We Require no Protection - A Romania TL

Glad these continue, how much money Romania spent to keep all those territories outside Romania proper?
Keeping them out probably saves the central government money. Full integration into the political and constitutional structure of the country would mean the executive would have to organize elections and direct more money to local administrations.

Keeping a colonial structure and a benign neglect allows the central administration to reap most economic benefits without spending as much as it does in Romania proper - only the integration of Crimea, at this stage, would cost enormously because the administration would have to set up an electoral infrastructure for half a million people.

This would also provoke a kind of political instability that the Bucharest establishment is simply not ready to manage - enfranchising Crimea would either bring a new hostile minority Russian/Tatar party in Parliament or would greatly enhance the power of the Socialists. Both prospects are loathed by the Bucharest establishment.
The Great war and the virus surely will have large rammification for Romania let alone the continued effect of wartime economy and mobilisation. I can see some sort of paternalistic "decolonization" or "autonomist movement" happen in a way to adress this issue. Be interesting to see the effect to the colonies.
Surely, in fact Romania has been burning through its reserves at an astounding pace since the 1890s. Since the first Brătianu Administration, the country has been spending most of the budget surplus acquired during the mid 1800s with costly military campaigns in East Africa, with grand military projects and expansions and the Great War. All of these have driven economic growth and have enriched the capitalists, but economic inequality has started to become a very serious problem.
 
Chapter LXXXVII - A CRIMSON END
CHAPTER LXXXVII
A CRIMSON END

Headlines in the Romanian press all exploded on the 21st of April 1921 – all maintained a general tone of partial disbelief and genuine awe of what had happened – “Organized Crime boss Luca Ventura has been apprehended in top-secret mission by the Ionescu Administration” – was the more level-headed entry on the first page of the Santinela newspaper. Other publications referred to Ventura by his more romanticized nicknames such as “Haiducul” (eng. – the Outlaw), “Cavalerul” (eng. – the Knight) or “Domnul Cepturei” (eng. - the Lord of Ceptura) and emphasized the Cavaleria’s criminal credentials in the country’s south, where Ventura had been most active. Less sensationalist but more politically inclined publications published titles that emphasized the administration’s success or sought to underline that it was a success made possible by the professionalism of the professional corps, less by the government.

It was a long-awaited singular success for the unpopular President Ionescu who up until then had been struggling to govern in a profoundly difficult political climate – hounded by the Socialists at every turn and extorted constantly by former President Brătianu and the Liberals – and facing multiple crises and issues that were plaguing the country in the aftermath of the Great War.

Ventura had eluded capture for some time and people were in disbelief that he had truly been captured, with many believing that the outlaw was actually faking his capture or that the administration was merely giving false information after a deal with him. Nevertheless, the release of information regarding the trial convinced even those most reluctant to believe that the Cavaleria boss had been apprehended.

The successful operation had been prepared and put into motion by the newly created Directoratul de Stat pentru Siguranță Generală și Operațiuni Speciale* (DSSGOS), a government agency that was formed after the administration split the Department for Internal Affairs inside the ARI and turned it into a standing government agency. The new agency was to be exclusively concerned with internal intelligence, operations against the Cavaleria and other domestic criminal groups, as well as act pre-emptively against any domestic threats to the stability of the state. Over the years, it became poplarly known by a number of different names, the most popular being Directoratul. It was also sometimes referred to as the Siguranța while the press generally referred to it with a contraction of its full acronym – DSG (pronounced deseghe).

The creation of the Directorat was, of course, not without many controversies. The Socialist opposition heavily criticized the president for using a decree to create the agency and for not asking for the consent of Parliament. President Ionescu was accused of untransparently militarizing yet another aspect of the public life and for trying to “create a paramilitary force” that “could not be trusted to remain independent and apolitical”.

There was, however, a certain awareness among the Romanian political class that the DSG was necessary and that the Cavaleria could not be contained without using special measures. President Ionescu did try to calm the waters by naming a politically neutral, professionally recognized expert to be the first director of the agency. The former head of the Chișinău police, Iuliu Nistor, credited with solving a number of difficult murder cases all through the eastern Moldavian city was named to lead the Directorat.

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Vice President Iuliu Maniu introduces the presidential decree for the creation of the DSG in Parliament (1921)​

Nistor’s credentials and his general calm and “bureaucratic” demeanor is usually credited with the DSG quickly becoming a respected agency and a generally effective department. During his first year as head of the Directorat, Cavaleria activity decreased by 40%, especially in the country’s south, while in other regions it also declined significantly, but the smaller base of operations also meant it had less influence. Government detractors claimed that it was rather the arrest and highly publicized public trial of Luca Ventura that had led to the dramatic scaling down of Cavaleria operations all throughout the country. Ventura was eventually convicted for several counts of theft, fraud, criminal profiteering and arson and sentenced to 17 years in prison. The state prosecutors attempted to also get him on murder, but Ventura had eluded a conviction on this count after the judge concluded that there was not enough evidence to establish a link between several murders and possible orders given by Ventura to his underlings. Nevertheless, the raid that captured Ventura also decapitated the most of the leadership of the southern Cavaleria, which led to an attempt by the northern Cavaleria factions in Moldavia and Transylvania to take over the remnants of Ventura’s organization.

As for the man himself, the authorities wanted him as far away as possible from his former center of power, not only to prevent him from ordering his still loyal associates from prison, but also for his own protection, as there was credible information that suggested that the new bosses had put a price on his head and were hoping that he would be quickly taken care of in prison. Ventura was, thus, shipped to colonial Somalia where he would serve his sentence in a recently built state prison. This also brought more controversy, especially since the entire operation to move him had remained a secret for the first months and because many believed it was illegal to house Romanian prisoners in the colonies, where legislation was still fluid and abuses could be comitted far from the eyes of the Romanian public. The lack of any regulation regarding state prisons on colonial territory prevented any meaningful action in this regard and the decision was upheld by the courts after a later appeal.

Far removed from his base of operations, but still remembered for his deeds, Ventura became a character for the youth of Ceptura, his home village, and the surrounding area and his “legend” led many to believe that he will, one day, return to take revenge on his enemies and to wage war on the “fickle northern clans” that had taken over his “domain”. There is little information on how Ventura spent his days in the colonial prison in Somalia – everything was held in deep secrecy throughout the years, but there were rumors that he was kept on close surveillance in a labour prison in the Romanian quarter of Argisa (formerly known as Hargeisa).

Even though this success had proved to be an important break for President Ionescu and his embattled administration, it was only very temporary. Soon, the avalanche of numerous other crises and problems returned to the forefront of Romanian society. While profiteering was still rampant and people in the countryside were struggling more than ever, especially in remote parts of Eastern Moldavia, the macro-economic situation, in tatters after the War, was not getting better, in fact it wasn’t even stabilizing. As Romania’s budget was getting more and more strained by the mobilization and the continuous acquisition of arms, the administration realized that it would very soon be strapped for cash.

Throughout the period between the 1860s and the 1900s, before the Maiorescu Administration’s massive drive to expand the land and naval forces, as well as to spend large amounts in military innovation, Romania had been acquiring a healthy surplus of money, especially driven by the expansion in colonial domains of the Romanian capitalist elite and their investments into the state as their power grew larger both in Romanian East Africa and in the Aegean. While corruption had also grown in this timeframe, the exponential growth of the Romanian market and the prosperity served to negate most of the losses through corruption and the Conservative Party’s ample project of building a rent-seeking elite co-dependent on its whims.

Starting in the late 1890s, continuing throughout the Maiorescu and Marghiloman Administrations and then through the Great War, the money was used for the great expansion of the Army and of the Navy and for a number of infrastructure projects, including railroads that fully connected Transylvania and the western territories with the rest of the country and the expansion of several colonial cities of strategic value in Romanian East Africa. As expenditures grew larger and larger during the War, the chest started to slim down considerably, reaching a critical point at the start of 1919. When President Ionescu took office, the budget had already been strained thin for some time and all economic advisers permanent to the presidency insisted that the country had to switch back to a civilian economy as soon as possible and also take some measures to trim down on the overexpanded influence of the great trusts who were essentially hoarding wealth at an astounding pace while evading taxes and dumping money onto party elites. These two factors, prevented Romania from having the yearly surplus it had enjoyed before the War and they were also impacting the middle-class which was falling further into poverty with each passing month in which the economy was kept in a state of “post-war illness”.

President Ionescu was in no position to take such hard-hitting measures and he feared that the Conservative establishment would quickly turn on him if he were to essentially cut them off from an important source of money – this would undoubtedly make him hugely vulnerable in 1924 and would spell disaster in his relationship with the Liberals, who were also deeply connected to this interwoven web of economic and colonial interests. At the same time, the military establishment maintained that the mobilization was still necessary for a better control in Crimea and as a possible safeguard against further Cavaleria violence.

Fearing far-reaching negative effects on his prospects for re-election in 1924, the president remained committed to the course, worsening the economic downturn. As the administration remained almost penniless in the beginning of 1922, the president started considering a number of economic plans to implement before the first payment of war reparations from Russia, scheduled to be delivered in February. President Ionescu had hoped that the reparation payment, a rather hefty sum, would be enough to keep the new budget afloat, even though it looked increasingly unlikely that the economic situation would be getting better, as the economic crisis proved to be international, rather than simply a particular downturn of the Romanian economy.

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Impoverished children selling newspapers in 1920s Bucharest​

As the global economy grew more and more depressed with each passing month, the governments scrambled to find solutions. The War Flu pandemic had severely depressed sales of consumer goods and the middle class’s loss of wealth over the course of the War and during the years after meant that poverty rates were growing all over the developed world. At the same time, pessimism hurt stock markets and commercial outlooks while worker productivity dwindled due to continued low wages and a lack of safety in heavy industry, the main production sector in the developed European and American economies.

In the deeply impoverished countryside, especially around the country’s frontiers, the radicalized youth either turned to Cavaleria vigilantism against the authorities or went into politics with a new brand of radicalized reactionary and ultrareligious creed, a phenomenon that greatly enhanced the power of the new Religious Right movement. On the other side of the political spectrum, deeply impoverished workers and laborers, a more urban bunch, settled for strikes and protests against the government and against the “Conservative-Liberal chokehold” that had governed the country continuously since the 1880s. While the power of the unions and of the worker’s organizations had been eroded into virtually nothing throughout the years, the influence of the proletariat was growing due to its sheer populational size and through the fact that the Socialist Party itself had institutionalized itself as the sole voice for these people.

In the spring of 1921, Bucharester workers, and also some coming from other places in the country, started a long-haul protest right in at the gates of the presidential palace at the Hill, protesting both the policies of the Administration but also the government itself. This peaceful protest continued in smaller or larger numbers all throughout the rest of the 1920 term. The DPP guard that protected the gate sometimes engaged the protesters when it was necessary for the president to leave the Hill, but the situation remained mostly incident-free throughout the years. This so-called permanent protest was a constant reminder for both President Ionescu and for the Conservative Party of how unpopular the administration was with the working class and how it was going to be an exceptionally uphill battle for the Conservatives to ever win this segment of the population.

Events outside of the country would, however, rapidly overshadow the domestic evolution of Romanian left-wing politics.

In May 1921, the paramount leader of the French communists, Eugène Debs, was announced to have died of heart failure during a trip to Marseille. The news created uproar in the whole of Europe but especially in Frankfurt and Corsica – it was rather obvious that the best positioned to succeed the generally pacifist and non-interventionist Debs was his arch-rival in the party, Jacques Mora, a jingoistic “firebreather” that advocated for a militarily strong France and for intervention in all of Europe for a “general” socialist revolution. There was also an unshakeable consensus among secret services in most European states that Debs’ death was not really of natural causes, but that the French leader had been assassinated silently by the Mora faction of the FCP.

Regardless of the nature of Debs’ death, panic started growing in Britain, Germany and Corsica and plans to quickly quash the French regime while it was still weak were hastily drawn in the capitals of the European Great Powers. Meanwhile, tensions kept brewing and growing stronger as societies continued to take the brunt of the economic downturn.

*State Directory for General Safety and Special Operations
 
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Chapter LXXXVIII: INFLATIONARY WAVES
CHAPTER LXXXVIII
INFLATIONARY WAVES

The casket that held the body of France’s embattled first communist leader was finally lowered down. The state funeral the French state had prepared for him underlined the austerity with which the new French authorities conducted themselves. The stark contrast between the lavish state funeral Napoleon IV had given his father and Debs’ own short ceremony in the presence of FCP officials was visible for everyone, inside France’s borders and outside. As France was moving away from the very short Debs Era, the new secretary general of the FCP and France’s de facto paramount leader, Jacques Mora, set his sights on more than just ruling France in an authoritarian manner. In the fall of 1921, the FCP formally requested a meeting of the International, a global grouping of left-parties which included social-democratic, socialist and communist parties, as well as representatives from several unions and labour organizations.

The International of the 1920s was comprised of only statist left-movements, as most of the anarchists had left it during the 1880s to form other groups that engaged in terror attacks and assassinations in what had become known as the Crimson Decade, a period of time between 1898 and the start of the Great War in 1910. The Crimson Decade started after the double assassination of King Otto of Bavaria and his regent, Prince Luitpold, and continued with other several assassinations and assasination attempts of European officials and royalty, including those of King Umberto of Italy and his son, the Crown Prince. While the anarchists faded away during and after the Great War, the statist left-wingers remained strong, especially in countries where democratic systems allowed them to contest elections. While the First International was permeated by a conflict between statist and anarchist groups, the Second one, called so after the exit of the anarchists, was known for a long and larval tension between democratic forces and authoritarian groups. While the former were dominant during the last two decades of the 19th century, especially due to the larger influence of the Socialist Party in Romania, with the advent of the Great War and especially after their takeover in Paris, the FCP had become the dominant force in the International.

The request for a congress of the International from the FCP was meant to sanction that very dominance officially, as Jacques Mora was carefully considering his future foreign policy strategy. The Romanian Socialists’ participation in the Second International had long been considered by many of the party’s leaders, including Adrian Coronescu, most of whom felt that the body was going into a direction that was not beneficial neither at home, neither on the international stage. Others believed that continued participation in the International was necessary in order to maintain a voice for other banned social-democratic movements, such as the German SPD, which was still de jure banned in Germany since Bismarck’s 1872 anti-socialist laws. The rise to power of the French Communists meant that Emperor Ludwig’s conservative government would not only uphold the ban but would tighten it further in spite of the German electorate’s own clamoring for more reforms.

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Jacques Mora officialy replaced the French Tricolour with the Red Star Flag, symbolizing the eventual victory of the Socialist World Revolution and France's commitment to spearhead it. The red star had been used previously by authoritarian left movements, while their democratic counterparts used the red rose. Before the beginning of these internal struggles, socialist parties usually used a simple red flag as a symbol. In Romania, the three major political parties initially used simple coloured flags as their official symbols - Blue for Conservatives, Yellow for Liberals and Red for Socialists.

The International’s conference turned out to be exactly what the PS and other democratic socialist and social-democratic parties feared – an attempt to push them out of the organization or force them to take a stance similar to that of the mainline authoritarian faction in regards to democracy and constitutionalism. The Romanian PS delegation, led by Victor Berger, went there with a mandate to peacefully influence the conversation, but he realized that there was little chance of actually changing anything and left along with other non-authoritarian party delegations. A month later, the Socialist Party, the British Labour Party and the German SPD all announced their exit from the International.

The new organization, soon after renamed the “Communist International” (Comintern) was formed by the FCP, the old communist parties of Italy and Spain, as well as the exiled and disgraced Russian Bolshevists. The German KPD also replaced SPD as the main force inside the new organization while newly formed parties – the Union of Irish Communists and the Communist Party of Greater Hungary - also joined the Comintern.

Inside Romania, the participation of the PS at the last meeting of the Second International was heavily criticized by other parties and from some of the internal factions as well. The Conservatives and the Liberals took the opportunity to try to paint the Socialists as an “anti-national” force that sought to “dismantle the country” and “dissolve it into the international communist movement”. The new Religious Right movement was the most radical in its criticism, funding several press articles and public protests in Socialist-held circumscriptions. Internally, the radical-left and Marxist factions of the party, including the “star of Romanian Marxism”, Nicolae Iorga, criticized the party for abandoning the International and for “forsaking the unity of world socialism in the face of the growing of reactionary forces”. But as the political world was trying to make a big deal of the event, all of it turned out to be of very little importance to the electorate or the public in general, especially since people had much more difficult issues they had to take care of to care much about ideological struggles between socialist factions or about the simulated outrage of the Conservatives or Liberals.

But the flailing of the Right was also a symptom of a growing understanding in the circles of power in Bucharest that the institutional blockade set up so many years ago was not going to work anymore and that left movements were getting the initiative. While there was little chance of a revolution in the French sense in Romania, the 1924 election increasingly looked like a difficult up-hill battle for the Conservatives.

In other places, socialist movements had been banned since the Crimson Decade and functioned clandestinely – in Italy and Spain, the most unstable governments in Europe in the beginning of the 1920s – communist parties were functioning in the same way the FCP had in the Bonapartist era and were using the same tactics against their respective governments. They had become more and more popular since the end of the Great War, something that was exacerbated by the disastrous loss of the war in Spain and by a heavily unpopular monarchy in Italy, as well as by a government policy that was more directed towards imperialism and the acquisition of colonies rather than towards the uplifting of its increasingly pauperized population, especially in the country’s south.

The ascension of Jacques Mora to the leadership of the French Commune turned out to be a blessing for the Italian and Spanish communist parties, which had become in the years after the end of the Great War more militarized than ever. With paramilitary forces rivaling those of the police, just as it had been the case with the FCP starting with 1916, the communists in Spain and Italy were to receive even more lifeblood from the interventionist Mora, who, immediately after being rubber-stamped as the Chairman of the Council of State in France, started supporting the communist movements in Spain, Italy, Germany and Britain with money, weapons and manpower. Considered French puppets from the start, separate communist parties were created in both England and Scotland. Mora was privately known to fervently despise the United Kingdom, believing it to be the greatest imperial construction on the face of the Earth, the main responsible for the growing power of the global capitalist class.

French support for these movements was only secondary, however, to the growing general appeal of left-wing ideas in the industrialized world. Even in places where industrialization had been slow and hadn’t taken off that much, such as in Turkey or the Middle East, there was a growing surge of sympathy towards the political left, as its movements, whether authoritarian or democratic, had managed to paint themselves as the only ones concerned with the welfare of the people in the face of an increasingly out of touch conservative establishment. Mora’s ascension and his proclaiming full open support for other communist forces on the continent, made several governments in Europe contemplate the idea of a quick intervention in France for regime change. As things stood, a restoration of Napoleon did not sound as that bad of an idea, considering the communists threatened not only the hold on power of various European governments, but also the physical integrity of the European nobility and royalty.

But neither the politicians nor the public had any appetite for conflict after the sustained and appallingly brutal struggle that was the Great War. It was pretty obvious for anyone with a shred of self-awareness that there was no public in any European country that wanted another war, so the idea of intervention in France was quickly scrapped. Instead, the French continued their campaign of arming and financing communist parties almost everywhere in Europe, while governments continued to struggle to maintain legitimacy in the face of growing economic woes. By late 1922, the entire world was gripped by an economic depression and governments were faced with heavy economic contraction and a difficult outlook for the next few years.

It was a lingering fear that any sort of conflict or instability would only further feed the economic downturn, as governments scrambled to find solutions, but stopped short of enacting any measures meant to revamp the economic model. The Ionescu Administration had few ideas on how to alleviate its problems, especially since the reparation payment it had hoped would boost the economy only had a moderate effect. Strapped for liquidity, the government started contemplating asking the National Bank to print more currency claiming this was meant to ease the pressure on the monetary market, since there was an actual shortage of tender due to excess saving by the population and the companies. In reality, President Ionescu had virtually no option left to keep the budget afloat without heavily infringing on the interests of the big companies, most of which were important Conservative donors and in tight relationships of quid-pro-quo with Conservative politicians all over the country. Thus, raising taxes or renegotiating deals that were blatantly made to favour the trusts was absolutely unacceptable for much of the Conservative establishment. These longstanding economic webs of interests which ran all over the country and its colonial empire had previously promoted the huge growth of the late 19th century and of the early 20th, but the Great War changed everything.

Minister of Finance Vintilă Brătianu strongly opposed the measure proposed by the president warning that printing will not only not solve the problem, but could possibly greatly exacerbate it, along with having possibly unknown effects. It was a rare moment of insubordination by a minister who had a rather clear mission in government, as given by his brother, the powerful former President Ionel Brătianu.

But the two brothers had had numerous conflicts since the younger sibling was sent to serve in Ionescu’s administrations – Vintilă did not particularly enjoy being a scapegoat for the clandestine plans concocted by the president and his brother and was also growing weary of his mission to keep Ionescu’s government in check. Vintilă’s own economic austerity and his philosophy of fiscal conservatism also very often clashed with the president’s style of governance, which was ruinous for the budget – the continued mobilization and suppression of Crimea continued to bleed the country’s finances dry, as the region was depopulating rapidly and the entire peninsula was being turned into a massive military base.

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„The excess saver”. Caricature of the fiscally conservative Vintilă Brătianu (1935)​

In October 1922, Vintilă Brătianu resigned his post after releasing a public letter, published in most major newspapers, including the Republican Gazette, the PNL’s newspaper. A scathing criticism of the president and of the “spirit of improvidence” that led the Ionescu Administration to destroy the national wealth, the letter was sent to most major publications and was eventually published even in the colonies. While the former minister’s words were written out of genuine frustration with the administration, their quick dissemination was yet another step taken by his brother – former President Brătianu had decided that President Ionescu had outlived his usefulness and was looking to prop up his brother for the presidency and it was the perfect opportunity to sink an administration that was already hugely unpopular. Vintilă Brătianu had no presidential ambitions of his own, but he was easily goaded by his much more decisive brother to act against the administration. His own frustration and opposition to Ionescu fueled his decision to act on the advice of his brother. It also helped that Vintilă Brătianu had genuine power inside the Conservative Party and controlled a faction of his own, made up of disgruntled Maiorescu-era politicians, supported by others who still held influence in certain circles, such as former President Marghiloman.

„Mult prea incompetent, înfricoșat și incapabil de precauțiune, guvernul Ionescu nu concepe să-și tragă resursa prin feluri tradiționale – creșterea taxelor sau impunerea de dări către marile firme – și a hotărât, în loc, să dea drumul la imprimeria monetară. Nu pot cauționa, prin prezența mea la Colină, o așa neghiobie”1
Vintilă Brătianu, 1922​

In spite of this and ignoring the fact that his government was indeed in free-fall with the Romanian electorate, President Ionescu disregarded the resignation of his minister and the fallout his letter produced and decided to quickly name a minister without any prior discussions with Ionel Brătianu regarding support in the Senate. As expected, however, the PNL put no further conditions and accepted the naming of loyalist Aurel Vlad, who immediately went on to commit to the president’s course. The National Bank held, in theory, the final say in regards to how the monetary policy was directed, but had little power to resist the Executive if the latter had a specific direction in which it wanted to take the economy. At the same time, the National Bank’s shareholders were mostly of the opinion that the current inflationary pressure was caused by over-saving and believed that injecting the economy with more currency would be beneficial to stabilizing the budget quickly. Regardless, there were elements that wanted to resist the administration, especially after Vintilă Brătianu’s letter, but they were soon overpowered by precedent and by the sheer influence the Executive had amassed during the last 15-20 years. By early 1923, effects of the decision were widely felt as inflation exploded and the Romanian Leu began its descent into worthlessness.

1“Much too incompetent, scared and short-sighted, the Ionescu government refuses to use traditional methods to balance the budget – raising taxes or imposing imposts on the great trusts – and has decided instead to turn on the state’s money print. I will not sanction such foolishness with my presence at the Hill”
 
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I understand Vintilă Brătianu, being fiscally conservative, opposing printing money and quantitative easing, but why would he support raising taxes and not cutting them to let the market fix itself and cutting wasteful public spending?
 
I understand Vintilă Brătianu, being fiscally conservative, opposing printing money and quantitative easing, but why would he support raising taxes and not cutting them to let the market fix itself and cutting wasteful public spending?
I wouldn't say he supports raising taxes, he just sees it as a more normal way of balancing the budget than printing money, especially since the administration is in a tight spot and needs money. That and he is not necessarily a free-marketer, which is one of the reasons he moved away from the PNL. The PC is a bit more protectionist generally, although that is not a necessarily set in stone principle for the party as a whole.

Both the PC and the PS are still big tent parties, although ideological uniformization is stronger in the PC.

Other than that, there is not that much left to cut in taxes anyway.
 
Chapter LXXXXIX: “TEAR THEM DOWN FROM THEIR THRONES”
CHAPTER LXXXXIX
“TEAR THEM DOWN FROM THEIR THRONES”

German Chancellor Eugen von Knilling despised politics. A rather peculiar sentiment, given that he was currently the political head of the government of Germany, the strongest country in Europe and a leading politician in the Centre Party, one of the two halves of the German conservative establishment. A former civil servant, he was catapulted into national politics by the ambition of Emperor Ludwig V who needed both a friendly face as head of the executive and also an obedient and like-minded assistant in government. After an unispiring stint as a Minister-President of Bavaria, also named in that position by the emperor, von Knilling was asked to lead the Imperial Government, a task that he was not entirely confortable with. Considered a third-string bureaucrat by his subordinates and a loyal yesman by his superior, Eugen von Knilling did not enjoy his job at all – in his perspective, it was an exasperating ballet dance that you could never get right, as much as you tried, and mired in it, you’d always become either a victim of your own hubris or of the political winds. However, he dared not resign – being the protégé of the emperor came with advantages and disadvantages and as much as he hated the job, he was fond enough of Ludwig to ignore the most obvious fact that he was being used as a political chess piece.

Chancellor von Knilling’s chancellorship was not to be a simple one anyway – with a country marred by an international economic recession and with social cohesion running low because of this even after the unifying period of the Great War, the German government was, like many of its counterparts, in a tight spot. And it was in this climate of general distrust in government that the French-aligned communist parties in most of Europe made their move – starting in von Knilling's and in Ludwig’s own Bavaria, KPD militias stormed the streets in an attempt to emulate the FCP “siege of Paris” in Munich. Jacques Mora’s plan had initially been for such a plan to be put in motion in the Imperial Capital of Frankfurt, but the KPD had neither the numbers, nor the infrastructure and even less so the mettle to start such a difficult operation there. Other state capitals of Germany were even more problematic and Prague was scrapped as a potential “hotspot” of revolutionary fervour because the KPD and its French supporters wanted the “revolution” in Germany to be all-encompassing and not simply a nationalist revolt by the Czech minority.

Bavaria was an especially good target for more than one reason – first it was the homeland of Ludwig V; second, it was the German state with the most sizeable separatist movement, other than Bohemia; and third, it was part the “vanguard” of the Catholic south, the states that were the target of von Bismarck’s Cultural Struggles. From Munich, the German communists expected their revolution to “spread like wildfire” throughout Germany and engulf other states and then the Imperial Capital. Initially lagging in its response, unsure on how to act so as to not make things worse, the Imperial Government took the first measure of sending the National Guard in Munich around 26 hours after the first KPD violence, on 17 April 1923, to assist the local Bavarian authorities. The upheaval continued in Munich for the next days.

In the next weeks, up until the 2nd of May, several other attempts by local communist organizations and parties were started in most of Europe – In Rome and Madrid at first, and then in London, Edinburgh, Dublin and several other cities and major towns in Ireland, the nascent Poland, Prague. After the 1st of May, smaller and less-abled movements, also started similar “uprisings” in most of the Balkans, including Bulgaria, Serbia and Albania. While most of these turned out to be little less than footnotes in the history of their nations afterwards, the general atmosphere created by these was one of absolute tensions, especially since most continued even after close to a month of actual violence.

In the Balkans, local armies assisted by EEL garrisons quickly ran over the unorganized extremist rabble of politicians and French-sponsored agitators, but things quickly exploded in three countries that had been marred by instability – in Spain and in Italy, where local communist parties had been supported more by the FCP and where the tensions between the populace and the state ran much deeper, the sieges in Rome and Madrid quickly contaminated the entirety of their countries. Similarly, in Ireland, the left-wing extremists were joined by all other opposition groups to fight against the British domination of the island. By May, the entirety of Ireland was in the grip of a nationwide struggle for independence, and even in places where support for British unionism ran deep, in Northern Ireland, armed communist militias allied with nationalist pro-independence forces took over administrations as the government in London struggled to think up a response. The threat of further revolution up in Scotland and in other more volatile places, such as India, froze the British government into a stance of initial non-combat. As soon as the British Army went on to try and restore order, the whole affair turned into a full-fledged Irish Revolutionary War. Similar struggles grew worse in the Ottoman Middle East as well.

The explosion of violence in Ireland provoked even more panic elsewhere in Europe, as now governments were looking to react more quickly to their own “communist troubles”. As the general slogan of the FCP-sponsored rebellions - “Tear them down from their thrones” - took on a distinctly anti-monarchical nature, the kings and queens of Europe cowered in their palaces for fear of being captured by the angry revolutionaries. This fear was most founded in Italy and Spain, where the communist paramilitary forces were soon joined by militant workers as well, turning the initial rebellions into full-blown revolutions by the start of the summer.

In the Middle East, the Ottoman military engaged the Arab-nationalist insurrectionists but failed to inflict any serious damage to the movement, who was later joined by pro-communist agitators sponsored by the French. Soon after, the epicentre of the Arab rebellions was to be joined by a larger Turkey-wide protest movement against the Ottoman monarchy and the political and military establishment. Created as the “Turkish National Movement” and encompassing political forces that had been marginalized inside the nascent Ottoman democracy, the rebellion started growing more and more by the day, unlike its counterparts in the Balkans. The two movements had rather distinct objectives – the Arab uprising was more nationalist in nature and only advocated for a distinct Arab polity to be created from Hatay to British Aden, while the initial Turkey rebellions maintained that the country remain in its Ottoman borders but become a nation-state on the European model. The communist agitators sponsored by France, meant to hijack the entire movement, had naturally different objectives – the establishment of a commune on the French model and a deep sense of distrust and enmity towards the EEL and Romania.

In the meantime, the upheaval in Germany was starting to fizzle out, as the small insurrection attempt in Prague was ended by the National Guard and the more bloated one in Munich was starting to run out of steam without crucial support from the workers themselves, whose interests never aligned with those of KPD, a party who was truthfully perceived by most of the society as the French plant that it was. The KPD rebels only managed to stay strong for a little while longer due to the more successful rebellions in Italy and Spain, where it looked increasingly more likely that the revolutionaries would win.

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KPD militias roaming the streets with rifles in Bavaria, shortly after the death of Ludwig V​

On the 21st of April, news coming from Frankfurt gave the rebels more false hope that things would go their way – Ludwig V had unexpectedly died the prior night, aged 78, paving the way for more instability at the top of the German government. Chancellor von Knilling, now lacking critical political support, urged the German Imperial Electoral College to convene as soon as possible and pre-emptively offered to resign as soon as the new emperor was installed and after the crisis in Bavaria was resolved. As was customary since 1888, the German Parliament convened a week after Ludwig’s death to honour him with a sobriquet, as had been the case with all of his predecessors – Ludwig was to be known posthumously as “the Victorious”, a moniker meant to honour his legacy of having ended the Great War during his reign. Before him, Franz Joseph had been honoured as “the Loyal”, Frederick III as “the Good” and Wilhelm I as “the Great”.

It was to be the second GIEC vote to happen in a period of intense crisis, after the last one in 1916, conducted in the midst of the Great War. This time, however, it was even more difficult to rally around a unifying figure than it was then. In 1916, then-King Ludwig III of Bavaria argued that his age and experience were both qualities that overshadowed his more obvious weaknesses. The guarantee of a shorter reign was, then, Ludwig’s main advantage. Now, the two main contenders – King Wilhelm II of Prussia and Archduke Rudolf VI of Austria, were both of similar ages – 64 and 63 respectively and were both set to rule for at least 15 years, if elected. As had been the case in 1916, neither Wilhelm nor Rudolf had the critical support of at least a part of the other camp. Wilhelm’s supporters were adamant that a Protestant prince be next in line, after two “Southern Catholic reigns”. The Junkers and the Prussian establishment were also arguing that Prussia, as the largest state of the German Union should inherit the German Throne with priority, after having been “out of power” since 1888.

The German princes knew they had no time to be embroiled in a difficult struggle for power in the College and that the Imperial Government had to function effectively and quick, and for that it needed an emperor with full powers. Still many qualms remained in regards to both candidates and it looked like the whole process would be dragged out as no compromise candidate emerged. Five days after the death of Ludwig, a breakthrough was reached not because the princes finally found a compromise but because the Archduke of Austria decided to break the stalemate himself – Rudolf VI announced on the 26th that he would not pursue the Imperial Throne and that he would do something not even the Austrian government could predict – that he would support his rival Wilhelm II to become the next Emperor of Germany, a move to heal divisions and to show unity in face of the crises faced by the Empire. Through this, Rudolf gave the signal that Austria was willing to compromise inside the Union more than before and that shared power in Frankfurt was going to be the norm going forward.

Austria’s unexpected stance immediately created a critical majority for Wilhelm inside the GIEC. Other Protestant princes that were themselves unsure about the Prussian King’s fitness to rule, renounced all their reluctances and threw their entire support behind him. The Catholic princes also fell in line behind Austria’s decision as quickly which lead to one of the most unexpected outcomes. Paradoxically, Wilhelm II, one of the most controversial German princes, decried by many as the “German Napoleon”, had become the first Emperor of Germany elected unanimously by his peers in the GIEC.

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Wilhelm II, shortly after being elected Emperor of Germany (colorized)​

The newly enthroned Emperor Wilhelm II decided to keep Chancellor Von Knilling around as a “concession” to the Centre Party, which was worried that the new Prussian leadership of the Empire would soon shift the weight of the government to the Junkers. Instead, Wilhelm decided to act cautiously during these early days and maintained a balancing act with the Imperial Government whom he only ordered to intensify the response in Munich, in spite of a risk of overlapping authority with the Bavarian government. With von Knilling in office, however, the Bavarian government was less worried than it would have been if only Wilhelm had been calling the shots, a bet that worked in the new Emperor’s favour.

Nevertheless, the upheaval continued in Munich, as well as in the entireties of Italy, Spain and Ireland. Jacques Mora’s 1st of May speech in which he pledged full support for the communist rebellions on the continent created even more tensions in the European capitals. After this speech, Wilhelm further strengthened the military control of the Northern Strip through the Belgian border and decided to authorize more military support for the protection of Corsica and Napoleon, who was now surrounded by possible enemies in both Italy and Spain. This only further strained the relationship with the French Commune and many expected another Franco-German war to start, only three years after the end of the last. The very quick deterioration of the situation in Western Europe as well as the perceived German infringements on the sovereignty of Communist France created a real fear and solidified the perception that another war was inevitable on the continent.

By the middle of May, though, the Munich Communist Rebellion, already in decline, was all but ended after decisive action by the National Guard and the Bavarian authorities. Tensions kept growing in the Northern Strip and around Corsica, however. Mora waited cautiously for the best moment to pounce and take back both territories and make an example of Napoleon, but that moment only seemed to inch further away – while generally successful in their objective to create chaos in the leaderships of the UK, Spain and Italy, the communist rebellions were unable to deal decisive damage. Although by the start of the summer they had all turned into outright civil wars with government militias and insurrectionists clashing regularly outside of cities, governments in Madrid and Rome were still appropriately functional. In Ireland, the situation was the most tense, with the revolutionary forces having total control in large swathes of the territory. Now, with Wilhelm II at the helm of Germany, everyone feared the worst – that the rebellions could snowball into another general war.
 
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Happy to see this still going strong! Great chapter illuminating some of the upheavals throughout Europe and I also appreciated the slightly more in detail look at German domestic politics. :)
 
Chapter XC - THE TOP HAT AND THE CROSS
CHAPTER XC
THE TOP HAT AND THE CROSS

Deputy Petru Groza set off from the building of the Romanian parliament, heading towards the presidential palace up on the hill. In his hands, he held a list of the MPs of the Conservative Party, with each member marked either with a “yay” or a “nay”. Before stopping to meticulously fix the position of his top hat, Groza checked once more the pocket of front pocket of his coat, where a bulge was visible. Groza was the Conservative whip in the Assembly, a position he held since the start of the 1920 legislative term, having been one of the front-men of the Ionescu Administration in Parliament. This was to be his first meeting with the president in the new autumn parliamentary session and possibly the most unpleasant one since the beginning of the term. Through the square that separated the parliamentary building from the presidential grounds, he passed by presidential aides and guards and a dropped five lei bill that no one cared to pick up. Had they been able to come inside this area, newspaper selling children might have picked it up, but the security had tightened very much during these last few months. Only authorized salesmen were now allowed to enter the area, and only during the morning, in order to avoid any possible infiltration by agitators or protesters. On the other side of the presidential palace’s gate, the so-called permanent protest against the administration had only gotten stronger, but the protesters were only rarely acknowledged or interacted with by officials.

Groza had never seen Take Ionescu look as bad as he did at that moment. The president looked as if he had not slept for the past week and was moving rather sluggishly in his office as he offered his underling a seat.

“Mr. President, there is currently a critical majority for impeachment in the Assembly”​

“Whose impeachment?”, President Ionescu replied jokingly, his face still dejected as he opened his mouth to ask what the parliamentary Conservatives wanted from him. He was sure that Groza’s presence at the Hill meant that votes in his favour could no longer be whipped and that the only viable path for him was to somehow placate his opposition.

The months that had come and gone until September 1923 were the most difficult for the Ionescu Administration and, possibly one of the hardest for any administration in Romanian republican history. By this time, inflation in Romania was estimated by the National Bank to have gone over the 200% threshold and to be still rising, in spite of the fact that the government was desperately trying to find ways to stop the currency from plunging further. Inflation had been rising even before the president’s ill-thought decision to create more money – the shortage of goods created by the war economy, the shortage of workforce because of the war casualties disproportionately affecting young able men, the profiteering, as well as the continued mobilization and maintenance of the war economy had all fed the inflation. Meanwhile, the only brake to the ever-growing prices was the population’s saving behaviour. That small anti-inflationary effect was immediately negated by the fact that paper money poured into the economy. As the first printed banknotes entered circulation, the economy was overflowed, and inflation rose from around 45% to over 90%. Swamped with paper money that had no real value, the economy was immediately throttled.

As prices skyrocketed and the people realized that their savings were becoming worthless, they started rapidly spending everything out of desperation, which led to another inflationary pressure on top of the first one. As savings turned worthless in the span of a few months, economic behaviour, especially in the countryside, devolved into barter trading. This was the perfect place for the Cavaleria to once more take an overt approach in many communities and perform what they prided to be their “positive social role” – substituting themselves with petty profiteers by demanding cuts from profits at the threat of violence or simply eliminating petty crime through their mere presence. In the cities, crime spiked as well, and Cavaleria clans soon moved to in larger cities as well, taking over more lucrative illicit activities, such as gambling and prostitution, a process that continued well after 1923 and 1924.

Groza explained that the two Conservative factions in full opposition to the administration, the Brătianu faction and the Orthodox Right were comitted to impeachment and would be pressing on with a common initiative in Parliament as soon as possible. They wanted to avoid voting for a Socialist impeachment initiative so as to not discredit themselves and the party by voting on an initiative by the Opposition. At the same time, the president’s own “Bannermen” had a number of turncoats that were resolute in their decision to support the impeachment. With these and the probable unanimous support by the Socialists and Liberals, the success of an impeachment vote was unavoidable.

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Deputy Petru Groza, the Conservative Party whip in the Assembly (1920-1924)​

At the same time, both the Brătianu faction and the Orthodox Right were adamant about running a different candidate in the primary, but could not work out a deal to support the same one. The Orthodox Right wanted Vice President Iuliu Maniu, whom they believed to be the candidate with the best standing with the Romanian electorate – the vice president had steered clear of most of the scandals which embroiled the Ionescu Administration and had also maintained the public image of a reasonable and competent politician, in direct contrast to President Ionescu, who was now seen as wholly inappropriate for the job. The only problem was that Maniu himself did not want to run against his own president and had directly refused the offer of support from the MPs. Maniu, who did have presidential ambitions, believed that the election of 1924 was already lost and that impeachment and his running against President Ionescu would only further hurt the Conservatives chances, a move that could also have far-reaching effects and endanger even the 1928 election.

The Brătianu faction, on the other hand, wanted to push their current patriarch – Vintilă Brătianu – a known opponent of President Ionescu to run in the primary. Former Minister Brătianu had two important advantages going for him – first, he had the potential to energize some of the Liberal vote in his favour, due to name recognition and proximity to his brother, the former president; second, he was a known opponent of the President Ionescu and could get bonus support by capitalizing on the anger in society that was currently directed at the president. On the other hand, critics maintained that Brătianu’s name was more of a disadvantage than the other way around – the Conservatives feared that Brătianu would not be able to energize the party’s traditional voters. They also feared that he would be much too independent from the party and that he could not be controlled to further the Orthodox Right’s agenda.

Ioan Lupaș, the leader of the Orthodox Right in Parliament, had a number of demands that he wanted President Ionescu to satisfy before he renounced the plan for impeachment. Groza had not been made aware of them and only had been told that the administration would soon receive a set of bills that were of utmost importance to the faction. If the demands were to be met, not only would the impeachment procedure not go forward, but Brătianu would also be dissuaded from fielding his own, promised Lupaș.

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Sibiu Deputy Ioan Lupaș, leader of the Orthodox Right's faction in the Conservative Party​

As the conversation was nearing its conclusion, Ionescu noticed that Groza was getting increasingly tense. Large balls of sweat were rolling down his temples as he gathered his voice. Getting up from the large sofa in the president’s upper floor office, Groza moved his right hand toward his pocket, where the president had spotted a bulge. For a brief moment, President Ionescu thought the shape in the pocket looked as if Groza brought a pistol with him there and his heart skipped a beat.

“Mr. President, if I may, my advice would be for you to resign. They will not stop hounding and I don’t think 1924 will be your year”, Groza blabbed as he put his hand in his pocket, ready to draw. For a brief instant, Ionescu braced himself and looked as if he was getting ready to duck. In an anti-climactic moment of pure adrenaline for Ionescu, Groza pulled a red handkerchief from his pocket, where the infamous bulge had been. As he wiped the sweat of his face, and turned towards the door, he informed the president of one last betrayal.

“If it all goes to an impeachment vote, Mr. President, you must know that I will also vote for it”​

The list of demands from Lupaș and his fellow far-right colleagues arrived at the Hill only a few days later. For any other president before Take Ionescu, all of them would have sounded not only unacceptable, but would amount to what would be called “political suicide”. For President Ionescu, however, whose political fate was dangling, there was not much to be done. In short, the Orthodox Right demanded that the administration enact, by executive order, the creation of a new agency that would serve to enforce a soft ban on alcohol, tobacco and prostitution. They argued that this would only serve as a temporary measure while the post-war tensions were still high and as the Cavaleria continued to be active. The president knew all too well that this was not going to be the end of it and that what the far-right really wanted was to turn this prohibition into law. Pragmatists as they were, they knew they could not reach a legislative majority as things stood, but they hoped that a better legislative showing in 1924, a Prohibition Law would be in their grasp. From then on, secularism would be gradually stripped down until the constitution could be replaced with one that more greatly emphasized what they believed was the “profound Christian nature” of Romanian society. Lupaș’s faction also wanted the next Governor of Romanian East Africa to be chosen from among his peers and for Governor Iancu Flondor to be removed from the colonies.

The so-called “Temperance Office” would essentially function like the Electoral Investigations Bureau with powers to control alcohol and tobacco sales, close down businesses during certain hours and close down brothels.

While prostitution was not explicitly legal in Romania, the practice had been wholly decriminalized even though brothels were generally socially frowned upon. Even though this was the case, there wasn’t any majority within society for the banning of alcohol, tobacco or prostitution, and such a law would certainly provoke deep ire from a large segment of the populace. At the same time, President Ionescu was sure that the executive order would be struck down by the courts almost immediately. If push came to shove, the Socialists would surely notify the Constitutional Court which would also strike the order down as unconstitutional. Although willing to pass this in order to save his presidency, Ionescu severely underestimated the public backlash such a measure would provoke. Already underwater in terms of approval, the president’s unpopularity reached its highest level on the eve of the primary election.

In the middle of September 1923, after being pushed out two times because of the worsening political climate, the Conservative presidential primary was about to start with two contenders – President Take Ionescu and his new-found political arch-rival, former Minister Vintilă Brătianu. While widely disliked, it was expected that the president would still narrowly clinch the nomination, mainly due to being the incumbent and because of the perceived disadvantages Brătianu had because of his name. Both competitors were also Wallachian, which meant that the first few contests would be settled mainly by which of the two could cater more to the deeply conservative and nationalist western electorate. In the end, the contest in Transylvania was indeed narrowly won by President Ionescu. Brătianu still hoped he had enough steam to win the southern contests but it was going to be tougher than it would have been expected, considering he was battling the most vulnerable incumbent since President Gheorghe Manu.

While political drama continued to unfold in Bucharest, in Western Europe, the communist rebellions continued in an ever-escalating fashion. By the time Autumn had come, they had become full-blown civil wars, with the communist parties and paramilitary forces engaging government forces with moderate success. The only place where a significant progress had been made by the insurgent armies was in Ireland, where communists were readily joined by nationalists as well. Looking to alleviate his very grave problems at home, President Ionescu took steps to support government forces in Italy, Spain and the UK and also pledged to send volunteers to help in Ireland if he were to be re-elected. A deal for Romania to send weaponry to government forces was also discussed, but the election season meant there was no strong incentive for anyone outside the executive branch. Looking to score some more points with the more nationalist-minded electorate, the president also decided to formally reject the request by the Greek government to rediscuss the lease on the Islands of the Aegean. The Government of Romania officially replied that the lease on the Islands was received through “a deal with the government of the Kingdom of Greece, and it shall, hence, only discuss said deal with representatives of the same government and not with transient insurgents”.

The lease on the Islands had formally expired in 1920, right at the beginning of President Ionescu’s term, but the administration had essentially ignored any and all attempts by the Greek government to even discuss a potential return of the territories. A potential return of the Islands to Greece had been one of the most stressful issues for many Aegean Romanians who had settled into the territories since the 19th century and especially for the Aromanians who had moved there fleeing persecution by Greek authorities, communist and non-communist alike. The Aegean Islands had also become a sort of haven for retired soldiers and military commanders, as well, many receiving large retirement stipends and free properties for their service. While the Islands were not technically enfranchised, holders of Romanian citizenship were allowed to vote in Romania proper, and President Ionescu managed to win a large number of these people by clearly and directly rejecting any further claim by the Greek government. On the other hand, this angered the ethnic Greeks on the Islands and sparked numerous protests and nationalist marches.

President Ionescu’s small break did not last long, however. While he had definitely modestly raised his chances from virtually no hope of winning re-election, the current sorry state of the economy and the political winds remained deeply unfavourable. No later than a few days after the executive order meant to appease the Orthodox Right was signed, the High Court in Bucharest struck it down, claiming it violated several rights and liberties and instructed the political powers to enact a proper law for such sensitive issues. After this, President Ionescu’s political fate was to be again in the hands of his Conservative rivals, although it had become clear for everyone that re-election at this stage was only a pipe dream. The leaders of the political factions inside the Conservative Party and the president’s own “Bannermen” sought a deal with the president to avoid the public humiliation of a successful impeachment and removal from office – Ionescu was to give up on re-election in 1924, endorse Vice President Iuliu Maniu and allow him to be nominated without hassle. With nothing but unsurmountable walls in front of him – a looming impeachment, no hope of winning in 1924, and a political career in shambles, President Ionescu took the deal and resolved to try his chance again after the muddied waters cleared.
 
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Happy to see this still going strong! Great chapter illuminating some of the upheavals throughout Europe and I also appreciated the slightly more in detail look at German domestic politics. :)
Thanks! I keep trying to make a schedule for writing this TL, but I can never get around to it. I do think it'll be a bit more active this year than the last at least :).
 
Thanks! I keep trying to make a schedule for writing this TL, but I can never get around to it. I do think it'll be a bit more active this year than the last at least :).
I've noticed that it's more active, but I understand that creativity is not something that can be forced, so do take your time and don't rush yourself! :)
 
Chapter XCI: Reddened Maps
CHAPTER XCI
REDDENED MAPS

“All these damned wars never end”. It was the almost whispered conclusion of a soldier under the command of Colonel Petre Dumitrescu, main commander of the Colonial Infantry Regiment XII Carada. Romanian colonial troops had been tasked with assisting British forces in Aden, where the internal conflict between the Ottoman state and its unruly Arab subjects had spilled and was threatening the control of the colonial authorities of British India, which formally controlled the territory in the south of the Arabian Peninsula.

The Take Ionescu Administration had previously pledged some level of support for the British allies in their struggle against the combined communist rebellion and Irish independence movement, but there had been no formal greenlight from Bucharest for the Romanian Colonial Army to be engaged in anything in the Middle East. In fact, the news that Governor Iancu Flondor had indeed given the order for the colonial troops to move to Aden had been received with growing uneasiness, especially since this could very easily be perceived as a direct Romanian intervention in what had essentially become a Turkish Civil War.

This outcome was produced by what had been seen as a rapid deterioration of Romanian presidential authority. President Ionescu was now an outgoing president that not only had been strong-armed by his own party to renounce any re-election ambition, but who also did not have a clear successor. Not only did the Conservative Party presidential primary remain contested, but there was also no clear expectation of who would win the general election in March. It wasn’t the first time that Romania had an outgoing president that was not going to be re-elected, in fact President Mocioni had been in a similar position in 1912, but back then there was a clear successor and an apparent authoritative figure who took the reins at least partially – Ionel Brătianu. While the Romanian presidency was at the apex of its power and maintained the most powerful resorts of the Romanian state, the dissolution of the authority of President Ionescu did not subside. Nicknamed the “ghost president” in the country, a term that would be used ubiquitously for all outgoing presidents afterwards, whether they had lost re-election or were ineligible, President Ionescu could only act as a severely restrained administrative bureaucrat during the last days of his presidency.

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President Take Ionescu (left), during the the last month of his "ghost presidency"​

The Romanian Colonial Army, a rather sizeable unit, technically under the command of the Romanian Armed Forces, but essentially put under direct command of Romanian East Africa Governor Iancu Flondor, now acted as an almost independent army, not unlike the colonial polity. In fact, many believed the quick decision taken by Flondor to push into Aden was the first expression of “pursuing a national interest” by a fledgling new country in Africa, a polity that had been born of civil war, intimidation and scheming, and which was now using its newfound influence as a center of stability in the region to pursue its own interests. Mainly, what Governor Flondor and his budding government in Imina wanted was control by Romanian East Africa of the Bab-el-Mandeb Strait (Romanian: Strâmtoarea Jalei). By achieving this, REA would not only have better control to the entry into the Red Sea and the Mediterranean for better communication with the Romanian mainland, but would also be able to exert more influence in the Arabian Peninsula, where crumbling Ottoman authority could mean more instability and new radicalization of the colony’s own Muslim and Arab population, especially in the former Somali realms.

Governor Flondor, nominated to lead the colonies in Africa in 1918 by President Brătianu, after a compromise between Liberals and Conservatives, governed REA in a rather uncommon manner – more like an actual democratic president and less like a colonial “satrap” as had been previously expected of Bucharest-appointed colonial leaders in the Horn. Flondor formed an informal cabinet in Imina and led with the advice of several important leaders, both local and Romanian and promoted a culture of inclusivity and accountability in government. This was also reflected at lower levels, as discrimination against the local populace by the Romanian colonists or by the colonial authorities had dropped at an all-time low by the end of his second term. In fact, Flondor had been pushing for a comprehensive reform of colonial authority in the Horn with the administration in Bucharest for a while now, but neither President Ionescu, nor Brătianu, ever considered any of it. Governor Flondor wanted the colonial government to actually function with a cabinet-like structure and also believed it would be wise to decentralize the territory so as to function in a more coherent manner administratively.

With the imminent transfer of power in Bucharest, the governor hoped to convince the new president to reform the country’s colonial system. The only question that remained was with whom was this discussion going to be conducted. While the likeliest to become president in 1924 remained Vice President Iuliu Maniu, the primary remained an open question. Vintilă Brătianu refused to back down even after President Ionescu’s exit and maintained that he will see the primary to its end and will not renounce his candidacy. The situation was made more difficult by the fact that the first contest had already been won by President Ionescu while he was still in the race and those electoral points were difficult to re-appoint procedurally, since the contest was already over, even though the president had already endorsed Maniu as part of his deal with the Conservative bosses. The CNC initially considered redoing the election but that was shot down by local party organizations which refused to spend more money on new elections. Instead, they announced that they will re-allocate the delegates to the overall winner of the other contests, whomever that may be.

Governor Flondor believed that he would be able to work adequately with either one of the Conservative candidates but was not so convinced about a Coronescu presidency. In fact, he feared that if the Socialists managed to somehow win the presidency, that they would begin a project of decolonization and that most territories outside of Romania proper would either be granted complete local independence or allowed to rejoin the countries that claimed them. This fear was shared by much of the Conservative-Liberal establishment in Bucharest. Coronescu himself was suspiciously silent on the matter, having refused throughout the years to make any definite statement regarding the future of the colonies under a potential Socialist presidency. Other Socialist leaders made more clear comments – Nicolae Iorga, for one, had said that any future President of Romania hailing from the Socialist Party must dismantle the colonial empire and condemn all the colonial policies the country had enacted in the past decades – comments that were immediately seized by the Conservatives as a talking point against Coronescu. The public, however, was not thrilled by any pro-active position in regards to colonialism – on the one hand, the majority of the public did not want to give up the Empire because it had turned out to be a profitable endeavour even for the lower classes – many Romanians that could not find a place at home were heading to REA as colonists, looking at the colonial polity as a sort of land of opportunity. As the population of the country continued to grow rather strongly, the colonies proved an important “valve of release” for the excess population. By the 1920s, minorities were also growing more interested in settling in REA, since the levels of discrimination were actually lower in REA for a Magyar or a Serb ethnic than they were in Romania proper. On the other hand, the majority of the public was also opposed to the colonies dragging the country into another war or for the government to continue a policy of colonial expansion, since that was going to be troublesome and would also drain the budget of money on the short term. In a nutshell, the majority of the public was deeply favourable of the status-quo in regards to the colonies.

The fate of the Romanian colonies was to remain a central issue of the 1924 election, as the Conservatives continued to push the idea that a Socialist presidency would mean a forfeit of the Romanian Empire. Coronescu was named the nominee of the PS by acclamation in October, as the party had not managed to adequately create a statute regarding any official primary system and still lacked the territory organization necessary to organize an election on that scale. This was immediately criticized by the Conservatives and the CNC as “undemocratic” and likened to the “red dictatorship in France”. One of his closest political partners and friend Victor Berger, was chosen to become his running mate.

Meanwhile, Vice President Maniu secured expected victories in all region primaries west of Transylvania and went on to face Brătianu in a difficult test in the south, where the former minister had the strongest following. At the same time, the other factions inside the Conservative Party continued unsuccessfully to attempt to convince Brătianu to drop out and allow Maniu to go into the election untainted by a difficult primary struggle. Brătianu remained resolute, however, as he marched to win Oltenia and Muntenia, but struggled to maintain momentum in the north-east. Vice President Maniu managed to win the Moldavian primaries only very narrowly, but still managed to pass 236 points without resorting to the re-allocation of the Transylvanian contest, still nominally won by President Ionescu. With the Conservative primary process wrapped up by late October, Maniu now had to choose a vice presidential candidate that would be acceptable to the varied factional ecosystem of the party, but would also not hurt him electorally in the election. Vintilă Brătianu, although suggested by his close circle, would have been unacceptable to the party and would likely refuse the spot himself. Pantelimon Halippa, an eastern-Moldavian conservative supported by the Religious Right was to be chosen for the vice-presidential spot, as the far-right inside the Conservative Party hoped to adeeply influence a future Maniu Administration moreso than they ever could the Ionescu Administration.

With the contests concluded, it looked like a match-up that would never have been expected a few years ago – both tickets were led by Transylvanians, while the vice-presidential candidates were a Jewish man from Transylvania and a self-made farmer from north-eastern Moldavia. This after the last five elections had been won by well-off southerners and Bucharest establishment politicians.

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Result of the 1924 Conservative Party primary election​

After three elections in which the Conservative-Liberal duopoly ran without competitor, 1924 seemed like something completely new for a generation of Romanians that had taken on the brunt of the Great War and who were now reeling from the its effects and also from the effects of a pandemic that was still active, even though it had somewhat subsided after making tens of thousands of victims. The first presidential debate scheduled by the National Electoral Commission in November 1923 at the Bucharest University was unexpectedly tame – Maniu and Coronescu knew each other well from Parliament, and while they had no favourable views of one another, were respectful of each other. At the same time, Maniu managed to resist pressure from the more radical elements of his party to go on a savage attack spree against his opponent.

Coronescu, on the other hand, went in determined to assuage any voter concerns regarding the colonies. In a rather long speech right in the beginning of the debate, the socialist presidential hopeful clarified that he had no intention to kickstart “decolonization” in REA or elsewhere and that now, after so many years of involvement overseas, the Romanian state had a moral responsibility to ensure that these places and their populations would not suffer under needless political instability. The Socialist presidential hopeful maintained that the Romanian Empire, while a project he never approved of, had been a reality for decades and that Romania would commit a crime against both its people and the peoples of the colonies if she hastily and irresponsibly retreated now. He also accused Maniu of being an “avatar of the same interests” that had governed Romania for the past thirty years and that he was a “candidate of the disastrous status-quo”.

From the other side, Maniu attacked his opponent’s economic plan of “breaking the monopolies” as irresponsible and unrealistic and one that would “undoubtedly” plunge the Romanian economy into an even deeper crisis. Maniu stopped short of accusing Coronescu of collusion with Communist France, however, the preferred political attack of the Conservatives against Socialists. The two candidates continued to spar in two other debates – at Iași and Alba-Iulia – as had been customary since the 1900 election – to organize a debate in each historical regional capital, but the results within any voting bloc remained lacklustre as both men were already notorious for their political positions and for their stance regarding many of the issues that concerned the Romanian public. As it would later prove to be the case, the election was not to be decided by any late-stage debate victory or defeat, but by a general dissatisfaction the Romanian public had with its politicians and with the way the country had been run.

As votes were being tallied all over the country – the image they painted was a rather clear one. Romanians wanted change and they would not be convinced by anything that would come from the outside – not the “scarecrow” of the “Red Dictatorship in France”, nor the threat of a civil war between angry nationalists and radicalized socialists. Adrian Coronescu was elected the 18th President of Romania with 53% of the vote, a modest majority but a clear one, a sign that there were still many reluctances in regards to a socialist presidency, given the political climate of the time and the massive distrust the electorate had of the Conservative establishment.

“Romanian democracy is still alive!”​

Senator George Diamandi (PS), 1924
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Result of the 1924 presidential election​

Vice President Iuliu Maniu conceded the election almost immediately after they were validated by the National Electoral Agency and by the Electoral Investigations Bureau, but some of his fellow Conservatives attempted in vain to legally contest the election. All attempts were swiftly rejected by the courts. Thus the election of 1924 was to remain in history not only for the first successful Socialist campaign, but also for the first time a Transylvanian was elected president (Alexandru Mocioni was the first Transylvanian president, but he succeeded to attain the position), the first time a Jew was elected vice-president and also the first time both candidates were from Transylvania.

In the legislative election, the Conservative-Liberal duopoly was finally cracked, as Socialists managed to firmly entrench themselves in formerly swing areas such as Iorga’s Botoșani, were the radical politician managed to confortably win a second deputy term. Socialist candidates also prevailed in hotly contested elections in southern Moldavia, northern Oltenia, Dobruja and some of the formerly Republican fiefs in north-western Transylvania. Eastern Moldavia, which Coronescu also expected to somehow crack, remained firmly Conservative, however, as well as southern Oltenia and the area known as the “Boyar Stronghold” (rom. Fortăreața Boierească). In spite of what could be called important victories and of the fact the PS did better in 1924 than in 1920, also a landmark election for the party, the Conservative Party still managed to secure a plurality of seats. The Liberals on the other hand, suffered a heavy and bitter defeat, being reduced to half of their 1920 seats, but still managing to remain relevant. For former President Ionel Brătianu, this meant he had to continue his strategy of being the “hinge party” and of continuing an uneasy collaboration with both Conservatives and Socialists when they served his interests.

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Result of the 1924 legislative election​
 
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I just went and fixed the broken image links in many of the very early chapters. For some reason they were working just fine in edit mode and only seemed broken on display. Anyway, I've reuploaded most of them directly into the forum, so hopefully the problem won't persist.
 
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Chapter XCII: Red Hostages
CHAPTER XCII
RED HOSTAGES

The result of the 1924 Romanian presidential election shocked and scared the politicians of the Conservative-Liberal duopoly into a turbulent anger. April and the first two weeks of May looked like the most bizarre months in the political history of republican Romania – a combination of severely underestimating the Socialists and self-delusion on the part of Conservative and Liberal politicians had convinced them that Socialists could never win an election outright and couldn’t get into power unless they used violent means, as had happened in France and as was currently happening in Italy, Spain, Ireland or what was to become the former Ottoman Empire. Even on the day of the inauguration of the new president, there was still a sort of air of disbelief within the Conservative establishment.

But the Conservatives had run out of ways to block the Socialist presidency – the courts had all cases thrown out, the new MPs had already taken their oaths and yet another robust Socialist plurality in the Senate meant there was little chance the new Coronescu cabinet could be blocked.

The only victory that the Conservatives could afford was their rather clear majority in the Assembly, where their 219 seats left little chance for the Socialists to scrap a majority, even if Brătianu’s Liberals were to support the PS in full. But this would also prove difficult, as the far-right faction of the Orthodox Right wanted the new Speaker to come from within the faction, a prospect that the moderates, still a majority in the Conservative conference, loathed. The power vacuum created by the quick disposal of President Take Ionescu before the election, meant that the former president’s “fallen bannermen” had to quickly unite behind another moderate to avoid a far-right takeover. Former Vice President Iuliu Maniu, defeated but not disgraced, was to once more assume the mantle of the compromise candidate. Confronted by the leader of the far-right Orthodox faction, Ioan Lupaș, Maniu had little chance of securing the speakership on the first ballot, especially since the slim majority of only +9 seats meant the Conservative conference had to be near unanimous in its vote.

Heavy politicking was the atmosphere in the first weeks of March as the Conservatives stumbled to elect a speaker, while the Socialists started a quixotic effort to obtain a slim majority with the Liberals and enough disgruntled Marghiloman-Brătianu Conservatives. Maniu managed to form a critical majority to support him right before the end of March – securing support from 35 Liberals, enough to surmount his deficit from the unruly far-right, but putting him in the debt of Ionel Brătianu, a political “shark” that was sure his “hinge” party was going to keep both President Coronescu and Speaker Maniu hostage to his ambition of somehow returning fully to power.

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21st Parliament of Romania (1924-1928)
Speaker of the Assembly: Iuliu Maniu (Conservative)
President of the Senate: Victor Berger (Socialist)
Minority Leader: Mihail Cruceanu (Socialist)

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Partidul Conservator -
324 seats
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Partidul Socialist
- 274 seats
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Partidul Național Liberal
- 80 seats
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Partidul Republican
- 2 seats
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Assembly of Deputies
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Partidul Conservator -
219 seats
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Partidul Socialist
- 155 seats
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Partidul Național Liberal
- 44 seats
Senate
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Partidul Socialist
-
119 seats

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Partidul Conservator -
105 seats
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Partidul Național Liberal
- 36 seats

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Partidul Republican
- 2 seats

Factional distribution of seats in the 21st Parliament
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From left to right - Marxists, Minority Cacuses (several, including the most poweful, the German-Hungarian Caucus), Social Democrats, Liberals, Republicans, Brătianu Faction (C), Marghiloman Faction, Moderate Conservatives, Far-right

The cabinet was, on the other hand, a point of deep discussion and negotiation with the Socialist Party itself – mainly how many of President Coronescu’s moderate circle were going to join the first fully Socialist cabinet and how many of his strongest rival’s – pro-French and radical Marxist Nicolae Iorga’s. While the moderates still had a larger share of the Socialist conference’s seats, the radicals were still very close to half and would surely ask for an outsized influence in the new administration. Nicolae Iorga had already given Coronescu his demand that his friend and close political ally, George Diamandi, occupy one of the two “main” ministries in the administration – the Interior or Foreign Affairs. Demands also came from former President Ionel Brătianu and his Liberals – Brătianu offered Coronescu the full support of his 36 senators for the Cabinet, if the president accepted that at least one position be occupied by Liberals – the Ministry of Colonies. Brătianu also mentioned the governorship of the Isles as a potential “gift” for the Liberals. The former president argued that both positions were “inconsequential” for any Socialist administration and that many from the president’s circles would rather forget they existed.

The Socialists controlled a plurality of 119 seats in the Senate, only 12 short of a full majority and while Brătianu’s Liberals would neatly close the gap with their 36 votes, President Coronescu was wary of being strong-armed by the sly Brătianu so early in his presidency. Regardless, a 12-seat gap was rather small and a deal could be reached with some of the moderate Conservatives, as the Senate was usually a more moderate chamber, in regards to all parties, than the Assembly. President Coronescu knew that his party would not be sympathetic to yet another pact with Brătianu and directly refused the offer. Instead, the gap was to be closed with the two remaining Republican senators and ten Conservatives from the more moderate Marghiloman-Vintilă Brătianu factions who did not have any definite demands but who suggested to Coronescu that they would like Governor Iancu Flondor to remain at the helm in Romanian East Africa, a suggestion that the president himself was favourable to.

In the end, with another few Liberal defectors, the cabinet was finally complete by the second week of May. President Coronescu decided on a much larger team than any previous administration – a revived Ministry of Labour, a new Ministry of Research to be split from the Ministry of Education, the new Ministries of Industry and Commerce to be split from Finances and the all-new Ministry of Social Protection. While the general line of the still headless Conservative Party was to completely obstruct the new administration, Vintilă Brătianu went on to instruct members of his caucus to vote the new cabinet structure and to generally allow the Coronescu Administration to enter office without hiccups.

“Avem președinte ales, iar ca toți ceilalți din urma sa, Coronescu va avea cabinetul pe care și-l dorește”*​

Conservative Senator Vintilă Brătianu (1924)​

Adrian Coronescu Administration
President: Adrian Coronescu (SD)
Vice President: Victor Berger (SD)
Minister of Internal Affairs: Iosif Jumanca (SD)
Minister of Foreign Affairs: George Diamandi (M)
Minister of War: Constantin Stere (SD)
Minister of Finance: Constantin Titel Petrescu (SD)
Minister of Justice: George Panu (SD)
Minister of Agriculture: Grigore Iunian (M)
Minister of Labour: Alexandru Nicolau (M)
Minister of Social Protection: Dem Dobrescu (SD)
Minister of Infrastructure and Public Works: Constantin Mille (M)
Minister of Industry: Ion Flueraș (SD)
Minister of Commerce: Virgil Madgearu (SD)
Minister of the Colonies: Nicolae L. Lupu (SD)
Minister of Public Health: Gheorghe Grigorescu (SD)
Minister of Education: Constantin Costa-Foru (SD)
Minister of Research: Emil Racoviță (SD)
Minister of Culture: Octav Băncilă (M)
Non-Cabinet positions
Governor of Romanian East Africa: Iancu Flondor (Conservative)
Governor of the Romanian Islands of the Aegean: Radu D. Rosetti (SD)
Governor of Crimea: Ioan Nădejde (M)
Apolitical positions
Chief of ARI: Armand Călinescu
Chief of DSG: Iuliu Nistor
Chief of EIB: Rudolf Brandsch

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Adrian Coronescu, 18th President of Romania​

President Coronescu’s first hours in office were one of the busiest in the history of the previous administrations. The president repealed 96 executive orders in his first day, a record that he would hold for some time. Most of these were Maiorescu and Marghiloman era decrees that were meant to block any attempt at forming unions or organizing strikes in factories. Coal and iron mining and oil extracting operations had been named “sectors of strategic importance for the state”, so unionizing or striking as a worker in either of these sectors was essentially illegal and enforced by giving outsized power to the companies to harass and sometimes violently stopping their employees from protesting. The president also signed new orders of his own during his first day and week – he established the framework for adopting minimum wage legislation and a reduction of the weekly work hour regimen. While legal scholars at the administration advised that all of these had to pass as laws in Parliament in order to be secure, the president sought to make sure that Conservative obstructionism could not hamper his initiatives.

The Romanian economy remained in an absolutely dreadful state following the policies of the Ionescu Administration and the Great War and while his critics warned that social policies would only exacerbate the crisis, President Coronescu was adamant about his political programme. Inflation had tempered down somewhat after the National Bank stopped the disastrous measure of printing currency, but still remained over the 100% threshold. The demobilization initiative, the first executive order signed by President Coronescu ended the partial mobilization that was still in effect in Romania and ended the war economy giving the first lifeline boost the economy so desperately needed. Crimea was also allowed to economically integrate with the rest of the country and a civilian colonial administration was established under the governorship of Ioan Nădejde, one of the oldest Socialist politicians in the country and one of Coronescu’s closest allies. As part of his day-one economic recovery measures, the president also greatly expanded the borrowing of money, allowing hard cash to enter the economy more thoroughly and to drive down inflation. As a result, inflation went down below 100% in August 1924 for the first time since the winter of 1923.

More serious measures were needed however, as the global depression continued to affect markets and outlooks and the Romanian middle class continued to dwindle.

The summer of 1924 saw the first attempt to pass minimum wage legislation fail in the Assembly, as the far-right Conservatives blocked the initiative from even reaching the voting stage. Speaker Maniu, while paradoxically sympathetic to the idea of a uniform wage for the country’s workers, found himself unable to stop the wave of opposition from his conference – not only from the far-right but also from the “fiscal hawks” – mainly the Brătianu and Marghiloman Conservatives. Nevertheless, this convinced President Coronescu that passing his legislation through Parliament was going to be close to impossible, unless he allowed Ionel Brătianu to have his concessions – in exchange for allowing several of his close circle associates to control important committees in the Senate, where the Socialists had a much a larger influence, former President Brătianu was to form the so-called Brătianu-Coronescu coalition in the Assembly – uniting the 155 Socialist deputies, 44 Liberals and 23 Conservatives from Vintilă Brătianu’s and Marghiloman’s factions. The bills proposed by the administration were to be voted and approved in the Assembly only after careful revisions by Vintilă Brătianu and his “fiscal hawks” and would then pass through another round of revision at the appropriate ministries at the Hill.

It was a difficult situation for President Coronescu to work with but it was the only way any legislation could be passed in Parliament. Coronescu himself knew the way MPs usually worked and the difficulty most “co-habitational” administrations had. Even before he was elected, Coronescu knew that if he got to the Hill, his approach could not be similar to that of his only Socialist predecessor, President Rosetti, who mostly gambled on executive orders and semblances of support from the Constitutional Court. However, he was determined to not allow the Conservatives or Brătianu wrestle his public support from him. Both he and Vice President Berger frequently attended worker’s rallies, to the chagrin of the DPP and other security services. Vice President Berger was especially famous for attending pickets at coal and iron mining facilities in the west, in Oltenia and Banat or Transylvania and for his heated discussions with company owners on behalf of their workers.

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Victor Berger, 22nd Vice President of Romania​

The first minimum wage bill was passed with a 223 majority in the Assembly in September 1924, after difficult negotiations at the Hill between the Brătianu brothers, the Socialist minority leader, President Coronescu and Speaker Maniu. The speaker had decided to participate at the discussions and even throw his support for the bill, fearing that the deadlock would only fuel tensions in society as the economy continued to tread on with great difficulties. The bill was heavily modified, however, and only included the bare minimum of what the administration had asked for. The president and the vice president went on to hammer this point to their voters and to the worker population in the country. The Socialist Party, as well as administration officials started promoting the idea that the Socialist presidency was not the “Red Menace” that the Conservatives and the far-right politicians claimed that it was, but merely a “Red Hostage” to the whims of the Conservative-Liberal duopoly and former President Brătianu. The carefully crafted government propaganda was not that President Coronescu was unable to stop the opposition from foiling his initiatives, but that he could not deliver fully for the workers because of the obstruction – something that was still generally held to be true both by the good faith politicians and by the electorate.

The Coronescu-Brătianu coalition managed to pass more barebones legislation throughout the rest of the year – including limited workplace safety measures and transferring the 1886 executive order for the eight-hour work day into an actual law passed by Parliament, in order to better protect it from future encroachment (previously, the executive order had been repealed and reinstituted twice due to backlash).

As President Rosetti had before him, however, President Coronescu was starting to get fed up with the incrementalism forced on him by the difficult coalition he formed in Parliament. The economy was only getting marginally better and people continued to strike and protest more, especially due to the more relaxed worker and union legislation promoted by his executive orders. More serious measures were still needed however, as the budget continued to be strained and unable to accommodate the needs of the economy. In October 1924, to the shock and anger of both his uneasy allies, as well as his bitter adversaries, the president used previous executive orders by Presidents Maiorescu and Marghiloman, that had designated the oil and arms industries as “sectors of strategic importance for the state”, as the framework for two highly controversial decrees. Oil and arms production facilities were to be nationalized and put under state control immediately – Parliament was only notified of the decision from the Hill, as politicians quickly scrambled to think up a response.

*"We have an elected president, and like all those before him, Coronescu shall have the cabinet he wants"
 
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I wonder when it'll get representation in the legislature.

Unlikely, it is a colony and still has a mostly Tatar and Russian population. Romanians are unlikely to form a majority of the population until decolonization inevitably ensues and Romania already has strong minorities of Magyars, Germans and Jews, adding Crimea to the Inalienable Territory would lead to too much of a population imbalance. IMO, the most likely outcome is Crimea would eventually be an independent multi-ethnic republic.
 
Chapter XCIII: A Republic of Hope
CHAPTER XCIII
A REPUBLIC OF HOPE

The level of political participation, debate and overall interest in politics that had arisen in Romania at the end of 1924 had been unseen for the past twelve years. The successive presidencies of Ionel Brătianu and Take Ionescu had managed to heavily disincentivize political participation – the political non-combat of the Red-Yellow-Blue Coalition and the Great War, as well as the growing power of the president, coupled with a heavier interference of politicians in the press meant that the previously vibrant political culture of republican Romania, as seen during the Great Debate, especially, was to take a heavy downturn.

The election of 1924 changed all of this – the return of competitive politics also meant that people were becoming, once more, interested in the affairs of the republic and the Socialists definitely counted on this change. President Adrian Coronescu’s decision to nationalize the oil and arms industries lead not only to an explosion of outrage from the Conservative Party and the deeply co-dependent “donor class” but also provoked a political debate of proportions only seen during the Great Debate era. Discussions on the limits of the president’s power, on what constituted economic freedom or on the necessity of designating industrial and economic sectors of “strategic importance” became ubiquitous in republican Romania during the mid-1920s.

“For far too long have the interests of the few trampled on the hopes of the many. This cannot and will not continue. We will once more be what our founders envisioned – a republic of hope”

Vice President Victor Berger, October 1924*​

Encouraged by the nationalization bills and by the outward support the administration extended to them, Romanian workers went on to become much more inclined to protest. What the president had intended to do with the nationalization gamble was to not only secure a stream of hard revenue that would contribute to the economic revival of the country, but also to fan the fires of protest and general dissatisfaction that the population had with the Conservative-Liberal duopoly.

The executive orders had been immediately contested at the Constitutional Court, and even though the justices were mainly favourable to the Conservative establishment in Bucharest, the administration’s adversaries were not confident that the judiciary would strike them down. While the legality was dubious in the sense that no such measure had been taken before, there was still no legal reason for the Court to act in such a way that would imperil the executive prerogative of the president. Such a precedent would undoubtedly spell chaos in government even for future administrations of parliaments, and the Constitutional Court of Romania was generally unwilling to act in a way that could paint it as ideological or as what other countries had labeled as “militant courts”.

In November 1924, the Court released a statement that essentially upheld the president’s executive orders arguing that the republic itself was founded through a nationalization of resources by the Partida Națională, through President Magheru’s 1844 “Act for the National Wealth” which confiscated the wealth of the former boyar class and instituted a policy of forced nationalization throughout the years of the Independence War. However, the Court did acknowledge that while the orders were constitutional, they did infringe on a number of economic freedoms and regular laws and referred the case to the lower courts for further analysis. The Bucharest High Court’s verdict was that while nationalization was constitutional (as established by the Constitutional Court), there were so called “lapses of legality” with the regular law that meant the Administration had to prepare a “strategy” for re-privatization and could not hold onto sectors of the industrial economy indefinitely. It did not, however, set a timetable nor instruct the Executive to act in a certain way. Both verdicts were essentially allowing the Coronescu Administration to move forward but were giving notice that future similar endeavours would be examined with more scrutiny and would add additional layers to this precedent.

The verdicts sent the Conservative establishment into another tailspin, as there was hope among the politicians and the donors that the courts would at least force the administration to set a timetable in which the essentially confiscated business could be re-privatized to benefit the former owners. Teodor Mehedințeanu Jr., formerly the majority holder of the Romanian Oil Company and owner of Mehedințeanu Petrol and Gas was to become the main voice of this outrage. Following the executive order that nationalized his company, Mehedințeanu Jr. staged several protests at the Hill and throughout the country, positioning himself as the main opponent of the administration on the subject. After the courts’s verdict, Mehedințeanu Jr. announced in a speech right in front of the Hill’s gate that he would run for president in 1928, vowing to defeat the incumbent and dismantle his “crazy, dictatorial and communist” policies.

Mehedințeanu’s sudden announcement of his candidacy, more than three years before the election, radically changed the atmosphere inside the Conservative Party. Politicians that expected to throw their own hat in the ring, such as moderate Vintilă Brătianu, far-right Ioan Lupaș or even Speaker Iuliu Maniu were unsure whether they should treat Mehedințeanu as a real contender or treat his candidacy as an angry political stunt. Throughout the final weeks and days of 1924, it had become clear to everyone that Mehedințeanu’s candidacy was very much real and serious.

Members of the Conservative parliamentary and local establishments, unlike other hopefuls and ambitious men in Bucharest, saw his early candidacy as a chance to break a long running history of stalemates and division inside the party – for 1928 they hoped to have a unity candidate that would run unchallenged and could go on to contest the presidential election without any internal dissent. Before Mehedințeanu’s entry, the Conservative establishment’s darling had been George Valentin Bibescu, a Romanian hero in the Great War and one of the most popular men in the country in the 1920s. However, Bibescu had repeatedly refused the spot, claiming he had no interest in politics and was not looking to abandon his fairly confortable life to pursue elected office. Bibescu, usually referred to in the era by his initials, GVB, a huge automobile enthusiast, continued work as a civilian aviator and racer and very frequently attended car and plane shows and races and was also known for his very leisurely and outgoing persona.

Unlike Bibescu, Mehedințeanu had not only the interest, but also the resolve to run in the Conservative primary. On the other hand, some believed he did not have what it took to defeat President Coronescu. While he was a generally charismatic individual, Mehedințeanu Jr. had a problem with the fact that his political positions, while textbook conservative, were not particularly conducive to picking up independent voters or right-leaning liberal or social-democratic voters, something that was crucial for a Conservative candidate who sought to defeat President Coronescu.

As Mehedințeanu began holding his rallies and organizing pro-business protests around the country, trying to create a “popular national opposition” to the administration, Romanian workers were also growing restless.

In early 1925, the administration guaranteed the minimum wage for all those working in the state companies. Even though the law had passed Parliament and was only a fraction of what the administration had hoped to achieve, there were private company executives that attempted to circumvent the law and to intimidate their workers into accepting the previous state of affairs. While the Coronescu administration tried to get ahead of these cases and sought judicial help from the courts, the deep-seated issues that pervaded the Romanian industrial sector led to an explosion of anger within the working class.

Organized by the newly empowered unions and syndical movements, a massive general strike was announced by leaders of the working class in the early weeks of 1925. Throughout the previous year, owing to a more favourable political climate, local unions around the country formed what was to become the Grand Confederation of Labourers, a move that was not only welcomed by the Coronescu administration but also actively supported. Despite its early low organization, the GCL was large enough to have a much stronger bargaining power than any previous worker association.

Known later as the Great January Strike, the movement was avowedly anti-Conservative and anti-Liberal, pro-Administration and sought to put pressure on the parliamentary opposition to stop obstructing Coronescu’s agenda. Vice President Berger himself attended many of the worker’s rallies throughout the country. Close to the end of the month, the strike had grown so powerful and widespread, that the local Conservatives in swing constituencies started pressuring their MPs to negotiate and pass President Coronescu’s more ambitious laws. Conservative MPs with seats within a 5% margin also started considering simply aligning with the administration’s priorities, out of fear that they might actually lose to a Socialist challenger in 1928.

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"40 years since the General Strike", 1965 stamp commemorating the January Strike​

A nationwide movement, the January Strike involved the participation of over two million industrial workers all over the country. Workers refused to come in their shifts or sometimes even occupied factories or plants in order to prevent some of their peers who continued to work from keeping operations going.

Their large numbers meant that any intimidation tactics by company executives and leaders were completely ineffective, even worse, executives themselves felt threatened by the massive outpouring of grievances and pressure from the workers. All industrial sectors were heavily affected by the strike – workers protested everywhere and most industrial production was paralyzed – auto factories, steel mills, machine tool plants, cotton mills, all mines – lignite, iron or other coals – tire factories.

By the middle of the month, the strike spread to breweries and distilleries, bread factories, food processing plants. In Dobruja, both military and civilian shipbuilding enterprises were brought to a halt. Warehouses were closed, while the CFR (Căile Ferate Române), the state-owned railway conglomerate also announced its participation in support of the administration and the other workers whose right to minimum wage remained unenforced.

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Railway workers from the state-owned CFR striking in Bucharest, at Grivița​

As the crisis continued to rage and it seemed more obvious than ever that there was no path to resolving the labourers’ grievances without profound reform, President Coronescu instructed Assembly Socialists to be ready to submit their new bills for extended workplace safety, an injury pensions system, an expanded minimum wage bill to include larger wages and a clause enforceable on all workplaces, as well as a full ban on employing children on factory floors. Previously, an anti-child labour bill from the Rosetti era forbade child labour only if the child was below 14 or if they were over 14 but attending school. Other bills were also planned to be later submitted, part of a larger package.

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Striking miners at the Lupeni Mine, in south-eastern Transylvania during the January Strike (1925)​

The president was ready to amp the pressure on the Conservatives and Liberals of the now-defunct Coronescu-Brătianu faction to push for a quick passing of these bills. Meanwhile, Socialist politicians all over the country laid down their support for the massive strike, as the country’s economy remained paralyzed and effects were starting to be felt.

This stoked fears inside the Conservative establishment that if the politicians continued to stonewall, the striking workers might feel emboldened to push for a revolution and for installing President Coronescu as an actual dictator, on the model of the unrest in France a few years prior. The economy, that had just started recovering was to also take a rather brutal hit if the strike continued, but the effects of another economic meltdown were surely to be blamed on the opposition, as they were currently seen as the source of the gridlock that kept the country on a standstill instead of moving forward.

Meanwhile, Mehedințeanu Jr. continued his own early campaign, holding rallies all throughout the south of the country, where his support was strongest – several other magnates joined his effort, including the infamous Jean Mihail “The Lion of Oltenia” and the former executive of the Sureanu Conglomerate, the weapons manufacturer also nationalized by the Romanian government. When Mehedințeanu went to the Lupeni mine in Transylvania, the entire situation took a turn for the worse. The former oil magnate thought he could negotiate with the striking workers in the name of the Conservative Party, but the workers refused to talk anything with him, and a representative of the GCL informed him that the unions will only hold negotiations with representantives of the Romanian state.

When Mehedințeanu together with his security detail attempted to enter the power station that powered the mine, occupied by striking miners and workers, verbal altercations very soon erupted into violence. Angry miners fought with Mehedințeanu’s security in a brawl until one of them pulled a gun and started shooting. As the oil magnate fled the scene and the situation devolved into a massive scuffle, the police and the authorities were called to intervene. Two miners were shot dead by Mehedințeanu’s guards, while one of the members of the security detail was beaten to death by angry miners. The other Mehedințeanu guards managed to flee the scene with minor bruises and wounds.

This atmosphere of unrest and heavy tensions continued even more so after what was to be called the Lupeni Affair and many believe that what followed was a consequence of this violent episode. During a GCL strike rally at the Deloreanu Automobile Factory in Cluj, Transylvania, Vice President Victor Berger and Deputy Nicolae Iorga were shot at by an unknown assailant. One bullet struck the vice president in the shoulder. The attacker was able to run, even though people in the crowd tried to pin him down. He was later found by the police and identified as Eduard Florescu, a self-declared “anti-communist freedom fighter” who described his actions as “needed, in order to stop the communist takeover of our republic”.

*On introducing the nationalization executive orders in Parliament
 
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