Occasionally the hero has a name; he/she commits such a
solitary act of bravery and courage that it defies description. But the ultimate
self-sacrifice sometimes is quickly forgotten or even scorned.
In 1969 Czechoslovakia, Jan Palack, a 21 year-old student set
himself on fire on the steps of the National Museum in Prague in order to
protest the USSR military intervention in his country.
Jerzy Popieluszko, a Catholic priest who sympathized with
the labor group “Solidarnosti,” was assassinated in October 1984 by the Polish
police.
Chris Gueffroy of the German Democratic Republic, a communist
satellite state of the Soviet Union, was killed while trying to climb the
Berlin Wall in order to flee from communism. Nobody ever tries to flee from
capitalism. He was literally the last straw in the west’s desire and campaign to
demolish the Wall of Shame built by East German communists in 1961.
The future president of Czechoslovakia, the writer Vaclav
Havel, was sentenced to nine months in prison in February 1989, a victim of his
anti-communist thoughts, ideas, and writings.
Author Mircea Brenciu dedicated his book, “The Martyr,” to a
hero who may have changed the course of history with his act of defiance and
bravery. His self-sacrifice on March 2,
1989 in Poiana Brasov, Romania, helped initiate the end of 24 years of Ceausescu’s
brutal communist dictatorship. Yet he is largely unknown today to his own people
and to the West.
Mircea Brenciu asked rhetorically in his book dedicated to the
most incredible brave man, Liviu Corneliu Babeş, “Why don’t Romanians love their authentic heroes?”
It is understandable why that was the case prior to the “fall”
of communism. “Securitatea [security police] had ears everywhere, even when you
were quiet, you were a suspect.” Unfortunately, “many of the torturers of yesterday
and their replacements can be found today in key political, social, cultural
and especially financial positions,” added Brenciu. It is clear why there is so
little mention of the most tragic Romanian martyr.
Christianity in general considers suicide unholy and many priests
refuse to bury such deceased in holy ground. Only God can give the right to life and only
God can take it away.
The Orthodox Church considers suicide an act of cowardice,
not of heroism. According to the young
priest I spoke to on my trip to Poiana Brasov in 2015 to pay my respects to a
Romanian hero, Babeş is an
apostate and not worthy of praise.
A small monument is located a few feet from a small wooden
church in the meadow where Babeş
sacrificed himself to bring attention to the rest of the world to the plight of
the desperate Romanian citizens living under the boot of communism.
There is a street that bears his name in Brasov, there is a
metal cross on the bottom of the ski slope where the end of the tragedy
unfolded, the type reserved for road accidents, and a modest monument in Poiana
Brasov with the bronze effigy of the martyr created by the artist George Jipa.
Liviu Corneliu Babeş
(1942-1989) made the ultimate sacrifice on March 2, 1989, several months
before the December revolution that toppled the brutal communist dictatorship
of Nicolae Ceausescu and his wife Elena. On a very crowded ski slope in Poiana
Brasov where skiers from the West were vacationing, Babeş chose to set himself on fire, protesting the atrocities
committed by the Ceausescu regime.
Brenciu wrote how, in a cathedral stillness, the crowd
witnessed in shock and horror the unimaginable act of a skier on fire, gaining
speed, not making a sound, as the smell of burnt flesh filled the air. At the
bottom of the slope, Babeş fell,
his body licked by the flames fed by oxygen and the clothes soaked with
gasoline. From underneath his smoldering
clothes, he pulled out a sign that read, “STOP MURDER! AUSCHWITZ=BRASOV.”
Brenciu described how two tourists from Scotland, who
happened to be very close to where the skier collapsed, covered his smoldering body
with coats, in an attempt to put out the flames. Douglas Wallace was
subsequently interviewed by the Sunday
Times on March 12, 1989. (Burnt Alive: the Suicide that Shamed Romania)
When the ambulance arrived, Babeş was still alive, the barely audible labored and pained
breaths the only witness to his intense pain and suffering. According to Brenciu, the stretcher carriers,
dressed in white but with police uniforms underneath, and with menacing looks,
shooed the crowd away. They were not there
to help the immense suffering of the dying Babeş; they were there to cover up the incident. They announced
loudly to the crowd that this man was mentally ill and there was nothing to
see. Perhaps the crowd would have believed him, had it not been for the yellowed
paper sign Babes carried with him that spoke clearly why he immolated
himself. “One of the residents of the
concentration camp called Romania broke the silence, but the price was his
personal sacrifice,” said Brenciu.
Nobody knows the last indignities this dying hero had to
suffer while in custody of the so-called “saviors.” The Romanian word for
ambulance is “salvare,” [salvation]. Their mission was quite different, to get
to the bottom of his sacrificial act that dared to destroy the harmony of
Poiana Brasov, of the fake reality created for foreign tourists that aimed to
give them the false impression that Romanians lived in excellent conditions in Ceausescu’s
“most humane and wise political regime possible.”
Mircea Sevaciuc explained that Liviu Cornel Babeş “was buried by communists and
Securitate.” After the revolt in
November 15, 1987, Liviu was never left alone. He had sent a letter to Free
Europe, asking for a better life for all Romanians. Since that time, a friend
said, “He was afraid to walk in the streets. One day he told me at work – they want
to get me but they won’t succeed because I am going to set myself on fire.”
Babeş’s
widow, Etelka, and their daughter, were not left in peace to mourn the loss of their
beloved husband and father. Her
apartment, located in one of the drab concrete apartment high-rises, was
constantly watched by the Security Police. They came and searched everything and
confiscated any notes and sketches he may have left behind. An amateur painter
and sculptor, he had a small collection.
One day a friend accompanied Etelka to the cemetery where Babeş was buried. They were followed by a Security Police
officer who did not bother to disguise his obvious spying. Even in death, the communist
police state did not leave her Cornel alone because he had the courage to sacrifice
his life in such a public way in order to expose communism and its paid
torturers and informers who robbed the masses of their humanity and freedom under
the false pretense of “social justice” and equality.
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