The Economist
May 5th 2018
Europe 51
T
OTHIS day, Romanians remain baffled
by what actually happened during the
violent spasmwhich rid the country of its
communist dictator in December 1989.
Seeking to give them a definitive answer,
on April 17th prosecutors indicted Ion Ili-
escu, the first post-communist president of
the country, for crimes against humanity
allegedly committed during the revolution
hewas instrumental in leading.
If the trial of the 88-year-old two-time
president succeeds in settling the record
that would be a fine thing. It probably will
not happen, though. In the rest of eastern
Europe, the end of communism was a
mostly peaceful affair, but in Romania
things were different. The revolution start-
ed in the western city of Timisoara, where
dozens were shot. Nicolae Ceausescu, the
communist dictator, then called a rally in
Bucharest. But when, on television, people
could be heard shouting, “Down with the
dictator,” the game was up. He fled in a he-
licopter but was arrested, and executed
alongside hiswife on Christmas Day.
The drama of those days was, literally,
indescribable. No one appeared to know
what was happening. A few Ceausescu
loyalists held out, and arms were distri-
buted to civilians to resist mysterious “ter-
rorists” who turned out not to exist. Much
ofthe shootingwas done byunits ofthe se-
curity forces andmilitaryfiring at each oth-
er. Mr Iliescu, who has been indicted along
with three others, has always maintained
that there was no secret plan. He and oth-
ers simply stepped in to fill the power vac-
uum, he says. The indictment, however, ac-
cuses themof creating “diversions”: that is,
giving contradictory orders to different un-
its which inevitably led to people being
killed.
Mr Iliescu is a divisive figure. Detractors
despise him for his communist past and
for, as they believe, hijacking the revolu-
tion. Former communists did prosper after
the revolution; but that was true from
Prague to Vladivostok. The former presi-
dent is already on trial for his alleged role
in orchestrating violence committed by
miners he called to come and crush anti-
government protests in Bucharest in June
1990, a far lessmurky case.
Since the indictmentMr Iliescuhas said
nothing. But on April 13th he wrote on his
blog that hewas proud ofwhat he did, that
it was ridiculous to pretend that democra-
cy and its institutions should have been es-
tablished the second the Ceausescus fled,
and that he is being made a scapegoat.
Many victims’ families will be relieved
when he goes on trial, as they have never
had clear answers as to why their loved
ones died. Valentina Radu, aged 85, a re-
tired teacher, said: “He may not go to jail,
but history has to know the truth about Ili-
escu and the revolution.” After so many
years, however, it probably won’t be the
whole truth, or evenwholly true.
7
Romania
Trying the
president
Romanians hope to learnwhat
happened during the revolution
Untold stories
A
GIANT banner at the entrance to the
University of Nanterre advertises offi-
cial events to commemorate the May ’68
student uprising. There are seminars on
“counterculture” and “revolutions”, and a
conference on the intersectionbetween art
and politics. Around the corner, past par-
tially obscured graffiti reading “Macron
we’re going to hang you”, today’s genera-
tion is staging its own historical tribute to
the
soixante-huitards
. Inside an amphi-
theatre blockaded by a pile of chairs and
upturned tables, over a thousand students
are voting to continue a sit-in. Fifty years
on, as the country looks back at one of its
most iconic post-war moments, the lines
between history, drama, politics and art
feel strangely blurred.
The 1968 events first broke out on the
Nanterre campus, in an unfashionable
suburb west of Paris, before spreading to
the Sorbonne in the Latin Quarter. Daniel
Cohn-Bendit, or Dany the Red, led a stu-
dent occupation, partly in protest at dormi-
tory rules outlawing male visitors to fe-
male dormitories. But it was the prospect
of selection at entry for undergraduates
that set offthewider rebellion. This reform
never took place. Half a century on, stu-
dents are resisting a new challenge to their
right to sign up for any degree they like.
“Equality of access to university is a
right,” declares a student at Nanterre, on
her way to the amphitheatre to vote. Ever
since Napoleon devised the school-leav-
ing
baccalauréat
as an entrance ticket to
university, all those who pass it can apply
for any undergraduate course, regardless
of their suitability. So a student who has
not studied the maths-heavy
bac
‘
S
’ (for
“scientific”) can nonetheless enroll for a
maths degree. The result is overcrowded
amphitheatres, and a high drop-out rate.
Jean-Michel Blanquer, the education min-
ister, points out that a staggering 70%ofun-
dergraduates fail to complete their degree
within three years.
A new application process, put in place
this year under President Emmanuel Mac-
ron, makes a small but important change.
For the first time, universities have access
to a pupil’s school reference, and will be
able both to assess their suitability and
make offers conditional on ill-prepared ap-
plicants’ agreeing to take catch-up courses.
As far as selection goes, it is minimal. But
many students suspect it is the start of an
insidious slide towards Anglo-American-
style selection. “The government refuses to
use the word selection because it knows
it’s illegal,” claims one at Nanterre.
Similar sit-ins have taken place at over a
dozen campuses. Riot police have been
sent in to evacuate some. Resistance has
spread to unlikely corners. Students at Sci-
ences Po last month staged a sit-in against
selection out of “solidarity”. Sciences Po is
a highly selective
grande école
—a universi-
ty for the elite, to which the rules for the
masses do not apply. “Here are trained
thosewho select” read a banner. Some crit-
ics of the new procedure point less to the
principle than to the stealth. Mr Macron is
usually upfront about his reforms. Yet the
government has not explicitly used the in-
cendiary word “selection”. “The process
will de facto involve selection,” argues
Marc Ivaldi of the Toulouse School of Eco-
nomics, but “it is hidden selection, and this
iswhy it’s a bad law.”
Back at Nanterre, surrounded by so
many historical echoes of 1968, the talk is
all about continuing the struggle. Mr Mac-
ron, who himself studied philosophy at
Nanterre, is not popular here, at least
among those protesting. But he does not
look ready to cede ground. And it will not
have passed students by that one of those
who backed him for president last year
was none other than a fellow Nanterre
alumnus, Mr Cohn-Bendit.
7
France’s students
The shadowof ’68
NANTERRE
A (less violent) protest against selection
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