The new European communist order
In a European Union built on communist principles, I can never feel a sense of belonging to an artificially constructed community—a hybrid monster, manipulated from the shadows, grinding countless lives between its greedy jaws. These people are rendered voiceless, stripped of identity, offered as sacrifices at the feet of this false idol.
The power of communism lies in the obliteration of human identity and the distortion of national memory through the systematic falsification of history.
My identity as a Romanian carries a legacy of national dignity, passed down quietly through whispered stories, guarded by the land, the traditions of the village, and the riches of earth and sky. I refuse to internalize the lesson of hating one’s own people, a lesson so persistently imposed upon us. Romanians are neither traitors nor cowards. My Romanians were thrown into communist dungeons, most without even a grave. They were exiled from their own country, forced to serve masters who preach democracy while mocking our heritage.
My Romanians are my great-grandparents, who taught me to kneel before the icon of Christ and make the sign of the cross as an invisible shield. They are my grandparents, who taught me to work, to listen, and to respect the earth and all its creatures. My Romanians have carried the cross of Christ on their backs as best they could.
Romania bears the pure face of an eternal child—the student Cornel Niță, suspended by a hair in the Pitesti prison, his hands bound behind his back, beaten until his skull was crushed and bloody, yet with a fragile thread of life still clinging to him. My Romanians are priests whose myrrh-scented bones have been mockingly exhumed by today’s common law prisoners, under the pretext of state poverty. My Romanians fought communism with guns in the mountains. My Romanian is Valeriu Gafencu, in whom the death and resurrection of Christ converged, a weak man with the strength to lift all of us to the greatness for which we were created. My Romanian is Petre Țuțea, the embodiment of the nation, isolated yet monumental. My Romanian is Dumitru Uță, the penniless doctor for whom I pray daily.
None of this is taught in schools. Romanian identity is not taught. Children now learn how to socialize, how to celebrate Valentine’s Day, and countless other distractions. Romanianism is being deliberately erased from human consciousness.
It is being systematically destroyed, hollowed out of the national mind, and the signs of success are disheartening. Historically, dialectical materialism crushed the body when the spirit refused to bow to matter. Today, the new European communist order seeks to confiscate the spirit of self-sufficient nations, turning their peoples into nomadic, resigned laborers, living only to earn and consume, devoid of purpose beyond the material. Eurocommunism pursues this emptying of the human being, leaving no room for values, faith, or identity. A man uprooted in pursuit of material gain becomes hollow, empty of God, and ultimately destructive.
The only valid path for man is toward God, attainable only through the transparency, clarity, and purity of one’s own identity, and through the sacred rituals preserved and honored by one’s ancestors. European neo-communism robs me of these treasures, desecrating the tombs of my forebears, exhuming them without priest or ceremony, dumping bones in a barren field, erasing time and memory.
(Daniela Panioglu – Ziarul Cotidianul, Monday, 29 April 2013)