I was 4 years old when I watched the execution of Nicolae Ceaușescu and his wife by firing squad live on national television on Christmas day, 1989.
The former Romanian dictator had been deposed amid days of intense civil unrest, bringing an end to communism after 42 years. It was a confusing time for a child. But, as much as I’ve come to understand since then about my home country and its transition toward democracy, there are still many questions that Romanians don’t have the answers to about that period, three decades later.
In the chaotic days that followed Ceaușescu’s ouster in what is now known as the Romanian Revolution, more civilians were shot and killed than during Ceaușescu’s military crackdown on protesters during the days before. And no one has a clear answer as to why or by whom.
Long the subject of scholarly debate and conspiracy theories, these questions are now being picked apart in an ongoing trial of leading members of the revolution — the most violent among countries that emerged from behind the Iron Curtain. According to some estimates, 1,100 people died and more than 3,000 were seriously injured.
Some hope the trial will help bring closure to this pivotal but tumultuous time in Romania’s history.
But despite the fall of the Ceaușescus and the withdrawal of the military, shots continued to be fired in the streets of Bucharest at civilians in the days after.
“I’ve said often that we want to know the truth about December 1989, that we want those who are guilty to be brought to justice,” said President Klaus Iohannis during a commemoration of the revolution on Sunday in Bucharest.
Others are not so sure.
“If it wasn’t solved in 30 years, what can one do now?” Gheorghe Preda, who lost an eye after being shot while looking for a gift for his daughter, told Mediafax. He still doesn’t know who shot him.
The beginning of the end
What is clear about the revolution is how and where it all started: On December 15, 1989, locals gathered in the western city of Timișoara to form a human chain around the home of László Tőkés — a popular pastor and ethnic Hungarian who had been a vocal critic of Ceaușescu and was set to be reassigned. By the next day, the protest had transformed into a broader movement against communism itself, leading to clashes with security forces.
People stand next to wreaths of flowers reading “30” during the commemoration of the first victims of the 1989 Revolution at “Piata Universitatii” square in Bucharest on December 21, 2019 | Daniel Mihailescu/AFP via Getty Images
A military crackdown against protesters saw 66 people killed and more than 300 wounded, according to some estimates. But the violence wasn’t enough to stop the protests, and thousands of people began to take to the streets, leading the military to withdraw while Ceaușescu was on a trip to Iran.
As discontent continued to grow, Ceaușescu organized a rally in Bucharest on December 21 to show he still had people’s support, but his words were met with boos and protest chants. By the next day, he and his wife were forced to flee the capital in a helicopter after protesters forced their way into the Communist Party building where the couple had sought refuge. They were later arrested, put on a show trial and executed.
A group of anti-communist activists and actors took over, among them Ion Iliescu, who had been close to the Ceaușescus, and who ultimately served as president for 11 years.
But despite the fall of the Ceaușescus and the withdrawal of the military, shots continued to be fired in the streets of Bucharest at civilians in the days after.
Iliescu blamed the shootings on alleged terrorists, who he claimed were former members of the so-called Securitate and loyalists of the Ceaușescus, though their identities were never established.
The gunfire didn’t stop until December 28, according to Agerpres, three days after the Ceaușescus were executed.
The misinformation Iliescu and his collaborators are accused of spreading also laid the foundation for the show trial and summary execution of Ceaușescus, according to the indictment.
Waiting for justice
In the 30 years since the revolution, investigations into the violent aftermath have been opened and closed several times. In 2014, military prosecutors dropped a broad case looking into the events of the revolution, arguing that no one could be held responsible because there was a vacuum of power before Iliescu had established himself.
In 2016, Romania’s deputy general prosecutor decided to reopen the case, saying that the prior arguments for dropping it were not convincing and that the military prosecutors hadn’t focused on establishing what exactly happened.
Iliescu, now 89, was charged this past April for crimes against humanity, accused of spreading misinformation when he said there had been terrorists. According to the indictment, his statements had fueled a “terrorism psychosis” that resulted in people shooting at one another out of fear.
Iliescu has denied any wrongdoing, insisting in interviews and books he wrote over the last 30 years that the terrorists were troops loyal to Ceaușescu, and they were responsible for the shooting.
Three other men who were part of the group that took power, including a deputy prime minister and the commander of the air force, were also indicted on similar charges.
Augustin Lazăr, the former general prosecutor of Romania, apologized for how long it took for the justice system to bring charges in the “revolution file.” He said the trial would finally pay respect to those who died.
A Romanian soldier stands on a tank during fights to overthrow the Socialist Republic of Romania on December 24, 1989 in Bucharest | Christophe Simon and Joel Robine/AFP via Getty Images
Some 5,000 people have been asked to appear as witnesses in the trial, which began at the end of November. The names of some 3,500 people were called during the first day, but only 600 showed up, according to Romanian media reports. Many present expressed little hope that the trial would bring closure.
No warning
The misinformation Iliescu and his collaborators are accused of spreading also laid the foundation for the show trial and summary execution of Ceaușescus, according to the indictment.
On that Christmas day, I was in the countryside, 300 kilometers away from Bucharest, where my family traditionally gathered for the holiday. We had a black-and-white TV where we would usually watch the few hours of programming available each day during communism.
During the broadcast of the trial, the audio of the TV wasn’t working, so my family turned up the radio to hear what the Ceaușescus had to say in their defense, before being killed by firing squad.
I remember struggling to catch a glimpse of the screen, as many of my neighbors huddled around it.
But the image of the couple’s lifeless bodies has been broadcast on TV every Christmas afterward as part of commemorations of the fall of communism. In the early days of the fledgling democracy, there was no warning that those images could be disturbing, especially for children.
Christmas 1989 brought a sudden end to the regime but not to my mother’s fears.
I remember feeling sad that those two older people had met such a tragic fate. I didn’t understand what they had done, and Ceaușescu’s hat reminded me of my grandfather, who had a similar one.
Besides the many unanswered questions from those days, there are also fears that still linger.
At one point during the revolution, my mother got a phone call from a relative who had fled to Australia years before. He was calling to tell her how happy he was that Romanians would finally be free.
Suddenly, a third voice on the line told my mother: “You should hang up now.”
She was terrified for days that someone from the secret police would come find her and throw her in jail, as had happened to many people.
Christmas 1989 brought a sudden end to the regime but not to my mother’s fears. To this day, when I tell her over the phone which Romanian politician I’m planning to interview, she might ask me to stop sharing those details because “you never know who could be listening.”