hose who attacked me most fiercely are precisely the ones with a direct interest in preserving the networks I exposed.
It has been known for years that the Romanian Cultural Institute (ICR) functions defectively. Complaints, petitions, and public protests have existed for a long time. Nothing changed. On the contrary: family ties were normalized. They are no longer called nepotism, no longer considered a moral problem. Today it is perfectly legal and correct for a director of the National Book Center (CENNAC, within ICR) to sign documents approving public funding for her own spouse.
Reading the reactions to my memorandum, one message becomes unmistakably clear:
Writers, send your wives into ICR positions so you can receive funding for the translation of your books. It’s perfectly legal and moral.
More than that, those who feel offended cannot accept the idea that a public official should keep distance from public money. In their view, the official is there precisely to benefit. Why shouldn’t they enjoy it a little? Perhaps they do not apply directly for funding. Perhaps their publishing house does not apply either. But the translator receives a grant. On merit, of course. And perhaps the translator does deserve it. Perhaps the writer does too. But this is not a discussion about literary merit. It is a discussion about moral positioning.
No writer would want to remain in history as the one promoted by their spouse with public money.
This is not a metaphor. The director of CENNAC signs all documents related to funding competitions, validates procedures, and proposes participants for international fairs and events. Such a role demands ethical distance, not public-funded travel accompanied by family or close associates.
A translator, editor, or institution that provides services for an ICR official should not simultaneously maintain economic relationships with the same institution. This is not personal hostility; it is institutional hygiene. Societies collapse precisely through such “minor” compromises.
When those involved feel threatened, they shout. They divert the discussion, isolate marginal phrases, and avoid the essential questions:
Who decided?
Who signed?
Who juried?
What qualifications did the jury members have?
How many eligible books did they actually read?
How much time did they have?
This text is not a whim. It was written because silence suffocates. We need space. We need air.
Perhaps my proposals for transparent, democratic cultural promotion are poisonous to those who benefit from the current system. That is understandable. But why should the rest remain silent? Are they waiting for a bone to be thrown their way? It will not come.
What follows is the memorandum I addressed to the leadership of the Romanian Cultural Institute, on behalf of the Association of Fiction Creators, representing over 400 artists.
This is not an attack.
It is a call for integrity.
