident, Islam-Europe: choc des civilisations ou coexistence des cultures?, L’Harmattan, Paris, 2000, p. 40. 4 Olivier ROY, L’Islam mondialisé, op. cit., pp. 152-153. 2


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In Europe, this estrangement from the local cultural and political environment is further enhanced by the aversion felt by the Salafists (in contradiction with the ecumenical orientation of traditional Islam) against Christianity, Judaism and other religions. The concern for ritual purity, which is a central aspect of Salafi behaviour, becomes exacerbated in Europe and in any other non-Islamic regions, as Salafism is defined by favouring an interpretation of Islam with detailed focus on ethics and behaviour, based on strict observance of what is allowed (halal) and rejection of what is forbidden (haram)1. All these norms, set by Muslim Sunni ulemas with theological and legal authority, are carefully presented in textbooks, and more recently on television and the Internet. It is an important characteristic of Salafism that it gives central importance to the authority of ulemas, whose fatwas or decisions are meant to provide for their followers a canonical hermeneutics, both of the Islamic tradition and of the various innovations and challenges that confront the Muslim believer in the contemporary world. Whether they are integrated in the official state system of Muslim and non-Muslim countries or they are independent, ulemas play an essential part in the ideological mobilization and subsequent actions of their followers. Benefiting from the countless mosques and religious centres spread across the regions where Muslims live, Salafi ulemas act most efficiently at the level of micro-communities. The Muslim Brothers, Tabligh, the Saudi networks and the various Salafi movements are engaged in a competition over domination of the most important religious centres and mosques of a community, each of them attempting to win over the believers to its own position. The allegiance of the imam or the religious leader in a mosque can significantly influence the attitude of the congregation; he can efficiently direct the religious zeal of his followers towards pietism or, on the contrary, towards violent jihadist action. The best-known European example is provided by the London mosque of Finsbury Park, which, after falling under the influence of Abou Hamza al-Masri, has pushed towards jihadism many of the worshipers. One cannot overemphasize the importance of ulemas as agents of the ideological and behavioural mobilisation of the Muslim population, irrespective of its geographical location. The personality of the religious ruler, whether he is the average preacher of a neighbourhood mosque, or a high-profile leader of international reputation, is always decisive for the behaviour of a large part of the people who acknowledge his authority. Since Sunni Islam does not recognize any unique and universal religious authority that could provide a unified and uncontroversial perspective on religious dogmas, this situation has made room for a constant ”liberalisation” of Muslim religious theories and attitudes. Thus, alternative interpretations become possible, as well as the differential attachment of the believers to various forms of understanding and practising Islamic tradition. While maintaining its own identity, the Salafism of recent decades has largely been the result of Wahhabi ideology, and its global expansion has chiefly been fostered by Saudi policies of promoting a conservative vision of Islam, which began after Faysal became king in 1964, and increased with the availability of petrodollars in the 1970s2. Since then, Saudi Arabia has attempted to gain geopolitical influence 1 Mohamed-Ali ADRAOUI, ”Purist Salafism in France”, ISIM Review, no. 21, Spring 2008, pp. 12-13. 2 Ahmad MOUSSALLI, Wahhabism, Salafism and Islamism: Who Is the Enemy?, A Conflicts Forum Monograph, January 2009, http://conflictsforum.org/briefings/Wahhabism-Salafism-andIslamism.pdf (accessed on 05.03.2009)


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over the whole Sunni-Muslim world by redistributing oil wealth towards the implementation of Islamisation projects and the recruitment of an elite who, taught in Wahhabi schools, was to bring Saudi Islam to their own countries, very often to the detriment of local Islamic tradition. The main instruments for exporting this ”soft” Islamism – in principle, non-violent and essentially directed towards adopting conservative Muslim attitudes – have been the many pan-Islamic Saudi institutions and organizations, Muslim charities and Islamic banks. All these will unavoidably end up targeting the Muslim communities in Europe, where Saudi programmes compete with those of Tabligh and the Muslim Brotherhood, each movement fighting for the symbolic capital of the Islamic tradition. To a certain extent, each of them also claims an exclusivist canonical superiority, which tends to cancel out the relative liberalisation of the Sunni landscape occasioned by the theological and legal pluralism of the four official rites. Thus, the most important non-governmental Saudi organization, the World Muslim League1 (al-Rabita al-islamiya al-’alamiya), founded in 1962 and whose main function is to support Muslim minorities from non-Muslim countries, has a regional Islamic council for Europe (with headquarters in London) which aims at giving financial support to Islamic projects (mosque building, schools, Muslim institutes, cultural programmes etc.)2. In France in particular, but also in Spain and Italy, where most Muslims originate from Maghreb, Rabita also faces competition from the official institutions of Maghrebian states (Morocco, Algeria, Tunisia), which in their turn propose projects meant to win the loyalty of their former citizens. For instance, Algeria has long been able to secure some important control over a part of France’s Muslims by establishing a special relationship, ever since the 1950s, with the imams of the Great Mosque in Paris (and with the rectors of the Muslim Institute it hosts). The Great Mosque is the most important theological institution of French Islam, whose recent imams have been Si Hamza Boubakeur and, after 1995, his son Dalil Boubakeur. Usually, however, the League’s financial resources are much larger than those of such Arab states, which are also immersed in domestic economic and political difficulties; therefore, Saudi money often comes first. The League also coordinates the International Council of Mosques, whose role is both to finance places of worship and to coordinate and control them; its European headquarters are in Bruxelles. Rabita is certainly not the only source of financing and promoting Salafi (or Islamic) projects in Europe and across the world. One must also mention the importance of other Muslim banking institutions: the Islamic Development Bank (founded in 1973 by the Organization of the Islamic Conference) but also Dar al Mal al-Islami, a private Islamic bank founded in 1981 with headquarters in Geneva, and Dalla al-Baraka, founded in 1982 by a group of Arabs led by the Saudi billionaire Salih Abdallah Kamil3. With an initial capital of one billion dollars, the bank has grown rapidly and even managed to enter the European markets by opening in 1984 the International Islamic Bank in Copenhagen, which has become the bank of choice for most European Muslims. Some of these financial institutions have played an important part in transferring private Saudi money towards various Islamic programmes in Pakistan, Europe or the United States. Finally, in 1

www.muslimworldleague.org/mwlwbsite_eng/index.htm (accessed on 05.03.2009). Antoine BASBOURS, L’Arabie Saoudite en question, Perrin, Paris, 2002, p. 147. 3 Stéphanie PARIGI, Des banques islamiques. Argent et religion, Editions Ramsay, Paris, 1989, pp. 15-42. 2



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addition to these institutions, a series of non-governmental organizations have also emerged, the best known of which are the Islamic Relief Organization and the Islamic Relief Agency, both first functioning as links to support mujahedin1 resistance in Afghanistan, later directing their attention towards Bosnia. In the 1990s an important role in steering private Saudi money to support ”the Islamic fighters in Palestine, Bosnia, Afghanistan, and Algeria” is played by the UK Islamic Mission. Another important British association, which promotes Wahhabi interests and strives to win the loyalty and financial support of European Saudis, is the UK Action Committee on Islamic Affairs. The main problem of all these institutions and associations remains that often a certain amount of money is not used for its official purpose – to support Islamic programmes – but rather directed towards various radical movements. The complexity of the social milieu which absorbs financial resources from the Golf states makes possible such practices, given the fact that the people involved can easily lean towards militant positions. This situation, in fact, only mirrors the classical ambiguity that has for decades characterized Saudi Arabia: a strategic ally of the United States, it has at the same time supported the Salafi current, whose ideology fuels many contemporary radical movements2. However, contemporary Salafism has moved beyond the institutional structure promoted and supported by private or public Wahhabi agents. It has become, first of all, a ”state of mind” whose visible shape is given by various local figures, less motivated by the coherent strategy of some centre of power and more by their adherence to the same message and cultivation of personal Internet-mediated contacts. Salafism is the perfect example of a trans-national movement, based on a horizontal inside-the-network form of interaction, with no pre-established hierarchy. In Europe, it is characterized by the strict observance of Shari’a, the deliberate refusal of any political involvement, a strong social control over its followers (especially over women) and the tendency to keep a distance from the surrounding non-Muslim environment. Salafism has followed a logic of the ghetto; more precisely, its followers attempt to reiterate, in a new geographical context, the famous ”retreat” (hijra) of the Prophet from pagan Mecca to Medina, where he founded an authentic Islamic society which is taken as the mythical reference by all Islamist movements. Therefore, this breakaway with the values and social structures of the Western world is motivated by a principled rejection, on the grounds that such values are not in keeping with Islam. In some cases, Salafite leaders have gone so far as to advise their followers to leave Europe and return to their Muslim home countries, for fear they might be corrupted by Western lifestyles3. However, their aversion against the West does not prevent Salafite supporters from taking advantage of its technological innovations: one of the most important characteristics of those who have embraced Islamism is their use of the Internet, which becomes a kind of virtual ’Umma, anticipating the hoped for de facto unity of all believers. There are numberless Salafi websites and blogs, either in Arabic, Urdu, various Oriental dialects, 1

Abdel-Rahman GHANDOUR, Jihad humanitaire: Enquête sur les ONG islamiques, Flammarion, Paris, 2002. 2 This is the reason why, after September 11, 2001, people like the French analyst of Rand Corporation, Laurent Murawiec, have officially denounced the fact that Saudi Arabia supports international terrorist networks, and have pleaded for a ”de-saudisation” of the kingdom: La Guerre d’après, Albin Michel, Paris, 2003. 3 Samir AMGHAR, ”Le salafisme en Europe: la mouvance polymorphe d’une radicalisation”, Politique Étrangère, no. 1, 2006, p. 72.


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or in the European languages. Above all, these are a major instrument through which Salafi sheyks and preachers disseminate their canonical advice among the believers and answer their queries concerning the observance of Shari’a in the contemporary world. However, such websites and blogs also represent the most readily available opportunity for promoting a neo-fundamentalist ideology and recruiting new followers1. Moreover, the Internet becomes a space where people and groups can freely criticize one another, in terms of theological positions, politics or unavoidable personal arguments. The European penetration of Salafi structures is a relatively recent phenomenon, originating mainly in the foundation of Front Islamic du Salut (FIS) in Algeria in the late 1980s. It quickly spread its influence over the large Algerian diaspora in France, the main European center of the Salafi movement. Although FIS had a principled orientation towards a political agenda, and even won the local elections in 1991, the ideology of one of the movement’s important wings (the most prominent representative of which was the popular preacher Ali Benhadj) shared Salafism’s rigurous approach, which it actually attempted to implement in the Algerian milieus it could influence, especially on the outskirts of the large cities. The fact that FIS was outlawed in 1992 as well as the subsequent repression against its leaders triggered an exodus of many of them towards European countries, France and Belgium in particular. Thus, the founder of the Salafi movement in France was Abdel-Hadi Dudi, the imam of the al-Sunna al-Kebira mosque in Marseille and leader of the Salafi wing which would generate FIS (Abdel-Hadi Dudi had been expelled from Algeria in 19872). He would convert from the old political militantism of FIS to the pietistic orientation of Saudi Shaykist Salafism and become the only authorized representative in France of Rabi al-Madkhali, the foremost canonical authority for the French Salafism. Indeed, since the second half of the 1990s the Saudi influence over French Salafism has become essential, especially after the new generation of Muslims, educated in the Arab Peninsula, return to France, and after Saudi missionaries and preachers open religious centers in highly populated Muslim neighbourhoods. Here they promote an increased activism, mainly targeting the youth; the most important means of disseminating Salafi principles are durus, the study groups linked to mosques or places of worship. Their imams, often self-proclaimed, attract and mobilize followers, who are frequently people that used to support, but were disappointed by, the classical Islamist movements, Tabligh and the Muslim Brotherhood. Embracing Salafism involves countless nuances, as it is ultimately the expressions of a particular private experience. From a sociological perspective, however, the movement’s very focus on the individual believer as such makes Salafi Muslims join preferably small groups, often consisting of people who either are relatives or belong to the same social circles (friends or even band members) and who believe they belong to the ”saved sect” (firqa najiyya). This decision to break away from the social milieu of the ”non-believers” results in very little public involvement and visibility on the part of most European Salafites, in clear contrast with the integrationist policies of the Muslim Brotherhood. 1

http://islam-links.eu/ (accessed on 08.06.2009). INTERNATIONAL CRISIS GROUP, La France face à ses musulmans: émeutes, jihadisme et dépolitisation, Rapport Europe No.172, 9 mars 2006, p. 13, http://www.crisisgroup.org/home/index. cfm?id=4014&l=2 (accessed on 13.03.2009). 2



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This in also one of the reasons why it remains difficult to acquire adequate knowledge of the Salafite networks and of their members, intentions and actions1.

Jihadist Salafism The transition from pietistic to radical Salafism is often easy, given the fact that followers of both share the same Weltanschauung and only differ in their methods and the limits of their actions. Obviously, this shift towards a militant or even violent position is accompanied by a complex rationale of justification, which includes ideological and religious motivations, socio-economic and political causes and, no less importantly, the followers’ personal histories. In Europe, these people have various origins: first, they are the war veterans from Afghanistan who are members, more or less openly, of al-Qaida, GIA, Chechen networks, Islamic Jihad or Gama’al al-Islamiyya in Egypt, and who have taken refuge in Europe. Under their influence, and responding to their proselyte action, the Muslim immigration from various European countries has become radicalized, in particular the young Muslims born in the West who undergo crises of identity both in terms of religion and culture. There are certain favorite methods for their recruitment: in the large cities, the mosques that have fallen under Jihadi influence (Finsbury Park – Londra, al-Quds – Hamburg, Chatenay-Malabry – Paris, al-Tawfik – Bruxelles), but also the family connections or friends, and the Internet. Prisons, refugee centers and immigrant aid units are also places where Jihadi influence can be exerted and potential followers targeted. The Islamist conversion of some delinquents is one of the most widespread phenomena of recent years, mainly taking place in countries with a recent Muslim immigration such as Spain and Italy. These new immigrants, usually coming from Maghreb, face a much more difficult social integration than the older generations of immigrants, or those born in Europe to immigrant parents2. The underprivileged milieus on the outskirts of the large European cities represent important locations for disseminating the Salafi militantist ideology; however, not all the movement’s followers originate in here. Social and economic reasons do not provide an exclusive motivation for embracing Jihadism and violent action: a significant number of radical members and followers are recruited from the wealthy and well-educated Muslim population. In addition to those born or permanently settled in Europe, many of them come from the Golf states, and their adherence to militant Salafism is motivated by ideological commitment rather than psycho-social circumstances. Educated in Western universities and/or having lived in Europe for some time, familiar with the cultural codes of modernity, accomplished speakers of several international languages, these Islamists nevertheless utterly reject Western values and are most willing to apply their cosmopolitism to the advantage of trans-national networks, which preach a global Jihad3. For many of these people, national identity has lost any relevance and the only valid reference remains the sense of belonging to ’Umma, which transcends 1

Piotr SMOLAR, ”Mouvance éclatée, le salafisme s’est étendu aux villes moyennes”, Le Monde, 22 février 2005. 2 Farhad KHOSROKHAVAR, L’Islam dans les prisons, Balland, Paris, 2004. 3 IDEM, Les nouveaux martyrs d’Allah, Flammarion, Paris, 2003, pp. 271-301.


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such ”pagan” categories as state, borders, ethnicity. Aversion against the axiological system of the West, together with a belief in the spiritual, cultural and political superiority of Islam, does not invite a social ”retreat” (as Shaykhist Salafism claims) but, on the contrary, calls for confrontation, in keeping with the historical archetypes of the Prophet and the first caliphs. This sublimated imagery and vision of war, which belongs to the Islamic tradition, is expanded on a global scale. Therefore, the various fatwas, or religious decisions, issued by Jihadi leaders now offer religious legitimization to acts of aggression against Western countries, which are regarded as mere abstractions on the battlefield of an apocalyptic imaginary confrontation between Islam and the West. Unlike Islamist attackers motivated by nationalist causes, whose potential victims retain a precise identity that explains their very choice as targets (the Jews for Hamas or the Islamic Jihad, the Iraqi for Iranian suicide bombers, the Russians for Chechen terrorists), Jihadi Salafites regard their victims as only ”un signe dans une sémiologie abstraite, sans visage spécifique. Leur seul caractère identifiable, c’est d’être des ’Occidentaux’, pour la simple raison qu’ils vivent en Occident”1. The most compelling example of this prototype of the Jihadi militant is provided by the perpetrators of the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001 and London (2005), many of whom were people with a successful professional and social integration. The alleged leader of the USA attacks, Mohammed Atta, belonged to a fairly wealthy Egyptian family, and was himself an architecture graduate from the University of Cairo. His conversion to Jihadi Salafism only took place in Europe, after Atta arrived in Hamburg for post-graduate studies. During the 1990s he would attend religious services at the al-Quds mosque and fall under the influence of Mohamed Haydar Zammar. An Arab-Afghan war veteran and prominent member of al-Qaida in Europe, he was to introduce Atta to the movement’s leaders in Afghanistan, where the latter would enrol in several military training programmes before settling in the USA2. One more recent category of supporters of the radical Islamist ideology consists of the new converts, whose relatively low numbers are compensated for by their intense activism and by the public impact triggered by media coverage both in the Muslim countries and in the West. Many of those who embrace militant Islam belong to the well-educated middle-class and are motivated not so much by spiritual as by ideological reasons since they regard Islamist ideology as the new form of anti-establishment opposition, which has replaced the old-fashioned and outdated leftist ideologies. More often than not, conversion is prompted by the influence of charismatic figures or, as in the case of the young people living on the outskirts of European cities (especially in France, where the official secular education has resulted in the disappearance of Christian religious and cultural landmarks), by long proximity with the Muslim population. Social interaction sometimes leads to support for, and identification with, the Islamic system of values or with the political agenda of the Muslim world. Conversions are not always towards radicalism, when they are mediated by movements such as Tabligh or by various imams and preachers that recommend pietistic Salafism; however, just like the Muslims by birth, the new converts always have the option to move towards militant activism3. 1

Ibidem, p. 295. Peter FINN, ”Hamburg’s Cauldron of Terror”, Washington Post, September 11, 2002. 3 Juan José Escobar STEMMANN, ”Middle East Salafism’s Influence and Radicalization of Muslims Comunities in Europe”, Middle East Rewiew of International Affairs, vol. 10, no. 3, 2006, 2



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Some of them even take part in military training, and sometimes conflicts, in Afghanistan, Bosnia, Chechnya or, more recently, Iraq – the new jihadi El Dorado. Apart from the zeal that characterizes all the new followers of a religion, Islam converts bring the additional advantage that, due to their Western origin, they can be more easily used for actions taking place in Europe. Jihadi Salafism is mainly focused on three major geopolitical projects: (a) the fight against the Muslim ruling powers, regarded as illegitimate because they have failed to uphold Islamic aspirations (the Jihadi movements in Algeria, Egypt, Pakistan, Syria and more recently Saudi Arabia, Morocco, Iraq); (b) the fight to liberate former Muslim territories, now inhabited by non-believers or tolerating the presence of their military forces (Andalusia, the Balkans, the Caucasus, Kashmir, Saudi Arabia, Iraq, Palestine etc.); (c) the pursuit of a global jihad in view of a complete islamisation of all humankind. The ideological roots of Jihadism are mainly to be found in the works of Sayyid Qutb (1906-1966), a member of Muslim Brotherhood whom Nasser’s regime murdered in prison. He believed that almost the entire contemporary world, including the countries which called themselves Muslim, were illegitimate with regard to the demands of the true Islam. Qutb described this state as jāhiliyya (the age of ignorance and barbarism), employing the word that, in the Islamic tradition, was used to refer to the period before the coming of the Prophet. In contrast, hākimiyya, ”Allah’s exclusive political sovereignty”, was illustrated by the Islamic state that implemented and secured a strict observance of Shari’a1. Jāhiliyya described the condition of the modern world, including Muslim countries, in which laws and governments were no longer founded on the divine Law (Shari’a) and in which people had usurped the divine sovereignty. This had been replaced by a human secular sovereignty, by the arbitrariness of human laws and systems of government which had no grounding in the transcendent. Hākimiyya represented the return to humankind’s true condition, as illustrated in the society built by the Prophet and his first followers. At that time, governing was done in the name of God and according to his commandments by a truly Muslim emir and not, as Qutb thought it was the case in contemporary times, by a despot – the ”Pharaon” (an obvious reference to Nasser, but also to all the lawless Muslim rulers who had abandoned Tradition), ruling as he pleased2. The major consequence of Qutb’s dichotomy between hākimiyya and jāhiliyya was that it seemed to legitimize the Holy War – as a rebellion or a revolution – not only against non-Muslim powers (the classical understanding of Jihad) but also against the Muslim governments that were deemed illegitimate (kufr). These governments could fall under an anathema (takfir), the supreme accusation in Islam, which triggered the consequence that the accused was excluded from the community, from ’Umma3. In its juridical sense, takfir, the excommunication of a Muslim, meant that ”spilling his blood became lawful”, i.e. it was allowed to kill that person. Thus, Qutb suggested that he legitimized rebellion against tyrant Muslim rulers (tāghāt), the main target being, of course, Nasser. pp. 1-14, http://meria.idc.ac.il/journal/2006/issue3/Escobar.pdf (accessed on 20.02.2009). 1 William SHEPARD, ”Sayyid Qutb’s Doctrine of ’Jāhiliyya’”, International Journal of Middle East Studies, vol. 35, no. 4, 2003, pp. 521-545. 2 Gilles KEPEL, Le Prophète et le Pharaon. Aux sources des mouvements islamistes, Le Seuil, Paris, 1993. 3 Abderahim LAMCHICHI, Géopolitique de l’islamisme, L’Harmattan, Paris, 2001, p. 74.


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Qutb’s influence has been enormous in the whole Muslim world, especially after his works have been extensively published by his followers who took refuge in Saudi Arabia. Although not his entire thinking has been embraced by all contemporary Salafi movements, Qutb has provided the theoretical framework that justifies violence against the ruling powers, in obvious disagreement with the Sunni tradition which tends to legitimize any political authority on condition that it is not guilty of apostasy. Today Takfirism, which essentially originates in Qutb’s vision, represents one of the major lines of Salafite thinking and action. It is represented by groups and individuals who believe that paramount importance should be given to the battle against moderate Muslim leaders (who are accused of breaking Islamic laws or of cooperating with illegitimate powers) and even against any Muslim whose commitment to religious values does not seem strong enough. In the 1990s Takfirism is mainly illustrated by the Egyptian organizations Tanzim al-Jihad and Jama’at al-Islamiya (which become involved in violent actions against Egyptian leaders, in particular president Moubarak)1 and by the radical Algerian movements that emerge during the civil war and are generically known as Groupe Armé Islamique (GIA). However, at the beginning of the 1990s Takfiri principles are also embraced by Ben Laden and some radical Saudi ulemas opposed to the power in Riyadh, who later take refuge in London. Contemporary Takfirism, although displaying less organizational visibility, still remains present in many Muslim countries; it has been resurrected by al-Zarkawi, the herald of an Islamic society purified of illegitimate rulers and heretic doctrines. One of the best-known European supporters of Takfiri ideology has been Abu Qatada al-Filastini, a Palestinian ulema trained in al-Qaida camps in Pakistan, who sought refuge in London in 1993. He believes that Jihad should first be directed against the apostatical political regimes in the Muslim world, which are to be dethroned and replaced by Islamic states based on Shari’a; only later should the military zeal target the West2. Without joining any visible Islamist organization, Abu Qatada has been one of the most influential theorists of Jihadi Salafism, with a considerable authority over the radical Maghrebian movements, especially the international Salafi wing of GIA, which legitimizes its violence against civilians by invoking his fatwas published in the movement’s European bulletin, al-Ansar. After September 11, 2001, Abu Qatada has repeatedly been arrested by the British authorities and is now in detention. The most important event, which has influenced the whole development of the ideologies and actions of radical Islamic movements, has undoubtedly been the war in Afghanistan. Throughout the 1980s it has become the favorite ”cause” of the militant and combative aspirations of the whole Muslim world, replacing even the traditional Palestinian issue. More than 35 000 volunteers join the Afghan mujahedins between 1982 and 1992; they belong to 43 countries in the Middle East, North Africa, Central and South-Eastern Asia. These jihadi fighters, also known as ”Arab-Afghans”, have been exposed to Salafi ideological indoctrination and received military training either in the units of the Afghan Islamist parties or 1 David ZEIDAN, ”Radical Islam in Egypt: A Comparison of Two Groups”, Middle East Review of International Affairs, vol. 3, no. 3, 1999, pp. 1-10, http://meria.idc.ac.il/journal/1999/issue3/ zeidan.pdf (accessed on 12.02.2009). 2 Dominique THOMAS, Le Londonistan: Le djihad au coeur de l’Europe, Editions Michalon, Paris, 2005, p. 103.



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in the new centers opened at the Afghan-Pakistani border by the Islamic World League or other Saudi organizations, later to be brought together as the ”Afghan Bureau” (Makhtab al-Khīdmat) led by Abdullah Azzam. He is also one of the main ideologists of Jihadism, believing that the jihad initiated by Muslim fighters should not only aim at liberating Afghanistan but also at freeing all the Muslim territories inhabited by ”non-believers”. This ”global jihad” will later become the leitmotiv of a whole generation of Islamist militants originating in Afghanistan, who attempt to globalize the holy war by imposing a universal Muslim rule in the Muslim countries as well as the West, the latter becoming, after the USSR is defeated, the new enemy of the Muslim world1. The retreat of the Soviet army from Afghanistan, the suspension of financial and military aid from Saudi Arabia, the preference of Pakistani leaders for certain Afghan Islamist groups and the rivalry within mujahedin resistance itself are the reasons that have led to a re-thinking of the strategy of al-Qaida and of the Arab-Afghan fighters based in Afghanistan and Pakistan. Later on, the Golf war triggers a clear division within the Salafi movement: Ben Laden, as well as the Islamist leaders and organizations that support him, now completely disavow the Saudi monarchy because it has allowed foreign troops in the Arab Peninsula. Previous to this movement, Riyadh used to be at the forefront of the international actions of support for Sunni Islamist movements and the main financer of Afghan jihad. Ben Laden’s distancing himself from Saudi leaders clearly indicates the different paths that the two Salafi currents are to follow. Saudi Arabia continues to promote a pietistic Salafism (anti-political and anti-violent, focused on predication and control of behaviour) while protecting its relationship with the West. On the contrary, al-Qaida and the other radical Salafi movements uphold primarily military action as the best method to implement an Islamic order or, at least, to disrupt the current Western one. During this ideological and strategic shift, an important role has been played by the Egyptian members of al-Qaida, especially Ayman al-Zawahiri2. In the second half of the 1990s, after al-Qaida’s infrastructure is primarily located in Afghanistan, al-Zawahiri articulates the most important characteristics of the movement: (1) the development of the concepts of “near enemy” (local Muslim regimes) and “distant enemy” (first of all, Israel and the United States) and the necessity to replace Takfirism by active fighting against the non-Muslims (hence the support Ben Laden provides for GIA, which opposes the Takfiri movement); (2) the rejection of the traditional Islamic view that Jews and Christians are “people of the Book”, religious difference being now used for political and xenophobic purposes; (3) the idea of a ”global jihad” (violent actions are no longer restricted to specific geographic areas but expand globally to all places where Western interests can be harmed); (4) the shift from guerrilla fighting (as it was the case in Afghanistan, Bosnia, Chechnya, Somalia) to urban terrorism which targets symbolical objectives3. Ultimately, however, the terrorism embraced by the al-Qaida leaders seems a sign of their inability to act 1 Gilles KEPEL, ”Terrorisme islamiste: de l’anticommunisme au jihad anti-américain”, Ramses, 2003, pp. 43-58, http://www.ifri.org/files/RAMSES_2003/RAMSES_03_Kepel.pdf (accessed on 18.02.2009). 2 Jason BURKE, Al-Qaida. La véritable histoire de l’Islam radical, La Découverte, Paris, 2003. 3 Benjamin ORBACH, „Usama bin Laden and al-Qa’ida: Origins and Doctrines”, Middle East Rewiew of International Affairs, vol. 5, no. 4, 2001, pp. 54-68, http://meria.idc.ac.il/journal/2001/ issue4/jv5n4a3.htm (accessed on 18.02.2009).


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politically in order to achieve their goals, as they rather unrealistically envisage the political unity of the Muslim world under the leadership of a caliph and the removal of Western hegemony over the Muslim countries. Al-Qaida terrorism is yet another example of what Oliver Ray has labelled ”un fondamentalisme sunnite en panne de projet politique”1. In addition to its own network, consisting of former Arab-Afghan fighters as well as subsequently recruited followers, al-Qaida has often attempted to enrol under its flag various other Islamist movements. It has either secured their voluntary adherence to its successful brand name or infiltrated al-Qaida members among the supporters of other Islamist movements, thereby steering them towards positions more in keeping with its interests and principles. This is mostly a project of action and ideology which al-Qaida leaders deliver to their followers around the world by means of mass media, and especially the Internet2 (this project is adjusted to local specificities, like a franchise, by various groups or individuals who have been drawn to al-Qaida’s message). Contemporary Jihadism, in the West as well as the Muslim world, consists of a large variety of currents, groups and strategies, only some of which are directly linked to al-Qaida3. A decisive role has been played here by Arab-Afghan veterans, the first generation of the new Jihadi Salafi current, people whose evolution, inter-personal relationships, loyalties to al-Qaida leaders or at least to their ideology and strategies represent the main sources of the emergence of the new Jihadi movements around the world. Some of these veterans remain close to al-Qaida leaders, following them to Saudi Arabia, Sudan and then Afghanistan again, after 1996. Others become ”nomad” Jihadi fighters, making their presence felt in the new conflicts which take place on the fringes of the Muslim world and to which they attempt to lend a religious dimension: Chechnya, Bosnia, Somalia, Sudan, Tadjikistan, Kashmir and, more recently, Iraq. Yet others choose to return to their home countries where, haloed by the glory of having taken part in the anti-soviet jihad and immersed in Salafi ideology, will make a decisive contribution to a radicalization of local Islamism, as it has been the case in Algeria and Egypt. Here they attempt to initiate local jihads directed against the political elites (regarded as illegitimate) and possibly to start an insurgence that will bring to power Islamic regimes. The failure of this violent Islamist strategy, the authorities’ massive repression against Jihadi fighters as well as the difficulties encountered by most Arab-Afghan veterans in their efforts to integrate socially into their home countries will trigger a new hijra, a new ”emigration” (hence the name they call themselves – muhajiroun, emigrants). Some of these people emigrate to the West (Europe or the United States), which could offer them not only personal safety but also many more opportunities to communicate, to recruit followers from within the Muslim communities, and especially to establish financial networks that could support further violent action. 1

Olivier ROY, ”Un fondamentalisme sunnite en panne de projet politique”, Le Monde Diplomatique, octobre 1998, p. 9. 2 Hanna ROGAN, Jihadism Online – A Study of How al-Qaida and Radical Islamist Groups Use the Internet for Terrorist Purposes, FFI Rapport 2006/00915, http://rapporter.ffi.no/ rapporter/2006/00915.pdf (accessed on 11.02.2009). 3 Petter NESSER, Jihad in Europe. A Survey of the Motivations for Sunni Islamist Terrorism in Post-millennium Europe, FFI Rapport 2004/01146, http://rapporter.ffi.no/rapporter/2004/01146.pdf (accessed on 11.02.2009).



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The Jihadists Networks in Europe The emergence of radical Salafism in Europe in the 1990s has therefore been the result of two Islamist phenomena, which originated in the Muslim world but whose influence has reverberated in Europe as well. The first event is the exodus of a certain number of Afghan Jihadi fighters to Europe (either as refugees from their home countries or after they also spent some time involved in combat in Bosnia, Chechnya etc.)1. The second source of the expansion of Salafite networks in Europe is the Algerian civil war during the 1990s. Given the large Algerian diaspora in Western countries, particularly in France (more than three million), the political unrest, ideological currents and various changes that have affected Algeria along the decades have unavoidably impacted the Algerian population living abroad. As a result, the increase in the influence of Islamist movements during the 1980s (which culminates with the union of various groups and currents in Front Islamique du Salut (FIS)) is equally visible among the Algerian population settled in Europe. The annulment by the political and military leaders of the election results of January 1992, which proclaimed FIS the winner of the general elections, the outlawing of the Front and the arrest of its leaders have led to the radicalization of a part of the members and supporters of the Algerian Islamist movement. They give up any political strategy to win power (which has become an impossibility) and choose instead violent action directed, in principle, against the authorities but which has often resulted along the years in the massacre of civilian population2. Several radical movements emerged after 1992, which were led by various ”emirs” (with one national ”emir” recognized by all the regional ones) and which came to be known generically as Groupe Islamique Armé (GIA). They embraced Salafi principles, became involved in mutual contestation and bloody conflicts, and perpetrated paroxystic violence which, although given a religious justification by ulemas such as al-Qatada, was actually motivated rather by pathological aggressiveness. Engaged in an open conflict with the Algerian authorities, GIA (although often infiltrated among the members of the security services) ended up expanding its actions outside the country. Networks of financial support, arm traffic and propaganda were implemented within the Algerian communities in various European countries, especially in France3. However, after 1994 the French authorities pursued an efficient policy of eradicating GIA members and supporters, more so in the wake of the attacks on the Paris metro (1995). Without being openly claimed by GIA, these attacks were, however, the result of a decision taken by the new national ”emir”, Djamal Zitouni, to expand jihad on French territory in the hope that his action would persuade France to withdraw support for the Algerian state, thereby weakening it4. The prompt repressive reaction of the French officials, as well as the public disavowal of the attacks by most Islamic organizations in France led to the dissolution of the French GIA networks. These were mainly located in Paris, Lyon and 1 Evan F. KOHLMANN, ”The Afghan-Bosnian Mujahideen Network in Europe”, 2006, http://counterterrorismblog.org/2006/06/cats_paper_the_afghanbosnian_m.php (accessed on 08.03.2009). 2 Séverine LABAT, Les islamistes algériens. Entre les urnes et le maquis, Seuil, Paris, 1995. 3 CENTER FOR POLICING TERRORISM, Groupe Islamique Armé (GIA) Dossier, http://www. cpt-mi.org/pdf/GIADossierv4.pdf (accessed on 13.03.2009). 4 Hassane ZERROUKY, La nébuleuse islamiste en France et en Algérie, Edition 1, Paris, 2002.


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Lille and consisted of militants that had purposefully come from Algeria as well as young Muslims recruited from the underprivileged neighbourhoods on the outskirts of French cities. Some of the French members of GIA would be arrested while others would seek refuge in other European countries, Belgium, Italy, Denmark, Switzerland and especially Great Britain1. In Algeria, GIA was to lose more and more of its supporters and members, and towards the late 1990s completely disappeared. A significant part of the Algerian Islamist movement accepted the peace agreement offered by the authorities and gradually ceased violent action. However, some GIA members would integrate into a new Salafi structure, which emerged particularly as a result of the efforts made by Ben Laden and al-Qaida leaders to steer Algerian violence away from a radical Takfirism that targeted civilians towards a battle against the Algerian government and Western interests. The new organization, known as the Salafite Group for Preaching and Combat (SGPC), would be led by Hasan Hattab, a former leader of GIA networks in Europe. Now an al-Qaida supporter, Hattab would persuade his European followers (especially in France, Belgium and England) to serve the organization; thus an European strategy, in addition to the Algerian one, became a part of the new movement. During the anti-terrorist campaign initiated by the European countries after September 11, 2001, dozens of SGPC members would be arrested and their cells dissolved. They had intended several attacks on European and American targets, such as the cathedral in Strasbourg2. However, the disagreements between Hattab and al-Qaida leaders, and Hattab’s refusal entirely to submit SGPC to al-Qaida control and interests would result in his losing power at the hands of the Algerian militants who had returned from Afghanistan after the fall of the Taliban regime. Hattab would be replaced by Nabil Sahraou, who on September 11, 2003 would officially pledge obedience to al-Qaida. The strategy of the new ”emir”, Abdelmalek Droukdel, seemed to be focused especially on violent actions perpetrated in Europe, particularly in France3. SGPC paves the way for the emergence of a new generation of Salafite groups in Maghreb, consisting mainly of former al-Qaida members who take refuge from Afghanistan after the fall of the Taliban regime: the Islamic Moroccan Combat Group, the Tunisian Combat Group, the Libyan Islamic Fighting Group4. For all these organizations, national identity becomes almost non-existent, being replaced by a generic Islamic identity; they recruit their followers almost exclusively from underprivileged often delinquency-prone milieus, and direct potentially anti-social actions towards Islamist purposes. All these organizations receive military and financial support from al-Qaida, especially after its change of strategy in the wake of the September 11 USA attacks. Al-Qaida leaders now focus on an increased involvement in the local networks of Islamist movements, in particular those close to, or within, Europe, which are in return granted the privilege of being openly acknowledged as al-Qaida branches. The new strategy is known as the doctrine of a 1

Lia BRYNJAR, Åshild KJØK, Islamist Insurgencies, Diasporic Support Networks, and their Host States – the Case of the Algerian GIA in Europe 1993-2000, FFI Rapport 2001/03789, Forsvarets Forskningsinstitutt, http://rapporter.ffi.no/rapporter/2001/03789.pdf (accessed on 13.03.2009). 2 Jason BURKE, Al-Qaida...cit., p. 239. 3 François GÈZE, Salima MELLAH, ”Al-Qaida au Maghreb, ou la très étrange histoire du GSPC algérien”, Algeria-Watch, 22 septembre 2007, http://www.algeria-watch.org/pdf/pdf_fr/gspc_ etrange_histoire.pdf (accessed on 16.03.2009). 4 Mathieu GUIDÈRE, Al-Qaida à la conquête du Maghreb, Editions du Rocher, Paris, 2007.



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”decentralized Jihad”, ascribed to Abu Mus’ab al-Suri, the latest leading al-Qaida ideologist who has emerged from ”the third salafi-jihadist generation”1. All the new Maghrebian Salafi movements have important European cells, which are used as sanctuaries for their members (originating in Arab countries) who are threatened by state repression, as well as centers for promoting their ideology and actions across Europe2. The Moroccan Combat Group, which authored the suicidal attacks of May 16, 2003, in Casablanca, is suspected of also being behind the Madrid attacks of March 11, 20043. In fact, al-Qaida and these new movements are very successful in their recruitment efforts in Spain and Italy, countries with a large clandestine Maghrebian immigration. The new generations settled or born here do not feel any particular loyalty towards the cultural and socio-political European values, but rather find a solution to their frustrations and existential confusion in the transnational Salafite ideology4. France programmatically pursued a policy of restricting militant and radical activism for fear that it might involve the French Muslim population, in particular the youth in underprivileged neighbourhoods, in violent actions against the social order and public security. However, in other European states (such as Great Britain and the Scandinavian countries) Islamist members and organizations from the entire Muslim world would find, until the September 11 attacks, a great freedom of speech and action. Some of the radical Egyptian leaders fleeing the repression of Moubarak’s regime, as well as GIA members, would settle in Sweden and Denmark, countries with a long tradition of granting asylum to political refugees and to all those suffering discrimination. GIA members would publish here the movement’s bulletin, al-Ansar, mostly written by Islamist ideologists living in London5. In fact, throughout the 1990s the European center of Islamism would be the British capital – hence the name, already become a classic, of ”Londonistan”. Taking advantage of the unparalleled permissiveness of British legislation concerning the granting of the right of residence to political refugees, large numbers of leaders and members of the most diverse Islamist groups and currents would settle in Great Britain. More than 30 opposition movements originating in the Muslim world used London as a basis for communication and financial support. This was also due to the fact that, given its advantageous global financial position, London 1 Murad AL-SHISHANI, ”Abu Mus’ab al-Suri and the Third Generation of Salafi-Jihadists”, Terrorism Monitor, vol. 3, no. 16, 2005, pp. 1-4; Lia BRYNJAR, ”Al-Suri’s Doctrines for Decentralized Jihadi Training”, Terrorism Monitor, vol. 5, no. 1-2, 2007, pp. 1-4; Paul CRUICKSHANK, Mohannad HAGE ALI, ”Abu Musab Al Suri: Architect of the New Al Qaeda”, Studies in Conflict & Terrorism, vol. 30, no. 1, 2007, pp. 1-14. 2 Saïd HADDAD, ”Le jihadisme au Maghreb: vers la fin des exceptions algérienne et marocaine?”, in Jean-Luc MARRET (dir.), Les fabriques du Jihad, PUF, Paris, 2005, pp. 215-240. 3 Jean-Luc MARRET, Les réseaux jihadistes marocains: entre devenir politique du Maroc et Europe, Notes de la Fondation pour la Recherche Stratégique, Octobre 2005, http://www.frstrategie. org/barreCompetences/secuInterieureTerrorisme/reseaux_jihadistes_marocains.pdf (accessed on 20.03.2009). 4 Javier JORDAN, Nicola HORSBURGH, ”The Jihadist Subculture of Terrorism in Spain”, in Jonathon E. LYNCH, Gary WHEELER (eds.), Cultures of Violence, Inter-Disciplinary Press, Oxford, 2005, pp. 181-194, www.inter-disciplinary.net/ati/violence/v5/horsburgh%20paper.pdf (accessed on 20.03.2009). 5 Ǻke SANDER, ”Muslims in Sweden”, in Muhammad ANWAR, Jochen BLASCHKe, Ǻke SANDER, State Policies Towards Muslim Minorities: Sweden, Great Britain and Germany, Edition Parabolis, Berlin, 2004, pp. 218-223.


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was the place where many petrodollars from the Golf states were directed, and which attracted the great investors of the Arab world. The City of London hosted the European branches of Arab banks such as Dar al-Mali al-Islami and al-Baraka, as well as those of the Muslim World League and of many charities, all of which operated with enormous sums of money worldwide. Besides, London became the world capital of Arab press and publishing houses, surpassing even the traditional centers, Cairo and Beirut. Most of the Arab daily newspapers and periodicals that circulated internationally were published in the British capital; in addition to these, there were many other publications issued by various organizations and currents in the Muslim world, either legal or dissident. London’s cosmopolitan environment allowed the co-existence of nationalist Islamist leaders of the Egyptian radical movements, the various Iraq parties opposed to Saddam’s regime, FIS and GIA members expelled or taking refuge from France and the most important ideologists and activists of European Jihadism. A prominent representative of the last category was Abu Hamza al-Masri, former mujahedin in Afghanistan and Bosnia, who since 1996 has controlled the second largest mosque in London (Finsbury Park) and made a decisive contribution to the radicalization of some of its congregation1. Omar Bakri Mohammed was another high-profile Western Islamists, sometimes regarded as al-Qaida’s spokesman in Europe, who founded a transnational organization, Harakat al-Muhajiroun (the Emigrants’ Movement), with branches in Europe, the Middle East and North Africa2. While officially aiming at protecting the interests of British Muslims, the organization actually pursued the ideology and goals of the older Islamist party Hizb ut-Tahrir (the Islamic Party of Liberation), a transnational movement which emerged in the Middle East in the 1960s and argued for the formation of a large caliphate that was to unite the whole Muslim world and dissolve national states3. Bringing together Arab-Afghan veterans as well as other followers in the entire Arab-Muslim region, al-Muhajiroun added to the classical Hizb ideology an essential jihadist dimension, illustrated through various actions of support for the Muslim cause in conflict zones and through involvement in international terrorist networks. Apart from Abu Qatada al-Filistini (mentioned above), another important figure of Londonistan was Yasser al-Sirri. In 1996 he founded the Islamic Observatory Center, which functioned primarily as a public platform for giving voice to the various Islamist currents in the Muslim world, in particular those in Egypt. However, after September 11, 2001, the British policy towards Islamist leaders and movements in Great Britain has become much less accommodating. In fact, the new anti-terrorist strategy begins in May 2000 when the Terrorist Act 2000 is passed (later to be rectified, in March 2001), which bans verbal, financial and military support for terrorist organizations. As yet the law has its limitations, since it mostly targets the large radical nationalist Islamist movements and focuses less on restricting transnational Salafi networks. It is passed in response to the pressure 1 Yotam FELDNER, ”Profiles islamiques radicaux (1) – Londres – Abou Hamza Al-Masri”, Enquêtes et analyses – no. 72, Octobre 2001, http://www.memri.org/bin/french/articles.cgi?Page =archives&Area=ia&ID=IA7201 (accessed on 24.03.2009). 2 Maureen COFFLARD, L’Emir, Fayard, Paris, 2004. 3 Zeyno BARAN (ed.), The Challenge of Hizb ut-Tahrir: Deciphering and Combating Radical Islamist Ideology, Nixon Center, Washington, 2004, http://www.nixoncenter.org/Program%20Briefs/ PB%202004/confrephiztahrir.pdf (accessed on 24.03.2009).



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from countries directly affected by Islamist violence (the USA, Egypt, India, Israel). However, London continues to decline the expulsion of Islamist militants charged with terrorist acts, such as the Algerian Rashid Ramda, leader of the GIA networks from abroad, a suspect in the 1995 terrorist attacks in Paris. It is only after the September 11 attacks that the Anti-terrorism, Crime and Security Act 2001 is passed, which allows the arrest of any foreigner who is suspected of endangering national security1. This law has led to restricting the media, financial and militant activities of British Islamist movements, and some of their leaders have been arrested after 2002 (Abu Hamza, al-Qatada, Yasser al-Sirri, various Algerian Jihadists) or expelled (Omar Bakri Muhammad, 2005). However, the measures taken against the high-profile representatives of British Islamism have not brought to an end the influence of Jihadi ideology among the Muslim populations in Great Britain. Some members of the community have chosen secrecy and a social mimetism that could render them less conspicuous to the authorities; other have preferred relocating in the north of England, or even in Ireland, regions under less security surveillance than the large cities in the south2. The London underground attacks of July 7 and 21, 2005 were perpetrated by the new generation of Islamists, recruited from among those persuaded by the radical teachings of such well-known Londonistan ideologists as Abu Hamza. Some of the attackers had a successful social and professional integration, which did not prevent their adherence to the conceptual and existential ideology of Salafism. It is a characteristic of many Salafi Jihadists involved in attacks (suicidal or not) perpetrated in Europe that they display forms of behaviour which make them blend perfectly into the surrounding social environment (in clear contrast to the dress code and assertive behaviour of classical Salafi and Tabligh members, who thus conspicuously proclaim their identity). The discretion manifested by the members of radical Salafism in Europe is motivated by a Shi’a principle, that of takiyya, of concealment (when necessary, even concealment of one’s religious beliefs). It is difficult to anticipate the European destiny of all these ideological currents and movements of Islamism. The process of re-islamisation, which has been affecting many Muslim societies for decades, has constantly reverberated across the Western Islamic community as well, prompting its members to a much stronger mobilization based on their asserting their Muslim identity and values. The fundamental problem for European states (and, in fact, for any country with a polemic Islamic activism) was, and has remained, that of identifying the most appropriate cultural, social, economic and security measures which could diminish the radicalism of some of these movements.

1

Anti-terrorism, Crime and Security Act 2001, http://www.opsi.gov.uk/acts/acts2001/20010024. htm (accessed on 26.03.2009). 2 Pascal RADOV, ”Islamisme radical et jihadisme au Royaume-Uni et en Irlande”, in Jean-Luc MARRET (dir.), Les fabriques du Jihad, cit., pp. 41-60.


Does American Indian Law Reflect Indian Values? A Study on Native American Identity MONICA VLAD ”The right of aboriginal peoples like the Native Americans or the Maori in New Zealand eroded with time, not because the wrong done to them is wiped out (it may well grow greater, with increasingly deleterious effects on their communal life) but because the possibility no longer exists for the restoration of anything remotely resembling their former independence.“ Michael WALZER1

GENERAL CONSIDERATIONS ABOUT NATIVE AMERICAN IDENTITY. THE PROBLEM OF DEFINITION. Such subject – if an insight into its whole complexity is truly ever possible – involves a sense of perplexity about the human race itself. The use of philosophical terms would express the idea of Native American Identity more successfully, given the limits imposed on value judgements by the legal language. If one goes back to Michael Walzer’s statement, one might find that the comparison between indigenous peoples and endangered species is not that out of place. This approach of sacred respect for the (still unkown)2 researched aspects might bring us closer to an appropriate view about the first peoples’ lives, as the science of anthropology teaches us3. In describing and analyzing aspects of indigenous peoples’ identity, one has to cope with a constant difficulty. Many of them might escape from our capacity to rationalize, starting with their understanding about life itself. I feel myself far from understanding this fundamental fascination, living in a time in which ”traditional Indians have tended to prostitute their own knowledge by making it available to the wandering scholar, the excited groupie, and the curious filmmaker and writer”4. If one thinks over the sadness of this remark, one 1 ”The New Tribalism”, in O. DAHBOUR, M. ISHAV (eds.), The Nationalism Reader, Humanities Press, New Jersey, 1997, p. 326. 2 When writing this, I have at least two aspects in mind: one is the problem of access to this type of knowledge; the other derives from it and cannot be said clearer than in the words of Bobby Billie (Independent Traditional Seminole Nation): ”Other cultures can explain; but we have to keep everything for ourselves“. (See Bobby Billie’s talk at the Miami University Law School conference on ”Sacred Sites and Modern Lives”, February 2000). 3 An insight on this fascination can be found in the book of Julian BURGER, The Gaia Atlas of First Peoples, Anchor, London, 1990. 4 Vine DELORIA Jr., Clifford M. LYTLE, The Nations Within. The Past and Future of American Indian Sovereignty, University of Texas Press, Austin, 1998, p. 254.


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might conclude that the chance for American Indian cultural integrity today is highly at risk. ”Living culture” is so much part of a people that it is ”virtually incapable of recognition and formal academic transmission”1. Such statements are true especially for a civilization like the Indian one, probably apocryphal to our understanding even today. There is a deep truth in this statement, and further reflection might stop the initiative to explore this complexity. But one could choose to accept that essays like this one may, at least, illuminate further questions. It is due to the 1972 Indian Education Act and to its provisions for teaching Indian culture and history, but in particular to the access to this area of law (since it is taught at American University, Washington College of Law during the 1998-1999 academic year, for which I prepare this study) that I had the chance to come closer to this research topic. From this point of view, the goal of this paper is to (hopefully) escape from the risk of reducing tribal culture to a ”textbook phenomena”. This adds tremendous need for an interdisciplinary perspective on the issues described. Among these, the interference of law with other normative disciplines, but also with descriptive and explanatory ones (history, anthropology, political science) has to be considered in the first place. Such approach is necessary in order to gain a minimum of understanding of the many issues concerned, since ”no area of federal law is more complicated or requires more expertise than federal Indian law”2. This is true not only because of the hundreds of treaties, thousands of statutes, and hundreds of thousands of administrating rulings and actions that are involved in federal Indian law, nor only because of the over six hundred separate Indian communities that are dependent in some manner on the vagaries of interpretation of federal Indian law or the ”literally billions of dollars and the lives of over a million people” that are at stake in Indian cases3, but it is merely true because, every time when Indian issues are involved, one has to bear in mind that a different, still unknown civilization is involved, for which rights are tools of cultural survival. Such complexity makes us aware of the necessity to convert the language of our understanding in order to make it more receptive to the – for us – still undiscovered world of Indian civilization. If it is true that ”no nation has ever imposed the moral demands on itself that America has”, and if ”no country has so tormented itself over the gap between its moral values, which are by definition absolute, and the imperfection inherent in the concrete situations to which they must be applied”4, then America really has to see in the federal policy towards the Indians (and in the legal cases that accompanied this policy over time) the degree of tolerance the American legal system was/is capable of. Intolerance was defined by Hannah Arendt as the incapacity to accept the difference as such (and I can hardly think of a more complex definition). Within this framework, possible answers to the so different values that are involved while dealing with Indian issues can be found if one analyzes the evolution of the legal system with regard to the Indians, meanwhile commenting on their long-run implications. At least two aspects complicate such investigation: the values of 1

Ibidem, p. 250. Ibidem, p. 265. 3 Ibidem. 4 Henry KISSINGER, Diplomacy, Simon & Schuster, New York, 1994, p. 23. 2


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colonial and federalist America, as defined by herself, and the very little insight into the Indian’s civilization that accompanied this process1. The starting point of this analysis is inspired by Thomas Berger’s simple remark: ”Make no mistake”, he writes in his ”Epilogue” to ”A Long and Terrible Shadow. White Values, Native Rights in the Americas”, ”they (the American Indians) are people of our time”2. Nonetheless, judgments that have been made about certain Indian communities at a specific moment in time have often been extended or generalized for other periods of time and have been applied to different Indian communities, and today it is hard, if not impossible, to find an answer to the concern whether ”it could have been different, if…“. With this in mind, two questions arise: Yes, they are people of our time – but how can we deal with the obvious reality that, today, they are strangers in their own land? And, more fundamentally, how we can deal with the implications of an older dilemma: by what right does one race impose its laws and institutions upon another? A tentative answer first has to seek a distinction between this question as a trauma caused by the perpetual and general problem of domination in human history, and by its implications for a particular situation of indigenous peoples. As to the later, the initial question is doubled by an issue that comes closer to American Indian identity: How does one people, one race, justify the taking of the lands of another people, another race?3 Today, one is aware that the Indians’ rights have been eroded in time to such an extent, that ideas like ”restoration of tribal authority” (a concept that is unavoidably linked to the land) sound like an abstract speculation, rather than like a serious matter. But this is only one side of a complex problem. The approach towards difference has perhaps hardly changed today. One has to go no further than considering the ”disconcerting reaction the average American on vacation out west” has, while suddenly encountering a sign, that proclaims that the highway is entering ”an Indian nation”4. For the American (self-regarding) understanding, ”nations” are ”preferably an ocean away”, for all the hustle of modern and institutional life. The average American will most probably not be aware of how dramatically institutions shape human personality – here included the approach towards education and the access to knowledge generally. Moreover, the chance for a real understanding is diminished by the very fact that today American ethnic groups generally face a crisis of authenticity, in the sense that cultural patterns, once rooted in the exigencies of life, appear to be dysfunctional: ethnicity becomes symbolic, and thus culturally thin5. Unlike ”other American ethnic groups”6, Indians have 1 It has been argued – at least with regard to Indian law before discovery – that the mainly oral character of Indian customs made them difficult to know. Such perspective does not go beyond Euro-centric assumptions. 2 Thomas BERGER, A Long and Terrible Shadow. White Values, Native Rights in the Americas, University of Washington Press, Seattle, 1992, p. 160. 3 This is, unfortunately such a severe moral question, that it remains unanswered today. 4 Vine DELORIA Jr., Clifford M. LYTLE, The Nations Within...cit., p. 1. 5 In his writings, Charles Taylor has addressed the question of ”multiculturalism” in western societies in an exhaustive manner. I do believe that these types of societies do not know what they deal with while addressing the demands of ”multi-ethnicity”. Assimilation by the dominant knowledge system leads to the same sort of homogeneity as monoculturalization, but it does so in a different way. 6 Before further description, it is vital to underline here how important terminology is. There always is a conceptual meaning beyond semantics, and ”ethnic terminology” is especially a


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preserved the idea of nationhood throughout their period of contact with the non-Indian world but have had great difficulty communicating the essence of what they believe to the larger society. It has, therefore, been comfortable to consider the Indians’ perception about themselves as nations nothing more than ”some primitive delusion of grandeur that has certainly been erased by history”1. Perhaps no other political relationship in the world reveals the fact, that modern social reality and historical political reality are rarely consonant as much as the ”Indian tribes-federal government” relationship does. American Indians are unique in the world in that they ”represent the only aboriginal peoples still practicing a form of self-government in the midst of a wholly new and modern civilization that has been transported to their lands”2. But this very reality has forced the Indians to confront sacredness and utility3. With the little insight into the authentic Indian world that is possible today, non-Indians can hardly understand the Indian notion of ”sacredness”. As to their understanding about ”utility”, this has to be perceived within the paradoxical language of a tragedy: the trade with traditions and values, for the sake of survival, that goes back to the treaties between the federal government and the tribes. Since today there are many differences in the Indian world, there is a risk of overgeneralization that can hardly be avoided. There are landed and landless tribes, large and small tribes, eastern and western tribes, ”federally recognized” and ”non-federally recognized” and terminated tribes, reservation and urban Indians, ”traditional” and ”more modern” Indians. But the confrontation of these opposite concepts within the tribal psyche is characteristic for all, and it is perhaps eased only by the Indians’ perception about time: ”religious gifts of power seem not to be eternal but only used within this particular fragment of cosmic time”, and ”ancient teachings inform Indians that the true mark of a civilization is its ability to live in a location with a minimum disruption of its features”4. How dramatic ”complex and sensitive matter”. It has been argued that ”American Indian” is a European denomination and Indians on the reservations most often refer to Native people in general as ”Indians”. However, the terms ”Indian”, ”American Indian” and ”Native American” are all widely used by both Indian and non-Indian scholars, as are some less common terms, such as ”Amerindian”, ”aboriginal Americans” and ”Natives” (the latter being generally used to refer to indigenous Alaskan groups such as Inuits or Aleuts in both the United States and Canada). As Robert White wrote in 1990, it seems that the Native Americans ”perhaps feel that a misnomer applied to their ancestors more than five hundred years ago by an Italian adventurer is the least of their concerns”. Still, it is pertinent to quote here that ”the false terminology used against us (the American Indians) is so pervasive that any of its words call up the (false) idea of ’Indian-ness’. The word ’tribe’ comes from the three peoples who originally founded Rome (’Tribunal’, based on the number three, comes from the same root). It is not a descriptive word, nor a scientific one. Its use in anthropology has been completely discredited, and came from the European concept of human progress at the pinnacle of which were the capitals of Europe. ”Tribe”, ”chief”, and similar words do not describe a part of reality for any people. They are descriptive only within the discourse of enclosure and concealment, for purposes of fabricating impressions of relative primitiveness. See Jimmie DURHAM, ”Cowboys and … Notes on Art, Literature and American Indians in the Modern American Mind”, in M. Annette JAIMES (ed.), The State of Native America, Beacon Press, Boston, 1992, p. 433. 1 Ibidem, p. 1. 2 Vine DELORIA Jr., Clifford M. LYTLE, The Nations Within...cit., p. 2. 3 Such association must seem grotesque to the Native Americans, if not impossible. 4 Ibidem, p. 1.



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this confrontation was and still is for the Indian communities is revealed by the difference between Indian civilization, on one hand, and the European-American civilization that has imposed its values on the former. The irremediable effects of this process of imposition cannot be described, in any case not in a scientific paper1. Still, a scientific paper has to mention at least the most significant aspects of this ongoing phenomenon. This means to mention, in the first place, that for indigenous peoples knowing means valuing. On the other hand, the assumption, that knowledge is ”value free” makes the substance of the ”melting pot” concept (a notion which is, itself, a constitutive myth of the United States)2. But it is essential to note here that respect is a cognitive virtue, and that there can be no respect where there is no understanding3. Also, the instrumental reduction of what is intrinsically valuable lies at the heart of disrespect. This particularly applies here to the situation of indigenous peoples of the Western hemisphere4. If we can ignore that ”sacredness goes out of everything”, that one ”cannot take life without a reciprocal offering”, then the ”imperialist pretension to universality made on behalf of the Western knowledge system and the total inability of its adherents to regard competing systems with anything but contempt”5 invades in our lives. Moreover, a most wide-spread and current phenomenon can be best described in Renato Rosaldo’s words: ”The agents of colonialism yearn for what they themselves have altered or transformed. This ’nostalgia’ has a paradoxical element to it: someone deliberately alters a form of life, and then regrets that things have not remained as they were prior to the intervention. At one remove, people destroy their environment, and then they worship nature. In any of its versions, imperialist nostalgia uses a pose of ’innocent yearning’ both to capture people’s imagination and to conceal its complicity with often brutal domination”6 .

Meanwhile, within the ”Other’s” world, the purpose of the Indian way of knowing was to keep whole things whole, “because only when they are whole is the living presence, the soul or spirit, really there”7. Unavoidably, the analysis brings us back to the times of European discovery and conquest. Further considerations will describe the social and legal issues related to this aspect. 1

This would be similar to pretending that a tragedy could be understood if expressed in a manner different than an artist would choose. 2 See Siegfried WIESNER, ”!Esa India! Latcrit Theory and the Place of Indigenous Peoples within Latina/o Communities”, University of Miami Law Review, vol. 53, no. 4, July 1999, p. 836. 3 Laurie Anne WHITT, ”Indigenous Peoples and the Cultural Politics of Knowledge”, in Michael K. GREEN (ed.), Issues in Native American Cultural Identity, Peter Lang, New York, 1995, p. 241. 4 Although my article is limited to exploring the situation of Native Americans in the United States. 5 Laurie Anne WHITT, ”Indigenous Peoples...cit.”, p. 236. 6 See Renato ROSALDO, Culture and Truth: The Remaking of Social Analysis, Beacon Press, Boston, 1989, p. 70. 7 Ibidem, p. 249.


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ATTEMPT AT AN INSIGHT INTO INDIAN’S PERCEPTIONS ABOUT SOCIETY AND LAW ”There was never a draft in Indian society” Vine DELORIA

It is obvious that first contacts with Europeans shocked both the Indians and the explorers. If one considers the Indian nicknames for whites – ”people who take orders” or ”people who march in a straight line” – one might have an insight into the powerful difference between the two confronted worlds. To the Indians, it seemed that the ”whites” hat surrendered ”all morals substance in exchange for security in the anonymity of institutional life”1. One can perceive this fundamental difference by first looking at the idea about ”people” in Indian society. For the Indian communities, the ”people” is primarily a religious conception, and it begins somewhere in the primordial mists. Tribal names reflect the belief that these particular peoples have been chosen from among various peoples of the universe (including mammals, birds and reptiles) to hold ”a special relationship” with the higher powers. Thus most tribal names can be interpreted simply to mean ”the people”. Given the Indians’ perception about cosmic harmony, the tribes understood their place in the universe as one given specifically to them2. Therefore they had no need to evolve special political institutions to shape and order their society. All that was needed was a council at which everyone could speak, and at which people were reminded of their ”sacred duties to the cosmos and to themselves”. Difference is also obvious if one considers that the most important social/political positions of leadership in tribes depended upon the personal prestige and charisma of the individual. Qualifications were primarily those of personal integrity and honesty. Due to such perception, it is not surprising that ”most Indians had little respect for white military leaders who commanded their soldiers to go to war while remaining safely in the rear”3. In turn, it was the more difficult for whites to conclude that chiefs had some mystical but absolute power over the members of the tribe. This different approach on authority became transparent in exceptional moments, such as war: noting that the Indians would fight with great vigor until their leader was killed, and their spirit for the fight declined upon death of the war chief, the whites might have understood that this kind of influence went ”far beyond that of the hereditary European monarchs over their subjects”4. The extraordinary difficulty Indians and Europeans had in understanding each other’s values is particularly applicable to legal issues. The imposition of individual values on Indian tribes contributed greatly to the erosion of their identity. While Euro-American civilization created/creates a pedestal for the individual and for individualistic values, the tribal solidarity and the shared sense of existence that emerges from this is the very modus vivendi for Indians. An overview on 1

Vine DELORIA Jr., Clifford M. LYTLE, The Nations Within...cit., p. 8. From this perspective, one can have a better understanding about the trauma of dislocation caused by the removal policy. 3 Ibidem, p. 9. 4 Ibidem, p. 10. 2



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the evolution of the American legal doctrines that are applicable to Indians shows the multiple consequences this different perceptions have had over time, especially when it comes to the erosion of Indians’ rights. The most profound element that distinguishes Indian ways of governing from European/American forms is the fact that ”non-Indians have tended to write down and record all the principles and procedures that they believed essential to the formation and operation of a government”, while the Indians – benefiting from religious, cultural, social and economic homogeneity in their tribal societies – had no need to formalize their political institutions by describing them in a document1. Within tribal societies, authority did not depend on the written form of rules, nor on their compulsory enforcement. Another basic difference is that in Indian communities violation of the customs involved action by the community to enforce its rules. The tribe, meeting in council, “discussed the violation and called upon its knowledge of precedents in community history which were factually close to the incident under consideration”2. The legal decision was devised to reflect the best solution for the community at that time, and therefore not always dependent upon following the former resolution of the problem. Given this flexibility, there was n o need to formulate a rigid set of laws an even little inclination to make precedents absolute in the same way that the Anglo-Saxon tradition found necessary3. It is, therefore, totally inadequate to apply and/or extend Euro-American concepts of Public Law, including the very idea of the social contract theory of government itself, to the Indian communities or to tribal societies generally. Indian tribal societies had no concept of civil rights: there was no need for limitation of the arbitrary authority over individuals, since every member of the society was related, by blood or clan responsibilities, to every other member. There was no fear of government intrusion within the Indian communities, in the sense perceived by Euro-Americans, because there was no such concept as ”each citizen standing on an equal footing with every other citizen”. From this perspective, one might understand why – for instance – the passing of the Indian Civil Rights Act required tribal institutions to become a formal institution more completely resembling the federal structures than the ”tribal government itself resembled either the state or the federal governments”. The very essence of the destruction it brought to the Indian world can be summarized as follows: ”Traditional Indian society understood itself as a complex of responsibilities and duties. The Indian Civil Rights Act merely transformed this belief into a society based on rights against the government and eliminated any sense of responsibility that the people might have felt for one another”4.

As long as people did not have to confront each other before their community (which was essential for their sense of justice) but ”only to file suit in tribal court”, it is clear how far the effects of the Indian Civil Rights Act were from its purpose. What the Indians were and are seeking for is a policy (and a legal basis derived form that policy) that would confirm their long-cherished belief that they 1

Ibidem, pp. 17-18. Ibidem, p. 18. 3 Ibidem. 4 Ibidem, pp. 213-214. 2


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constituted nations as surely as France and England constituted nations. The heart of this issue leads to a general conclusion: the very perception that Indians are an ”ethnic minority” is fundamentally wrong in its early legal and political settings, as well as in its long-term consequences. From their perspective, the civil rights idea was only ”fit for speculation by liberals that who saw all minorities as constituting the same ’domestic’ problem”1. While Europeans and Americans had and have a hard time understanding Indian legal concepts and customs, the difficulty of communication is increased by the fact that religious beliefs and cultural patterns (in other words, crucial aspects of identity) have prevented Indians from organizing themselves socially or politically in a fashion familiar and acceptable to European minds. This might be the reason why, although traditional Indian norms and structures, as well as their modern counterparts in tribal constitutions and codes, are ”Indian laws”, but they are not the primary focus of federal Indian law. There is a ”long step” from a group of people living on an undisturbed an undiscovered continent to the immensely complicated ”network of reservations” that presently constitutes the homelands of the American Indians. The long history involved divergent paths of theory, still intersecting in completely unexpected ways. Today, Indians are still considered to be ”different”, even ”uniquely different” – and they are treated as such by the ”greatest of all egalitarian societies”. Legal issues are one part of this – once again – immensely complicated reality. But leaving aside the (undeniable) difficulties associated with law and time, an ”ancient feeling of sovereignty” and its reconstitution goes to the very heart of Indian identity. Concepts like sovereignty have to be considered in the first place if one tries to find the highest level of abstraction, that would still be applicable to all Indian communities. This is true because of the primacy of land in the Indian world. As land was alienated, all other forms of social cohesion also began to erode, land having been the context in which the other forms have been created2. Different legal doctrines have been created in order to justify – both legally and morally – this primordial alienation of Indian lands, that destroyed the very essence of their sovereignty. It has been argued that ”the balance of power reduces the opportunities for using force; a shared sense of justice reduces the desire to use force”3. The achievement of this balance of power is especially complicated with regard to Indian issues – and this is because of the difficulties in defining ”a shared sense of justice”. If one tries to explore the depth of destruction indigenous peoples’ world had to suffer, it is likely that this statement will loose any sense because of its very contradiction. And given the little insight one has into the world of authentic values in indigenous peoples’ way of life, it becomes even more difficult to define what ”to do them justice” means today. Nonetheless, it is today that such issues are analyzed by philosophers like Bruce Ackerman. It is a matter of fundamental reflection to quote them here, before going on into further considerations of sovereignty: 1

Ibidem, p. 206. The precedent considerations and quotations follow Erica Irene Daes, Special Rapporteur of the Sub-Commission on Prevention of Discrimination and Protection of Minorities, Chairperson of the Working Group on Indigenous Peoples, Protection of the Heritage of Indigenous Peoples, United Nations, New York and Geneva, 1997. 3 Henry KISSINGER, Diplomacy, cit., p. 79. 2



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”It is a tempting prospect which becomes more seductive as my effective power increases […] Power corrupts: the more power I have, the more I can lose by trying to answer the question of legitimacy; the more power I have, the greater the chance that my effort at suppression will succeed [...] Yet I hope to take the question of legitimacy seriously: What would our social world look like if no one ever suppressed another’s question of legitimacy, where every questioner met with a conscientious attempt at an answer [...]?”1.

THE DILEMMA OF SOVEREIGNTY While describing the idea of Indian nations’ sovereignty, one has again to be aware of the very different meanings the language we use implies. What is specifically meant here is that the same language invokes different, often incompatible values. Sovereignty has provoked tremendous philosophical and/or political writings and debates over time. It has very different understandings – and value – in different civilizations and it is, therefore, reflected differently in the world’s legal systems. And sovereignty obviously has more value for weak states than it has for stronger states and/or nations: this particular issue has to be considered with regard to the Indians. From all these writings, only two reflections on sovereignty will be considered here. We owe the first reflection to Jean Bodin, whose amazing statement on the sovereign’s responsibility might come close to the Indians world: ”The sovereign”, Bodin wrote in the sixteenth century, ”is bound to limit himself (only) towards God”2. This approach suggests that the ruler was submitted to the highest authority, but also suggests that the absolute meaning of sovereignty was achieved, if the sovereign’s authority was in harmony with the divine one. The second reflection belongs to Robert von Mohl, and his definition captures one for the Indian world amazingly appropriate aspect. ”The sovereign’s unique characteristic feature”, writes von Mohl, “is his incapacity to limit himself”3. This last definition includes the very sense of dignity and integrity Indian communities have had over time while dealing with the federal government in issues related to their understanding about sovereignty. The sovereign ”cannot limit himself”: in its ultimate, philosophical understanding, this statement implies the conclusion that there cannot be two sovereigns4. The tragedy of the red man originates here and so does the legal history that relates to his most precious values. 1 Bruce ACKERMAN, Social Justice in the Liberal State, Yale University Press, New Haven, 1980, p. 4. 2 ”Le Prince souverain n’est tenu rendre compte qu’ a Dieu” – See Jean BODIN, Les six livres de la Republique, ch. 8, at. 182 (Original publishing 1576, reprinted at Beck, München, 1986). 3 Robert von MOHL, Staatsrecht, Volksrecht und Politik. Monographien, vol. 2, Tübingen, 1862, p. 626. 4 I am aware that this is an absolutism; but I believe that it captures the native American understanding about what we call ”sovereignty”. The realities of federalism, which include values like ”cultivation of diversity”, are the (both constitutional and factual) constructions Native


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Legal history shows, that the doctrines created in order to justify the alienation of Indian lands were far away from Ackerman’s approach about legitimacy. Meanwhile federal policy on Indian issues has shifted abruptly over time; therefore, federal Indian law presents ”uniquely formidable” obstacles to the development of unitary doctrine. This is appropriate for the decisions in sovereignty-related issues as well1. Rules and principles on Indian sovereignty issues have origins that go back to ”pre contact times”, predating the United States Declaration of Independence. But although the Founders articulated the act of separation from Great Britain’s colonial empire in 1776, the European heritage is ”unmistakably” reflected in the legal system established in the ”New World”. This heritage includes the legal system governing the United States’ relations with Indian tribes. Legal ideas applied by Europeans to American Indians’ rights have medieval and Renaissance origins. The tribes’ right to own the land has been consequently questioned under all these doctrines. As such the crusading legal tradition appealed not only to legal, but also to religious values in order to justify the conquest of Indian lands. In this respect, it has been convenient for Europeans to invoke the holy figure of the Pope in Rome, ”to whom God has given charge of the whole human race”2. The Roman Pontiff’s universal power required obedience of the Catholic Church and the right to dispose on the Natives ”as their highness may command”. In the Requerimiento promulgated by the Spanish Crown’s lawyers in 1513, ”taking away your (the Indians’) goods and doing to you all harm and damage that we can, as to vassals who do not obey and refuse to receive their lord”3 was not at all questioned, nor was it, in any way, questionable, either from legal, nor from religious and/or moral point of view. It nonetheless captured the very essence of racism, since it not only stressed real or imaginary differences between the racist and his victim, but also assigned values to these differences, claiming that they are final and therefore justifying any possible aggression or privilege. One can see why the term ”Black Legend” has been used to describe Spain’s rapid colonization and destruction of the indigenous cultures and peoples in the New World4. Americans have to deal and accommodate with today. I believe that their original understanding on the ultimate decision-making power comes closer to the exclusive statement announced. The realities of today’s federalism are just another outcome of the assimilation process Indians face, and another stage of this process. This is shown by the legal language in several Indian cases, specifically references to the Indians’ ”abstract” understanding of sovereignty – a reality ”too mysterious to decipher”. 1 The confrontation is complicated because of the different times involved. But one cannot successfully argue that these are ”sophisms” of ”our time” and that therefore they can hardly be applied to vanished times. The debate over values and the Indian world has been going on since the time and the works of scholars like Franciscus de Vitoria and Bartolome de Las Casas. Along with Justice Marshall and other Supreme Court Justices, they are witnesses of those vanished times. 2 It took centuries before humanity would start looking critically at this main fiction. And we are still struggling today with the implications of this concept. 3 Reprinted in Charles GIBSON (ed.), The Spanish Tradition in America, University of Carolina Press, Columbia, 1968, pp. 58-60. 4 The last decades’ terror in Guatemala seems to acknowledge that its intention is ”to complete at least the destruction of Mayan identity begun by the conquistadores”. For an insight into the ”rebirth of the Black Legend” in Guatemala, see Thomas BERGER, A Long and Terrible Shadow...cit., 1991, pp. 111-125.



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In contrast to this theory the writings of Franciscus de Vitoria came to explore the humanist idea of a natural law connection among all nations. Concentrating on the universal values of mankind – as they were expressed before and during his own lifetime (he was quoting the Bible, but also the works of Thomas d’Aquino) – Franciscus argued that ”the Indians of the Americas”, also free according to natural law, were nonetheless subject to the binding norms of the Law of Nations1. But, as Foucault writes, ”power is war”, and power was ”war continued by other means” for the Natives. The English North American colonial era would influence the United States federal Indian law and policy to the same destructive extent as the Spanish legal tradition did. This time, although the writings of jurists such as Gentili and Coke denied in theory the rights of ”savage” Indian tribes to the territories they occupied, in practice the colonies often obtained the consent of the tribes through treaties and purchases in order to settle Indian-claimed lands2. This moment in history opens the era of treaty-making. The tribes were numerous and powerful at that time, and signing a treaty might have been regarded as the most successful ways towards white settlement. There were instances where consent to voluntary purchases could not be freely obtained from the Indians and colonial officials reverted to fraud or outright confiscation in acquiring lands they desired, but it stays clear that this new reality involved the following assumptions: that both parties were “sovereign powers”, that Indian tribes had ”some” form of transferable title to the land and that the acquisition of Indian lands was a governmental matter, not to be left to individual colonists. Regardless to these considerations of a Public International Law nature, the treaties were existentially vital to Indians, who viewed them as ”solemn guarantees”. Given the fact that the oral tradition was almost an exclusive possession of the “traditional” people, they knew considerably more about the treaties than did other Indians. It is touching to read that these people “remembered the slightest nuance of meaning in every treaty promise”, and they refer to it ”as if the treaty was signed yesterday”3. For them, treaties were so sacred that they required ”no more” than the integrity of each party for enforcement. It is also evident that there is little mention of the complex of ideas that constitutes nationhood in the treaty negotiations, although an important status was being changed by the agreement that people were making. And the Indians’ comprehension of the full significance of the treaties is doubtful4. This contradiction continued and aggravated after the United States successfully claimed to inherit Great Britain’s right to buy the lands of the Indians. The 1 As later explained by Felix Cohen, the greatest federal Indian law scholar, Franciscus de Vitoria has provided a ”humane and rational basis for an American Law of Indian affairs”. See Felix COHEN, The Spanish Origin of Indian Rights in the Law of the United States, Washington, D.C., 1942. He nonetheless wrote about ”legitimate European power“ over the Indians as a result of conquest in a ”just” war or as a result of voluntary cession and agreement by the Indians. In this respect, see Franciscus de VITORIA, De Indis et de Iure Belli Reflectiones, E. Nys ed., J. Bate trans., Carnegie Institute, Washington, D.C., 1917. 2 Also see Chester E. EISINGER, The Puritan’s Justification for Taking the Land, Essex Institute Historical Collections, vol. 84, 1948, pp. 135-143/p. 131. 3 Vine DELORIA Jr., Clifford M. LYTLE, The Nations Within...cit., p. 234. 4 In Worcester v. Georgia, Justice Marshall admits that ”when, in fact, they (the Indians) were ceding lands to the United states […] it may very well be supposed that they might not have understood the term employed, as indicating that, instead of granting, they were receiving lands”.


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Discovery doctrine, ”modified to fit the internal, domestic law of the United States, has been the primarily conceptual focus for all subsequent federal Indian law”1. Sovereignty issues are directly or indirectly considered in almost all of the American Indian Cases. Extensive consideration in this section will be given only to the ”Marshal Trilogy”, for these early cases articulate fundamental legal principles, that have been developed later by the American jurisprudence with regard to ”the Indians” and ”the Indian tribes”2. In the textbooks dealing with the roots of federal Indian law, the “Marshall Trilogy” is found under the heading ”The Response of American Law to Cultural Contact with the American Indian”. This is really the case, since the rules created in these cases became crucial for the “Indian-non-Indian” interaction in the broadest sense. In the first case, in which the ”opinion of the court” was ”delivered by Chief Justice Marshall”, ”Johnson v. McIntosh” – decided in 1823 – legal justification was given to the doctrine of discovery. Phrased in ”majestic language” which concentrates important information, a fundamental principle emerges from this case. Marshall validates over fifty years of ”pre-independence” behavior, specifically related to transactions over Indian lands, by declaring that ”the superior genius of Europe might claim an ascendancy”, that ”discovery gave title to the government by whose subjects, or by whose authority it was made, against all other European governments […] and right of acquiring the soil from the natives, and establishing settlements upon it”3. Marshall’s view on the absolute sense of sovereignty is consistent with von Mohl’s philosophical approach, when he further writes that ”the existence of this power (the federal government) must negative the existence of any right which may conflict with and control it”. In other words, there cannot be two sovereigns, and, therefore, although the Indians were ”admitted to be the rightful occupants of the soil, with a legal as well as just claim to retain possession of it, and to use it according to their own discretion”, their rights to ”complete sovereignty, as independent nations, were necessarily diminished, and their power to dispose of the soil […] was denied by the original fundamental principle, that discovery gave exclusive title to those who made it”4. Marshal’s crucial role in creating the law was probably an aspect he was not aware of himself at the time this opinion was written. He nonetheless wrote about the necessity ”to establish a principle” that would avoid “conflicting settlements”. ”Compensation” was given to Indians in terms of ”civilization and Christianity”, a view which, once more, favored the ”exclusive right to extinguish the Indian title of occupancy” as a consequence of the discovery doctrine. Marshall’s creative role leads to the articulation of the ”political question doctrine” with regard to Indian issues: ”It is not for the courts of this country”, he writes, ”to question the validity of this title, or to sustain one which is incompatible with it”5. This case changed the Indians’status from independent nations to dependent ones. The fact that they were ”different” was described by Marshall as the very 1

Vine DELORIA Jr., Clifford M. LYTLE, The Nations Within...cit., p. 2. Answers to ”who is an Indian” and ”what is an Indian tribe” are of crucial importance for Indian identity. They will be considered later in this study. 3 R. CLINTON, N. NEWTON, M. PRICE, American Indian Law, Charlottesville, Virginia, 1975, p. 3. 4 Ibidem, p. 3. 5 Ibidem, p. 4. 2



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reason why they were ”ungovernable”. The Indians were ”fierce savages, whose occupation was war, and whose subsistence was drawn chiefly from the forest”. The language in this case is not at all far from the one used in articulating the origins of totalitarian ideologies. Absolute concepts, such as ”savagery” and ”civilization” (considered as the antithesis of savagery, nota bene) were useful, even necessary in order to pretend that different human beings were ”incapable of civilization” and, therefore, of ”full humanity”. Mythical phrases explaining that the Europeans had found ”magnificent opportunity to pioneer in a savage wilderness and to bring civilization to it ”are the rationalization for the invasion and conquest of unoffending peoples” and they function today ”to smother retroactive moral scruples that have been dismissed as irrelevant to objective history”1. The settlement of North America is an immense task. But the fact that the Europeans’ intentions were to exploit rather than to settle or to ”civilize” can not be disputed. One does not have to go into further detail; it is enough to mention here the hazards of vast wilderness, the logistical problems of supplying colonists from faraway Europe and/or the strangeness of the flora and fauna, and the hostility of the natives. All these elements were more than enough to give Marshall a view about the tremendous importance of his ”original principle”. It is obvious, in this case, that the law is the expression of a relation to power. But not only that: law has been important ”both as a factor in the genocidal extermination and as a weapon in the contemporary struggle for survival”. For most of the 19th century, it constituted ”both a formal and informal agent of genocide”2. If one touches the issue of legitimacy as the highest moral understanding about law and justice, the cruel irony is that American law witnesses an unconceivable complicity between law and genocide in the creation of its very first legal concepts that apply to Indians. As de Tocqueville expressed it, it would be ”impossible to destroy men with more respect for the law”3. The two cases that follow are no exception to this trend. On the contrary: they regularize the process of Euro-American appropriation and genocide4. In Cherokee Nation vs. Georgia, Justice Marshall had to argue the idea of federal sovereignty over the Cherokee Indians and to oppose it to the claims for sovereignty made by the state of Georgia over the same Indians. Being a federalist and having to deal with the supremacy of policy over the legal issues, Marshall describes in the same majestic language how the Cherokees were ”gradually sinking beneath our (’the whites’) superior policy”. The rival concepts on sovereignty he had to deal with lead him to analyze the complicated relationship between the federal government and the Indian tribes in more detail. He mentions the ’numerous treaties” made with the Cherokees, the fact that they were ”recognized as a people capable of maintaining the relations of peace and war, of being responsible in their political character for any violation of their engagements [...] The acts of our governments plainly recognize the Cherokee nation as a state, and the courts are 1

Francis JENNINGS, The Invasion of America: Indians, Colonialism and the Cant of Conquest, University of North Carolina Press, Chapel Hill, 1975, pp. 15-16. 2 Dennis STRICKLAND, ”Genocide-at-Law: A Historical and Contemporary View of the Native Experience”, University of Kansas Law Review, no. 34, 1986, p. 713. 3 Quoted in ibidem. 4 Obviously, there are many different ways of committing ”a crime”. Cultural destruction is definitely one of these ways, and it involves questions of moral responsibility that are strongly related to collective memory, but also to the perception about ”the other”.


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bound by those acts”1. But although Marshall was ready to admit all these facts, he nonetheless stated that ”a question of much more difficulty remains”, and that was whether the Cherokees constitute a foreign state in the sense of the Constitution. And he concludes that ”these tribes which reside within the acknowledged boundaries of the United States” can hardly be called ”foreign nations” with strict accuracy. Fundamental concepts are found here: Marshall calls the Indians (thereby extending the situation of the Cherokees to all Indian tribes) domestic dependent nations, who are in a state of pupilage. While referring to the constitutional clause which regulates ”commerce with foreign nations, and among the several states and with the Indian tribes”, Marshall’s argument is that the legal language ”contra-distinguishes the Indians from foreign nations”. From the Indians’ point of view – who have always regarded themselves as foreign nations, invested with inherent sovereignty – this must have been unacceptable. But there is little feed-back on that in this case, as in many others. However, one should add that, from the Indians’ point of view, Marshall’s assertion on the distinctiveness of the Indians (”they are designated by a distinct appellation; and this appellation can be applied to neither of the others, neither can the application distinguishing either of the others be, in fair construction, applied to them”) does not fulfill its promise2. The famous words of the Chief Justice (”their relation to the United States resembles that of a ward to his guardian”) are also found in this case. Although his opinion never uses the term ”federal trusteeship over Indian affairs”, it constitutes the origin, in the Supreme Court, of this ”important and controversial” notion in federal law. Whether Marshall contemplated, in his own lifetime, that the federal trusteeship over Indian affairs would constitute an independent source of federal authority over Indian affairs (as later invoked in cases like United States v. Kagama and Lone Wolf v Hitchcock) is a complex question. Whether the here implied trusteeship created enforceable legal relationships, as further developed by the American jurisprudence, is equally unclear: the multiplicity of Marshall’s language gives rise to different and even controversial interpretations. A brief insight into the historical background in this case can clarify some of the issues involved. The Cherokees are described as ”one of the Five Civilized Tribes”. Their institutions must have been more comprehensible to Euro-Americans than the ones other tribes had. As early as 1802, when President Jefferson urged the Cherokee to adopt ”a republican form of government” their ”receptiveness to Euro-American society, including intermarriage with Scottish traders” allowed them to appear as ”the most successful product” of Jefferson’s ”civilizing” policy3. In 1827, the Cherokee Nation created a written tribal Constitution, patterned after the United States Constitution. Georgia’s land policies came into conflict with Cherokee national political development and ”produced the first great constitutional conflict in United States history over Indian policy”. Since the political and economic development of the Cherokee Nation was ”too much for Georgia”, state legislation in 1828 annexed the lands of the Cherokee Nation to Georgia counties. This provision made Cherokees ”outlaws in their own lands”, and the oppressive measures against them were defined by the state of Georgia as ”exercises of sovereignty”. It 1

R. CLINTON, N. NEWTON, M. PRICE, American Indian Law, cit., p. 8. In spite of its masterful multiplicity, in both language and conception. 3 Ibidem, p. 12, n. 58. 2



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seems that it was incomprehensible both for the state of Georgia and for the federal government why the Cherokees, in spite of their ”civilization” still wanted to be regarded as different and why it was impossible to assimilate them into the ”larger society”. Perhaps for the reasons exposed so far, they are often described as being ”the most controversial tribe”. Further concepts with tremendous impact on the later practice of the American courts, but also on the federal policy regulating ”Indian affairs” are found in Worcester v. Georgia. This time, Marshall’s language is different. He writes that ”history furnishes no example, from the first settlement of our country, of any attempt on the part of the Crown, to interfere with the internal affairs of the Indians, further than to keep out the agents of foreign powers, who […] might seduce them into foreign alliances”. Invoking the Treaty of Hopewell, signed between the federal government and the Cherokee Nations in 1783, he concludes that the Cherokees ”are under the protection of the United States of America and of no other power”. The idea here is that the federal government and federal law protects tribal sovereignty and that the treaties with the British Crown did not imply ”a right to take the Indian lands” either. Marshall states that federal protection over the Indians could not include the ”management of all their affairs”, since this would be ”a perversion of the necessary meaning” of this expression. But, in this case, Marshall’s intention to speak in favor of Indian sovereignty is limited to a specific framework. While he admits that words like ”treaty” and ”nation” are ”words of our (the whites’) own language, selected in our diplomatic and legislative proceedings, having a definite and well understood meaning and being applied to all nations on earth in the same sense”, and that ”the Indian nations have always been considered as distinct, independent communities […] from time immemorial”, he nonetheless mentions ”the single exception imposed by irresistible power”1. And this exception is the reason why, according to Marshall, the Cherokees (and the Indians generally) were necessarily dependent on some foreign potentate for the supply of their essentials wants. Although the consequences of this exception implied that ”this relation was that of a nation claiming and receiving the protection of one more powerful, not that of individuals abandoning their national character”, the annihilation of the Cherokee nation in its political existence is obvious and unavoidable. Even if the Cherokee nation occupies its own territory, with boundaries accurately described, in which “the state of Georgia can have no force”, their sovereignty is ”measured” against Georgia’s claim and not against the federal government’s sovereignty. The Cherokees are no longer equal, in the sense of International Law, as sovereign, foreign nations – they are ”domestic” and ”dependent”. The crucial issue in this case is that the laws of Georgia were rendered invalid and unconstitutional not because of the ”continued existence” of Cherokee tribal sovereignty, but due to the federal law and policy protecting (or claiming to protect) tribal sovereignty. Although it deals with issues of the ”highest importance”, this case cannot illuminate a severe moral question and that is: From whom did the Indians need protection? Was the state jurisdiction the only menace to their identity, or did the ”exception of irresistible power“ include the claims to federal power (and later, the claims to federal plenary power) over Indian issues…? And what could have been their choice, to their own good, in this context anyway…?2 1

Ibidem, pp. 24-25. The severity of this (equally moral and legal) issue is revealed if one considers that cases like ”Worcester” and ”The Cherokee Nation” won only the legal doctrine battle, but they ultimately 2


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Nonetheless, proposals for the formation of an Indian state frequently appeared in the treaties signed with the federal government. While ”never fulfilled, this idea is as old as the nation”1. Possible feed-back from the ”Indians’ world” is vital in order to understand more about the implications of the Marshall Trilogy concepts. There can hardly be a more complex insight into such considerations than Cohen’s comments on the meaning of ”wardship”. First, the Federal Indian Law scholar specifies that terms such as ”guardianship” and ”trusteeship”2 have to be understood in relation with Congress’ intent to ”determine when and in what manner” this special relationship should apply and when it should cease. He also makes it clear that ”this relationship does not exist between the United States and the Indians, although there are important similarities and suggestive parallels between the two relationships”. However, the ”ward-guardian” relationship needs to be considered under ”more precise topical headings”, as Cohen is, in fact, doing in his treatise on federal Indian law3. One has to be aware that the term ”ward” has been applied to the Indians in ”many different senses”, and that ”the failure to distinguish among these different senses in some instances may create confusion”. Cohen also emphasized that ”in fairness to the great Chief Justice, it must be said that hen used the term with more respect for its accepted legal significance than some of his successors have shown”. The term was applied to Indian tribes, and not to individual Indians; moreover, what Marshall said was only that the relation to the United States of the Indian tribes within its territorial limits resembles that of a ward to his guardian4. But in spite of Cohen’s brilliant distinctions in the field of legal abstraction (see his nuance on ”wards as domestic dependent nations”, ”wards as individuals subject to Congressional power”, ”wards as beneficiaries of a trust” or ”wards as lost the war of federal policy ”in the halls of Congress and in the White House”. Marshall’s rhetoric about the ”legally protected separate sovereign status of the Cherokees could not prevent the removal of the Cherokee Nation, nor the Trail of Tears”. 1 See Article VI of the Treaty with the Delawares (1778) and Article 7 of the Treaty of New Echota. The idea that the Indian country ”to the westward” should constitute a Territory ”for the red man only” was clearly defined, but never became reality. Natural law was certainly interesting for Marshall (as it must have been for some of the early colonists and European lawyers), but he nonetheless preferred to rely on positive law in the decision making process. Whether a separate Indian state would have been ”compatible with” nineteenth-century American constitutional concepts of federalism or with twentieth-century concepts of federalism (as some authors suggest as a topic for further study) is certainly a research subject related to the realistic implementation of the basic value of federalism: to cultivate diversity. From constitutional point of view, it also implies a clear understanding on political harmony between the different states (political entities) constituting the federation, for the states’ will to join the federation is essential. 2 The trustee relationship has been developed tremendously by the American jurisprudence. Cases like United States v. Mitchell, decided in 1983 explain the meaning of the federal government’s fiduciary responsibility for the management of allotted lands. The responsibility for mismanagement is also considered here. However, to which extent the idea of ”compensation” can replace a value that is no longer there remains very questionable, for it is clear that money compensation could never replace the crucial importance of the land in Indian culture. The trust relationship has always been the source of two opposite views: one emphasizing federal power, the other emphasizing federal responsibility. A ”degrading ethnocentrism” supports this theory in both its views. 3 For further insight, see Felix COHEN, Federal Indian Law, United States Government Printing Office, 1958, pp. 558-566. 4 Felix COHEN, Federal Indian Law, cit., p. 559.



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non-citizens”)1 these for the Indians crucial distinctions have not been analyzed as such in the courts’ practice of in Congressional policy over time. So far it is clear that even a concept like sovereignty, which in its final philosophical beauty is absolute and which is perceived as such in the Indian civilization – given their sacred respect for the cosmic order and for the established order of human existence – could not be considered outside the temporal framework. The historical and political contexts have limited the Indian notion of sacred, inherited sovereignty. Therefore, a historical perspective over federal Indian policy and law is necessary.

DISTINCT PERIODS IN FEDERAL INDIAN POLICY AND THEIR LEGAL IMPLICATIONS ”Quite easily done – a paradigm of American policy. Aboriginal title, solemn treaties, and the goodwill of presidents were never enough to protect the Indians.” Thomas BERGER

The drama of ”separate cultures and uniform law” in the specific case of Native American identity requires deeper inquiry. The sub sequent legal analysis is there circumscribed into this essential framework. Federal Indian law is ”a subject that cannot be understood if the historical dimension of existing law is ignored”2. The insight into federal Indian law necessarily has to avoid the lawyers’ ”general view on existing law”, since, should that be the case, ”the body of laws thus viewed is a mystifying collection of inconsistencies and anachronisms”. The most enlightening synthesis on this aspect is found in Attorney General Legare’s description: ”There is nothing in the whole compass of our laws so anomalous”, he wrote in 1842, ”so hard to bring within any precise definition, or any logical and scientific arrangement of principles, as the relation in which Indians stand towards this government and those of the states”3. Therefore, such complex diversity can be simplified only ”at the risk of ignoring facts and violating rights”4, especially if considering that the legal cases involving Indians have been nothing more than an attempt to clarify the federal government-Indian tribes relationship. No one could master the literature covering five hundred years of White-Native relationships in two continents in a lifetime. If the expertise is limited to the American Indians in North America, the history of federal Indian policy can be divided into the following distinct periods: the colonial period (1492-1776), the confederation period (1776-1798), the Trade and Intercourse Act era (1789-1835), the removal period (1835-1861), the reservation policy (1861-1887), the Allotment period and forced assimilation (1871-1934), the Indian Reorganization Act period 1

Ibidem. See Nathan MARGOLD’s introduction to Cohen’s Handbook of Federal Indian Law, U.S. Department of the Interior, Office of the Solicitor,Washington, D.C., 1942. 3 As quoted by Felix COHEN’s Handbook of Federal Indian Law, 1958, p. 515. 4 Ibidem. 2


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(1934-1940), the termination era (1940-1962), and the self-determination era (1962-present). Due to the changing federal policy toward the Indians, however, these periods are of a rather conventional nature, if one examines the often controversial legal decisions passed during all this time and their long-term consequences.

The Colonial Period ”The state called ’America’ is connected only to an independent settler colony. It has no place of its own, nor did it ever.” Jimmie DURHAM

The extent of power is always settled within ”geographic and subject matter boundary lines”1. Expansion of a frontier always means expansion of a certain ideology and of a specific perception about human knowledge. In the case of the Native Americans and their civilization, the expansion of the Euro-American frontier (as described by the early settlements doctrines and by the later ”manifest destiny” ideology) remains the main cause of identity destruction. The colonial period was characterized by wars of conquest and by Indian resistance, but also by diplomatic dealings2.

The Confederation Period The main objective of United States’ Indian policy during the Revolution was to preserve the neutrality of the Indian tribes. The first treaties between the United States and the Indians are an outcome of this policy. There, they treat the Indian nations as sovereign entities. Significantly, the Treaty with the Delaware Nation contemplated the possibility that the United States “might invite the Delaware Nation to form a state and join the Confederation with other tribes allied to the national government”. The same treaty regulates an important jurisdictional issue: ”The punishment of crimes by citizens of either party to the prejudice of the other would be by judges or juries of both parties, as near as can be to the laws, customs and usages of the contracting parties and natural justice”3. Respect for Indian sovereignty is also found in the language of the Treaty of Hopewell, signed in 1785. The ”Commissioners’ Plenipotentiary of the United 1

R. CLINTON, N. NEWTON, M. PRICE, American Indian Law, cit., p. 36. See the treaties between New York and the Five Nations Iroquois Confederation, Georgia’s treaties with the Creeks and the Carolinas or the proposed Union of colonies under Benjamin Franklin and the ”Proclamation of 1763: Colonial Prelude to two Centuries of Federal-State Conflict over the Management of Indian Affairs”, Boston U.L. Review, vol. 69, 1989, p. 329. For a historical perspective on the Iroquois Confederacy, see Thomas BERGER, A Long and Terrible Shadow…cit., the chapter on ”Indians as Allies: The Iroquois”, pp. 55-65. The same study mentions that the Iroquois were aware of their ”remarkable past”, including the fact that their Confederacy inspired the framers of American Constitution. 3 See Article IV of the Treaty with the Delawares. 2



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States, in Congress assembled”; says the Treaty’s preamble, ”give peace to all Cherokees”, and Article III acknowledges ”all the Cherokees to be under the protection of the United States of America, and of no other sovereign power whosoever”1. In the logic of Article XI we find the meaning of this protection, as it was understood by the Cherokee Indians: ”That the Indians may have full confidence in the justice of the United States, respecting their interests, they shall have the right to send a deputy of their choice, whenever they think fit, to Congress”. The same treaty regulates the Cherokees’ exclusive criminal jurisdiction: ”If any citizen of the United States, or any other person not being an Indian, shall attempt to settle on any of the lands westward or southward of the said boundary which are hereby allotted to the Indians for their hunting grounds [...] such person shall forfeit the protection of the United States, and the Indians may punish him or not as they please”.

In a similar manner, Article XI sates that ”the United States in Congress assembled shall have the sole and exclusive right of regulating the trade with the Indians, and managing their affairs in such manner as they think proper”2. The values involved here, like ”peace”, ”justice”, ”confidence” are supposed to be protected in good faith by the parties. It is obvious that the Cherokee Indians did not understand the protection of the United States to intrude into their sovereignty. The mention of ”trade with the Indians” in Article XI is not a relinquishment of Indian sovereignty, but a regulation that concerns free trade between two nations.

The ”Trade and Intercourse Act” Era The adoption of the American Constitution ”ushered in a new era in the national management of Indian affairs”3. Especially relevant to the treatment of Indians are the constitutional Commerce clause and the exclusion of ”Indians non taxed” from the enumeration of state citizens for purposes of congressional appointment, ”thereby suggesting that they were no part of the polity”4. Indians are viewed here as individuals: the phrase testifies to the idea that Indians, as individuals, ”could not be assimilated into the body politic”. Also, ”in the world of Anglo-Saxon property owners this meant paying taxes”. The Indians were still outside the reach of American sovereignty and its taxing power5. But other trends in federal Indian policy appeared soon. In his Federalist Papers, Madison mentions that it is incomprehensible how a ”trade with Indians, though not members of a State, yet residing within its legislative jurisdiction, can be regulated by an external authority, without so far intruding on the internal right of legislation”6. The first legislative effort made by Congress in order to assert the 1

A stipulation found in Indian treaties generally. See Treaty of Hopewell, Nov. 28, 1785. 3 R. CLINTON, N. NEWTON, M. PRICE, American Indian Law, cit., p. 142. 4 Ibidem, p. 142. 5 Vine DELORIA Jr., Clifford M. LYTLE, The Nations Within...cit., p. 3. Taxes must have been perceived as a nonsense by the Indian communities, and – from their perspective – for very good reasons, since they had no utilitarian concept on property. 6 See James MADISON, The Federalist, no. 42, 1788. 2


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national government’s exclusive control over Indian affairs was the enacting of the Trade and Intercourse Act in 1790. The efforts to place the exclusive management of trade, diplomatic relations, and land cessions involving the Indians in the hands of federal government was resisted by the states, a fact that often led to constitutional tension. Permanent Trade and Intercourse Acts followed in later years; however, significant for this time are the efforts made in the treaties in order to establish clear lines of demarcation separating ”protected Indian country enclaves from other lands claimed by the state”1.

The Removal Period Until the War of 1812, the federal government did little to further the removal of the Indians, given the fact that Indian tribes, especially those on the western frontiers, ”held an important balance of power on the North American continent”2. It was essential to prevent any alliance between the Indians and the English; but the outcome of the war ended this threat, setting the stage for Indian removal. The governments of the states became ”increasingly dissatisfied” with the continued existence of Indian tribal ”enclaves” within their boundaries. The erosion of tribal sovereignty therefore led to an invented relationship between the original sovereign before discovery (the Indians) and the successors of the European settlers’ structures of power (the federal government). As seen in Cherokee Nation v. Georgia and in Worcester v. Georgia, Georgia’s legislation set the scene for the removal of the Indian tribes. Similar statutes were passed for the Creeks and Choctaws in Alabama and for the Cherokees in Tennessee. In spite of their efforts to resist the state statutes through federal court litigation, the Cherokees – like most of the other tribes in the southeastern states – were removed from the states and – resettled” on the west side of the Mississippi River in the Indian Territory, now eastern Oklahoma. Coming back to the reflections over the frontier expansion, one has to keep in mind that, until at least 1861 a central theme in federal Indian policy was the removal of the tribes beyond state boundary lines, often as a prelude to the admission of new states into the Union.

The Reservation Policy Efforts to remove the Indian tribes from the states was doomed once westward settlement ”leap-frogged the Indian Territory to California”3. The creation of ”smaller reservations” started as an ”experiment” done by federal agents. Treaties were negotiated between California tribes and the federal government in the early 1850’s, but the Senate refused to ratify them, because they departed from the ”declared removal policy of clearing resident Native American tribes from the states”4. 1

See, generally, Felix COHEN, Federal Indian Law, cit. R. CLINTON, N. NEWTON, M. PRICE, American Indian Law, cit., p. 144. 3 Ibidem, p. 146. 4 Ibidem. 2



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The first congressional recognition that ”such reservations” were intended as ”permanent jurisdictional enclaves within the states” is found in the Enabling Act for the Kansas Territory. This act authorized the formation of the state of Kansas. It sated that the establishment of the state ”would not be construed to extend state jurisdiction over Indians of the Kansas territory or to impair the rights of Indians of their property in the territory”1. Since such disclaimer of jurisdiction established a pattern, the enabling acts and constitutions of many states admitted to the Union after 1861 contained similar provisions. But this is just the legal side of the reservation policy. The beginnings of the reservation system have to be understood in their real dimension: the military one. Federal military ”efforts” were done in order to force Indian tribes into reservations or forcibly keep them there. Most of the Indian wars of the last half of the century were caused by the ”reservation policy”. They culminated in 1876 and 1877 in two famous encounters between the Army and the Sioux, and between the Army and the Nez Perce Indians. It has been said that these wars ”are etched” in the American imagination, since, for them, the ”golden-haired General Cluster is the most evocative symbol of the Indian wars”2. According to Berger, the events leading to the Little Big Horn are ”a metaphor for the betrayal of promises that led to the Indian wars”3. The surrender of the leader of the Nez Perce Indians of Wallowa, Chief Joseph, in 1877 was ”not” ”a heroic moment for the United States army”, and so were many others in federal Indian policy. But this particular moment has to be mentioned here because it put an end to the wars against the Indians. When Chief Joseph handed over his rifle to the Army, he spoke the words that have become ”the requiem for the Indians of the plains”: ”I am tired of fighting [...] The old men are all dead. Hear me, my chiefs, I am tired, my heart is sick and sad. From where the sun now stands, I will fight no more forever”4.

The dignity in these words should make everyone to keep silent. One has to keep in mind that, for the Indians, the reservation system was nothing else than an alternative to extinction5. The aftermath of Chief Joseph’s surrender was as tragic as the defeat of the Nez Perce Indians itself: the promise that the Nez Perce would be allowed to return to Idaho, to live there on a reservation, was not kept. Not even on a reservation. They were sent to Oklahoma, far from their ancestral lands, where they have, ”ever since”, mourned their lost freedom6. The reservation was not only a means of ”keeping non-Indian settlers off Indian lands”, but merely to keep the Indians forcibly fenced within geographic and political lines of demarcation. This aspect is particularly tragic for Indians, if one considers that, to the Indians, land is inalienable. They believe that land is held in common by all members of the tribe, ”a political community that is perpetual”. 1

R. CLINTON, ”Development of Criminal Jurisdiction over Indian lands: The Historical Perspective”, Arizona Law Review, 1975, pp. 960-961. 2 Thomas BERGER, A Long and Terrible Shadow...cit., pp. 88-89. 3 Ibidem. 4 Ibidem, p. 91. 5 See Robert TRENNERT Jr., Alternative to Extinction: Federal Policy and the Beginnings of the Reservation System, 1846-1851, Temple University Press, Philadelphia, 1975. 6 See Thomas BERGER, A Long and Terrible Shadow...cit., p. 82.


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Since earth itself is a living being for the Indians, setting fences and forcing them to ”accommodate” themselves to this ”new” reality was unbearable for them and it explains the high mortality rate, alcoholism and poverty one sees even today in Indian reservations. The overall organizations of reservations councils ”seem to have occurred in conjecture with” the establishment of the courts of Indian offenses by the Bureau of Indian Affairs1. This administrative development was ”triggered” by the Crow Dog case, which upheld the preservation of tribal law in areas that had been reserved by the Indians in a prior treaty. Nonetheless, the language in this case assumed – without any basis whatsoever – that the Indians had no government and were in ”desperate need” to learn elementary kinds of organization ”for their own good”. It is an illustration of cultural ”blindness”, as Deloria called it. The case dealt with a murder of a Sioux Indian by another Indian in Indian country. It was claimed that the crime was not ”an offense under the laws of the United States, and that the district court had no jurisdiction to try the prisoner”2. It is easy to see that the issues involved in this case are not only jurisdiction, but also important aspects of identity and difference. The language of the court uses, ”they [the Indians] were subject to the laws of the United States, but not in the sense of citizens, but as wards subject to a guardian”; law is perceived as “the imposition of an external and unknown code”, which makes ”no allowance for their inability to understand it”, and which, being ”opposed to the strongest prejudices of their savage nature”, measures, ”the red man’s revenge by the maxims of the white man’s morality”) demonstrates a multiplicity which opens the way for divergent interpretations. On one hand, treatment of the Indians is, once again, paternalistic; but nonetheless the conclusion on handling the difference is ”to secure these people, with whom the United States was contracting as a distinct political body”3. As in many later cases, the attempt to clarify the relationship between the Indians and the government of the United States was not successful. If one explores the non-Indian responses to Crow Dog, it seems that the fact that one group can exercise power while another cannot, could be considered to be just a matter of ”historical accident”. Crow Dog led to a Congressional response – the passing of the Major Crimes Act in 1885 – and to an administrative response – the creation of the courts of Indian offenses. The Major Crimes Act extended federal court jurisdiction over the serious crimes of murder, manslaughter, rape, burglary, larceny, assault with intent to kill, and arson committed by one Indian against another Indian. Although this statute stated that it was applicable to ”all Indian reservations”, it did not apply to the Five Civilized Tribes. Under the treaties of 1866, they were allowed ”a measure” of self-government, which included a complete code for law and order in tribal courts with the appeal to the federal district court of Arkansas. The tribes retained complete civil and criminal jurisdiction until the act passed in 1898, which prohibited the enforcement of tribal laws in the special federal court having exclusive jurisdiction over the Indian territory. The same act abolished the tribal courts4. Although ”nothing in the language of the act compels the conclusion that the tribe 1

Vine DELORIA Jr., Clifford M. LYTLE, The Nations Within...cit., p. 29. See Ex Parte Crow Dog, 109 U.S. 556 (1883) 3 Ibidem. 4 US. Statutes at Large, p. 30, 495. 2



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lost concurrent jurisdiction over these major offenses”1, treatment of the Indian courts confirmed the policy that they should not have ”too much” power. The drama of Indian isolation in a foreign world includes the Indians’ difficulty in mediating between the customs and traditions that their people cherished (following the removal from the South to Oklahoma, the tribes adopted constitutions and laws that incorporated traditional political forms) and the need to present to the larger society a form of political organization that ”seemed clear, reasonable and within the established political tradition of the larger society”2. While examining the assimilative goals of the reservation policy, it is important to note that, from the federal government’s point of view, “the reservations provided a classroom for Indian wards”. The devastating role of ideology is clear if one reflects about the implications of the following statement: ”Should rules that are designed to educate be different from rules that are designed to discipline?”… If the basis for the reservation concept was its educational function, and not a notion of entitlement to land and right to a culture (and there is clear evidence in this sense), then Indian sovereignty was to suffer terrible limitations. For there is nothing more destructive than indoctrination, in the name of progress and the Indians’ ”own good”: The teacher here is the federal government – and nothing is left of inherent Indian sovereignty, if the reservation is regarded as a ”way station” between the society prior to the advent of the European settlers and the society when reservations would no longer be needed”3. The most obvious limits are the ones placed on the power of the tribe to assert jurisdiction over non-Indians within its mists, at least in criminal matters. Jurisdiction is an essential aspect of sovereignty; and the federal policy’s intent to limit it is clear if looking at later cases, like Oliphant vs. Squamish Indian Tribe (which was decided in 1978, and where the court concluded that Indian tribal courts do not have criminal jurisdiction over non-Indians, a position confirmed in Duro v. Reina in 1990)4. The method of interpretation used in Oliphant – in concrete the tremendous reference to legal history that is found in this case – is puzzling, at least from the moral point of view5. The case assumes that Indians ”necessarily gave up” their power to try non-Indian citizens of the United States, ”except in a manner acceptable to Congress”. There is no consideration for Indian sovereignty in this case, and the decision is definitely of a sectarian nature. If one looks at the problem from a different perspective, one has to conclude that it was because of the overriding sovereignty of the United States that Indian reservations had not necessarily be seen as a part of the 1

R. CLINTON, N. NEWTON, M. PRICE, American Indian Law, cit., pp. 35-36. Vine DELORIA Jr., Clifford M. LYTLE, The Nations Within...cit., p. 25. 3 A retrospective analysis on federal Indian policy might, indeed, confirm that the termination of Indian tribes started with the conviction that Indians in the reservations ”graduated”. The expression used here has the sense to illustrate paternalistic attitude of the federal government. As later explained in this study, it brought the federal trust relationship and the federal benefits for Indians to an end. 4 Mentioning these cases here is due to the anomalous relationship between the Indian tribes and the federal government. This anomaly applies to time as well, since early cases and their judicial effects have been dramatically challenged later on. From this point of view, there is no chronological order, nor can a chronologic understanding be found in these cases (not to mention here the difficulties of interpretation in every case). 5 It is agreed that one cannot find a ”common” logic in exploring Indian cases, given the shifting federal policy towards Indians and the ”immense historical shocks” Indian communities had to suffer. 2


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territory of the United States. Clearly an expression of a relation to power, the outcome in this case is that, while federal government could set the rules for ”Indian – non-Indian” interaction in criminal matters, the Indians could not.

The Allotment Period and Forced Assimilation Structural changes in federal Indian policy were signaled in the period from 1871 to 1887. Meanwhile, implementation of the reservation policy continued. The year 1871 ended formal treaty making with the Indian tribes. The House of Representatives’ dissatisfaction with the ”preeminent role in Indian affairs that the treaty ratification process gave to the Senate” decided to cut off the funds for treaty negotiation in 1867. After 1871, agreements with Indian tribes, although negotiated, were approved by statutory enactment. The allotment policy aimed to encourage a sedentary, rural agricultural life for the Indians and to transform them into farmers. The General Allotment Act of 1887 only stated and authorized this general policy, its implementation was left to individual negotiations with the affected tribe and the discretion of the executive. Although allotment was not implemented on all reservations, the land base of many tribes was ravaged by this policy. Section 5 of the Act provided that ”surplus” land (not needed for the fixed acreage allotment to tribal members) would be ceded to the federal government for compensation through negotiations with the tribe. Beside new devastating effects on Indian cultural values, this policy of alienation opened the ”surplus” lands to non-Indian settlement. The effect was that Indian reservations were opened to non-Indian settlement for the first time. The long interaction between Indians and non-Indians at this particular time led to cruel contradictions, like the support of the allotment program by some Indian advocates. These right supporters thought to protect the Indians: an Indian ”holding a patent from the federal government, restricted against alienation, enjoyed greater security for his land tenure than the protection afforded by tribal possession”1. Once again, this process illustrates the difficult communication between the two systems of values. Many people within the tribes held tenaciously to their old customs, and continued to live their lives according to ancient ways. Even if badly eroded, these customs did not disappear. The Indians’ belief that land was unalienable was one of these strong identity patterns. But the prediction that a change from communal title to individual title would concentrate ownership of Indian land in the hands of a few persons was ignored. The idea that welfare and happiness requires that the lands be held in private ownership and managed in person by its individual owners proved to be ”the most established principle in the American mind”2. The main effect of this policy resulted in the destruction of the Indians’ cultural life basis: tribal identity. For the federal policy, ”progress” meant the end of the lands held by the Indians on the reservations and the end of the governmental power exercised on them3. 1

R. CLINTON, N. NEWTON, M. PRICE, American Indian Law, cit., p. 149. Thomas BERGER, A Long and Terrible Shadow...cit., p. 101. 3 Later statutes authorized the leasing of tribal and allotted lands both for surface occupancy and for mineral, oil, and gas development. Restraints on alienation were progressively removed. 2



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Complementary policies in order to assimilate the Indians involved the formation of the Bureau Policy and the Courts of Indian Offenses. These institutions involved the employment of Indian tribal members to serve as police officers and judges for their reservations: an alternative power structure to the traditional forms of tribal governance. ”New offenses”, as defined in the Code of Indian Offenses not only included serious criminal behavior, but also many traditional Indian cultural and religious practices. The most dramatic confrontation between Indian values and the attempt to destroy them was then prohibition on the Sioux Indians’ Ghost Dance, ”a messianic native religious movement”, which produced the massacre at Wounded Knee in 18901. This era produced another act with important consequences for the Indians: The Indian Citizenship Act, passed in 1924. United States citizenship was conferred to ”all non-citizen Indians born within the territorial limits of the United States”. This Act simplified provisions of the General Allotment Act and various former statutes and treaties regulating Indian citizenship2. For instance, early treaties implied that citizenship was incompatible with continued participation in tribal government or tribal property free from state jurisdiction or control. But, as explained by Cohen, ”today many people who know that Indians are citizens are unaware of the legal consequences of citizenship”. He further mentions the more common errors in a brief description: if citizens of the United States, Indians automatically become citizens of the state of their residence – (and what is then left of the incompatibility between tribal membership and citizenship?) also, citizenship has not been held incompatible with federal powers of guardianship, nor did it automatically confer Indians the right to vote3. However, the rules of citizenship in the Anglo-Saxon legal tradition are totally alien to Indian concepts on membership. Within a tribal society, ”the simple fact” of being born establishes both citizenship and, ”as the individual grows”, a ”homogeneity of purpose and outlook”. Because customs, ritual and traditions are ”part of natural life”, there is no need for formal articulation of the rules of Indian tribal society, including membership4.

The ”Indian Reorganization Act” Period It was only in 1928 when a report was issued, summarizing the failure of the federal policies followed since the late nineteenth century5. The appointment in 1933 of John Collier as Commissioner of Indian Affairs marked ”the emergence of a very different kind of consciousness” towards the Indian issues. Collier knew and deeply admired Indian culture. His fascination is described in his book From Every Zenith, with regard to the Taos Pueblo’s Red Deer 1

See generally D. BROWN, Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee, Hold, Rinehart & Winston, New York, 1970 and A. DEBO, A History of the Indians of the United States, University of Oklahoma Press, Oklahoma City, 1974, pp. 290-294. 2 For a detailed insight, see Felix COHEN, Federal Indian Law, cit., pp. 517-523. 3 Ibidem, pp. 523-526. 4 Vine DELORIA Jr., Clifford M. LYTLE, The Nations Within...cit., p. 18. 5 See the Miriam report (entitled ”Problems of Indian Administration”), as mentioned in R. CLINTON, N. NEWTON, M. PRICE, American Indian Law, cit., p. 152.


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Dance. ”What I observed”, he writes, ” was a power of art – of the life-making-art – greater in kind than anything I had known in my own world before”1. It seems that a fundamental difference between the art of the first peoples and the art we know today is that while the original people created art, all we do today is to ”consume” it2. Collier started a real crusade in order to reform Indian lands. His main efforts aimed to rebuild the tribal land base and to make the remaining Indian lands more governable. The main goal was to prevent Indian lands from being broken up in the future and sold to non-Indians3. Meanwhile, The Indian Reorganization Act was passed in 1934. Its most important provisions authorized the Secretary of the Interior to approve constitutions and corporate charters for Indian seeking to organize under its provisions. Within twelve years after the adoption of the Act, 161 tribal constitutions were approved under its provisions. For tribes that voted to exclude themselves from the coverage of the Act –including those extending the trust period on allotments- its provisions were not applicable4. However, Morton v. Mancari, a case decided by the Supreme Court in 1974, deals with the long-time implications of The Indian Reorganization Act. This case is particularly significant for the insight it provides into the different values and perspectives involved. The Indian Reorganization Act accorded an employment preference for qualified Indians in the Bureau of Indian Affairs. The question in this case is whether this preference is contrary to the anti-discrimination provisions of the Equal Employment Opportunity Act of 1972 and whether it is a violation of the Due Process Clause of the Fifth Amendment. The language in this case explains the reasons why Congress has enacted ”various preferences of the general type here at issue”, insisting that the purpose in this situation was to give Indians a greater participation in their own self-government and to reduce the negative effect of having non-Indians administer matters that affect Indian tribal life. The same perspective is found when the Court refers to legal history: ”It is in this historical and legal context that the constitutional validity of the Indian preference is to be determined […] The overly paternalistic approach of prior years had proved both exploitative and destructive of Indian interests. Congress was united in the belief that institutional changes were required”5.

The fact that this preference is ”similar in kind” to the constitutional requirement that a United States senator, when elected, be ”an inhabitant of that state for 1

John COLLIER, From Every Zenith, Sage Books, Denver, 1963, p. 126. See Friedrich DÜRRENMATT, Die Schweiz – ein Gefängnis, Diogenes Verlag, Zürich 1990. 3 For a comparison between the Collier Bill and The Indian Reorganization Act see Vine DELORIA Jr., Clifford M. LYTLE, The Nations Within...cit., pp. 141-153. It has been said, if the Indians would have in fact understood the implications of Collier’s thinking (which included restoration of political sovereignty) they might have been ”more violently against him themselves”. The essence of Indian destruction, as promoted by the allotment policy, was that too many Indians had adjusted to the idea of individual allotments and did not want to constitute a formal government that ”might eventually impinge on their use of their own lands”. This a more profound level of analysis, and it shows the effects of a long interaction between two incompatible systems of values. 4 Such extensions were, nonetheless, made by subsequent executive power. 5 See Morton v. Mancari, in R. CLINTON, N. NEWTON, M. PRICE, American Indian Law, cit., p. 96. 2



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which he shall be chosen” is a statement that illuminates the Supreme Court’s intent in this case, as well as its understanding of the true nature of the Indian preference. The Court concludes that the employment preference is not of a racial, but of a political nature, reasonably designed to further the cause of Indian self-government and to make the Bureau of Indian Affairs more responsive to the needs of its constituent groups1.

The Termination Era ”Indians were subjected to the most intense pressure to become white. Laws passed by Congress had but one goal: The Anglo-Saxonization of the Indian.” Vine DELORIA

The Indian Reorganization Act survived many legislative attacks directed against its ”explicit ideological nature”. Nonetheless, these attacks show the degree of tolerance towards the authentic values of the Indian world the ”larger society” was capable to accept: ”This (The Indian Reorganization Act) attempts to set up a state or a nation which is contrary to the intents and purposes of the American Republic, No doubt that the Indians should be helped […] but in no way should they be set up as a governing power within the United States of America […] They shall be permitted to have a part in their own affairs as to government in the same way as any domestic organization exists […] but not to be independent or apart therefrom”2.

During the termination era, Congress adopted a statute, commonly known as Public Law 280, which operated for affected reservations to transfer the jurisdiction over crimes and civil cause of action previously exercised by federal and tribal courts to state authorities. It transferred jurisdiction to the states over all reservations in California, Minnesota (except the Red Lake Reservation), Nebraska Oregon (except the Warm Spring Reservation) and Wisconsin (except the Menominee Reservation)3. All other states were authorized to assume ”voluntary complete or partial jurisdiction” over the other Indian reservations within the states4. Over time, the persistent question of the Congress – “Indian tribes” relationship has been the degree of autonomy the Indians retained within their ”reserved” lands. While ”plenary congressional power” over Indian affairs has been firmly established and reaffirmed in the American jurisprudence, the allocation of power between the tribes and the states absent congressional action remained ”less certain”. 1 2

Ibidem, p. 98. Hearings on S. 2103 before the Committee on Indian Affairs, H. R., 76th Cong., 3rd Sess.,

1940. 3

R. CLINTON, N. NEWTON, M. PRICE, American Indian Law, cit., p. 158. Alaska was later added to the list of states affected by mandatory provisions of Public Law 280, when it was admitted to statehood. For a fascinating insight into the situation of Alaskan Natives under Russian and American rule, see Felix COHEN, Federal Indian Law, cit., especially the chapter on Alaskan Natives, pp. 927-964. 4


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This is the field with regard to which Public Law 280 has so dramatically changed the mentioned relationship. One could base a critique of Public Law 280 on the extension of state jurisdiction in the absence of tribal consent, but that is not the only aspect that has to be specified. The main devastating effect for the Indians was the lawlessness this law paradoxical created. For instance, in the United States v. Kagama case the dispute between the two involved Klamath Indians escalated into homicide because the Bureau of Indian Affairs did not respond to Kagama’s claim, but in turn directed the request to Washington. It has been argued that lack of federal assistance proved fatal in this case1. The direct effects of Public Law 280 were the extension of state criminal jurisdiction and civil judicial jurisdiction over reservation Indians in certain states and the elimination of special federal criminal jurisdiction over reservation areas in the states specifically named in the law. The law substituted state legal authority for federal on all the designated reservations. There was no mention of tribal authority whatsoever. As a result, tribes in Public Law 280 states are at a disadvantage compared with tribes elsewhere in the United States. The suffer from ”lower levels of federal support and an absence of compensating state support. They are subjects to abuses of power and gaps in legal authority”2. It is specially the case of California where tribes have been broken into such ”small and heterogeneous groups” that forming ”effective justice systems” is very unlikely at the tribal level. Most of the tribes who lost their federal status did not escape from the burdens of wardship. In a final formulation, the effects of the termination policy can be summarized as follows: ”A terminated tribe may exist to an anthropologist, but not for the purpose of interpreting a statute granting statutory benefits only to recognized tribes. Congress can and has granted some benefits to members of terminated tribes, but only when it has chosen to define the term ’tribe’ as including them”3.

The Self-Determination Era ”I once explained American Indian legal rights and the consequent demands of the American Indian Movement to a member of the Institute for Policy Studies. His response was: ’That would mean the breakup of the United States.’ And he was undoubtedly correct.” Jimmy DURHAM

The root concept for ”indigenous people” is the Latin indigenae, as opposed to advenae, persons who arrived from elsewhere. Indians always believed they had a place on their own, given to them once for ever, a view consistent with their 1 For a detailed analysis of Public Law 280 and its effects, see Carol GOLDBERG-AMBROSE, Planting Tail Feathers: Tribal Survival and Public Law 280, California University Press, Los Angeles, California, 1997. 2 Ibidem, p. 37. 3 R. CLINTON, N. NEWTON, M. PRICE, American Indian Law, cit., p. 79.



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perception about cosmic time. The fundamental question today is: How can the medieval concept of wardship be reconciled with the idea of self-determination of indigenous peoples? Let’s first examine the legislative situation of this era. Trends to strengthen tribal sovereignty started with the Nixon presidency in 1970. This idea implied stronger tribal control while advocating protection of the Indian land base and resources. The Nixon message ”set the legislative agenda for Congress in the field of Indian affairs for the entire decade”1. The passing of the Indian Self-Determination and Education Assistance Act in 1975 was also aimed at strengthening tribal control over federally funded programs for Indians. A severe issue of oppression has always been the placement of Indian children into a white environment ”for their own good”. In this respect, the Indian Child Welfare Act of 1978 was designed to reduce the exercise of state jurisdiction in child custody or adoption proceedings involving Indian children who were tribal members or eligible for membership in a tribe. It provided rigorous standards requiring state authorities to attempt ”to place an Indian child needing placement in the home of an extended family member, the home of a tribal member, a tribal group home or an Indian home” before the child could be placed with a non-Indian family2. The Indian Land Consolidation Act of 1982 sought to remedy some of the vestigial effects of allotment by authorizing tribes to establish plans for land consolidation on heavily allotted reservations. The concern about the future of Native American values is strongly linked to the dynamics of Public International Law with regard to indigenous peoples. The Indian way of life has not merely survived; it is back ”at the foundation of a strong identity which has forced itself into the top of the international agenda”3. The values of Indian culture are ”sought–after models for a world drifting slowly into alienation”4. It is easy to conclude from the exposed considerations on the legacy of conquest that the United States of America are built ”on the rock of a fiercely moralistic myth, the right to self-determination and the right to secede from a sovereign who violates the rights of the people who consider themselves a community”5. The Declaration of Independence is the ”textual expression of that primordial feeling”6. To which extent this idea is only a myth can be measured against the aspirations for freedom the aboriginal peoples of the Americas had and have. For their primordial feeling has to be considered in the era of self-determination. From this point of view, the strength of tribal resistance has shown that tribal government’s authority predates and survives the United States’ constitutional system. This basic and simple reality has the following consequence: indigenous populations have always perceived themselves as living within the era of ”self-determination”. This concept cannot be localized in time, and it is fictitious to the extent to which it has been imposed on the Native American world by its colonizers. It primarily means 1

See ibidem, p. 160. Ibidem, p. 161 3 See Siegfried WIESSNER, ”Rights and Status of Indigenous Peoples. A Global Comparative and International Legal Analysis”, Harvard Human Rights Journal, no. 12, 1999, pp. 57-128/p. 59. 4 Ibidem; this amazing statement refers to the sacred view about the environment that is found in Indian culture. 5 Siegfried WIESSNER, ”Rights and Status of Indigenous Peoples...cit.”, p. 63. 6 Ibidem, p. 6. 2


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a timeless understanding of self-defined dignity, which might well become a concrete reality today. The Gaming Regulatory Act of 1988 created the Indian Gaming Commission to regulate the emerging Indian gaming operations that became a substantial source of tribal revenues. Today, these revenues help change the devastating effects of poverty and illiteracy on the reservations. More than fifty tribes operate more than 100 bingo halls and casinos within the territorial confines of nineteen states, taking six billion dollars a year1. Nonetheless, in 1997, of the 554 federally recognized tribes, 306 are defined as ”small and needy”, without sufficient funds to operate without further federal support. Indian housing became a priority of the Department of Housing and Urban Development. Still, when President Clinton defines the ”federal government-Indian tribes” relationship as a ”government to government” relationship, one has to remember Deloria’s statement: ”Given the fact that tribal governments are closely controlled by the federal government and obtain a good deal of their administrative overhead from the federal government, this phrase has less substance than people would like to admit”2.

There is a long way to go in order to achieve the values of self-determination3. But, in the Indian world, a strong motivation to achieve them is constantly there. The cry for self-determination of the Native American today has to be seen within ”the resurgence of indigenous communities worldwide, and a thorough analysis of the roots of the legal relationship between the Indian tribes and the country in which they reside”, for this will restore the ”complex mix of international and domestic prescriptions applicable to the unique story of attempted conquest and survival that constitutes the Indian experience”4. All important change, which turned around the policies of termination, occurred due to the Nixon era. From a conventional point of view, this might the beginning of the self-determination era. But some of the legislation of this time affected only particular tribes. For example, the Menominee Tribe of Minnesota, the Silez Tribe of Oregon, the Wyandotte, Peoria, Ottawa and Modoc Tribes of Oklahoma, and others were restored to federal recognition and supervision in 1973, 1977, and 1978, respectively, after having been terminated by legislation in 1 Although we witness this success, other aspects have to be considered as well. An article published by The New York Times shows that Indians are crime victims at a rate above US average: while the average for whites was 49 crimes per 1000 people, for blacks 61 and for Asians 29, the average annual rate at which Indians were victims of crimes was 124 crimes per 1000 people. These statistics show that there that there still is a lot of prejudice against Indians, especially on the edge of reservations. A study released by the Department of Justice also found that Indians, unlike whites and blacks, were most likely to be the victims of violent crimes committed by members of a race other than their own. See The New York Times, February 15, 1999. 2 Vine DELORIA Jr., Clifford M. LYTLE, The Nations Within...cit., p. 262. 3 With the exception of the Nunavut Nation in Canada, for instance, which established its own territory in April 1999, and the Eskimo people in Greenland. 4 Siegfried WIESSNER, ”Rights and Status of Indigenous Peoples...cit.”, p. 102. Also see Ch. WILKINSON, J. VOLKSMAN, ”Judicial Review of Indian Treaty Abrogation: ’As long as Water Flows, or Grass Grows Upon the Earth’ – How Long a Time Is That?”, California Law Review, no. 63, 1975, p. 601.



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the 1950’s1. In addition, new federal legislation strengthened an reorganized a federal revolving loan fund for Indian and provided federal loan guarantees for private sector loans to support such development. After 1977, the political momentum for a fundamental change in the direction of federal Indian policy became intense. Organized political groups, like Montanans Opposed to Discrimination and the Interstate Congress for Equal Rights and Responsibilities, unsuccessfully lobbied Congress to extinguish Indian rights and force Indian assimilation2. The 1980’s marked an important transitional period both for federal Indian policy and for tribal self-sufficiency. Persistent efforts were made during the Reagan administration to reduce the funding of ”many federal programs targeted for Indians, to merge such specialized federal Indian programs into more general, often state administered, social services and benefits programs, or to eliminate federal funding altogether”3. However the dynamics of federal management over Indian affairs, a specific and complicated issue is the articulation of special needs and/or rights indigenous peoples have today. These cannot be found in the general prescriptions of what is known as ”International Human Rights Law”. This is true for codified and for customary law alike. In this context, the role of the United Nations has to be reexamined and redefined in many respects. Efforts in this sense become comprehensible if looking at the 1993 Draft Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples made by the UN Working Group on Indigenous Populations. The proposed American Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples of 1997 contains an important element: it defines that ”self-identification as indigenous shall be regarded as a fundamental criterion for determining the peoples to which the provisions of this declaration apply”4. However, the community of states seems to be united so far in the rejection of the option of full sovereignty and political independence for indigenous peoples. But the idea of a Permanent Forum for Indigenous Peoples as envisioned as envisioned by the United Nations Working Group could perhaps lead to their representation as the United Nations sometimes in the future. The final goal of this metamorphosis has to be the creation of a public order of human dignity5. Its manifestations are visible today, and we witness them in many, very paradoxical forms. The most powerful one is the fact that we have sufficient state practice and opinio iuris to speak of a customary international law right to land the indigenous peoples traditionally possessed and have managed to keep, as well as a right to a – however formulated – autonomy. Every realistic approach on indigenous peoples’ rights has to address this core need6. It has finally been said that the United States doctrine of plenary power over Indian affairs, including the 1 The federal recognition of the Menominees, for instance, has to be seen within the framework provided by the appointment of Ada Deer to head of the Bureau of Indian Affairs. This is, obviously, an aspect of self-determination, a success of self-defined dignity. 2 R. CLINTON, N. NEWTON, M. PRICE, American Indian Law, cit., p. 162. 3 Ibidem. 4 As quoted by Siegfried WIESSNER, ”Rights and Status of Indigenous Peoples...cit.”, p. 120 and the following. For an extensive view on the definition of indigenous peoples, as well as the role of international organizations, see the same article. 5 See Siegfried WIESSNER, ”Rights and Status of Indigenous Peoples...cit.”. 6 This approach successfully fights the assumption that has been so well addressed by William Raymond: ”The indigenous populations must be always and essentially unreal, a


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power of Congress to extinguish, without compensation, Indian title, is violating international human rights1. Revitalization of Indian tribes can be traced back to the 1960ies, when two important pieces of Indian legislation were passed. Public Law no. 89-635 passed by Congress authorized ”any Indian tribe or land with a governing body duly recognized by the Secretary of the Interior” to file suite in federal district court without reference to amount in controversy ”for cases arising under the Constitution, law and treaties of the United States”2. Also, the here already mentioned Indian Civil Rights Act of 1968 required all Indian tribes in exercising their self-government powers to observe and protect ”most, but not all, of the guarantees of the Bill of Rights, the fourteenth amendment, and article 1, section 10 of the Constitution”3. Public Law 280 was amended to require tribal consent for all future state acquisitions of jurisdiction over an Indian reservation. The way was opened for state-initiated retrocession to the federal government of jurisdiction previously acquired by the states under Public Law 280 and the preparation of a ”model code” governing courts of Indian offenses became possible4. But beside disputes over land, which are far from being resolved, another phenomenon is going on in the era of self-determination. This phenomenon has been described by Laurie Ann Whitt as ”a pattern that began with indigenous lands and resources and which continues now with indigenous knowledge, spiritual and scientific, of the natural world. The land and resource grabbing has not ended, but a new version of cognitive search-and seizure has begun”5. Ironically, the promotion of Native culture to tourists and violence and discrimination against Native Americans continues side by side6. These unbelievable extremes have been clearly stated by Jimmie Durham, when he writes that ”Indian suffering is part of entertainment”, and that ”as our situation worsened, America loved us all the more”7. The most painful manifestations of this phenomenon are visible within the problems posed by access to indigenous sacred knowledge and sacred sites and by the desecration of Native American graves8. The fact that all this is possible today rises very serious questions: Are there any moral limits to archeological figment of the national imagination. No more or less”. See Raymond W. STEDMAN, Shadows of the Indian: Stereotypes in American Culture, University of Oklahoma, Norman, 1982. 1 See Erica Irene DAES, Special Rapporteur of the Sub-Commission on Prevention of Discrimination and Protection of Minorities, Chairperson of the Working Group on Indigenous Peoples, Protection of the Heritage of Indigenous Peoples, United Nations, New York and Geneva, 1997. 2 See R. CLINTON, N. NEWTON, M. PRICE, American Indian Law, cit., pp. 157-158. 3 Ibidem, p. 158. 4 Ibidem. 5 See Laurie Ann WHITT, ”Resisting the Politics of Disappearance”, in Michael GREEN (ed.), Issues in Native American Culture Identity, cit., p. 251. 6 Aspects of grotesque commercialization can be found in different tourist guides. I will limit my examples here to FODOR’s Affordable Florida Guide from 1993, where the Miccosukee restaurant is described as an ”Everglades tourist attraction”. There, one can find ”murals with Indian themes”, as well as ”Indian burgers and Indian tacos”. 7 See Jimmie DURHAM, ”Cowboys and …cit.”, p. 435. 8 It is difficult to write this down, but one really has to address the issues the way they are. A Pawnee burial area near Salina, Kansas, was excavated in the 1930s and the skeletons were displayed as a local tourist attraction until 1989, when Pawnee leaders succeeded in having the graves closed. For more information on this issue, extensively see Erica Irene DAES, Protection of the Heritage of Indigenous Peoples, cit., p. 7.



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inquiry? National legal systems treat anything found in the soil belonging either to the government, or to the owner of the land. How are we to look at this aspect of legality, and what legitimacy does it have…? In essence, ”what other racial group in this country has been forced to endure the sacrilege of watching the remains of relatives ripped from their burial sites and displayed to satisfy a totally unfathomable and morbid sense of scientific curiosity…?”1. It is inescapable to see the difference between true science and these outrageous practices. Indigenous peoples have said it themselves in a very clear manner: all products of the human mind and heart are interrelated, and they flow from the same source: the relationships between the people and their land, their kinship with the other living creatures that share the land, and with the spirit world2. But the tragedy of colonization and alienation has led to one certain result: indigenous peoples have been deprived not only of their most precious values, but of their historical age itself. Therefore, whenever we try to understand the root of the conflict, we have to remember that ”the profound division in the Americas is not between North and South, but between Indians and settlers”3.

SPECIFIC AMERICAN INDIAN ISSUES So far, the aim of this paper has been to provide an insight into the influence American Indian Law has had over Indian identity. But its task is also to make understandable how American Indian Law – as an outcome of federal Indian policy – contributed to the erosion of this identity. Paradoxically enough, questions like ”who is an Indian” and ”what is an Indian tribe” might become more difficult after studying these issues than they have been before that. However, it has to be specified in the first place that general definitions on identity questions do never suffice, and that the answers have to be sought ”primarily in applicable statutes, decisions, opinions or tribal law”4. Nonetheless, if – legally speaking – ”an Indian is what the law legislatively defines, or judicially determines him to be”, the same cannot be said if one wants a deeper insight into Indian identity. The law frustrates this deeper insight – a fact which might have motivated scholars to distinguish between the legal and the ethnological definition on ”who an Indian is”. The same is true for the Indian tribes. I can not refrain from mentioning an important nuance here. It has to do with terminology. As Deloria writes, ”the word Indian is to broad and it generalizes a definition”5. This is rather an ”ethnic label” pinned by whites. Deloria further mentions that the appellation ”a tribal Indian” is certainly better than simply ”traditional”. But while the ”tribal Indian” did not want to associate with people outside the tribal community, unless forced tot do so, Deloria concludes, the ”ethnic 1

See Laurie Ann WHITT, ”Resisting the Politics of Disappearance”, cit., p. 7. For an extensive insight into the significance and the value of heritage for indigenous peoples, see Erica Irene DAES, Protection of the Heritage of Indigenous Peoples, cit. 3 See Jimmie DURHAM, ”Cowboys and...cit.”, p. 433. He ironically presents this statement as an ”outrageous idea”. 4 Felix COHEN, Federal Indian Law, cit., pp. 4-20. 5 Vine DELORIA Jr., Clifford M. LYTLE, The Nations Within...cit., p. 235. 2


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Indian” is a person who, today, looks beyond the reservation to see ”both opportunities and dangers the tribe might encounter”1. But further description will not bring a clarification. What is essential to Indian identity is that emotional continuity with their ancestry has to be ”seriously considered” and recognized, if one attempts to resolve this complicates question. This perception is related to values like tribal inherent sovereignty, cultural renewal and the fundamental Indian Instinct to live according to ancient ways2. Indian legal status depends not only upon biological, but also upon social factors. Ethnologically, the Indian race may be distinguished from the Caucasian, Negro, Mongolian and other races. If a person “is three fourths Caucasian and one fourth Indian, it is absurd, from the ethnological standpoint, to assign him to the Indian race”, but legally such a person may ”still be an Indian”3. When using the term ”Indians” legislators deal with a specific group distinguished from ”non-Indian” groups by ”public opinion”. As Cohen emphasizes, this ”public opinion varies so widely that on some reservations it has become common to refer to a person as an Indian although 15 or 16 ancestors back were non-Indians parts of the country; while in other parts of the country […] a person may be considered a Spanish-American rather than an Indian although his blood is predominantly Indian”4.

But leaving aside all these various realities ”on the ground”, and admitting that ”some practical value” may be found in a definition of an ”Indian”, two criteria are considered. A person is an Indian if some of his ancestors lived in America before discovery and if he or she is considered an Indian by the community in which he/she lives5. As it can (again) be seen here, tribal identity is crucial for the Indian sense of belonging. Still, a person regarded as a member by the tribe might not be so regarded by the Secretary of Interior, who claims the authority to determine membership for purposes of distributing property rights. This is one of the reasons why, within the sphere of federal Indian law, a question of Indian identity can only be answered with reference to the varying purposes for which ”it is necessary to answer the question”. Anomalies resulted because of the interference between formal tribal roles and federal perceptions on membership issues. ”Enrolled members” of an Indian tribe today can include persons who are not racially Indian or others, who are racially Indian, but who do not identify themselves as ”members of the Indian community”6. 1

Ibidem. These are, subjective concepts, and therefore hard to define. 3 Felix COHEN, Federal Indian Law, cit., p. 5. 4 Generally see ibidem, pp. 4-20. These considerations have been extensively quoted here for the concise insight they provide into the issue. 5 Ibidem, p. 6. 6 See United States v. Rogers, decided in 1846, where the Court held that a white man who had voluntarily moved to the Cherokee Nation in the Indian Territory and who had become e member of the tribe ”is still a white man, of the white race”. It was irrelevant to the Court that this man was adopted into the Indian tribe. It decided that he was going to be prosecuted in federal court, although provisions in the federal jurisdictional statutes excepted intra-Indian crimes from federal court jurisdiction. 2



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Further complications are due to congressional determination of who is an Indian tribe or who is an Indian in recognition of Congress’ broad power to regulate Indian affairs1. And courts have ”historically been deferential” to congressional determination2. Additionally, the Supreme Court’s recent practice has begun to equate the term ”Indian” with ”tribal member”3. However, what certainly stays as a conclusion within the federal policy framework is that these concepts are primarily a matter of interpretation. If the term ”membership” is used as part of congressional power to control the property of Indian tribes, the congressional definition will govern, while if it is part of a statute designed to strengthen or to protect tribal sovereignty, the tribal definition must be ascendant4. The modern congressional trend is to define the term ”Indian” broadly to include both formal and informal membership as well as requirements of a ”certain degree” of Indian blood5. Another important issue of Indian identity is the definition of ”Indian country”. This term has been used in many senses. The ”most useful” description might be ”a country within which federal laws relating to Indians and tribal laws and customs generally are applicable”6. Cohen’s note specifies that these are lands occupied by Indians to which their title or right of occupancy has not been extinguished. We can find here a still untouched sense of tribal sovereignty. Meanwhile, the conception that Indian country reflected a situation, ”which found its counterpart in International law in the case of newly acquired territories”, cannot avoid a main consequence: the very fact that the laws of these territories continued in force until repeated or modified by the new sovereign”7. However, the whole ”most intricate” problem in the field of Indian law – Indian title – is ignored in this perspective. Imposed by the ”single exception of irresistible power” such perspective illustrates the distance between the meaning of a principle and its de facto application. Indian identity becomes a crucial issue in cases like Employment Division, Department of Human Resources of Oregon v. Smith, decided in 1990, Peyote Way of God Church v. Thornburgh, decided in 1991, Santa Clara Pueblo v. Martinez or United States v. Dion, decided in 1986. Meanwhile, any Indian case touches – directly or indirectly – the idea of Indian identity, creating legal concepts and enforcing them by later practice. The question in Smith was whether the Free Exercise Clause of the First Amendment permits the State of Oregon to include ”religious inspired” peyote use within the reach of its general prohibition on use of that drug and whether this permits the State to deny unemployment benefits to persons dismissed from their jobs because of such religiously inspired use. The First Amendment excludes all government regulation of religious beliefs as such. Respondent in this case were fired from their jobs with a private drug 1 This is why ”justice can be done” to some extent only for ”federally recognized tribes”, while the non-recognized ones have to fight for their self-defined sense of identity. 2 See R. CLINTON, N. NEWTON, M. PRICE, American Indian Law, cit., pp. 86-87. 3 Not to mention that there is a vast difference between what a concept means and how it is interpreted in a programmatic sense. 4 Ibidem, p. 86. 5 Ibidem. 6 Ibidem, p. 13. 7 Felix COHEN, Federal Indian Law, cit., p. 15.


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rehabilitation organization because thy ingested peyote for sacramental purposes at a ceremony of the Native American Church, of which both were members. They contended that their religious practices motivation for using peyote ”places them beyond the reach of criminal law that is not specifically directed at their religious practice and that is concededly constitutional as applied to those who use the drug for other reasons”1. But the Supreme Court’s motivation was written from the point of view of the American nation as a ”melting pot”. It argued that: ”Because we are a cosmopolitan nation made up of people of almost every conceivable religious preference […] we cannot afford the luxury of deeming presumptively invalid, as applied to the religious objector, every regulation of conduct that does not protect an interest of the highest order”2.

Such rationale implied that the rule ”respondent’s favor” would open the prospect of constitutionally required religious exemptions from civic obligations of ”almost every kind”. While invoking that ”values have to be protected from government interference”, the Court nonetheless did not consider that this particular practice was central to the Indian belief, and that the use of peyote was the very essence of the religious service, since it had the sense of a sacrament. The Indian pantheistic tradition is ignored here; meanwhile, value judgments are made on how ”central” a certain practice is for a specific religious belief3. In Peyote Way Church of God v. Thornburgh, the court held that federal exemption of members of Native American Church from statutes prohibiting peyote possession effected a ”political, rather than racial” classification. Nonetheless, the use of peyote was limited to Native American members who had at least 25% native American ancestry. Since federal exemption was ”rationally related” to the preservation of Native American culture, the fact that the non-Indian practitioners of the Peyote Way of Got Church were good-faith believers in using peyote as a sacrament was not relevant to the court’s decision. It was only in 1994 that Congress passed the American Indian Religious Freedom Act Amendments legalizing the use of peyote as long as it was ”connected to a traditional Indian religious ritual”, thereby admitting that peyote use in this context was not of a recreational nature. Finally, it seemed to be understood that peyote was necessary for human access to sacredness through prayer: a way of transcending the ”normality” of ordinary life. To use the drug was definitely ”central to the religious practice”, since it created access to a world that existed as a dimension of internal experience and peace. The Peyote Way Church of God v. Thornburgh case is an essential example for the long-term implications caused by the imposition of one system of values over another. The passing of the American Indian Religious Freedom Act of 1978 intended to protect traditional Indian religious activity. But, as shown in Lyng v. Northwest Indian Cemetery Protective Association (1988), efforts to invoke the Act to limit federal policies adversely affecting Indian Access to religious sites have proven unsuccessful4. 1

R. CLINTON, N. NEWTON, M. PRICE, American Indian Law, cit., p. 48. Ibidem, p. 53. 3 For similar issues see Frank v. Alaska, where the Supreme Court o Alaska held that fresh moose meat consumption by the Athabascan Indians – a very important part of the religious funeral feast given in honor of a deceased member – was not ”central” to a religious observance. 4 See ”Lyng v. Northwest Cemetery Protective Association”, in R. CLINTON, N. NEWTON, M. PRICE, American Indian Law, cit., pp. 68-79. 2



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The Supreme Court in this case decided that the First Amendment’s Free Exercise Clause does not forbid the government from permitting timber harvesting in, or constructing a road through, a portion of a National Forest that has traditionally been used for religious purposes by members of three American tribes in northwestern California. It must have been difficult to admit that, in ”marked contrast” to western religions, the beliefs systems of Native American do not rely on doctrines, creeds, or dogmas. Unlike in western religions, ”universal truths” play no role in Native American faith. Religious ceremonies were essential in Native American society, because their role was not to ”explain the natural world or to en lighten individual believers, but to protect and enhance the tribal existence”1. Land is essential for Indian religious practice; given its site-specific nature, the practitioner has to be surrounded by undisturbed naturalness. Commentaries or interpretations of the rituals themselves are an absolute violation of the ceremonies; therefore, it was obvious that the proposed construction activities in this case would destroy practitioners’ religion and force them to abandon the rituals. It is painful to mention the most respectless actions that have been done and are being done against Indian civilization. This is (mainly but not exclusively) because they involve the sacred value of the dead. It is the most (un)believable situation of the desecration of the dead. But, as it has been said many times in history, the living are here in order to tell the story. And as Walter Echo Hawk, a lawyer with the Native American Rights Found writes: ”It’s a real clash between science and religion […] If you desecrate an Indian grave, you get a Ph.D. But if you desecrate a white grave, you wind up sitting in prison”2.

The same ethno-centric logic is found in Bear Lodge Multiple Use Association v. Babitt, decided in 1998. It is hard for anyone embedded into Euro-Christian tradition to comprehend that, in Native American world, a distinction between religion and culture is hardly possible. Particularly in this case, it was difficult to admit the fact that American Indians considered the ”Devil’s Tower” in Wyoming a sacred site. Indians had a sense of natural theology that established a sense of sacredness in place and tradition. One has to add that, today, the ”exotic nature” of the tribal religions is about all that can attract white tourists to the reservations. As Deloria rightly observes, since the Indian Christians ”are not expected to hold church services as a tourist attraction, traditional Indians should not believe that they are required to do so”3. Another relevant case is Santa Clara Pueblo v. Martinez. A crucial concept – membership – is involved in this case. From the Indian’s point of view, membership in an Indian tribe was not a right created by the Constitution, laws or treaties of the United States: it was an institution that predated discovery, therefore related to tribal inherent sovereignty. Respondent Martinez in this case was a full-blooded member of the Santa Clara Pueblo, residing on the Santa Clara Pueblo reservation in Northern New Mexico. She married a Navajo Indian, with whom she had several children, including respondent Audrey Martinez. Two years before their marriage, the Pueblo passed a membership ordinance according to which the Martinez 1

See ibidem, p. 76. Cited in Larry FRUHLING, Gannet News Service, Atlanta, Georgia, April 19, 1989. 3 Vine DELORIA Jr., Clifford M. LYTLE, The Nations Within...cit., p. 254. 2


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children could not be admitted into the Pueblo tribe because their father is not a Santa Claran. Meanwhile, the children could not be accepted into the Navajo tribe, because their mother was a Pueblo. The legal issues involved are more complicated, however, since they involve the effects of the Indian Civil Rights Act. Respondents claimed that such tribal rules discriminate on the basis of sex and ancestry in violation of Title I of the Act, which provides that ”no Indian tribe in exercising powers of self-government shall deny […] any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of its laws”. But the court held that Title I does not authorize the bringing of civil actions for declaratory or injunctive relief to enforce its substantive provisions, thereby not interfering with the tribal rules on membership. Cases like United States v. Mazurie and William v. Lee are cited here. Indian tribes have long been recognized as possessing the common-law immunity from suit enjoyed by sovereign powers. Although this aspect is subject to the ”plenary control” of Congress, one has to consider that Indian nations are exempt from suit ”without congressional authorization”. A very interesting case is United States v. Dion. It involves essential aspects of Indian identity: Dion, a member of the Yankton Sioux Tribe, was convicted of shooting four bald eagles on the Yankton Sioux reservation in South Dakota in violation of the Endangered Species Act. This act prohibits the hunting of the bald or golden eagle except pursuant to a permit issued by the Secretary of the Interior. On the other hand, members of the Yankton Sioux tribe had a treaty right to hunt eagles within their reservation for noncommercial purposes1. The question in this case was whether the Eagle Protection and Endangered Species Act abrogate this treaty right. Although, before the case was decided, Congress’ intention to abrogate Indian treaty rights had to be ”clear and plain”, and although the Act did not contain any explicit reference to Indians, the Court read the statute ”as having abrogated that right”. The demand for eagle feathers for Indian religious ceremonies was interpreted as a threat to the continued survival of the golden eagle2. ”Congress shows to set a regime in which the Secretary of the Interior had control over Indian hunting, rather than one in which Indian on-reservation hunting was unrestricted.”3 We can see from this case how ”congressional intent” started to be defined in an implicit sense. The courts’ practice supported the modification of Indian rights in a much mare substantial way. The effects of this case have largely destroyed Indian identity. The rights guaranteed to Indians by treaty and statute were often secured in exchange for large cession of land or other rights by the Indians. Many of the treaty and statutory rights involved vested property rights for which compensation must be paid under the Fifth Amendment, should the national government abrogate the right. The requirement of a clear and congressional intent to infringe such rights must have given them a sense of security at least concerning the rights retained by negotiated treaties. 1 It has to be remembered that hunting and fishing rights are ”reserved rights” for the Indians. Federal Indian Law has recognized the importance of these activities to traditional Indian cultures. These rights were part of continuing an ancient way of life ”after the establishment of the sovereign”. 2 For a contrary view, see the Cherokee’s oral history, which contains many stories in which animals worry about the land becoming too crowded with human beings. 3 R. CLINTON, N. NEWTON, M. PRICE, American Indian Law, cit., p. 222.



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In the Arapahoe tradition, eagles arte seen as messengers, ”transitory between heaven and earth, carrying prayers to the Man Above. This explains the importance of eagles plumage in the Sun Dance regalia, and similarly of the label ’eagles’ for the old men who sing religious songs as prayers on behalf of the people”1.

United States v. Dion allows a deeper insight into the way Indians perceived and worshipped nature. Only such a perspective can give a better sense of the destruction resulted from divergent decisions on Indian issues, both legal and political. Also some authors have ”rhapsodized” about the grandeur of Indian culture and about the sacred sense of nature found in this culture, it is nonetheless necessary to understand the earth from a Native American perspective in order to perceive then impact of the environmental crisis on Native Americans. Their perspective is totally different from then utilitarian view on resources embedded in the Euro-American world. American industrialism ”invades the last enclaves of ecologically independent Native America”, a silent drama especially if one considers that the concept of progress is foreign to many American Indian cultures. ”Ecology and land” are intimately connected with Native American spirituality: the earth is a sacred space, ”as provider for the living and as shrine for the dead”2. Tuhulkutsut, a Nez Perce chief, has said that the earth is part his body: ”I belong to the land out which I came. The earth is my mother”3. This sense of worship is especially true for the part of the earth defined as home4. The destruction of the environment is an existential drama for Native American cultures. While other groups of people might have become ”accustomed” to pollution, for aboriginal people it means death. Today, they can only remember the times when earth was bountiful, and we were surrounded with the blessings of the Great Mystery, as Luther Standing Bear has said in one of his famous words, transmitted by oral culture. In this context, one cannot forget the power of religious resistance in tribal societies during the centuries of oppression. As the Romanian philosopher Mircea Eliade states, ”the shamanic vision is a universal human experience, but it tends to be an overall unifying force only in tribal societies”5. Going back to the initial question which motivated this study, American Indian Law will reflect Indian identity to the extent to which the shared sense of justice will become reality. Other arguments are no more than sophistry. 1

Ibidem, p. 381. On the unique problem of Indian remains, see Mexican v. Circle Bear (1985), a case dealing with the great respect for human remains in Indian cultures; The Indian Graves Protection and Repatriation Act of 1990; Connie HART YELLOWMAN, ”Naevahoo’ohtseme – We are Going Back Home: The Cheyenne Repatriation of Human Remains – A Woman’s Perspective”, St. Thomas Law Review, 9, 1996, p. 103. 3 D. GRINDE, B. JOHANSEN, Ecocide of Native America, cit., p. 31. 4 For an extensive description of the Native American environmental ethic and environmental philosophy, see D. GRINDE, B. JOHANSEN, ”Native Americans: America’s First Ecologists?”, in IDEM, Ecocide of Native America, cit., pp. 23-52. 5 See Mircea ELIADE, The Sacred and the Profane, Harcourt, Inc., Orlando, Florida, 1957, and IDEM, Shamanism: Archaic Technics of Ecstasy, Bolingen Series, New York, 1964. For such an application to the Pueblos, see Alfonso ORTIZ, The Tewa World, University of Chicago Press, Chicago, 1969. 2


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Stories of catastrophe and renewal are both found in the Native American legend. But from a contemporary vantage, one story is particularly relevant to the current situation of the American Indian. It comes from the Wappo people of Northern California: ”Long ago there was a great flood which destroyed all the people in the world. Only Coyote survived. When waters subsided, the earth was empty. Coyote thought about it a long time. The Coyote collected a great bundle of tail feathers from owls, hawks, eagles and buzzards. He journeyed over the whole earth and carefully located the site of each Indian village. Where the dwellings had stood, he planted a feather in the ground and scraped out the dirt around it. The feathers sprouted like trees, and grew up and branched. At least they turned into men and women. So the world became inhabited with people again”1.

If the Indian’s perception about cyclic cosmic time is accurate, than Indian renewal will resemble the end of the Wappo story: ”He planted feathers sprout out into men and women, who again inhabited the earth”. But such regeneration – which painfully resembles the colors of the final scene in Spielberg’s Schindler’s List – would not have been possible if Coyote would not have thought about it ”for a long time”. This time of reflection is here now. We might still live on the age of discovery.

1

As quoted in Carol GOLDBERG-AMBROSE’s ”Introduction” to IDEM, Planting Tail Feathers. Tribal Survival and Public Law 280, Los Angeles University Press, Los Angeles, 1997.


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PIERRE MANENT Raţiunea naţiunilor. Reflecţii asupra democraţiei în Europa Romanian translation and preface by CRISTIAN PREDA Editura Nemira, Bucureşti, 2007, 118 pp. Pierre Manent is not only a contemporary European thinker holding a distinctive voice, but also a scholar with a sharp, yet out-fashioned, perspective on modern political realities. Most commentators, irrespective of the political camp, share more or less the same non-reflective attitude as most European citizens when the complex social and political implications of the last major political experiment going on in the Old World after 1945, namely the European Union, enter into public debate. Contrary to the common opinion, Manent takes the issue of the European Union seriously and with much analytical depth. The backbone of Manent’s argumentation from La raison des nations. Réflections sur la démocratie en Europe (Gallimard, Paris, 2006) seems to be based on a series of intellectual influences which, if, ostensibly, have a lot to share even today, it remains a matter of concern as to how much relevancy they have to offer to our times: Thomas Hobbes, Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Max Weber, Raymond Aron, and, playing the role of Virgil from The Divine Comedy through the theoretical and practical intricacies of 21st century democracy, Alexis de Tocqueville. Under the care and scrutiny of Pierre Manent, the abovementioned political thinkers do not only become alive, but, as if under Manent’s own spell, seem unpredictably original in determining the direction in which the invisible machinery of the European Union is heading towards. Manent, originating from the tradition of the nineteenth century classical liberalism, is worried by the evolution of a socio-cultural phenomenon, which, steadily but surely, is wearing down the fabric, weaved with carefulness over centuries, of the generic democracy, of the political form in which, at least paradigmatically, we still live in: that instead of recognizing and respecting the humanity

from each individual, based on the model of a healthy sense of the Otherness, we have reached the point in which ”seeing the other as the same” is not only natural, but the only democratically admissible option. (p.12) What worries the French thinker – and this is the key-element from which the whole reasoning of the La raison des nations springs – is the current model of the European democracy, in other words, Europe’s tendency to transform into ”a central human agency”, that of a ”democratic governance” equipped with a set of dogmas and a cult of the human rights worshiped with devotion, which aspires to constitute a single political identity (why not also cultural?), in which ”the radical separation of democracy from any real people and building a kratos without a demos” seems to be the single viable long-term project (the low attendance at the European Parliamentary elections from June 2009 confirms the analysis of the French philosopher). Manent suggests that all European institutions, these bodies which float into the atmosphere of recent Europe like Swifts’ Laputa, are the ones who uphold the kratos, which is, in fact, the gnosis of ”the Idea of Democracy” (p. 15). From this awakened consciousness of the social, cultural and economic uniformity of the European middle classes, but also American, which wish to establish a promethean and tentacular – as Manent sarcastically calls it –, ”global middle class”, Manent’s indignation, if we can name it as such, is borne. It is in fact about the demand of a societal modal, developed from the respect of difference and the love of liberty, for which Manent indirectly advocates. Within doubtful communities stuck in the present time, Manent is searching for explanations for the fact that ”situated under the flashes of its self-proclaimed unity, the wedged humankind witnesses the continuous and


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never-ending liturgy of its self-adoration” (p. 17). And, under the piercing eye of a restless master, the weak aspects of the real European demos are easily brought to light. Manent’s reflections, synthesized in the slim book we have before us, distinguishes three layers, each constituting a separate chapter in the book: the state of democracy, of the nation and of religion in the public discourse and in the day-to-day activity of the European (i.e. the European Union) and American political bodies. The distinctions existing between the American and European models do not exclude a common present element within the two global democratic archetypes. According to Manent, modern democracy has been to the present age subject to three forms, set concentrically, which have been experimented consecutively and more or less surpassed: the first form has dwelt on the ”social problem”, that is the inclusion of all social categories into the polis, having the shortest existence, being situated between the revolutionary 1848 and the rebelling Paris of 1968, the second form, encapsulating the first, focused on the holding of power or on the sovereignty of the people, stretches between the 4th of July 1776 and 9/11 2001, without being a fortiori localized in the United States, while the third, the form which includes the already mentioned ”circles”, represents, without having a clear-cut long-term end, the oldest manifestation of modern democracy, that of the sovereign nation-state – which is nowadays considered a thing of the past by the fervent supporters of globalization. However, it is interesting to mention that Manent places the starting point of the sovereign state further in time than the moment at which Thomas Hobbes published his groundwork, The Leviathan (1651). If the wave of the enthusiast process of democratization, regulated by the interiorizing of the equalizing-democratic mores, has solved, at least in most of the Northern hemisphere (to a lesser extent in the Southern hemisphere), ”the social problem”, the sovereign state has become in the demos, in Manent’s conception, from the guarantor of equalizing conditions – nevertheless, under the supervision of the principle of the separation of

powers –, and educator of the citizens in the spirit of equality (as predicted by Tocqueville), a source of democratic opposition. The state, the Weberian holder of the monopoly of legitimate violence, is nowadays under the attack of a radicalized democratic spirit: ”Democracy, understood as a feeling, a feeling all the more aggressive of human resemblance, is heading against the last Difference, which is for us also the first, because this Difference – the superiority of the state over the society – is the condition of equality and resemblance” (p. 31). The state, following the initiation of the ”social contract”, has been the executer of the natural law instead of the individual from the state of nature. From here originates, asserts Manent, the right to the capital punishment – proportional with the gravity of the deed, of course –, instrumented and conducted by the citizens of a society through the means of the state. Recognizing the barbarity of the capital punishment, when it is exerted by the state, in post-1945 Europe, corresponds to an unjustified overgeneralization and exaggeration of the state power with the expressed aim of weakening it and, implicitly, democratically de-legitimize the state (ergo, from the human rights point of view). In fact, the mechanism of capital punishment works as a corollary to the social contract. It is a legitimate collective extension (alive or moral) of the pre-state individual and rudimentary justice to which any individual has a right of in the state of nature. It is exactly this understanding of the capital punishment which is lost today, encroaching upon the sovereign state itself: ”How could the state ask from me, without doing a profound injustice, to risk my life in order to defend it, after the state had stipulated as a constitutional principle that even the worst criminal will not suffer capital punishment?” (p. 38). The Americans – although the situation is limited to a number of states – have yet access to the political and historical background of this issue, maintains Manent, but nobody knows for how long it will still last. What is after all truly remarkable in Manent’s analysis lies in the fact that the French thinker weaves an argumentative line which


RECENSIONES is, on the one hand, funded in the patrimony of the European political thinking, on the other hand, resonates perfectly, proving the vast knowledge of Manent as a scholar, with the complex problems raised up by Albert Camus in his famous essay regarding the fate of the capital punishment, Reflections on the Guillotine, that was published in a period in which the legislation regarding the capital punishment would cease to exist all across Western Europe. When Manent sieves out, in a convergent approach, the role of the nation nowadays, his reasoning starts with 9/11, the event which proves that the supposed metaphysical (or rather touristic?) unity of the humankind, supported in any possible ways by contemporary democrats, stumbles in the hard rock of the ”homogenous, closed, hard penetrable” communities, and that the ideal of an extra-large ”politically correct” community has no basis in the real human nature and in the tradition of the nation-state (a reality yet unknown by the Muslim world, according to Pierre Manent). At the same time, post-WWII Europe is shaken up by the inhibition of a neurotic and masochistic sub-consciousness every time the question of the ”nation” becomes a matter of public debate. It is more about the exclusive task of taking responsibility for the radical, xenophobic and anti-Semite nationalisms, which have created both Auschwitz and Stalingrad. The synonymy between nationalism and its sinister comedy, which has climaxed in fascism and national-socialism, is apodictic and self-understood from the perspective of the EU representatives. The current non-nationalism is circumscribed to the laic project of globalizing the cult of the human rights, of the so-claimed cultural relativism under the umbrella of a liberal tolerance which has become tyrannical because of its rigid and dogmatic character. Unfortunately, the decrease of national solidarities in favor of the worldwide community project does not correspond entirely to the demands of the European demos. The immediate consequences are the diminishing of the state sovereignty and of the governing representativity (for Manent, the economically homogenized societies, within

753 the process of the de-nationalization, of the Union, without being segmented into social classes, have no ”real desire to be represented”). At least this is the interpretative direction to which Manent’s study leads, who favors more the economic union after the war and does not identify a suitable and testable reason for the political union, grounded more in the intellectual climate existing at the end of the 1950s. One aspect makes the reader ponder when reading Manent’s analysis and that is the organic understanding of the nation (without pleading for it under the contemporary circumstances however), with feudal or even more remote roots, of the French scholar, a perspective that neatly contrasts with the nation-artifact hypotheses of the polymorphous modernity, as we encounter it in the astonishing studies on the subject of historians such as Eugen Weber, Ernest Gellner, Kedourie or Hobsbawm, just to name a few of the most representative. Last but not least, Pierre Manent tackles the question of religion within the current democratic political body in the last chapter of his book. A certain programmatic skepticism defines the relationship between religion and European democracy: the Christian roots and its contribution to the European civilization are examined not only through the lens of an atheistic secularism (preacher of the ”Idea of Democracy” gnosis, as already mentioned), but also through the guilty accountability of Christian historical past (as in the case of the nation-state, a mental substitute of the dark age situated between 1919-1945, the Christian legacy is heterogeneous and implicitly a possible determinant of fundamentalism: the Inquisition and the religious wars of the Middle Ages have left a powerful repulsive mark in the relation of a 21st century European citizen to Christianity in general). Moreover, religion is not recognizable in the public sphere as a subject to be seriously taken into consideration. The self-confidence of secular Europe goes well beyond the simple objective recognition of Christianity as a ”political fact”. Hence, from here derives an egocentric underestimation of religion when it manifests violently, as part of a coherent system of ideas, in the


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Islamic terrorism or in the foreign politics of some Middle East states, susceptible, Manent believes, to an imperialist comprehension of international politics. The conclusion of the study by Pierre Manent, so rich and dense in ideas and suggestions, which bear a breathtaking clarity and accuracy that could convince even the most passionate EU supporter, is mostly a structural one: in comparison to the actual democratic vitality of the American nation-state – nonetheless, possessing pernicious attributes, similar to the European model –, the European Union seems the club of an artificial administrative elite which does not testify to the potential of offering a consistent active political body, compatible

with the developmental cycle of three centuries of democracy, of the sovereign nation-state (currently, under erosion) and of the Humanist and Christian over-identity (extinct today). Pierre Manent is searching for a community in liberty in our late modernity, which is in fact grounded on nothing, but to which everything seems to be oriented as if (perhaps) to irrevocably annul it. A book which should not be missed out and an inexhaustible resource of debate and dialogues on ideas that are more than pressing, La raison des nations, in spite of its reduced length, captivates and draws innovative lines of research. DAN ALEXANDRU CHIŢĂ

A. JAMES GREGOR The Faces of Janus: Marxism and Fascism in the Twentieth Century New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2000, 256 pp. On A. James Gregor book The Faces of Janus. Fascism and Marxism in the Twentieth Century, experts in the field of both fascism (Stanley G. Payne) and Communism (Paul Hollander) were to say that it represents ”a crucial and outstanding contribution to the debate on ’fascism after communism’ [that] […] uses the perspective of the fin-de-siècle and the demise of classic communism to illuminate the manifold uses and abuses of the concept of ’fascism’ and of the extensive similarities with communist theory, structure and practice […], [which provides us with a] […] vital and fuller understanding of both fascism and communism”, respectively ”a remarkable and highly original study that addresses several of the most contentious and important questions of our times: the nature, origin, and prevailing interpretations of fascism, the weaknesses of the left-right classification of political movements and the relationship between fascism and Marxism-Leninism […] [that] […] demonstrates not only that fascist and Marxist-Leninist political systems had much in common, but that their theoretical inspirations too have

been far more similar than is generally realized […] an unusually illuminating and thought provoking book that supports its propositions and conclusions by important and so far untranslated Italian, German and Russian works”. Other outstanding scholars and well established journals were to comment in a similar positive manner: ”is the first to use Marxist theory systematically to bend the political spectrum from a linear to a circular form […] Recommended for all political science collections, this book supplements The Black Book of Communism” (Library Journal); ”This book makes a very important point, namely that historians and political scientists of the twentieth century have persistently misunderstood the fundamental similarities between ’Fascism’ and ’Communism’” (Richard Pipes); ”Renovating Cold War theories of authoritarianism and totalitarianism, […] provides insights into the symptoms of Marxian ideological decline into nationalism and racism in the late and post-Soviet Union as well as the People’s Republic of China [...] a controversial work both in its attempted analyses


RECENSIONES and its predictions, … an authoritative source to be cited in some future scholarship” (Choice); ”a splendid work of scholarship that is much needed if we are ever to understand the revolutionary movements of the past 100 years [...] startling, because our understanding of fascism is primarily a product of Soviet propaganda [...] riveting reading” (Paul Craig Roberts); and so on. Beyond all the above charming and suggestive comments and epithets, the reader will discover an extremely serious and well documented book on political philosophy that bear the peerless mark of A.J. Gregor, an outstanding scholar in the field of comparative fascism, professor of political science at the University of California at Berkeley, author of Interpretations of Fascism (Morristown, 1974), Fascism in Our Time (Transaction, 1998), and Marxism, China and Development (Transaction, 1995). A book that challenges the long-standing belief that Marxism and Fascism are ideologies on opposite sides of the political spectrum while stressing the fact that the theoretical and practical relationship between Fascism and Marxism is ”curvilinear rather than rectilinear”, at the same time rejecting the assumption that Marxism is benign, progressive, and humanitarian, while Fascism can not be but malicious, regressive, and chauvinistic. No wonder that many, mainly historians, considered Gregor’s view as heretical, though he is not the first and definitely not the last to uphold such a perspective. One might look for the plethora of books and articles published before the Second World War emphasizing similar ideas and focusing on the common features of the totalitarian twins of the twentieth century. Or, he might quote, as Richard M. Ebeling did, the work of the Austrian economist Ludwig von Mises (Planned Chaos, 1947), who analyzed and put into perspective the intellectual and ideological forces that had been at work in the Western world since the First World War and which had led to the Second World War as to point out that it is ”important to realize that Fascism and Nazism were socialist dictatorships”, ”committed to the Soviet principle of […] violent oppression of dissenters”, exhibiting ”an economic program borrowed from

755 German non-Marxian socialism” and a ”conduct of government affairs [that] was [nothing but] a replica of Lenin’s dictatorship”. Whether or not von Mises was right when saying that ”There were nowhere more docile disciples of Lenin, Trotsky, and Stalin than the Nazis. [...] [as] they imported from Russia: the one-party system and the pre-eminence of this party in political life; the paramount position assigned to the secret police; the concentration camps; the administrative execution or imprisonment of all opponents; the extermination of the families of suspects and of exiles; the method of propaganda”, and many other techniques besides is still debatable. However, one can only with difficulties deny that the philosophy of fascism, and Nazism, was, among other things, ”the purest and most consistent manifestation of the anticapitalistic and socialistic spirit of our age”. And yet, to argue that Soviet communism, Italian fascism, and German Nazism were all branches from a common source in collectivism and socialism has been one of the great taboos of the 20th century. Many intellectuals, mainly those on the political left, rejected the paradigm and imposed their perspective. Thus, for decades the consensus has been that Soviet communism, no matter how disappointing in practice, was an amoral, idealistic, and ”progressive” attempt to bring political harmony, social justice, and economic equality to all mankind. As Martin Malia put it recently in the forward to ”The Black Book of Communism: Crimes, Terror, Repression”, (Cambridge, 1999) it was not a matter of science but political allegiance. ”No enemy to the left” was an ideological dictum for many, of whom some even found resources to say in 1991 ”Thanks for having tried” to the Soviet Union. ”Obnoxious historical revisionism” the leftists shouted when Gregor’s book was published. ”This book is one of a handful of bibles of the ’new’ right”, and part of the effort of the libertarians to portray the political left as evil, ”a piece of propaganda that completely ignores the historical underpinnings of each movement (fascism and communism)”. Still, for the rest, The Faces of Janus represent a deeply insightful book and an absolute must-have for any serious student


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of totalitarianism in the 20th century. Definitely, a meaningful reviewer might say that Gregor’s book is also an attempt to improve the general perception of fascism while defining it as a doctrine of ”competing nations” and a mean to preserve the national community in the face of international expansion of Enlightenment political theory and practice. Or, on contrary, he may argue that the book is an attempt to excuse the dreadful crimes of the communist regimes while demonstrating that Stalinism and Maoism were rather fascist ideologies and regimes. Though, Gregor’s goal is to indicate and explain both the socialist and Marxist roots of fascism and the fascist influence on communist regimes from Lenin and Stalin to Mao Zedong. An exegesis of the origin of Fascist ideology meant to underline that Fascism, ”the revolutionary nationalism of the poor” that emerged around the Italian Syndicalist attempt to enhance the productive capacity of Italy in the face of international exploitation at the hands of developed industrial countries, was initially a ”variant of revolutionary Marxism designed to address the reality of lesser developed nations”. At the same time Gregor’s book offers the reader a sharp and critical evaluation of the first Marxist-Leninist interpretations of Fascism, thus identifying the grass roots of the false dichotomy between Fascism, the dictatorships of the ruling bourgeoisie, and communism, the dictatorship of the proletarians, a dichotomy that he considers to be ”at best, a caricature of the actual political and historical sequence”. What Gregor argue in this sense is that both Mussolini and Hitler displaced the traditional bourgeoisie from power and

subordinated the bourgeoisie’s interests to the collective national interest, and that fascist ideologies emphasized the necessity for the state to coordinate and harmonize the productive forces of the nation for the good of all classes, and the that fascist regimes are not in the service of any one particular class, but seek a harmony between all the classes. Last but not least, what Gregor’s does is to testify that Marxist regimes in USSR and China were practical applications of Marxist-Leninist theory that nevertheless took on an essentially Fascist appearance. That both Mao and Stalin were not only nationalists and racists but that they have both conceived of the world as divided between ”less-developed nations and advanced industrial democracies”, uphold nationalistic policies, revolutionary violence, submission to the charismatic leader, and so on. Just as the fascists did. Without being a classic historical narrative, and yet considering the historical record of the revolutionary practices of the twentieth century, The Faces of Janus goes beyond the catalogue of horrors of both fascism and communism in order to provide the rider with a firm understanding of totalitarianism and authoritarianism. Moreover, the book is not only a history lesson and a masterpiece of intellectual history. It is not only about the Past; it is also about Present and Future. A scholarly and balanced study that illuminates us with regard the dangers represented by fascist form of socialism that, regardless of the particular names it goes under, may yet leave its mark on the 21st century as well. MIHAI CHIOVEANU

BEN SHEPHARD After Daybreak – The Liberation of Belsen, 1945 Pimlico, London, 2006, 260 pp. English historian and lecturer Ben Shephard, well-known for his BBC documentaries and interviews of historical figures, published the volume After Daybreak – The Liberation of

Belsen, 1945 little after the celebration of the 60th anniversary of the event it tackles. Based on various direct sources such as testimonials, diaries and letters, as well as historical


RECENSIONES facts, the author seeks to present a broad and objective picture of the liberation of camp Bergen Belsen by the British starting with April 15th, 1945 and makes a vivid account of the events that followed. Bergen-Belsen was a camp in Western Germany originally intended for gathering rich or prominent Jews who maintained connections abroad or could be at some point exchanged with German prisoners. They were kept in better conditions than in other camps, and some of them were even able to keep diaries, which proved to be valuable testimonials in the aftermath of the War. However, in the course of 1944, the camp extended its activity by also hosting Holocaust survivors from evacuated camps, mostly women. By the end of that year, Belsen had entirely become an extermination camp also due to the fact that it came to host 60 000 people, 6 times more than it was initially intended, although the accommodations and feeding resources did not multiply accordingly. Therefore, thousands of inmates were dying of starvation, being also ravaged by numerous diseases and epidemics. That was the situation in April of 1945, when the camp was handed over to the British. The unexpected shocking conditions the camp and its inmates were found in are being described in disturbing details. Among the most appalling elements that struck were the piles of corpses lying around and the amount of feces and filth the emaciated prisoners were living in, most of them victims of malnutrition, dehydration, typhus and dysentery (p. 37). Shephard dedicates a good part of the book to the presentation of the following month, day by day, mostly from the British helpers’ perspective, but without forgetting to include some inmates’ testimonials. Their priority was to feed and offer medical attention to the 60 000 inmates, but this proved to be an overwhelming task for they weren’t prepared in any way to cope with such a situation (p. 53). The author implies that following their arrival to Belsen, the British did their best to help the patients with the scarce resources they had. However, in an attempt to remain objective, he notes that some errors were made that cost thousands of lives. For instance, they administered

757 regular and thus inadequate food to the emaciated patients whose condition worsened considerably as a consequence or even led to their death (pp. 41-42, p. 81). Also, he notes that the unjustified slowness of the evacuation of the patients from the insalubrious barracks to some medical facilities reduced their chances of physical as well as psychological recovery. The more fit patients were only evacuated starting April 24th, roughly 10 days after the initial intervention. Beginning of May, hundreds of inmates kept dying daily. Only a couple of weeks later, as the camp conditions and the medical care improved, the death rate dropped. It must be said that the lack of preparation of the British is rather unexplainable, as they should have been somewhat expecting to face a critical humanitarian situation. Even when the reinforcements came, medical students, German doctors and nurses, they proved to be almost as ill-equipped as the initial teams were (p. 95). Adapting was the key which enabled the British to provide some help and relief to their patients. However, the westerners were not able to anticipate things such as the fact that they could practically not rely in any way on the more fitted inmates to bring some help to the sicker ones, their degradation being such that uncompassionate, they would steal all the food they could get, to the prejudice of the disabled. 14.000 people died at Belsen in the month following its liberation. The question that arises is whether they or some of them could have been saved and could have survived their ordeal. Although it is counterfactual, given the detailed description of the terrible situation, it is legitimate to say the loss of human lives was a consequence of the terminal condition they were found in, but it was also due to some extent to the more or less inevitable errors the British did in handling the situation. They could for instance be accused of turning their humanitarian action into a pure ambition when they refused to give up to a chemical treatment supposed to help recover the malnourished although it obviously had no effect whatsoever (p. 101). Furthermore, in addition to the strictly physical medical attention, the patients were


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in a desperate mental state that needed care, the influence of one on the other being crucial. Obstacles to their treatment arose, such as the fact that due to their severe mistreatment by the Nazis the inmates could not stand to see needles hence could not receive any injections, or would become irritated if found out that the doctor or nurse that treated them was German. Clearing the camp from the disintegrating corpses lying everywhere was the first step taken not only in order to improve medical and hygienic conditions, but also the atmosphere and the inmates’ state of mind. The British intervened further to improve the psychological state of their patients. They called in a rabbi to hold services for the Jews, which proved to be an important step to their recovery (p. 70) Moreover, he facilitated them to send and receive letters from friends and family. A significant episode was that of a shipment of lipstick that arrived at Belsen which contributed a great deal to the mental state of the women, who started to care again for their appearance (p. 133). Also, towards the end of May, after evacuating all the inmates from the huts, the British symbolically burnt them down, to express the end of the horrors that have been taking place inside them. The British were blamed of using their intervention at Bergen-Belsen and symbolical gestures as the one presented earlier as means of propaganda in their favor. This is reinforced by the fact that many films and pictures were made at the time and published widely by the British. It is practically obvious that considering the political context of the time, such an opportunity of putting in evidence charity actions and efforts to help the misfortunate victims of the war would be seized. But it is not less true that the main purpose of the British was indeed to bring some rescue to the sick and dying human beings. However, another question arises whose answer is hard to give. Why did the Allies, albeit knowing to some extent what was the situation1 did they not intervene to rescue at 1

British intelligence had been monitoring the camp for years and had just debriefed in March of 1945 a recently exchanged Jewish inmate who was able to provide details over the

least some of the inmates in the camps before they were voluntarily handed over? Aside from the possible political implications, the author notes that the Allies feared consequences such as the arrival of thousands of refugees, most of them ill and in need of help (p. 26). Whether their intervention was used to promote themselves, was influenced by the guilt they felt for their passive attitude prior to the liberation of the camps, was just a duty to accomplish or was determined by the genuine wish to help, what can be confirmed is the remarkable rescue given to the victims by the British. Most probably, it was a little bit of each. At the individual level, as the accent is often put on the testimonials of the victims, this volume highly values the point of view of the helpers, which were left with very different impressions of what they saw. To some of them, their intervention at Belsen was only one more task to complete, whereas others were utterly scarred by the experience. Shephard does not forget to include the fact that the victims were not the only ones in need of psychological care. Their helpers, of any nationality would they be, were often in a state of shock after assisting to the Belsen situation. This is why they were provided with the best possible conditions and they even benefited of entertainment to keep their spirits as high as possible. Also, they were occasionally replaced by other volunteers ready to offer a helping hand, so as to not let their morale get affected by the horrors they were facing. Towards the end of the book, Ben Shephard does not ignore the aftermath of the intervention. Starting September 1945, Belsen trials were organized by the British to convict the ones responsible of the terrible state the inmates reached. Organizing quick trials before the American ones of Nuremberg, which started in November, is another element which proves the British intention of promoting themselves through the Belsen intervention. The trials were rather a disaster. (David CESARANI, ”At Camp Horror, Heroism and Chaos, Review: After Daybreak by Ben Shephard”, The Guardian, 11 June 2005, p. 13.)


RECENSIONES formality, although the defenders took their work seriously, almost compromising the initial intention2. SS officer Dr. Fritz Klein, the camp doctor and a former help of Dr. Mengele, as well as the camp recently named commander, Josef Kramer and other SS officers as well as kapos were accused of crimes against humanity and sentenced to death or to life in prison (p. 175). A few of them were acquitted. More than the British intention of publicizing their actions, the trials had also a symbolical signification for the victims and their families, who saw their torturers being punished for their deeds. This represented to the victims a step forward to their rehabilitation and to the reassurance that such events would not happen again in the future. The volume also tackles a rather delicate question, which is that of the outcome of the survivors as well as their helpers. For what concerns the doctors, nurses and other categories of volunteers that contributed to the intervention, most of them resumed their lives and careers. Some of them never spoke about what they had seen, while other wrote memoirs or testimonials and even held conferences on the subject, Dr. Glyn Hughes, the first British Medical Officer to enter Belsen, being an example. The case of the victims is somewhat different. Right after their evacuation from the camp, some of the patients still in recovery along with their families were offered journeys in western countries, such as Sweden. As a consequence, many of the survivors never returned to their homelands, choosing to emigrate. Most of them went to the United States. The adoption countries welcomed more or less the new arrivals. A good number of Jews became Israeli citizens after the creation of the state in 1948, while in the early years after the War, the British sought to limit Jewish emigration to Palestine in order to keep their domination in the Middle-East. As for the individual outcomes of the deportees, they proved to be very different according to each one. Some of the survivors ended up in mental hospitals, unable to cope with the horrors they had lived and 2

Ibidem, p. 13.

759 the loss of their families and friends. Others managed to get on with their lives; some wrote their memoirs and even held lectures on the subject. Dr. Hadassah Bimko is an example. After doing her best to help her fellow inmates as well as the few children at Bergen-Belsen, she became one of the leaders of the organization of the Belsen survivors. Although she did not resume her medical career, she dedicated herself to the memory of the Holocaust, being one of founding members of the United States Holocaust Museum in Washington (p. 183). The British historian’s initiative to track down the main actors of the April and May of 1945 events and present their afterlives enables us to have a complete and overall perspective not only of the focus period, but also of its consequences and later effects. Although could be categorized by some as ”just another book on Holocaust”, Ben Shephard’s After Daybreak… represents a valuable account of the liberation of Bergen Belsen. Despite the detailed descriptions of what the camp and the inmates looked like at the time of the British arrival, the importance of the volume resides in its rather objective, complete and solidly researched character, being written by a historian who sought to present more than only a few direct testimonials of the facts. However, the critique that can be brought is that the negative part of the British action and its failures, although brought up, are not as emphasized as the positive accomplishments, the book leaving the reader with a rather optimistic view3. Moreover, the volunteers and helpers other than the British are hardly mentioned, although they proved to be indispensable given the situation. The British nationality of the author could explain this to some extent, as well as a possible lack of evidences he was confronted to. Overall, what is to be remembered is the fact that April 15th 1945, 3 ”Mistakes were made […] But on the balance, this is a story of medical heroics in the face of unprecedented horror.” (Richard J. MCNALLY, ”Book Review: After Daybreak – The Liberation of Bergen-Belsen, 1945”, Shofar, An Interdisciplinary Journal of Jewish Studies, vol. 26, no. 2, 2008, p. 192.)


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although the official date of the liberation of camp Bergen-Belsen was far from representing what it should have for its inmates, most of them in such a condition that they were unable to comprehend or enjoy their free-

dom. It was rather a new beginning of the struggle for survival, with a substantial contribution from their helpers. LETIŢIA POP

CHARLES PATTERSON Un éternel Treblinka French translation by Dominique Letellier Calmann-Lévy, Paris, 2008, 334 pp. Eternal Treblinka written by Charles Patterson, professor at Columbia University, is one of the many contributions in the field of animal ethics. This field of research that owes its name to Herbert Spencer, and to his work of 1892, The Principles of Ethics, developed as a discipline in the seventies, in the Anglo-Saxon academic milieu. This discipline challenges the anthropocentric approaches and arguments that rest on the moral superiority of the human species. If in the French field of research such contributions are quite rare, and usually received with hostility, there have been however attempts to familiarise the French readers with this discipline, as prove the volumes of Jean-Baptiste Vilmer1 and of Boris Cyrulnik2. Charles Patterson’s book, in the footsteps of Isaac Bashevis Singer (the one to coin the expression ”eternal Treblinka”), argues that genocidal acts have been made possible through history, by our approach towards animals and by the institutionalization of the animal killing, in the form of the slaughterhouse, which served as a model for mass murder. Patterson places at the centre of his thesis the great division between humans and animals, the intellectual superiority of human beings, carefully conceptualized over time, and which gave rise to what Freud calls the ”humane megalomania” 1 Jean-Baptiste Jeangene VILMER, Ethique animale, PUF, Paris, 2008. 2 Boris CYRULNIK (ed.), Si les lions pouvaient parler. Essais sur la condition animale, Quarto Gallimard, Paris, 1998.

(p. 9). Such considerations entangle moral issues that are pertinent both for animal and human mass murder: what degree of intelligence must have a creature as to consider its murder a crime? We will further see that such an inquiry is relevant in the study of eugenist measures imposed by the USA and by Nazi Germany. As Patterson puts it, the domestication of animals was one of the major steps in the imposition of moral superiority of humans over animals, allowing the adoption of mechanisms of rationalisation and detachment from animal suffering that were unknown to the first societies, where a feeling of communion with animals and totemism were common. What is more, for some authors, such as the historian Keith Thomas, domestication served as a model for the imposition of other patterns of domination of a political and social nature (p. 30), we could add religious too. As a result, animal exploitation inspired slavery but also the sexual oppression of women. Like the animals that have been left out of the sphere of responsibility of men, some ethnic and racial groups followed a similar path in America, in the 18th and 19th century, having the legal status of domesticated animals. For Patterson, colonialism came as an extension of the human domination, which legitimated the oppression of non-European races, considered to be by biologists as the closest to the animal condition. In what concerns religion, Judaism seems the most prone to endorse an animal ethic, whereas Christianity supported human superiority and animal enslavement, as present in the


RECENSIONES writings of saint Augustine and saint Thomas Aquinas. The great division between humans and animals is entrenched also in the thinking of Plato and Aristotle, and in that of Descartes, the first to define animals as simple machines. Next, Pat ter son stud ies how ani mal domestication served as a basis for racist theories and how the processes of dehumanisation or animalization of individuals preceded exploitation, persecution and finally mass murder. The first example he gives is that of the Africans, the first to be subject to the racist theories on humane inequality of the 19th century. From a biological point of view, considering them close to the animals allowed for a moral contamination to occur, which justified their oppression or extermination. A similar case is that of the Indians, seen as representatives of an ”incomplete humanity” (p. 64). In the 19th century the extermination of the Indians gathers a lot of support in the highest circles that legitimate massacres like the one from Wounded Knee. American jurists, professors, writers, psychologists and historians, all supporting Indian inferiority, proved to be an inspiration latter on for the Nazis. Moreover, dehumanization of a group, often supported by propaganda, was used in times of war, in order to facilitate mass murder and to induce a feeling of impunity to the perpetrators. This scenario was present in the Spanish-American War (1898), during the Second World War, when Americans gathered the Americans of Japanese origins in pigsties (p. 72), during the Vietnam War and during the Gulf War, as Patterson illustrates. The dehumanization of the Jews, one of the most complexes, goes further back in time, at the beginning of Christianity, when they were compared to pigs and goats (p. 77). Later, during the Reformation, they were treated like ”mad dogs” (p. 78), whereas Hegel considered that the Jews had ”an animalist existence” (p. 78). The Nazi vocabulary was already present in the writings of Paul Anton de Lagarde who calls them ”bacilli” (p. 78). Finally, for Himmler they became inferior to whatever animal (p. 81.). According to the author, the use of an animalist vocabulary was part of the genocidal process, legitimating

761 mass murder on the assumption of the moral superiority of humans over other sub-human groups. The next chapter treats the institutionalization of the animal killing in the form of the slaughterhouse which served as a model for the concentration camp system. Industrialization is the central piece, both for animal mass murder and human mass murder in Patterson’s opinion, or to put it in Theodor Adorno’s words: Auschwitz begins with the slaughterhouse (p. 92). In the 19th century, the killing of animals took the form of an industry, whereas meat became a symbol of wealth in the American society. As a result, cities like Cincinnati or Chicago developed as huge butchery complexes. The slaughterhouse became the first place to employ specialized labour but also a symbol of the capitalist system, as proves the book of Upton Sinclair, The Jungle (pp. 99-104). By means of terrific scene description from the slaughterhouse, Patterson evokes a degree of extreme violence reached only by the concentration camp system, before revealing us the impact the slaughterhouse had on Henry Ford. According to Patterson, the division of labour and the assembly lines were both the inventions of the slaughterhouse, not of Henry Ford. Trivializing murder, transforming men into spectators, the industrialized massacre of the animals served as a model for the management of bodies, and as a source of inspiration for the Nazis. What is more, Ford himself launched an anti-Semitic campaign that proved to be popular not only in America but also in Germany. This campaign found a positive context in America, where the eugenist movement, inspired also by animal domestication, was so successful that sterilization became compulsory for the ones born with genetic defects. Many American eugenists were overtly anti-Semitic, and supported the immigration restrictions imposed in the ’20s as a solution for the ”Jewish problem”. In America, eugenics influenced a large corpus of studies, in sociology, criminal studies and psychology, scientists tracing the cause of the social problems to genetic defects. As a consequence, from the 19th century sterilization was used in America to limit criminality, and


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to stop the reproduction of the feeble-minded and of the handicapped. In 1930 more than half of the American states endorsed this policy (p. 134), sterilization being supported by the academia, by doctors and by priests. Patterson stresses the fact that German eugenics developed on the American model and in cooperation to it. German studies were funded by the American foundations and American scientists became the fans of the German racial policy. Competition between the two countries in the sphere of eugenics was fierce without hindering cooperation. Not surprisingly, some of the theorists of the German racial policy (Himmler, Daré, Hoss) were experts in agriculture and partisans of eugenics. The Germans pushed sterilization further with a complete program of sterilization and extermination, known as the T4 program with the support of the experts in medicine and eugenics. The program inaugurated the use of gas chambers at a time when some American psychiatric doctors demanded also the extermination of retarded children (p. 159). Patterson emphasizes the fact that the concentration camps system had common features with the slaughterhouse. Efficiency and the time factor were present in both killing systems, together with the means to minimise the risk of panic and resistance. Both systems transformed murder into a repetitive, trivial and programmed task that induced the feeling of impunity and irresponsibility to the perpetrators. Moreover, Patterson observed that the camp and the slaughterhouse had also a similar space structure (pp. 166-169). The author observes that Nazi methods are still in use in the meat industry. In both killing systems the murder of the young is problematic. Therefore, genocide takes place in the larger social context of animal massacre that it mirrors somehow. The way the Nazis relate to animals is also relevant from this standpoint. The Nazis killed all the dogs from the Warsaw ghetto and forbid the Jew to have pets. Moreover, vegan associations were forbidden in Germany and eating animals proved to be a major pleasure for the Wehrmacht and the SS, who had a diet rich in meat (pp. 192-195). However, both killing systems were interested in making the

killing less stressful for the perpetrators and as ”humane “as possible for the victims. The Nazis were permanently interested in improving their killing methods as to avoid cruelty; meanwhile the killing of farm animals is subject to intense debate for the same reason. The third part of the book shows how the memory of the Shoah created a profound sensitivity and empathy for the animal cause in the Jewish community. Patterson retraces the history of the Jewish militants and writers, in order to show that they are the first to associate the killing of animals to the Holocaust. According to the author the collective trauma of the Shoah engendered a ”fantasy of the rescue”, a need to save lives whenever possible (p. 210). This is why the image of the Shoah is the first to come to the mind of Jewish militants when facing the institution of the slaughterhouse. Not surprisingly, the first manual of animal law has been published by a Jewish law professor, and the major leaders of the Animal Rights Movement, Peter Singer and Henry Spira, are both Jews. Jewish feminist theorists have a similar point of view, linking patriarchal values to the Shoah and to patterns of domination (p. 235). One of the chapters of Patterson’s book is consecrated to the study of the Yiddish writer Isaac Bashevis Singer (winner of the Nobel Prize in literature), reviewing his work and its importance to the field of animal ethics. The last chapter studies how the German memory of the Shoah influenced the animal rights movement in Germany, following the life experience (by the use of interviews) of the militants engaged in this struggle. The study shows a generational conflict and a profound gap between the generation that was a bystander of the Shoah and the next generation that did not experience the atrocities of the Second World War. The strong will to support the animal rights movement is in Germany strongly related to the crimes of the Holocaust, and references to the Shoah are largely used, as in the Jewish case. Patterson’s conclusion is that the Nazi Weltanschauung survived the war and will survive as long as mass animal murder will be considered moral and legitimate.


RECENSIONES Patterson’s book has been well received by animal rights activists and writers in the discipline of animal ethics. Seen as a revolutionary book for the fields of Holocaust studies, colonial and post-colonial studies, Eternal Treblinka ”raises the animal standpoint analytically and ethically”3. However, some critiques point to the author’s attempt to root all forms of human domination in animal domestication. Steven Best, professor of philosophy and Animal Liberation Front activist, argues that animal and human domination emerged together and were coeval4. For Best, the relationship between the oppression of animals and the oppression of humans used by Patterson is too simplistic, omitting crucial factors, such as the fundamental logic of capitalism in human domination and colonialism. Another critique Best brings to Patterson is that he fails to study how Nazism, modernism, 3

Steven BEST, ”Charles Patterson, The Eternal Treblinka: Out Treatment of Animals and Holocaust, New York, Lantern Books, 2002, 280 pp.”, Journal for Critical Animal Studies, vol. V, issue 2, 2007, online edition available http://www. criticalanimalstudies.org/JCAS/archives.htm (last visited on 13.10.2009). 4 Ibidem.

763 anti-modernism and capitalism are entangled. At this point, it is clear that Best’s critique is forged in a Marxist paradigm that clears its path in animal ethics. This omission is problematic for the political theory of the book, from the Marxist standpoint. Best observes also that, although Patterson suggests that human and animal liberation are inseparable, he does not ”theorize these relations beyond the moral-psychological level”5. To sum up, Patterson’s contribution is not unique nor original (the relationship between the industrial animal exploitation and totalitarianism has been already coined by the Frankfurt School6). It is however important to observe that the cognitive processes and the collective imaginaries behind genocide rest on a constructed moral human superiority and that the tipping mechanism towards human murder and the psychological processes behind it are very similar to that towards animal murder. ANA-MARIA TANAŞOCA 5

Ibidem. See Jean-Baptiste Jeangene VILMER, Éthique animale, PUF, Paris, 2008, p. 41. 6

JEFF GOODWIN, JAMES M. JASPER (eds.) The Social Movements Reader: Cases and Concepts 2nd edition, Wiley-Blackwell, UK, 2009, 458 pp.

In their attempts to determine the causal relationships between power, contestation and repression, many 20th century collective ac tion stud ies de vel oped vari ous ap plications of at least some elements of the most resonating traditions in social science research: Marxian, Weberian, Millian and Durkeimian1 . Innovation has also occurred, 7

1 For a thoroughly analytical exposé of the numerous applications generated by the four traditions of interpretation refer to Charles TILLY,

as during the past few decades, scholarship has made considerable inroads into determining the causes, mechanisms and effects of social movements and other forms of collective protest. Interest has alternated between theoretical and empirical emphases on the relevance of mass emotions, the political context, leadership strategies and resource mobilization techniques of protest From Mobilization to Revolution, McGraw-Hill Companies, 1978, Chapter 2.


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organizations. State-centered versus movement-centered analyses have spurred debates that led to notable advancement in this academic field of inquiry. Albeit impressive, the existing array of studies of both classical and new social movements is also rather geographically bounded, as it focuses in general on the United States, Western Europe and some parts of Asia. The volume currently under review – The Social Movements Reader: Cases and Concepts – is to be inscribed in the afore-mentioned category of geographically-narrow studies, as it reveals an avowed preference for the social movements of protest spurred in the North American space. The selected writings in the collective volume (which are, in fact, excerpts from previously published material) focus on the following aspects: the importance of the role of leaders for a social movement’s emergence and development; the relationship between movement organization and successful contention of political power; true believers, radical supporters and free riders; the repertoires employed by social movement organizations and the innovations brought to the previously used tactics; the effect of state repression on the movement’s internal cohesion and outward actions and the effects of protesting etc. Designed around nine main sections, the volume addresses some of the most challenging quandaries regarding social movement emergence, action, success and/or failure. While some articles are more theoretically-bound, others are empirically-based and address the dynamics of social movement mobilization and action by taking a case study approach of the Civil Rights movement, the women’s movement, the environmental movement, the labour movement, or the international movement for democratization. A prevalent emphasis is laid onto the role of human and material resources, networks of trust, cultural and identity factors while inquiring into the reasons prompting mass collaboration and drop-out, the organizational pattern of protest groups, the socio-psychological inclinations of participants in collective actions, as well as the strategies employed. In so doing, the Reader attempts to

shed light on important dilemmas in social movement studies. The choice of emphasis on the importance of human and material resources for the emergence of social movements carries with it an implicit limitation: the impact of institutional politics as a factor of severe constraint on social movement courses of action is notably downplayed. Contenders of the political process theory in social movement studies, Goodwin and Jaspers offset the explanatory value of political opportunity structures (political context), and framing mechanisms with the aim of shaping a movement-centered survey. Despite the self-imposed ”structural” limitation, the series of readings selected by the two editors manage to capture an impressive array of themes, arguments, types of movement organization strategies, varieties of leadership tactics and mobilization mechanisms, as well as collective claim-making outcomes on a micro and macro levels. Since it has constituted the bone of contention throughout the past several decades, a more careful look at the ongoing academic debate between political process and resource mobilization theorists is pertinent, as well as engaging at this point. The former theory emphasizes the determining role of the context in which social movements occur, conceptualized as political opportunities and political threats. Distinguished social science scholars such as Peter Eisinger2 and Charles Tilly3 – to only name a few – have investigated and revealed the importance of permissive or intolerant regime conditions for the collective voicing of political protest. Far from developing universal laws, studies situated in this paradigm of interpretation have often resulted in contradictory findings concerning the influence of strong or weak, liberal or authoritarian states: while some scholars have emphasized that the openness of liberal states in creating 8

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2 Peter EISINGER, The Conditions of Protest Behavior in American Cities, University of Wisconsin, Madison, 1972. 3 Charles TILLY, From Mobilization to Revolution, cit.


RECENSIONES legal frames for a large array of protests facilitates large-scale mobilization, others have argued with empirical confirmation that action incentives are higher under conditions of threat. Bearing heavily on the capacity of social movements to sustain actions and claims, the more or less repressive institutional choice of response thus represents one of the most important facilitators or deterrents of collective protest. The institutional factor weighs heavily on social movements’ trajectories even before their emergence, since state policies may reduce or enhance the incentives to protest by either allowing an ex ten sive le gal frame for col lec tive claims-making or by compellingly punishing protest actions. Far from encouraging sweeping statements, the previous observation is sufficient to indicate that the numerous particularities of social movements and socio-political settings have so far precluded inflexible taxonomies. The configuration of socio-political factors at a certain moment in time is critical in the rise and fall of social movements, but so are their choices of actions and mobilization strategies. Equally significant is a facet of political opportunity that is masterfully turned on its head by Charles Kurzman’s article selected in The Reader. Using the example of the Iranian Revolution, Kurzman analyzes various indicators that shape a new version of the causes that prompted the outbreak of the 1979 mass rebellion. In this line of reasoning, political opportunities have both an ”objective” and a ”subjective” façade, as the former pertains to the existing structural dominion, and the latter to that of perception. In Kurzman’s interpretation, the 1979 mass protests escalated as a result of the inaccurate popular perception of the strength of the opposition and the weakness of the state. Irrespective of the real or perceived political and institutional conditions, there is another equally important factor: human agency. The Reader delves into investigating the multiple forms of participation, the varied strategies conducting to mass mobilization, as well as the reasons triggering the

765 decline of support for social movement claims. Perception and representation of interests is a major issue from this perspective, since the way in which movement leaders frame political or other claims has a direct bearing over the type and duration of direct participation in protests. The framing process can be regarded as both a transmitter belt between the protester’s interests and those to whom they are addressed, as well as a potential factor of distortion that creates gaps between the people and their leaders. As a result, it is not only the political context that matters, but also the opportunities seized or disregarded by the movement leaders. The underlying assumption is that some sustained collective actions of protest can in turn affect state structure, processes and in some cases even collective identity and culture. Laying emphasis on the resource-mobilization factor (material, human, cultural etc.), the approach taken by Goodwin and Jasper begin from the presumption that the individuals aggregated in a collective unit of protest engage and behave rationally, following specific interests, which are articulated by their leaders. As one of the most influential theoretical approaches to the study of social movements in the 1980s and the 1990s, resource mobilization theory continues to attract scholarly support through its landmark: the complex process of transforming individual dissatisfactions into collectively and actively supported concerted claims against the political establishment by means of organization. The Reader describes in its numerous readings various cases of social movements, while laying emphasis on the mecha nisms trans form ing iso lated onlookers into implicated protesters by way of mobilization. What is remarkable for those interested in evaluating the variety of arguments brought within the political process – resource mobilization debate is that a very simple reality is disregarded by many of the otherwise reputable academic contenders. An approach that integrates the type of decision-making and resource mo bilization within the movement with the relevance of


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structural and contextual factors would, in all likelihood, be the only one that can follow and explain most comprehensively the dynamics of the challengers – challenged relationship. Therefore, one of the most significant issues that transcend the complexity of the volume is that irrespective of the weight granted by researchers to either structural or human agency factors, they cannot be studied on their own. Ignoring either of these factors of downplaying their implications is nothing short of an attempt to ampu tate the proc ess of un der stand ing, analyzing and explaining the causes, processes and outcomes involved in collective actions of protest. As if to complete the detailed image of social movement emergence, action and decline outlined in the previous eight sections, the final one illustrates one of the most tantalizing research predicaments to date. This concerns the effects that sustained collective actions of protest have on the social and political environment they emerge in. As firstly articulated by William Gamson4, the influence of social movements on policy changes results in the acknowledgement of protest organizations as legitimate actors with whom negotiations can be conducted and/or compromises offered in terms of policy implementation. Following Gamson’s lead, other scholars have continued to address the issue at both a theoretical and empirical level. A telling example would be the work of Burstein, Einwohner, and Hollander5, who outline six types of policy impacts: access to legislators and policymakers, agenda-setting for legislators, official policies, im ple men ta tion and en force ment of those policies, achievement of the policies’ intended 10

11

4 William GAMSON, The Strategy of Social Protest, Wadsworth Publishing, Belmont, CA, 1990. 5 P. BURSTEIN, R.L. EINWOHNER, J.A. HOLLANDER, ”The Success of Political Mo ve ments”, in J.C. JENKINS, B. KLANDERMANS (eds.), The Politics of Social Protest: Comparative Perspectives On States and Social Movements, University of Minnesota Press, Minneapolis, 1995, pp. 275-295.

impact, and deeper structural changes to the political system6. Goodwin and Jasper’s Reader is situated in a long line of research investigating social movement impact. As the volume’s selected readings illustrates, apart from policy implications, social movements can have various other types of influencing contact with spaces such as culture, identity – at both a collective and individual level – and the structure of future collective protests. It is notable, however, that the construction of theoretically unassailable concepts has proven to be an immensely difficult task due to the variation in cases and contexts, while the riddles posed by the study social movement impact on politics, society and culture have yet to be solved. Regardless of its dedicated preference for the United States, the Reader is representative due to its span over decades of research into the field and its contribution of masterful analyses of the causes, organization, success and failure of various social movements in the 20th century. The inclusive collection of readings we are offered also sheds insight into the engaging and challenging prospects for social movement research under its multilayered make-up. Despite its value, The Reader is also faced with important limitations. One of them may be imputed to many other volumes alike: far too little research has framed social movements in other geo graphic areas of the world (in cluding the Central and South-Eastern European space). The principal requisite in expanding the geographic horizon of such studies has not only a marked empirical value, but a theoretical one as well: since an entire series of conceptual and analytical devices in the field reflect the socio-political, historical, and cultural particularities of certain geographic spaces, harmonizing them with markedly different settings might result in unexpected outcomes. Such a research prospect is undoubtedly one that deserves to be followed to its full potential. 12

MONICA ANDRIESCU 6 These six types of impacts are also quoted by Jeff GOODWIN, James M. JASPER (eds.), in The Social Movements Reader…cit., p. 412.


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BEN LEWIS Hammer and Tickle – A History of Communism Told Through Communist Jokes Orion, London, 2009, 376 pp. A discussion over the significance of humour in the societies of the Soviet bloc might prove rather problematic, as the phenomenon is rarely approached by scholars, consistent sources about it are fairly scarce, and high subjectivity remains an issue even as the historical distance extends. Yet, British author and documentarian Ben Lewis uses his previous encounters with the Eastern European space to investigate the most startling legacy Marxism-Leninism left in Eastern Europe, the anti-Communist jokes. A somewhat burdensome task, if taking into accounts the fact that some of the humorous material within the book relies greatly on historically-dependent quips and proves its fun only in certain context. Lewis tries to sort out the dissonance between minimalists, which understand humour as merely a way of personal survival within socialist regimes and promoters of the maximalist view claiming that the Revolutions of 1989 were conditioned by this kind of comic rebellion which manifested constantly during the twentieth century. Noticing that the existing literature on Communist jokes follows the binary understanding mentioned before, but fails to define the communist sense of humour, the author proposes a diachronically documented effort to reinterpret the humour characteristic to the Communist derail. Communist jokes referred to all sorts of aspects of everyday life: they mocked the regime and its failed utopian ambitions, its nomenklatura, the redundant and incompetent bureaucracy, collectivisation policies, shortages caused by the inefficient economy, queues, or the ridiculous cult of personality. Underground jokes were ”tiny revolutions” eroding the strengths of the regime and keeping alive the conscience of people (p. 19). The cynical tone that various humoristic remarks employed was in a way a remedy against fear, frus tra tion and short ages.

Accordingly, joke-telling acted as a mechanism of defence for ordinary people against the hardships of the times. As their sources were anonymous, the political jokes belonged to the people as their means of saying no, in a similar manner to that experienced during the French Revolution or the political movements of the 19th century. Quoting social historian Stefan Wolle, the author observes that most communist jokes are reincarnations of those said during previous eras (pp. 224-226). Ben Lewis inspects chronologically what both ordinary people as well as apparatchiks saw as political agency of the commu nist humour when they noticed that Bolsheviks’ ascendancy to power was accompanied by an array of jokes sanctioning any deviation from the promised ”liberation of the proletariat”, the forced nationalizations, the shortcomings provoked by the New Economic Programme and the violent interventions of the political police, the Cheka (pp. 20-29). Ironic depictions about the obvious contradictions of the first years of Leninism in power made their appearance in writings of the time, from novels by Mikhail Bulgakov to the parodies of Yuri Olesha and satires of Mikhail Zoshchenko (pp. 33-36). Soviet satire of the 1920s recycled many of the extant anekdoty about the Tsar, but the production of political jokes remained low during those years, as few official impediments were effectual. With Stalin’s coming to power all anonymous political joking was outlawed, after a humourless congress of the Soviet writers in 1934, which organised state-run propaganda and led to the closure of many satirical magazines. Consequently to their proscription, underground political jokes gained even more influence as a means of undermining the regime. Also, after being homogeneously recognized as ”anti-Soviet propaganda” and condemned as a ”counter-revolutionary


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deed” joke-telling implied even more risks than ever before (pp. 75-76). In most of the cases, communist humour led to the conviction and imprisonment of person who told jokes and even of the joke-listener, as was the notorious case of one of the Lenin’s closest advisers, journalist Karl Redek. Redek is said to have invented some Communist jokes during the Great Purge and to have become subject of another dozen of them as result of his incarceration due to alleged sympathies with Trotsky (p. 59). As Lewis ironically puts it, the ”new man” needed a new sense of humour as well, different from the popular jokes about the Gulag, Stahanovites, deportations and arrests, col lec tivi sa tion and forced-la bour, al coholism, injustice or ineffective bureaucracy. The so-called ”positive humour” involved the comical usage of Marxist-Leninist learning fol low ing the lines set by state-run propaganda (p. 82). Illustrating the clear dis tinc tion drawn up between unofficial and official humour in the Soviet Union, the text mentions sardonically Vladimir Mayakovski’s transition from a favourite position within the regime to that of its fervent critic (pp. 46-50). Despite the outlawing of Communist jokes, Stalin’s own sense of humour remained intact, as the Soviet leader retold some of the jokes that criticized his decisional arbitrariness and made fun of his subordinates. At the same time, Stalin’s political police, the NKVD, arrested joke-tellers accordingly to the criminal code condemning ”counter-revo lu tion ary agi ta tions” (p. 70). The machinery of state terror was working at full capacity in those times; the minimum expression of dissent was not permitted and even those that were inconvenient in any meagre way towards the regime were arrested for telling jokes. At the same time, the state made efforts to distract the attention of the Soviet population by hiring cartoonists like Boris Efimov to produce scores of drawings against the ”enemies of the regime” (p. 87). With the beginning of the Second World War, anti-Nazi jokes made their appearance, focusing on the main events which marked the history of the Third Reich. While underground Communist jokes were directed

against the political system of the Soviet Union, anti-Nazi humour targeted the character of the main figures of the regime, its racist approach and the abuses of its army (pp. 94-101). In fact, anti-Nazi humour was reformulating the communist one, but had less ideological meaning and came in limited amount. Whereas in Nazi Germany the authorities did not believed in the redemption of jokers, either they killed some of those propagating jokes in order to set an example or ignored the phenomenon all together due to the fact they had to distribute their forces elsewhere (p. 134). As for the anti-Nazi jokes told by non-German people under occupation, they contained a direct reference to the finer intelligence of the occupied population. Similarly, the ”liberated peoples” in Eastern Europe condemned wittily the actions of the Red Army in a superior tone and with numerous racist references (p. 131). Stalin’s death led to the emergence of even more jokes, which favoured even more arrests and the expansion of the ”organs of official humour”. The mechanisms of Stalinist jokes were soon reproduced throughout the Soviet bloc. The establishment of official satire magazines in Czechoslovakia (Dikobraz), East Germany (Eulenspiegel) Hungary (Ludas Matyi) and Poland (Szpilki) following the example of Soviet Krokodil subsumed to this logic. But together with the old means of Communist humour appeared new kinds of jokes directed against the Soviet Union and, completing spoken jokes, performed humour made its debut. The latter situation favoured the appearance of cabaret troupes, which practiced a sort of gallows humour regarding, for example, the weaknesses of the German Democratic Republic (pp. 131-136). Similarly to the policy in the Soviet Union, the condemnations for joke-telling in the Soviet satellite states were unpredictable, as anybody could be arrested for alleged ”counter-revolutionary propaganda”. Comparatively, joke-telling was by no means the monopoly of those opposing Marxism-Leninism, but also people who sympathised with the system tried to ameliorate the political arrangements and to discard ”false Leninists” through jokes.


RECENSIONES Nikita Khrushchev’s thaw provoked the release of those convicted of ”oral propaganda”, although after the events of 1956 in Hungary joking became once again a serious matter for Communist authorities (p. 147). Instead of arresting jokers, the Soviet authorities chose to persuade in a less violent manner, by convincing people of the gravity of their actions. The abridgment of arrests motivated by claims of deviant humour and the decay of the regimes in 1960s led to what Lewis identify as the ”golden age of Communist jokes” (p. 159). The invasion of Czechoslovakia in 1968 led to the appearance of numerous invasion jokes, mostly draw ing in spi ra tion from those which were told in 1956. There were also some original contributions, as that of caricaturist Ivan Steiger, which used tanks as key symbol to denote the military occupation (p. 200). Many of these materials together with the samizdat pamphlets were exported in West European and North American publications, and became part of the Cold War tactics. The celebration of a centenary from Lenin’s birth presented with a new occasion for jokes to surface – this time the very core of the Communist orthodoxy being harshly hit (pp. 206-208). Still, as Lewis notes, instead of an immediate collapse, communism remained into place for twenty more years. According to Lech Walesa jokes kept the spirits up in those hard times, but the downfall of Communism needed joking to be abandoned in favour of actions (p. 250). With the 1970s joking became inert as change was somehow affecting the system in some of the Soviet countries, while in others things were not moving either way, and people seemed to have lost their sense of humour as a consequence of the confrontation with the redundant absurdity of everyday life under communism. Scarce examples of Eastern European humour at the time were the routines interpreted by clowns in Soviet Union’s circuses and the drawings of Andrei Krauze depicting the weaknesses of the Polish state through anthropomorphic representations of the nomenklatura (p. 220). At the beginning of the 1980s, Communist jokes gained the lost ground and more.

769 Some countries of the Soviet bloc even accepted cabaret-style joking on national television, as was the case of the Polish comic Zenon Laskovik (p. 242). In Poland also, people like the leader of Alternative Orange, Major Frydrych derided Marxism-Leninism by taking part in mass marches of a hilarious ”dwarf opposition” on the streets of Warsaw (p. 256). Still, the relation between humour and the breakdown of Communism in Eastern Europe is controversial, as some authors argue that jokes torn down the system and others consider that this argument is just a false impression and, in fact, people’s sense of humour contributed paradoxically to the prolongation of Communism, among the latter being ex-members of the nomenklatura like Paul Niculescu-Mizil, the Romanian minister in charge with propaganda at the time (pp. 172-175). Humour accompanied the perestroika and glasnost years as well, with most of the jokes being recovered from 1950s. Nevertheless, with the downfall of Communism, jokes about the political system were made redundant. Communist jokes gained impact abroad with the publication of satirical pieces in the Western countries and with their mentioning in official speeches of leaders like those of the United States’ President Ronald Reagan. Reagan used them as part of his Cold War argumentation, mostly making reference to the communist economic experiment (pp. 259-262). On the other side, Mikhail Gorbachev rarely told jokes, as he believed they were one of the symptoms of the setbacks of the Soviet state – but in his efforts to impose change within the communist system jokes were told in order to provide party members with furthermore evidence that the system must be reorganized (pp. 290-292). Nicolae Ceauşescu’s peculiar characteristics provoked numerous jokes in Romania, especially after the importing from North Korea of the personality cult. With the decision taken by ”the giant of the Carpathians” of repaying the entire national debt and demolishing entire neighbourhoods to make room for communist architectures gallows humour amplified; this hypothesis is confronted by the Ben Lewis with the findings of Călin Bogdan Ştefănescu, a Romanian


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engineer and collector of Romanian Communist jokes during the last ten years of the regime – according to the results, jokes proliferated with the worsening of the situation (pp. 267-275). Lewis puts together a compilation of jokes that presents how people survived under an ex tremely op pres sive sys tem. The ritual sharing, with great personal risk, of sarcastic remarks about the ordinary life under Marxism-Leninism contributed to the preservation of the dignity and moral integrity of these societies. Humour was a particular way of speaking the truth and claiming a bit of freedom under communist circumstances, and provided both the joke-teller and its audience with a way of distancing from the decadence and strictness of the political

system. ”World’s funnies political system” left some key legacies that manifest within the post-Communist arrangements. The author considers that new anekdoty are being employed by Moscow’s new elite to skilfully direct the arguments to their advantage and provides us with the example of the former State Secretary Pavel Borodin, which actually managed realpolitik by humorous conversation with leaders like Boris Yeltsin and Helmut Kohl (pp. 293-299). Communist humour should not be seen simply as an atypical feature of the recent past, but rather understanding this comical phenomenon can help citizens and political leaders better relate to the politics of present Eastern Europe. ION ENACHE

JEAN ROCHET Cinci ani în fruntea DST: Misiunea imposibilă Foreword by GEORGE MAIOR Romanian transl. by Răzvan Ventura Editura Fundaţiei Culturale Române, Bucureşti, 2008, 343 pp.

Jean Rochet, who led for ”five years and four months” (p. 18) the Direction de la Surveillance du Territoire (DST), maybe the most important of the French intelligence and counterintelligence services, wrote in the 1980s a volume of memoirs1 which obviously is not a Political Science textbook. Anyhow, many of the author’s ideas are important to better understand several topics clearly connected to both Political Science and International Relations (and Strategic Studies). First of all, Rochet, appointed as head of DST by President Charles de Gaulle (on June 29, 1967 – see pp. 15-16), describes with a lot of interesting details several episodes of the Cold War, a major topic of research for all those interested in studying the more recent part of the general History of International 1 5 ans à la tête de la DST. La mission impossible, Librairie Plon, Paris, 1985.

Relations. Jean Rochet offers us quite many tiny pieces of a very large puzzle. For example, he evaluates how deeply French society and French institutions had been penetrated by KGB and GRU, simply stating that, in only one year (most probably 1970), DST was able to intercept more than 75 000 telephonic messages sent or received by foreign agents operating in France (p. 150). Almost 15 years later, in 1984, the situation grew even worse – DST managed to intercept more than 119 824 messages of all sorts, sent or received by foreign secret agents. It was not at all a new situation: starting with the 1920s, 3000 industrial workers in major French factories ”acted as spies working for the USSR”, gathering and sending to Moscow a lot of data on the military power and industrial capabilities of France (p. 231). Along several decades, says Rochet, the number of foreign secret agents operating


RECENSIONES in France (most of them clandestine ones, working either directly for USSR or for other states belonging to the Communist system) continuously grew (p. 283), making the entire work of DST ”more and more difficult” and ”more and more dangerous” (p. 13) – mainly within a context in which available resources were clearly too small for the mission to be accomplished (pp. 20, 28-29) and the intelligence and counterintelligence activities were badly harmed by tensions and conflicts of all sorts with other secret services (pp. 21, 125) and with the Ministry of Foreign Affairs (pp. 13, 116-117, 124 and the entire Chapter XIII, pp. 180-195). Some sections of Rochet’s book make us better understand that Cold War was a really global confrontation. For example, Rochet describes the long-term goals of both the Communist leaders and of some revolutionary regimes in the Third World, shaped as a direct result of an international conference in Havana (January 3-13, 1966): ”general subversion, against all Western nations”, aiming ”to overthrow” all political regimes in the entire Western world “by using the most violent means” (pp. 29-30). A massive and very interesting Report written in 1972, explains Rochet, describes the way in which Soviet agents were directly involved in massive subversive activities on both sides of the Atlantic: in Mexico, Ireland, Columbia, Ecuador, Bolivia, Italy, France and Great Britain (pp. 217-218). One of the final remarks of this Report is that ”the strategy of USSR in Europe is based on a global vision”, really able to ”very seriously threaten” Western Europe and all the rest of the free world (pp. 218-219). Rochet also offers some interesting details dealing with what Hans J. Morgenthau called ”the ineluctable tension between the moral command and the requirements of successful action”2. This directly means that, in quite many occasions, politics and associated state activities are governed only – or at least mainly – by an active search for effectiveness, ignoring moral principles and

771 values. A quite clear glimpse of this reality is to be found in the brief description of the mission DST has to accomplish: to do anything possible to identify and block any form (and even any attempt) ”of foreign interference in all fields: political, military, administrative, scientific, technological or economic” (p. 20). Sometimes, Rochet offers vivid examples of the way in which state activities completely ignore moral values. He briefly describes, for example, the way in which the secret services of Communist Czechoslovakia prepared and detonated – obeying Soviet orders – an explosive device which killed, at Strassbourg, the obviously innocent wife of a well-placed French official (the prefect of the Bas-Rhin department), in order to harm, as much as possible, the historic reconciliation of France and Germany, vital for the fate of both NATO and the emerging European Economic Community (pp. 25-26). He also presents the case of Mihai Caraman, an effective Romanian secret agent, who deliberately seduced a vulnerable French young lady and later on blackmailed her French lover in order to be granted free access to classified data on the research projects of a major state-owned French oil company (p. 113). One of the most interesting sections of the volume is that which describes and analyzes the 1968 events. For some historians, May 1968 represented a protest of the students in French universities, ”with roots in the collective psychology of industrial societies in their economic growth stage”, a mix of genuine interest of the young and active generations for ”the generous topics of social justice” and for some ”obviously political topics”3. For Rochet, the events in May 1968 are something completely different: without denying their strong popular character and their serious reasons, the Director of DST clearly states that ”agitators who had received some orders from abroad became the leaders, with the obvious desire to topple the regime” of General de Gaulle (p. 62). 3

2

Hans J. MORGENTHAU, Politics Among Nations: The Struggle for Power and Peace, third ed., Alfred A. Knopf, New York, 1964, p. 10.

Pierre MILZA, Serge BERSTEIN (eds.), Istoria secolului XX, vol. 2, Lumea între război şi pace (1945-1973), Rom. transl. by Marius Ioan, All, Bucureşti, 1998, pp. 337-338.


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The idea that the May 1968 events were just another step in the long-term effort of USSR to destabilize France – and also the rest of the Western world – is heavily reinforced by the fact that secret agents from Communist Cuba were asked by KGB to infiltrate French universities and, in May 1968, DST employees obtained clear evidence – including photos – that the Cubans were in direct contact with many of the most radical leaders of the students in Paris (pp. 103-104). In the end of this brief and clearly selective presentation, it might be useful to underline that the ”Foreword” of the Romanian translation of the memoirs of DST Director Jean Rochet belongs to George Maior, at this very moment the acting Director of the Romanian domestic intelligence service, Serviciul Român de Informaţii (SRI). In our professional opinion, some of the lines of the ”Foreword” use ideas of Rochet’s book as an ideal pretext for offering a vivid image of some of the anomalous challenges Romanian secret services are currently confronted with. For

example, George Maior insists to present DST (and, clearly, SRI as well, even if not directly) as the target (and victim) of ”political pressure” (p. 5). We are speaking here about a deliberately delivered dramatic image of an intelligence service confronted both with enemies from abroad (the political will and interests of foreign states, and their secret services) and with domestic enemies (the already listed ”political pressure”, harming the ability of counterintelligence activities to reach their goal, which is to defend core elements of the national interest). The same distinct feeling that Maior uses the ”Foreword” to speak not only about the book he presents, but also about significant Romanian realities, is proved by the fact that he strongly underlines DST’s ”struggle for legitimacy”, in a context ”marred by and convulsed with political confrontations” (p. 5). Confrontations of this very sort are now one of the main features of the Romanian public life. FLORIN DIACONU

GEORGE CRISTIAN MAIOR Noul aliat. Regândirea politicii de apărare a României la începutul secolului XXI RAO International Publishing Company, Bucureşti, 2009, 284 pp.

George Cristian Maior’s book (who is now Director of the main domestic intelligence service, Serviciul Român de Informaţii – SRI) groups several of the ”articles and studies published in 2001-2004” (when the author was Deputy Minister at the Ministry of National Defense) and some of the ”security evaluations” written in 2006 (p. 13). These texts are organized in several chapters, each of them dealing with a set of problems in the area of national (and trans-national) defense and security policies. The first chapter (pp. 29-54) presents two significant authors dealing with evaluations of contemporary chal lenges on the in ter na tional arena – Robert Cooper and Robert Kaplan. Maior’s opinion is that a ”synthesis” of the strong

realist thinking patterns of Kaplan and of the non-realist paradigm of Cooper might generate ”the best way to a security policy fit for the realities of the 21st century” (p. 54). The second chapter (pp. 55-101) evaluates ”the new strategic identity of Romania”, stating that our country is ”a state which went from modernity and uncertainty to a postmodern time which could be a secure and prosperous one” (p. 101). One of the most challenging ideas of this chapter is that ”if we want to really and effectively defend America and Europe, it will be necessary to accommodate ourselves with the unpleasant idea of actions far away from well-known borders, even in Afghanistan or Iraq” (p. 95). The third chapter (pp. 103-159)


RECENSIONES focuses on two correlated topics: Romania’s efforts to integrate in both NATO and the EU, and the transformations of the North Atlantic Alliance. Maior stated, in 2003, that a part of the Romanian political elites hoped to use NATO institutions and procedures to absorb important ”funds for essential military infrastructure, airfields, ports of strategic importance to be used by allied forces at regional level” (p. 130). This idea embodies a potent traditional Romanian geo-strategic obsession: that Bucharest is to be, if not the main, at least a very important actor in the Balkans and the Black Sea Area (BSA). The fourth chapter (pp. 161-191) is a set of three texts with a clear common denominator: all of them are dealing with the geopolitical problems of South-Eastern Europe and of the BSA. The author writes that states in the lower Danube and Black Sea regions are to forge and operate, together, ”a long-term partnership with European and Euro-Atlantic organizations” (p. 167). He also expressed (in a text already published in 2004) the hope that, along the next years, ”Black Sea could become a strategic platform for spreading democracy and stability, an emerging centre of durable development” (p. 183). The fifth chapter (pp. 193-262) deals with the transformation of the Romanian national security. It covers different topics such as civilian-military relations, the need for a new management system in the area of national defense, the ”postmodern alliance” (p. 222) of diplomats and soldiers (in order to shape and implement defense policies based not only on force, but also on various ”elements of diplomacy”), and the way in which strategic planning and ”defense planning” (p. 239) evolve in Romania. The final chapter, the sixth (pp. 263-283), is called ”Rethinking the Security Policy and Strategies. The Army of the 21st Century”. It discusses the problems of ”new concepts” in the area of ”collective security”. Maior also states that, nowadays, the army does not deal only with traditional missions and operations, but it ”operates as a direct promoter of change by developing some political-military capabilities addressing a by far much larger set of risks, crises and conflicts than the traditional military aggression” (p. 271).

773 The texts of George Cristian Maior have some obvious merits. They concentrate the attention of the usual (or of the professional) reader on very significant areas of national interest. They also show us that not all the Romanian high officials think, for example, that Norway is a republic. As a professional diplomat, as a graduate of the Romanian National Defense College, Maior uses his significant official experience to offer a set of interesting and challenging ideas on national security and defense. Unfortunately, these obvious and important merits are accompanied by several clear weaknesses of the volume we are evaluating here. First of all, some errors are present. To offer only two examples (which could easily have been avoided or solved), the author states that Romania was part of the Entente in the Second World War (p. 16); and that band-wagoning means that a ”small state joins a powerful coalition, able to guarantee its interests” (p. 17). Quite clearly, Romania was a part of the Entente, but not in the Second World War. The Entente fought against Central Powers in the First World War. On the other hand, band-wagoning is simply an erroneous way to write bandwagoning. But we are confronted here with an erroneous definition as well. Stephen M. Walt clearly states that ”bandwagoning refers to alignment with the source of danger”, while ”balancing is defined as allying with others against the prevailing threat”1. According to Maior, the Romanian de ci sion to join NATO is ”not a sim ple band-wagoning” (p. 17), but a more complex strategic alignment. According to Walt, we can not even speak in such a situation about bandwagoning, just because – and it is easy to understand this basic truth – NATO is not at all ”the source of danger” threatening Romania. According to our opinion, such regrettable errors might be the result of an uncareful reading of the pre-print text. Another potentially important weakness of the volume is that the author says almost nothing about enormously significant 1 Stephen M. WALT, The Origins of Alliances, Cornell University Press, Ithaca and London, 1987, p. 17.


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issues in the area of national, continental and Euro-Atlantic security and defense. For example, what many authors call ”the gap” within NATO (which means a very strong – in military terms – America and a clearly much weaker Europe) is a problem not properly addressed. Almost none of the difficulties NATO is currently confronted with (starting with the fact that the allies are still not able to implement a winning strategy in Afghanistan) is dealt with. Many parts of the text

focus mainly on positive results, on optimistic perspectives or on geopolitical hopes and desires, generating the impression that hot potatoes (difficult problems of all sorts) are deliberately ignored. It is a pity, because George Maior is clearly able to deliver a more robust text, directly addressing not only positive realities, but also the major problems and challenges NATO has to cope with. FLORIN DIACONU

LAURA SITARU Gândirea politică arabă: Concepte-cheie între tradiţie şi inovaţie Editura Polirom, Iaşi, 2009, 317 pp.

The book written by Laura Sitaru deals with what Professor Lucian Boia calls ”a set of problems of exceptional interest”, in a historic and geopolitical context in which the very specificity of the Arab and Muslim societies ”deeply influences the evolutions of the contemporary globalized world” (”Foreword”, p. 7). The author teaches Arabic language and culture at the University of Bucharest and she is a researcher at the Romanian Diplomatic Institute, where she monitors and evaluates ongoing processes and events in the Arab and Muslim world. The volume presented here is a significantly upgraded version of her PhD thesis. The clear goal of Laura Sitaru’s research is to offer a detailed ”socio-political history study of the Arab-Muslim world, mainly in the so-called modern times, an interval broadly covering the second half of the 19th century and the entire 20th century” (p. 16). The author starts by presenting the general relationship of Arab-Muslim societies with modernization and other correlated processes. According to some experts (Muhammad Arkoun, for example), modernization of the Muslim societies is ”a process already two centuries long”, and ”still goes on” (p. 17). Other authors belonging to the same large group (as the Tunisian historian MohamedChérif Ferjani) estimate that modernization

of (and within) the Arab-Muslim world is still ”in its opening stages”, comparing contemporary Arab societies with Western societies ”of the previous century” (p. 17). Laura Sitaru then presents the two main complementary (but also competing) theories attempting to explain both the way in which Arab-Muslim societies evolve, and ”the compatibility of Islam with the basic categories defining the Western socio-political space or what we usually call Western modernity” (p. 20). The first theory, supported by various Islamist movements and by Western scientists, says that a political Islam exists, with a lot of significant specific features generated by the Muslim civilization itself, all of these elements explaining – and making legitimate, from a historical perspective – many of the ”present political forms” (p. 21). The second theory, in direct collision with the previous one, says that human values are universal ones. The authors supporting this theory strongly reject both the idea that present evolutions within the Arab-Muslim world are driven by particular and distinctive features, and the idea that the Muslim world has its own, non-universal political language, able to generate important particular features of the Muslim political life (pp. 21-22). The first chapter of the book briefly presents ”some of the first signs of Arab-Muslim


RECENSIONES modernity”, starting with the attempts operated by the Ottoman Empire, at the end of the 18th century, to implement reforms influenced by Western realities, in order ”to strengthen Islam and consolidate its power” (p. 29). European nationalisms of the 19th century significantly influenced political thought in some Arab-Muslim countries (p. 30), and some of the very important authors of the Greater Middle East begun to focus their attention on the general direction of finding effective political methods fit for quickly narrowing the development (and modernization) gap separating Islam and Western Europe (pp. 31-32). Along the pages of the second chapter of the book, Laura Sitaru explores, with a lot of historical details, a key concept of the political theory and practice in the Arab-Muslim world: that of modern state (dawla, in Arabic), together with the complementary concept of authority. In the early stages of the Arab-Muslim world, the concept of umma (community) was used to designate the strong ties of religion, ethnicity and politics in forging an emerging state which quickly became stronger than previous clan and tribal realities based on kinship (pp. 36-40). A new development stage of the Arab-Muslim state is the long era of the Caliphate, which brought major changes to the initial ideal model of the political-religious community. This part of the text also briefly lists the significant Byzantine influences (p. 44). Later on, a more and more modern and complex Arab-Muslim type of state develops, and on a certain stage it is confronted with a major challenge (which also was, as far as we are concerned, a huge window of opportunity): the chance – and the need – to build and operate larger and larger empire. The imperial era of the Arab-Muslim history led, among other consequences, to both the collapse of the traditional political order based on ”balance of power of tribes” (p. 65), and to an increased amount of debates dealing with the problem of the ideal state (pp. 65-68). In a special part of this chapter, Laura Sitaru presents the many ways in which the concept (and the significant political reality) of authority was understood by different authors belonging to the Arab-Muslim world

775 (pp. 73-90). The final part of the chapter explores the way in which the Arab-Muslim state(s) interacted with the Western modernity, starting mainly with the second half of the 18th century, a moment when ”Europe’s technological superiority could not be ignored anymore and generated mimetic intentions” (p. 91) of all sorts in various regions of the Greater Middle East. A third chapter of the book studies ideologies associated with Arab-Muslim modernity, drawing the attention to a detailed exploration of nationalisms in the Muslim world. The chapter starts by clearly stating that ”nation is a new concept for the Arab-Muslim space”, and ”its penetration in Eastern political-historical reality generated a set of problems”, such as the need to properly translate the entire associated terminology in Arabic (p. 107). One of the most potent results of the fact that Arab-Muslim world absorbed the very notion of nation is the emergence, by the end of the 19th century, of the idea that the unification of the entire Muslim world is necessary, ”a sine qua non condition for social and political progress” (p. 115). Later on, various forms of ethnic nationalism will emerge and develop within the Arab-Muslim world, mainly in Egypt, Syria, and Iraq (pp. 120-139). It is important to underline the basic fact that some of the ”ideologists of the Arab nationalism” (they were quite influential for more than a century, from the 1880s to the 1980-1990s) tried to secularize Arab language (and, inevitably, Arab political thought using Arabic language), strongly emphasizing ”the Arab heritage, not the Muslim one” (p. 139). We are able to identify here an idea strongly resembling (and, most probably, strongly in fluenced by) various trends and facts in European history of the 18th and 19th centuries, an idea deliberately or accidentally imported (or imitated) by Arab-Muslim authors and political leaders – that of separating state and religion (and that of potential conflict between state and religion). In the context of the French Revolution, for example, this very idea generated consequences of all sorts: from the not too significant early pamphlets of the very young Saint-Just, describing the ”raping of nuns”, to the opinions of


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Jeanbon Saint-André, who thought that ”religious doctrines had become something not worth disputing over” and even that religious excitement is to be strongly disliked, ”because it interfered with public order”. Other consequences were the text of Jean-Nicolas Billaud-Varenne called The Last Blow Against Prejudice and Superstition, ”aimed at the Church” and clearly stating that ”however painful amputation might be, when a member is gangrened it must be sacrificed if we wish to save the body”, or the heavy-handed state policies whose main feature was the ”unmitigated violence of war upon tyrants, of war upon Christianity”1. In the end, the active search for a secular Arab-Muslim nationalism resembles – of course, only up to a certain point – a trend which, in the case of revolutionary France, escalated until reaching the level of open ”conflict between church and state which broke out in the autumn of 1790” and led ”the majority of the French bishops to emigrate in the course of 1791 and finally to persuade Louis XVI, torn by his religious scruples, of the necessity to break with the Revolution”2. Another stage, closer to our days, of the evolution of Arab nationalism is the territorial one, which ”correlates a particular ideology with a precisely determined geographic territory” (p. 140) and is illustrated by notorious cases such as Turkey, or authors dealing with the so-called Greater Syria, or some chapters of the modern Egyptian history – mainly the Wafd party (for the territorial nationalist ideas of this important political party, see pp. 151-154). The fourth chapter of Laura Sitaru’s book presents the way in which the concept and reality of democracy permeate the Arab-Muslim political thought and action. The author clearly states that a really serious and extensive debate on democracy starts, 1 R.R. PALMER, Twelve Who Ruled: The Year of the Terror in the French Revolution, Princeton University Press, Princeton, 1973, pp. 10-12, 58. 2 A. GOODWIN, ”Chapter XXIV: Reform and Revolution in France: October 1789-February 1793”, in IDEM (ed.), The New Cambridge Modern History, vol. VIII, The American and French Revolutions 1763-93, Cambridge University Press, London, New York, Ibadan, 1965, pp. 689-690.

in Arab-Muslim countries, only ”around the 1980s” (p. 172). Some authors belonging to the Arab-Muslim world tend to think, anyhow, that basic democratic procedures – mainly consultations and election of political leaders – are from the very beginning a part of the Arab-Muslim public life (p. 202). Then, a set of different Arab-Muslim versions of democracy are listed: among these we have to underline what Laura Sitaru calls controlled pluralism in Mubarak’s Egypt and direct democracy in Gaddafi’s Libya (pp. 205-214). Another part of the same chapter deals with the conflict of secular thinking and religious beliefs in the contemporary Muslim world. The author explains that, in many occasions, debates on secular ideas become, in the Muslim world, an overheated ”conflict of the believers against the non-believers” (pp. 222-223). The final chapter, the fifth, deals with the problem of ”language in the political construction of modern Arab-Muslim thinking” (p. 243). One of the most interesting ideas of the book is what the author calls ”a hypothesis” (p. 253): the idea that an increased use of religious terms and concepts is, within the Arab-Muslim world, ”a feature of contesting and protest movements occurring as a reaction to major ideological and social failures” (p. 253). It is also important to properly understand the fact that, at least sometimes, important religious concepts are extensively used with a new, non-traditional meaning, even by obviously secular-nationalist leaders: see, for example, the way in which Nasser used, in 1987, the concept of jihad in a completely secular context, speaking about the early Israeli-Egyptian wars (p. 290). The book written by Laura Sitaru includes an impressive bibliography (which starts by listing almost 40 primary sources and documents in Arabic language), and an interesting and useful glossary (with almost 50 terms). Laura Sitaru’s book can be regarded as a very useful reading for anyone interested to understand, with all the necessary details, the way in which the modern Arab-Muslim political mind is shaped and works. FLORIN DIACONU


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RUXANDRA IVAN La politique étrangère roumaine (1990-2006) Éditions de L’Universite de Bruxelles, coll. ”Science Politique”, Bruxelles, 2009, 222 pp. Which are the intellectual tools to study the foreign policy of Romania (FPR)? At a first view, FPR has nothing interesting or spectacular (p. 9). As a matter of fact, since the beginning of the 90s the main goal of post communist Romania was ”returning to the Occident” (p. 10). Still, how, by whom, and with what kind of consequences was implemented FPR since the fall of communism? And what factors determined Romania to choose, for example, to support American intervention in Iraq in 2003, despite the European old club coun tries said no to Bush contested initiative? These are the main challenges raised by Ruxandra Ivan’s study. The main goal of the Ivan is to understand how Romanian actors in foreign policy established and eventually reached in the end their goals. Ivan identifies three major periods in FPR after 1989: 1990-1996 one phase marked by confusion, when Romanian political actors did not know if the country should remain under the Russian sphere of influence or it try to catch-up with the West (Europe and USA). The confrontations in Târgu-Mureş between Romanians and Hungarians (p. 114) created a bad image in the world. As a matter of fact, in the 90s Romania was seen as a country with no respect regarding minorities. It was necessary to wait until 1995 and the Snagov Declaration, the moment when Romanian decision-makers initiated the shift to West. A second stage between 1996-2004: Romania was in quest to fulfill the accession criteria and at the end of this difficult road to be welcomed in NATO and EU. The most memorable moments: 1998-1999 Kosovo crisis, the visit of American president Bill Clinton (1997), Pope’s visit (1999), the creation of the Ministry of Integration in 2001 (p. 132). In the same year, Romania holds the presidency of OSCE and in 2003 signs the treaty with Russian federation. One characteristic of the 1990-2004 period is the idea in the minds of decision-makers, who thought that

FP depend on domestic politics. Another one is that all reforms made have been implemented thanks to external conditionalities. The third stage (2004-2006) marked a period of reshaping, even a redefinition of the role of Romania on international scene, especially at the Black Sea Region, and as a country that openly supports Moldova’s integration to EU. This period (p. 12) is characterized by a more active and often aggressive foreign policy (after Traian Băsescu was elected president). The strategic partnership with USA and Black Sea cooperation are two pillars of FPR after 2004 (p. 139). The (imaginary) Washington-London-Bucharest axis is a security provider in the vision of Romanian president (p. 140), but authorities from USA or Great Britain have a different opinion on this matter. After 2004, the relation with Hungary was not anymore a priority for Romanian decision-makers, but instead Moldova gained much of the attention. In other order, all Romanian initiatives in foreign policy were ignored by Russia, and decision-makers had tried to find a modus vivendi with this great power (p. 142). After 2005, the goal of FPR was the consolidation of Romania’s place in NATO. For Ruxandra Ivan, the common feature of all three periods in Romania’s foreign policy is bandwagoning (p. 13). Is interesting to note that a major role leading to this type of behavior is related to historical heritage, because Romania is now like in the past between ”carrefour des empires” (p. 199). In Realist theory of IR, bandwagoning refers to the act of weaker states joining a stronger power or coalition within balance of power1. 1 The term is opposed to balancing. Bandwagoning was coined by Quincy WRIGHT in A Study of War (1942) and popularized by Kenneth WALTZ in Theory of International Politics (1979). Bandwagoning occurs when weaker states decide that the cost of opposing a stronger power


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Another argument for the bandwagoning syndrome is connected to the National Security Strategy. More precisely, in this official document terrorism is perceived as a direct threat to Romania’s security, a claim not justified by reality (p. 183). But many strategies are simply copy/paste from European documents, so we can speech of imitation, thinks Ruxandra Ivan. This time is not about culture, is about power politics. There are three factors that were considered in La politique étrangère roumaine. The first one concerns issues related to historical legacies, which are examined from the point of recently events and attitudes. The second set of factors refers to internal influences on decision making: institutional architecture and legal/constitutional sharing, informal relations between the decision-makers in FPR, political parties and public opinion. Finally, the third set of variables are located outside the political system. Two dimensions were examined here: a geopolitical dimension, which is the distribution of power and an institutional dimension, which determines the importance of international and regional organizations in making decisions. To examine the significance of historical legacies, Ivan proceeds in the following way: she describes the idea of Europe in the Romanian space between 17th century until the communist period and it looks mainly at the attitudes of intellectuals (histoire des mentalités, p. 61). ”Dinicu Golescu complex” (Adrian Marino) recalls best the fascination and the complex of inferiority felt by Romanian intellectuals when thinking of Europe (p. 62). Still, both language and religion were seen as elements that link Romania to Europe (p. 63). The relations with Europe became at the end of 19th century a question of identity for Romanians. But the way in which the modern state should be built on brought out debates. In fact, there was a confrontation among the supporters of Europe as a model or the fans of Romanian rural society (p. 65). Romania was at the crossroads of great powers in the past and nothing exceeds the benefits. The stronger power may offer incentives (e.g. the possibility of territorial gain, trade agreements, among others).

changed dramatically. One of the most important contributions of Ruxandra Ivan is that draws an analogy between the way in which Romanian intellectuals from 19th century saw Europe as a role-model and the way in which decision-makers from 21st century perceive USA. This is the ground on which was constructed the concept of euro-atlantisme, a cocktail that in the minds of decision-makers meant integration to NATO and EU2. Finally, euro-atlantisme is part of daily speech and has found its place in the Constitution. It should be noted that Europe was a re spected en tity by in tel lec tu als mainly from a culturally point of view, but the admiration for USA is rather a practical one, that involves concepts like prosperity and power (puissance, p. 67). ”Finally, the Americans had arrived!” said (now former) Foreign Ministry Mihai Răzvan Ungureanu when the Treaty which allows the deployment of American military army in Romania was signed. This is the best expression that suggests the success of euro-atlantisme, a psychological concept that influenced the FPR. American intervention in Iraq 2003 is like 9/11 seen as a turning point in world politics. Romania declare itself as the main ally of USA in the region but also in the world. For Michael Cox (maybe a little bit to pessimistic), the Iraqi crisis dealt such a blow to the transatlantic alliance that ”a Rubicon of sorts has been crossed”3. In Cox’s words, ”it is doubtful” whether we can talk of a transatlantic security community ”with the same degree of confidence”4. The declaratory support of SUA then transformed into military one is met not only in Romania, but also in Central and Eastern European countries to 2 The concept of euro-atlantisme was described by Cristian PREDA and Simona SOARE, in Regimul, partidele şi sistemul politic, Bucureşti, Nemira, 2008, pp. 168-177. 3 Michael COX, ”Beyond the West: Terrors in Transatlantia”, European Journal of International Relations, vol. 11, no. 2, 2005, pp. 203-233. 4 See, for a different perspective on this matter, Vincent POULIOT, ”The Alive and Well Transatlantic Security Community: A Theoretical Reply to Michael Cox”, European Journal of International Relations, vol. 12, no. 1, 2006, pp. 119-127.


RECENSIONES the extent that we can say: euro-atlantisme is not a Romanian exclusive feature5. Examining the legislative and institutional frame, Ivan suggests that three actors are relevant in FPR: the President, the Prime-Minister and The Ministry of Foreign Affairs. But all the prime-ministers were preoccupied with domestic issues and this situation gave presidents the opportunity to act and strengthen their attributes. The personality of the President is very important because if he wants to manage the FPR, he will do this since the Constitution allows him to act in foreign policy more than in domestic issues. The role of the Ministry Foreign Affairs is reduced to the administrative and representation tasks (p. 110). Since the political parties are seen as the main spokesmen of Romanian society, the citizens as individuals are complete absents from the debate on foreign policy. But not even political parties could not influence the foreign policy (p. 152). The internal factors had a limited or quasi-absent role in FPR, maybe because during the 1990s there was a consensus in the society on catching-up the Occident. The public opinion n’existe pas (to paraphrase Pierre Bourdieu) in relation with FPR and the political parties are unable to influence in one way or another the FPR (p. 164). For Ivan, when analyzing the external factors of FP is necessary to put together the elements of the strategic context (Realism) to those of institutional environment (Liberalism). Geopolitical factors 5

”Shortly after Czechoslovakia’s Velvet Revolution, Manfred Wörner, then Secretary General of NATO, reportedly asked President Vaclav Havel what was the most urgent problem of the post-revolutionary period. Havel allegedly replied: ’I do not know how we are going to run this country. We have two options: we can rely on Communists, who do have some useful experience but are not politically reliable; or we can entrust key positions to former dissidents, who are reliable but lack the knowledge necessary in order to lead the country. If we opt for the second solution, we are going to need a lot of help and advice from Western experts’”, in Alexandra GHECIU, NATO in the ’NewEurope’. The Politics of International Socialization after the Cold War, Stanford, Stanford University Press, 2005, p. 1.

779 structured the regional environment Romania in the first half of the 1990s. Ivan demonstrates that the geopolitical constraints and the historical legacy made an impossible fraternity between Romania and Moldova, i.e. when it became clear that Russia was interested in Moldova (p. 170). In the same time, institutional constraints shaped FPR, and good relations with the neighboring countries were started (p. 174). If NATO’s requirements had a visible impact, EU conditionalities were not directly visible because the EU was interested in domestic problems. Still, we can say that the protection of minorities improved significantly thanks to EU (p. 175). This shows that the accession to NATO was treated as a foreign policy and to EU as a domestic policy (p. 177). For Alexandra Gheciu, ”far from acting as a mere geostrategic (our emphasis, or Realist) arrangement, NATO has been involved in a broad set of activities aimed at promoting the construction of a particular kind of liberal state identity in Central and Eastern Europe”6. The three components identified by Gheciu as agents of socialization (Constructivism): teaching, persuasion and role-playing may explain way signing the treaty with Hungary became and end itself7 (p. 185). So is rather a debatable point if we are, like Ivan considers, en plein réalisme because some concepts (like threat, axis of Evil, terrorism) were copy/ paste from American Security Strategy to National Security Strategy. In IR are many theories (among them the most known are Realism, Liberalism and Constructivism) employed as tools to puzzle out the world. Ruxandra Ivan firstly explains how we can study FPR, and gives a complete account on Foreign Policy Analysis (FPA)8 schools, traditions, debates, since the birth in the 50s to present day. Although it may 6

Ibidem, p. 2. Ibidem, p. 166. See also IDEM, Securing Civilization? The EU, NATO and the OSCE in the Post-9/11 World, Oxford, New York, Oxford University Press, 2008. 8 For a complete account on latest developments in Foreign Policy Analysis, see Valerie HUDSON, ”Foreign Policy Analysis: Actor-Specific Theory and the Ground of Interna tional”, Foreign Policy Analysis, vol. 1, no. 1, 2005, pp. 1-31.


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appear an easy task, things are slightly different in reality because FP is at the crossroads between IR and political science and it was a field neglected by both political scientists and scholars writing on IR (p. 23). If we agree that FP can be seen as a public policy, than any analysis should be focused on actors, processes and results (pp. 23, 30)9. Until know, there is a ”relatively stable consensus” about the subject matter of foreign policy analysis10. A work definition of foreign policy that would be accepted by scholars working within this study area refers to actions taken by governments (decision-makers) which are directed at the environment external to their state with the goal of sustaining or at least changing that environment in some way11. This formulation catches the centrality of states and of governmental actors, the boundary-crossing deployment of policy instruments, and the purposive nature of the resulting actions. But there is no consensus with respect to methods of explaining or understanding foreign policy nor on broader theoretical perspectives. Indeed, much of the development of foreign policy analysis since it was first recognized as a significant field of International Relations (IR) has been dedicated with theoretical issues. The foreign policy analyst is arguably less concerned with explaining and evaluating policy outputs and more concerned to understand the policy process itself – how policies emerge, from whom and why. FPA is not a supporter of traditional state-centric realism12. Indeed, the development of FPA as a field of study can be characterized as adaptive response to the challenges to traditional (or Realist) assumptions emerging from a trans form ing world. With re spect to state-centricity, there is no obvious reason 9 The original name of Ruxandra Ivan’s PhD dissertation (the basis for this book) is La politique étrangère roumaine: acteurs, processus et résultats. 10 Walter CARLSNAES, ”Foreign Policy”, in Walter CARLSNAES, Beth A. SIMMONS, Thomas RISSE (eds.), Handbook of International Relations, Sage, London, 2002, p. 335. 11 Brian WHITE, Understanding European Foreign Policy, Palgrave, London, 2001, pp. 32-36. 12 Brian WHITE, Understanding European... cit., p. 36.

why the perspective of and the analytical techniques associated with FPA cannot be transferred from the state to other (international) actors. FPA happened to emerge at a time when the state was the principal actor in IR, but it was always the actor perspective rather than a specific actor that was important to the foreign policy analyst. As I showed previous, FPA it opposes realist vision of the state. Apart from geopolitics, power, bandwagoning, FPA tries to explain how decisions are taken in foreign policy, a field perceived as closed, non-transparent because of the fact that decision-makers often invoke the national interest. Christopher Hill13 suggests the increasing role of agency in IR and stresses out a reality: the boundaries of internal and external factors that influence FP are more and more blurred14. In fact, Hill acknowledges the existence of a bounded rationality (or limited; the term was coined in 1958 by James March and Herbert Simon) i.e. he rejects the main hypothesis of ”rational actor school”, stating that decision-makers are not necessarily ”credible”. For Hill, action is the missing link in contemporary accounts of IR, which tend to focus on system-wide trends dismissing what can be done by individual units15. Ruxandra Ivan accepted the suggestion made by Hill, but like him, doesn’t go further in choosing explicitly one method and it appears to borrow from Realism (bandwagoning), Liberalism (NATO as an institution) and Constructivism (euro-atlantisme as discourse) and FPA (actors, outputs) only the good sides. In the end, this study is the first complex account on foreign policy of Romania, at least as far as I know, written by Western standards. For a further topic, is interesting to take into account the hypothesis raised by Ivan that Romania has supported USA in 2003 in the absence of any other option from EU. ªTEFAN TURCU 13

Christopher HILL, The Changing Politics of Foreign Policy, Palgrave Macmilllan, Basingstoke, 2002, p. 38. 14 The EU is the best example for this assumption. 15 Christopher HILL, The Changing Politics... cit., p. 284.


ABSTRACTS

JEAN-MICHEL DE WAELE, L’Europe Centrale et Orientale: terroir de la recherche en science politique (Central and Eastern Europe as a Research Field of Political Science). The paper is a transcription of the speech given by the author in acceptance of the title of doctor honoris causa of the University of Bucharest. The discourse is at the same time a personal statement of commitment to the study of Central and Eastern European politics and society, and an appraisal of the problématique of the researches conducted in and on the area. The assertion is that, despite a relative decline of the intellectual interest in the region of mainstream political science, Central and Eastern Europe might still provide valuable insights into the core issue of the discipline: the nature and predicament of democracy, the production of political regimes, how do cleavages appear and how they can be observed, how does politics affect the make-up of societies. Keywords: Central and Eastern Europe, political science, totalitarianism, postcommunism, political parties.

DANIEL BARBU, Les questions De Waele (The ”De Waele” Questions). The paper is a transcription of the response given to the discourse of acceptance of the title of doctor honoris causa of the University of Bucharest by Jean-Michel De Waele. The laudatio lays emphasis on the intellectual mainlines of the scholarly work Professor De Waele devoted to the study of Central and Eastern European politics after the fall of communism, and in particular on the issue of the emergence of political parties. These mainlines are summarized by what might be called the ”De Waele” questions, that is by the strategies the Belgian political scientist used in order to question the fabric of postcommunist polities, politics and policies. Keywords: political science, communism, totalitarianism, postcommunism, political parties.

STELU ªERBAN, Migration and Development Models in Dobroudja, 1880-1913. Contribution to the Study of the Topic. The modernization inside each European country has been generated socio-economic and cultural tensions, which increased by the sudden constraint of the mass politics. The main cause for this state is the acceptance of the homogenous nation model as a fundamental landmark of modernization. In this respect, the Romania’s province of Dobroudja represents an extreme revealer of the problems and conflicts of this modernizing program. It is significant that at the Berlin Congress in 1878 the Romania’s government preferred to integrate Romanian Political Science Review • vol. IX • no. 4 • 2009

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ABSTRACTS Dobroudja, a province where the Romanian population was outnumbered by the Slavs and Moslems, instead areas with a majority Romanian-speaking population, like Timok Valley. This solution had ample economic consequences, but fueled too the political conflicts between central government and local politics. The theme of the article, beyond its strictly historic character, is important as it sends us to research a vaster problem, the long term changing of the South-Eastern European regions on Danube Valley. Keywords: Dobroudja, political development, land reform, migration, citizenship.

ARMIN HEINEN, Die Krise der rumänischen Monarchie von 1940, die persönliche Bewährung der Königsfamilie und das Scheitern der Neufundierung monarchischer Herrschaft in den Jahren des Holocaust (The Crisis of the Romanian Monarchy in the 1940s. The Personal Proving of the Royal Family and the Failure of Re-institutionalizing the Monarchic Rule during the Years of the Holocaust). In August 1944 the Queen Mother and the young Romanian Monarch had gained personal strength because of their moral behaviour during the time of the Second World War and the Romanian Holocaust. However, at the same time, the monarchy as an institution had lost its vigour. It is often argued by scholars that with Carol II leaving the country by force, the Romanian monarchy was not anymore without alternatives. The Queen Mother and the young Monarch were praised because of their ”virtues” but not as representatives of an important, strong, deeply rooted in the culture of the country institution. Keywords: monarchy, war, Holocaust, Antonescu, stalinization.

ANDREI MIROIU, Oil: The Doom of Communist Romania? This paper achieves two things: first, it establishes the existence of a certain pattern of analysis, which I will call an academic canon, of analyzing the problems caused by the oil crises of the 1970’s on the economy of Communist Romania. The canon seems to hold that a series of economic decisions taken in the 1960’s and 70’s by the communist leadership concerning the vast expansion of the petroleum industry led to huge problems after the enormous increases in the price of oil at the end of the 1970’s, which led to the virtual destruction of the economy and the huge deprivations of the 1980’s, thus helping to explain the popular rejection of the socialist regime. Secondly, it analyzes what the Romanian communist leadership thought of the oil industry and what was their general strategy related to it. The general conclusion of the paper is that a deeper research on the party documents and economic policies leads to a wider understanding not only of the worldview of the Romanian communist leaders, but also to nuances when describing the economic causes of political and social change. Keywords: oil policy; oil crisis; communism; Romania; Ceauşescu.

MIREL BĂNICĂ, L’Orthodoxie rurale et la modernité. Un essai monographique (Rural Orthodoxy and Modernity – A Monograph Essay). The text represents the essential of a monograph research that was carried out in an orthodox parish of the district of Brăila from August to December 2009. We tried to witness the evolution of mentalities and religious attitudes caused by the rapid changes that occurred in Romanian society after 1990, by studying Romanian Political Science Review • vol. IX • no. 4 • 2009

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the daily religious activity of the parish. The parish itself represents a model of adaptation: its activities are carried out on the ground floor of a residential block in the premises of a former bakery. On a nearby patch of land, the new church has been under construction since 2001. We intended to discover to what extent the building of that new church structures the community within the framework of the existing parish, as well as the current strategies for the financing of such a building. Keywords: sociologic monograph, Orthodoxy and Modernity, religious fact, post-communism, Romania.

AITANA BOGDAN, Hamas and Palestinian Politics. This article explores the advantages and disadvantages for Arab democratization of the political integration of Islamist movements. Because of the vastness of the subject I will focus on only one such organization, namely the Palestinian Hamas. In the course of the paper I will analyze Hamas’ origins, structure and ideology and reasons for seeking political inclusion. The paper concludes with an in-depth evaluation of Hamas’ actions once it managed to acquire political power, namely their overall impact on the peace process and on Palestinian democratization. Keywords: Islamist organizations, Hamas, Palestinian Territories, elections, democratization.

MARIUS I. LAZĂR, The Salafism in Europe. Between Hijra and Jihad. Salafism is a current within the Sunni Islam, which interprets Islamic history and dogmas with special emphasis on doctrinary, spiritual and behavioural purity. Its central tenet is that there is a radical breach between the authentic Islam of the first decades of Muslim history and the subsequent developments of the cultural and religious Islamic tradition, the latter being blamed for having allowed the corruption of the divine message during encounters with foreign and non-Muslim cultures. Contemporary Salafism generally promotes a conservative vision of Islam in the manner of Wahhabism and encourages the development of a universal type of Muslim, with no specific cultural allegiances, whose identity is based on the strict observance of a clearly spelled out theological and behavioural catechism. In addition to this pietistic Salafism – non-political in principle – a militant Salafism has emerged in recent years, which proclaims the superiority of Islam over the Western world and the need for a return to the original Islamic teachings, as well as envisaging an apocalyptic vision of a global battle between good and evil, fought by two generic entities called the Islam and the West. This sublimated imagery and vision of war moves beyond mere rhetoric and encompasses more than a substitute ideology (possibly meant to compensate for the failure of the traditional nationalisms in many Muslim countries). Effectively involved in the Afghan war, most of the radical movements thereby developed have added to their ideological position a substantial military and organizational expertise. Following the retreat of the Soviet army from Afghanistan, many Jihadi movements – later to acquire media visibility due to their association with al-Qaida – steer their strategic interests towards the West, in particular Europe and the United States. The increasingly large Muslim population settled here facilitates activities of Romanian Political Science Review • vol. IX • no. 4 • 2009

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ABSTRACTS recruitment, mobilization and implementation of violent action taken in the name of the globalizing belligerent goals envisaged by Islamist ideologists. Keywords: Salafism, Europe, Islam, Jihad, Al-Qaida.

MONICA VLAD, Does American Indian Law Reflect Indian Values? A Study on Native American Identity. This study explores the legal history of the Indian civilizations of North America. It focuses on the unsual link between the jurisprudence of the United States Supreme Court and the extermination politics practiced by the federal government. Strange enough, these have been some of the limits of the most admired democracy of the world. The analysis explains the racist solution imposed by Justice Marshall, whose legal genius created the concept of ”guardship” against the Native Americans. Different periods of time, concentrated in their respective ”legal solution” have resulted in the disappearance of most of the North American Indian civilizations. One is surprised to notice the eurocentric vision imposed on these cultures, whose concepts are so very different from ours. Notions like ”tribe”, ”savages”, ”state of pupilage” speak for themselves in order to demonstrate the arguments used for the destruction of a fascinating world and for the justification of the colonization process of the Americas. Keywords: Indian tribe, reservation, sovereignty, colonization, justice.


AUTORES

DANIEL BARBU Professor of Political Science and Director of the Graduate School of Political Science at the University of Bucharest. Recent books: Die abwesende Republik, Frank & Timme, Berlin, 2009 and Politica pentru barbari, Editura Nemira, Bucureşti, 2005. ([email protected])

MIREL BĂNICĂ PhD in Political Science, the University of Geneva. Post-PhD grants with the University of Laval, Canada and EHESS Paris, 2005-2007. Currently, researcher, the Institute for the History of Religions, The Romanian Academy, the Department of Religion and Modernity. His last published book: Locul celuilalt. Ortodoxia în modernitate, Paideia, Bucureşti, 2007. ([email protected])

AITANA BOGDAN BA in Political Science, University of Bucharest, MA candidate in Comparative Politics, University of Bucharest. ([email protected])

JEAN-MICHEL DE WAELE Professor of Political Science at the Université Libre de Bruxelles where he chairs the CEVIPOL. He edited recently several books: (with Ramona Coman), Judicial Reforms in Central and Eastern European Countries, Van den Broele, Bruges, 2007; (éd.), European Union Accession Referendums, Éditions de l’Université de Bruxelles, Bruxelles, 2005; (with Alexandre Husting), Sport, politiques et sociétés en Europe centrale et orientale, Bruxelles, Éditions de l’Université de Bruxelles, Bruxelles, 2005; Les clivages politiques en Europe centrale et orientale, Éditions de l’Université de Bruxelles, Bruxelles, 2004. ([email protected])

ARMIN HEINEN BA in History, Political Science and Mathematics. Doctoral Thesis (1984) at the University of Trier; state doctorate (Habilitation) in 1994 at the University of Saarbrücken. Since 1998 Professor of Modern and Contemporary History in Aachen (Northrhein-Westfalia). He authored several books and studies on comparative history (Fascism, death penalty, oral history in borderlands), European integration, cultural history (time, carnival, media and historiography, lieux de mémoire), environmental history, and the history of the Holocaust in Romania. Since 2008, together with Victor Neumann, founder of the Graduate School (VW-Foundation) on Romanian conceptual history (Rumänische Begriffsgeschichte), Timişoara. ([email protected]) Romanian Political Science Review • vol. IX • no. 4 • 2009

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AUTORES

MARIUS LAZĂR PhD candidate, Institut Français de Géopolitique, Université Paris 8 and is also working on a doctoral thesis on International Relations for ”Babeş-Bolyai” University, Cluj-Napoca. He has taught courses on Islamic, Jewish and Ottoman history and civilization at ”Avram-Iancu” University, Cluj-Napoca, and at ”1 Decembrie 1918” University, Alba Iulia. He has published extensively on cultural and political aspects of the Middle East and is currently working on a book on Shi’a geopolitics in contemporary Iraq. ([email protected])

ANDREI MIROIU PhD in Political Science, International Relations track (National School of Political Studies and Public Administration, Bucharest, 2004) and currently studies Eastern European History in the Department of History, Indiana University. He was a Research Fellow in the Institute for Political Studies and Defense of the Romanian Ministry of Defense and Director of the Center for Security and International Studies, FEDM, Bucharest. He is co-editor (with Radu-Sebastian Ungureanu) of: Manual de relaţii internaţionale, Polirom, Iaşi, 2006 and author of: Balanţă şi hegemonie. România în politica mondială, 1913-1989, Tritonic, Bucureşti, 2005. ([email protected])

STELU ªERBAN Researcher at the Institute for South East European Studies, Bucharest. PhD in Political Science (University of Bucharest, 2003). His research interests revolve around topics like post-socialist transformations in southeast Europe, long-run political modernization in a comparative perspective, local politics and identity. Recent publications: (ed.), Transborder Identities. The Romanian-speaking Population in Bulgaria, Paideia, Bucureşti, 2007; Elite, partide şi spectru politic în România interbelică, Paideia, Bucureşti, 2006; Between East and West. Studies in Anthropology and Social History in the honor of Professor Paul H. Stahl (ed. with Ştefan Dorondel), Editura Institutului Cultural Român, Bucureşti, 2005. ([email protected])

MONICA VLAD PhD in Constitutional Law, ”Babes Bolyai” University, Law School, Cluj-Napoca (1998). Visiting Professor at the University of Cambridge, UK (1994). Research Grant at the Institute for Federalism of the University of Fribourg (1995-1997). Fulbright Scholar, Master in International Legal Studies, American University, Washington, D.C. (1998-1999). Senior Legal Specialist for the Balkans, The Library of Congress, Law Library (1999-2001). Associate Professor of Law at the University of Sibiu (2001-present). Representative at the European Union Monitoring Centre for Racism and Xenophobia, Vienna (2004-2007). Recent books: Drept constitutional şi instituţii politice, Anco, Bucureşti, 2007; Drept internaţional public, Servo Sat, Arad, 2002; Verfassungsrechtliche Entwicklung und die Situation der Minderheiten in Rumänien, coll. PIFF, Institut du Fédéralisme, Université de Fribourg, Suisse, 2000. ([email protected])


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University of Bucharest Department of Political Science Institute for Political Research

The Department of Political Science at the University of Bucharest was founded in 1991 with the purpose to act as a focal point for training and research in political science. The Department offers its over one thousand undergraduate students a full curriculum in three languages: English, French and Romanian. The Department fosters the highest standards of scholarly inquiry while addressing issues of major political and social concern in the fields of political theory, comparative politics, Romanian politics, international relations and European government ands policies. The Department benefits from an exchange of students, and, occasionally, faculty with numerous universities in France, Germany, Italy, Belgium, Canada and the United States. Several members of the faculty went on to serve as high officials and policy advisors for different post-communist administrations, whereas others helped transform the scope and methods of political science in Romanian academia. The Institute for Political Research was established within the Department of Political Science in 1995, in order to provide faculty and students with the opportunity to get rigorous training while focusing their research on a set of broad theoretical themes and empirical topics. Four years latter, in 1999, the Institute became a graduate school and received authorization to offer M.A. and Ph.D. degrees on behalf of the University of Bucharest. To this end, the Institute has mounted a number of innovative programs that build on the interests of both faculty and students. The M.A. programs in Political Theory, Romanian Politics, Comparative Politics, International Relations, and the Government, Politics and Policies of the European Union, as well as a Ph.D. program in political science enroll over two hundred graduate students. The Institute offers students the opportunity to work with scholars from Western Europe and North America. In this international setting, those interested in studying Romanian politics and society do so in a comparative perspective. By editing its own journal, Studia Politica. Romanian Political Science Review, the Institute tries to facilitate and promote more extensive cooperation among scholars interested in Romanian polity, post-communist transition and the study of democracy.