Recently, cousins of Romania’s former King Michael asked for ownership of Bran Castle to be returned to them. Bran Castle once belonged to Princess Ileana, King Michael’s aunt. In the 15th century its owner was Vlad the Impaler, better known as Dracula. But this vampire-count’s heirs are not alone in seeking to reclaim family properties confiscated half-a-century ago by the Communists. With these claims, however, the old class war also seems to be rising from the dead.
Across Romania, city halls are besieged by people making similar claims – including those of former King Michael himself. The heirs of Romania’s biggest pre-war industrialists, too, want their properties back. Buildings now used as hospitals, schools, movie theatres, police headquarters, courts, administrative buildings, embassies, even ministries are being reclaimed in every city.
In most postcommunist countries, restitution for or the return of properties nationalized by the Communists was settled in the early years of democratic rule. But Romania squandered the decade since Communism’s end and is only now confronting this issue. This delay has made the issue even more divisive, as ordinary people argue that, because no one is offering to compensate for their losses under Communism or for the harshness of their current lives, why should rich exiles alone be treated generously and get their lost properties back?
Ironically, the law that incited these claims was passed by the Social Democratic Party (SDP), which opposed any restitution when it ruled Romania from 1989 to 1996. In 1995 it did pass a very limited law to restore ownership rights to former owners who were living in their old properties as tenants. In the years since, little else was done to benefit former owners.
Soon after President Ion Iliescu and his SDP colleagues returned to power this year, an extensive restitution law was passed. Of course, the old Socialist mistrust in private property remained in force, but the government knew that unless old property claims were addressed, negotiations about EU membership would not advance. So pragmatism carried the day, not ideology.
Still, the issue incited little public pressure until former King Michael, who was removed from his throne by the Communists while a young man, registered his claim for Peles Castle, a beautiful mountainside palace built as a summer residence at the 19th century’s end by his ancestor, King Charles I. That royal move stunned the government, as a week earlier the former King and President Iliescu had appeared side-by-side to speak about “national reconciliation.” Though an old enemy of royalty, President Iliescu (noting the popularity of former King Simeon in Bulgaria, who was recently elected Prime Minister) provided King Michael with a protocol villa for his use and was trying to coax the now elderly ex-King into looking with favor on his government. When the Royal family asked for Peles Castle back, this goodwill evaporated fast.
Prime-Minister Adrian Nastase now says that the state cannot afford to transfer ownership of nationalized properties and move important public services such as hospitals and orphanages. But reneging on its own law would damage the government’s reputation at home and with the EU. Moreover, should King Michael or any other claimant think himself unjustly treated on a matter of restitution, he or she could take their claim to the European Court of Justice, where a decision against the government would deal a devastating blow to the country’s already damaged image.
Of course, opposition politicians try to capitalize on the government’s unease. The extreme-nationalist Greater Romania Party asked that the law be rescinded. Taking the opposite tack, Traian Basescu, Mayor of Bucharest and leader of the centre-left Democrats, started returning disputed properties so as to embarrass the government. A big hotel in Bucharest was returned on paper to its pre-war owner, though it was previously sold by the state to a political crony. Presumably, the current and former owners will now fight it out in court.
Uncertain of what to do, the government wants to buy time. It seems to hope that conflicting claims for the same property will tie up restitution questions in court for years. Opinion polls suggest that most Romanians oppose returning big properties to the heirs of their original owners. Whether they are peasant smallholders or householders in cities and towns, most Romanians seem to draw a line between small and “legitimate” private property and large properties that intrinsically look suspect. In this, the old “class struggle” seems alive and well.
So far, Romania’s government has hesitated to go back to its Communist roots and reignite this struggle. But if a hard winter arrives and the economy stumbles badly, it may be glad to have the “class struggle” in reserve, although conjuring its ghost would likely incite instability and kill off any lingering hopes of joining the EU. The “undead” may not exist as vampires, but they do seem to exist in the form of unburied hatreds.
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Across Romania, city halls are besieged by people making similar claims – including those of former King Michael himself. The heirs of Romania’s biggest pre-war industrialists, too, want their properties back. Buildings now used as hospitals, schools, movie theatres, police headquarters, courts, administrative buildings, embassies, even ministries are being reclaimed in every city.
In most postcommunist countries, restitution for or the return of properties nationalized by the Communists was settled in the early years of democratic rule. But Romania squandered the decade since Communism’s end and is only now confronting this issue. This delay has made the issue even more divisive, as ordinary people argue that, because no one is offering to compensate for their losses under Communism or for the harshness of their current lives, why should rich exiles alone be treated generously and get their lost properties back?
Ironically, the law that incited these claims was passed by the Social Democratic Party (SDP), which opposed any restitution when it ruled Romania from 1989 to 1996. In 1995 it did pass a very limited law to restore ownership rights to former owners who were living in their old properties as tenants. In the years since, little else was done to benefit former owners.
Soon after President Ion Iliescu and his SDP colleagues returned to power this year, an extensive restitution law was passed. Of course, the old Socialist mistrust in private property remained in force, but the government knew that unless old property claims were addressed, negotiations about EU membership would not advance. So pragmatism carried the day, not ideology.
Still, the issue incited little public pressure until former King Michael, who was removed from his throne by the Communists while a young man, registered his claim for Peles Castle, a beautiful mountainside palace built as a summer residence at the 19th century’s end by his ancestor, King Charles I. That royal move stunned the government, as a week earlier the former King and President Iliescu had appeared side-by-side to speak about “national reconciliation.”
Though an old enemy of royalty, President Iliescu (noting the popularity of former King Simeon in Bulgaria, who was recently elected Prime Minister) provided King Michael with a protocol villa for his use and was trying to coax the now elderly ex-King into looking with favor on his government. When the Royal family asked for Peles Castle back, this goodwill evaporated fast.
Prime-Minister Adrian Nastase now says that the state cannot afford to transfer ownership of nationalized properties and move important public services such as hospitals and orphanages. But reneging on its own law would damage the government’s reputation at home and with the EU. Moreover, should King Michael or any other claimant think himself unjustly treated on a matter of restitution, he or she could take their claim to the European Court of Justice, where a decision against the government would deal a devastating blow to the country’s already damaged image.
Of course, opposition politicians try to capitalize on the government’s unease. The extreme-nationalist Greater Romania Party asked that the law be rescinded. Taking the opposite tack, Traian Basescu, Mayor of Bucharest and leader of the centre-left Democrats, started returning disputed properties so as to embarrass the government. A big hotel in Bucharest was returned on paper to its pre-war owner, though it was previously sold by the state to a political crony. Presumably, the current and former owners will now fight it out in court.
Uncertain of what to do, the government wants to buy time. It seems to hope that conflicting claims for the same property will tie up restitution questions in court for years. Opinion polls suggest that most Romanians oppose returning big properties to the heirs of their original owners. Whether they are peasant smallholders or householders in cities and towns, most Romanians seem to draw a line between small and “legitimate” private property and large properties that intrinsically look suspect. In this, the old “class struggle” seems alive and well.
So far, Romania’s government has hesitated to go back to its Communist roots and reignite this struggle. But if a hard winter arrives and the economy stumbles badly, it may be glad to have the “class struggle” in reserve, although conjuring its ghost would likely incite instability and kill off any lingering hopes of joining the EU. The “undead” may not exist as vampires, but they do seem to exist in the form of unburied hatreds.