When “I” Becomes “We”: Religious Mobilization, Pilgrimage and Political Protests

Abstract

Scholars have extensively studied social and psychological components of pilgrimage in the past decades. Its political ingredients have less been taken into account. Moreover, there is marginal scientific evidence on connections between pilgrimage and political protests: A response to injustice within a specific agenda and certain goals, remembrance, testimony, imagination, as well as transformation, along with communion and solidarity—are some common features of pilgrims and protesters. There is also the resource mobilization factor—to be analyzed here with a view upon the Romanian 1989 anti-communist revolution in Timișoara. We look at religion as a provider of social ties, in terms of messages with political connotations coming from clergy, and of chain reactions inside religious groups. The qualitative research relies on content analysis of documents, and of 30 semi-structured interviews with former participants to the demonstrations. Results point towards a subtle and circumstantial collective religious mobilization before and during the Romanian revolution. Similarities with pilgrimage are related to the presence of a resourceful actor, converting individual into common needs and generating a collective identity. Differences refer to the spiritual vs. political movement, and to the socio-religious experience vs. the secular search for freedom and justice.

1. Introduction

Religion has not been studied at an extensive level when it comes to its potential for motivating social and political protests: It “has taken a back seat in contemporary research on social movements and collective action” (McVeigh and Sikkink 2001, p. 1426). However, it is an important element favoring the occurrence of social movements, from an individual, but also from a collective and structural point of view. Religiosity “promotes feelings of efficacy, interest in politics, and other psychological traits conducive to political activity” (Harris 1994, 1999; Hoffman and Jamal 2014, p. 7). In practice, inner spiritual perceptions often interfere with elements from outside, with collective types of beliefs related to the institutional side of religion. Studying the African-American political activism, for instance, Harris (1994, pp. 61–62) reaches a pertinent conclusion: “Both organizationally and psychologically, religious beliefs and practices promote political involvement”. Our focus lies on the institutional and collective role of religion, as a motivational factor for protesting: What does the role of communal practice/institutionalized religion look like, when it comes to driving people to protests? First, there is a difference to be made between democratic societies and authoritarian regimes. Under the last political circumstances, religious groups often remain one of the very few forms of collective manifestations. They are likely to be “propelled” as a “natural vehicle for political participation” (Omelycheva and Ahmed 2018, p. 4). We look specifically at the Romanian 1989 revolution in Timișoara: What was the role played by the Churches, clergy and religious people in general, in mobilizing people to protest?

We are also interested in the potential connections of political demonstrations to pilgrimage, especially with respect to religious mobilization. Common elements of the two phenomena can refer to a response to injustice within a specific agenda and following certain goals, to remembrance and imagination, to a testimony about beliefs and the search for transformation, along with communion and solidarity. In terms of differences, pilgrimage acts as a cultural item, with mystical connotations; it involves personal piety, experience of the sacred and spiritual self-expression. When we look at religion in the case of protests, it may take the shape of an individual and social catalyst: People go out on the street to oppose a political regime and, besides their potential inner religious impulses, can be mobilized by religious forces around them—within a social, rather than cultural and spiritual type of construction. What is certain is that, in both cases, of pilgrims and protesters, individual needs and aspirations can be animated by a resourceful element—a “sacred actor” or organization, seeking to convert self-interest into common good, by means of collective action (Pace 1989).

The study is a qualitative one, based on content analysis of documents and declarations issued on TV broadcasts, as well as on the interpretation of 30 semi-structured interviews with former participants to the demonstrations. Although more than 30 years have passed since the events had happened, it is a case worth looking at due to the particular religious influences before and during the protests. The political changes in Eastern Europe at the end of the 80-s have shaped the future of the continent; research has mostly neglected the implications of the revolutions on the spiritual level. Studies have focused on the Velvet revolution in Csechoslovakia and the peaceful anti-communist movements in East Germany (see, for instance, Swoboda 1990; Rein 1990; Doellinger 2013; Pollak 1993), on the Orange revolution in Ukraine and its religious institutional implications (e.g., Simons and Westerlund 2015), as well as on the connections between Islam and the Arab Spring revolutions with respect to mobilization (e.g., Noueihed and Warren 2012; Lynch 2012). Romania was virtually neglected, with some exceptions (e.g., Pope 1992; Neacșu 2007; Clardie 2017). However, none of these studies have taken potential similarities of protests with pilgrimage, in terms of religious mobilization, into account. This is the field we are entering in this work, trying to unfold concrete collective religious impulses during the events in 1989 in Timișoara, and to connect the findings to what we know about pilgrimage as a social movement. Pilgrimage has been studied extensively under its classical component, of a spiritual journey to faraway places, whereas its local manifestations still deserve attention from scholars. At local level, people tend to visit shrines in an organized manner, inside a group, rather than individually. The phenomenon has often been put in conjunction with processions. After all, “why go to a strange church to seek the help of the Blessed Virgin whose power is universal and could just as easily cure you in your own home?” (Sumption 1975, pp. 50–51).

It remains to be seen if political protests may be assimilated to a local pilgrimage type of movement. For answering this main research question, the article first looks at the social characteristics of pilgrimage, especially under its local type of manifestation. It then turns its attention to religion and its potential for mobilizing political protests—focusing on the logistical power of communities, on individual protesters able to act as motivators, and on the influence of messages coming from clergy and religious leaders. The article then describes the case study and methods, and the next section presents the results, followed by the discussion and the conclusions.

2. Literature Review

Pilgrimage is “one of the basic modes of walking, (...) in search of something intangible” (Solnit 2000, p. 45). In the political context, it referst to travelling towards a sacred place, searching for a secular shrine, or pursuing to transform the self according to senses extracted from the visited places (Pazos 2012, p. 1; Barbato 2016, p. 564). Kratochvíl (2021, p. 3), along with Turner and Turner (2011), speak about three main stages of the ritual—separation (detachment from daily life), limen (transcending the order) and aggregation (coming home). With respect to its structure, pilgrimage has three main components—place, movement and motivation (Coleman 2021). Why do people engage in a pilgrimage, after all, and what are the common and different elements to be assessed in relation to protesting? First, pilgrims intend to reflect on their own lives, deal with crises, detach from daily routines and take some time off, to shape personal or professional transitions, and/or to initiate a new start for their lives (Heiser 2021; Kurrat 2019; Heiser and Kurrat 2015). Parts of these motivations apply to protesters—in the sense of dealing with crises, passing a stage of personal transition in life and intending to start all over. Further, Christian pilgrims often set up their journey in remembrance of Jesus, saints and ancestors—likewise, protesters may follow the steps of the ones who had sacrificed their lives. Both walk in an “anamnetic empathy” for the loved ones, share dreams and beliefs, and overcome fear through strength given by solidarity (Fennema 2018, p. 384; Solnit 2000, p. 229). These actions lead to communion: “Protestors, like pilgrims, seek to be transformed along the way, by the very solidarity, interdependence, and freedom that we try to cultivate in the doing, not just the dreaming” (Fennema 2018, p. 383). Further, protesters and pilgrims testify about their beliefs, they follow a common goal (Barbato 2016, p. 569) within a certain agenda, and seek transformation. Moreover, “protest as pilgrimage is one, if not the, appropriate response to the injustice (...)” (Fennema 2018, p. 385). These similarities are completed by differences between the two phenomena—the social and/or political characteristics of protests, vs. the cultural and sacred/spiritual features of pilgrimage: the profound and mystical sense of the action, the personal contact to the divinity, the connection between life and faith, or providing a meaning to their existence (Pace 1989, p. 240), vs. a transformational path on the social and political level.

Last, but not least, pilgrimage is a spiritual (real or symbolic) journey, a “higher socio-religious experience”, where individual needs and aspirations are animated, or mobilized, by a “sacred actor” or an organization, seeking to convert self-interest into common good through collective action (Pace 1989, p. 231). People are mobilized by a resourceful actor (a person/charismatic leader or spiritual master, or an organization, but also by the place of apparition, a relic or a shrine). This “emotive mobilization” drives pilgrims towards a common goal, it transforms self-interest into common good. The pilgrim becomes a “homo sociologicus who engages with others and with God and whose communal identity is shaped by these interactions” (Barbato 2016, p. 569). The journey gives birth to the materialized idea of communitas: People start adhering to a collective set of values and the individual perspective becomes a communitarian one (Pace 1989, pp. 230, 234). Following a certain mobilization process, the individual starts thinking differently; she turns her attention from her own person, to the collectivity. Transformation, regeneration, salvation, all become collective. In this transcendental perspective, communitas is not about community anymore, but about communion—in the sense of “an egalitarian state of lowliness, sacredness, homogeneity and comradeship” (Turner 1969, p. 96).

To what extent are these ideas, referring to pilgrimage and mobilization—organization, sacred actor, transformation and communitas—to be found in scientific literature with respect to political protests? The next theoretical part intends to answer this question.

2.1. Church, Logistics and Social Capital

There are many definitions of social capital in the literature—a general one refers to “features of social organization, such as networks, norms, and trust, that facilitate coordination and cooperation for mutual benefit” (Putnam 1993, pp. 35–36). Attempting to overcome lack of networks and trust in the authority, and often between themselves, people turn to religious involvement as a form of “repeated interaction” (Clardie 2017, p. 4). Before revolutions take place, the degree of social cohesion inside religious communities becomes highly relevant (Clardie 2017, p. 10): It was often proved to function as a spark, determining people to jointly go out on the street. Studies focusing on Islamic activism, for instance, show that religious movements are often the only option for citizens to express their contention when being excluded from political activity (Omelycheva and Ahmed 2018, p. 8; Wiktorowicz 2003). The Arab Spring revolutions are among the events intensively studied in recent years. In the context of constructing a fresh “We-identity” of the Islamic political world, as well as of building the “new Arabic We-Feeling of arising democracies” (Barbato 2013, pp. 116, 123), the spiritual activity turns into a political one: Religious structures serve as networks for discussing about politics and transform “individual grievances into shared grievances and group-based anger”—a fundamental condition for going out on the street and protest (Klandermans and van Stekelenburg 2013, p. 887). During the Arab Spring, religion revealed its influence both at individual (piety), and at collective level (organizational resource and social capital): The so-called “mosque-to-square” narrative (Hoffman and Jamal 2014, p. 594) suggests that mosques functioned as “a locus of anti-government agitation and logistical centers of preparation for demonstrations” (Ardıc 2012, p. 38). And the Islamic world is not the only place where these theories apply: “Movements that have sought both to overthrow and to install socialism have drawn members, resources and leadership from religious institutions” (McVeigh and Sikkink 2001, p. 1426; Osa 1996); the role of Pope John Paul II and of the Catholic Church in subverting socialism in Poland, as well as the support of the Lutheran Church for the peaceful East German Revolution in 1989 (prayers for peace turning into demonstrations for freedom, for instance, in Leipzig)—are well known examples. Church is able to function as a logistical center for preparing street demonstrations, and as a provider of social capital: “Through both social capital and organization, group religious behavior could promote even high-risk political mobilization” (Hoffman and Jamal 2014, p. 6).

Being a member of a religious community, practicing its specific rites and interacting with others puts you in the position of acquiring civic skills—one of the most important resources for participating in politics (e.g., Smidt 2003; Verba et al. 1995; Putnam 1993). This acquisition can take place during socializing “in non-political institutions, such as voluntary organizations, places of work and church” (Omelycheva and Ahmed 2018, p. 9). Voluntary associations are considered a highly significant element of democracy (Almond and Verba 1963; Putnam 1991)—people are able to interact and conditions are being created “for the development of attitudes like trust, tolerance, and solidarity used to achieve the groups’ purposes” (Vlas and Gherghina 2012). On the other hand, literature questions the general development of trust and involvement among Church members with high levels of doctrinal commitment; in these cases, trust and engagement are supposed to manifest in a rather internal, in-group manner, at the expense of civic culture at a larger, community level (Scheufele et al. 2003, p. 301). Within the context of a dictatorial regime, civil society remains an abstract term, with church as one of the few structures of socialization: Attenders have the possibility (under dictatorship, often restricted, too) to discuss not only about religion, but about social life and politics; they become more informed and, as part of a group, are “more likely to be politically active” (Glazier 2015, p. 16). The religious group is, itself, a source of social interaction and trust between its members, who have the opportunity to “share their private preference in opposition to the government” (Clardie 2017, p. 10). Through church life, people identify with the religious group and with its norms, and this identification gives birth to “an ‘inner obligation’ to participate on behalf of the group”, and to efficacy (Klandermans and van Stekelenburg 2013, p. 892). Generally, “church life equips people for political engagement” (Glazier 2015, p. 3; Smidt 1999, 2003). If they cannot vote, initiate a referendum, sign petitions or join a campaign, they may start a protest: “To the extent that religion does influence social capital in a positive manner, it can indirectly influence the emergence of social movements” (Clardie 2017, p. 3).

2.2. The Chain Reaction

People who hardly believe in change at the social and political level are the so-called “low efficacious” persons. The individual’s lack of trust, uncertainty and fear of reputation costs (which prevent her from getting involved)—ultimately, the falsification of true preferences—can be overcome by seeing others “think like he or she does” (Clardie 2017, p. 7; Kuran 1995). These reputation costs can refer to “social shaming, loss of employment or even physical harm” (Clardie 2017, p. 6). The person’s integrity function is, itself, disturbed, and a considerable level of stress is created; because, out of fear of consequences, the person lies to herself about what she really desires (Clardie 2017; Kuran 1995). Seeing others act in one’s own preferred (but hidden) manner, is able to rebuild trust and sincerity, releasing the pressure caused by self-dishonesty. The desire to become free and authentic becomes more powerful than the fear of risks and negative consequences. The next step is a logical reactive phenomenon: “Once a relatively small number of highly-motivated individuals decide to participate” (Hoffman and Jamal 2014, p. 595; Kuran 1991, 1995), a chain-reaction is created inside the dynamics of the movement—uncertain people become powerful, efficacious and willing to go out on the street, for publicly expressing their preferences. It is about collective identity here, about transforming the ‘I’ into ‘We’: This self-definition makes people “think, feel and act as members of their group and transforms individual into collective behaviour” (Klandermans and van Stekelenburg 2013, p. 890; Turner 1999). By analogy to our subject of interest, seeing religious people behave in a certain manner may have the motivational power to create a duty of acting together. In the results section, we will attempt to find out to what extent trust, collective identity and efficacy can indeed be initiated inside religious groups, in the course of a political protest.

2.3. Clergy—The Political Motivators

Besides the logistical function of religious institutions, and the potential of (religious) groups to mobilize a social movement—people transmitting messages to congregants have a “capacity to serve as opinion leaders for their parishioners seeking spiritual and moral guidance from them” (Omelycheva and Ahmed 2018, p. 8). Clergy can turn from spiritual waymakers to political motivators. Speaking against the government “encourages others, who may have otherwise been reluctant, to express their true preferences as well” (Clardie 2017, p. 2). Referring, again, to the Arab Spring, Hoffman and Jamal notice the importance of sermons heard by Muslims in mosques—supposed to determine people to walk “from Friday prayers to central squares, in order to demand the removal of the regime” (Hoffman and Jamal 2014, p. 1). As a mediator and communicator, the religious leader, priest or reverend may become a central actor in the process of mobilization; although, clergy are generally supposed to have “less credibility when they communicate political, rather than religious messages” (Calfano and Djupe 2009; Kohut et al. 2000; Glazier 2015, p. 7). On the other hand, parishioners often go to the priest not only for spiritual guidance, but to address their day-to-day grievances. Under these circumstances, congregants can “hear political messages even when clergy don’t intend to deliver them” (Glazier 2015, p. 12). This happens especially under an authoritarian regime: For instance, speaking about the concept of free will can easily be translated into the ideas of freedom of travel, or of expression, when members of the audience are being denied these basic human rights. Priests are God’s servants; they embody basic moral values, like altruism and lack of personal interests, their religious belief becomes a foundation for credibility.

Resuming, the collective mobilization factor of religion in relation to protest behavior is expressed by church or mosque as logistical centers for preparing the demonstrations (organizational resources), as well as by the social network providing meeting opportunities for exchanging opinions. Then, we have the potential chain reaction inside certain groups and, finally, the response to political cues coming from congregational leaders. All these relational factors are able to foster trust, which, in turn, lowers the costs of participation and allows individuals to share true preferences and resources. In the end, it creates solidarity and a collective identity—the fundament for the emergence or continuation of a political protest.

3. Materials and Methods

To test the above theoretical assumptions and connect the results to the concept of pilgrimage—through the lens of religious mobilization, this article studies the Romanian anti-communist revolution in Timișoara, from December 1989. The main reasons for analyzing this event—even with 30 years passed from its unfolding, are firstly related to the fact that, in the Romanian city, the demonstrations against the authoritarian regime had visible religious implications. The role of the Churches, of the clergy, of religious people, in mobilizing protesters, is worth to be studied, for a clearer picture on the mobilization potential of collective religious elements towards radical political activism. Then, the Eastern European revolutions in 1989 were offered too little attention by social scientists, with respect to mobilization. Third, Romania—as the only Latin Orthodox country in the world, deserves to be looked at with respect to the manner in which collective identities can be shaped by “emotive mobilization”. Last, but not least, the religious implications of the protests are the ones supporting our main analytical goal—to see if and under what circumstances religious collective mobilization can produce similar effects in the case of protests and pilgrimage. Timișoara provides the appropriate empirical setting for this purpose.

The events began in December 1989 with a few dozen supporters of the Reformed pastor Laszlo Tökes gathering in front of his house and manifesting their support for his courageous attitude against the regime. Romania was sitting on a “gunpowder barrel” at that time, like one of our interlocutors was to describe the tense situation: lack of freedom, low living standards, restrictions on the social and cultural level. The support for the Reformed pastor turned into an anti-communist demonstration, with subtle and circumstantial influences from the side of Christian Churches. Authorities attempted to oppress the protests in a violent manner and many people were arrested, wounded, or sacrificed their lives. The social movements soon expanded to the capital Bucharest and to the whole country; in the end, the dictatorial regime led by Nicolae Ceausescu was overthrown.

To study this case, we performed a content analysis of documents and video recordings, as well as 30 semi-structured interviews with former participants to the demonstrations. The analysis of documents involved a search for relevant information coming from local magazines issued during or immediately after December 1989, as well as from public websites. Data from the periodical of the local Orthodox Church Metropolitanate (Mitropolia Banatului Magazine Timişoara 1989), as well as from the “Renasterea bănățeană” magazine—a main (and almost single) source of written information in Timișoara back then—is based in the archive of the Memorialul Revolutiei Association in Timisoara: https://cercetare-memorialulrevolutiei1989.ro/, accessed on 3 September 2021. Another source of information was the website www.procesulcomunismului.com, accessed on 3 September 2021, containing a significant archive of documentes related to the communist period. The research also included collecting video recordings: an interview carried out by representatives of the Memorialul Revolutiei Association in Timisoara, and a TV broadcast containing declarations from one of the religious leaders who played an important part at that time (Alfa Omega TV Timișoara 2002). The content analysis of these documents and video recordings pursued to extract the most relevant data for answering the research questions.

With respect to the interviews, respondents were selected using the homogeneous purposive sampling—we were interested in their direct participation to the protests. There were around 800 men and women arrested and we chose to speak to 30 people from this category. Variables such as gender, age, denomination level of education and level of faith applied randomly, for providing the sample with a heterogeneous character (see

Table 1. An overview of the respondents’ profiles.

No.	Initials	Interview Date	Gender	Birth Decade	Level of Education	Denomination	Level of Faith
1.	R.H.	12 December 2018	Male	1950–1959	N/A	N/A	N/A
2.	C.L.	16 January 2019	Male	N/A	N/A	Orthodox	N/A
3.	B.K.	17 January 2019	Male	N/A	N/A	Neo-protestant	High
4.	C.B.	24 January 2019	Female	1950–1959	College graduate	Roman-Catholic	Moderate
5.	F.W.	31 January 2019	Male	1960–1969	High-school graduate	Orthodox	Moderate
6.	G.F.	31 January 2019	Female	1950–1959	High-school graduate	Orthodox	High
7.	I.P.	1 February 2019	Male	1960–1969	College graduate	Orthodox	High
8.	Z.I.	1 February 2019	Male	1960–1969	Technical studies graduate	Moderate	Moderate
9.	K.G.	4 February 2019	Male	1970–1979	High-school graduate	Roman-Catholic	Very high
10.	M.C.	7 February 2019	Male	1960–1969	Technical studies	Orthodox	High
11.	M.I.	7 February 2019	Male	1960–1969	High-school graduate	Neo-protestant	Very high
12.	N.B.	8 February 2019	Male	1960–1969	High-school graduate	Orthodox	Not a believer
13.	N.L.	8 February 2019	Male	1960–1969	High-school graduate	Reformed	Low
14.	O.L.	8 February 2019	Male	1960–1969	College student	Orthodox	Low
15.	M.S.	9 February 2019	Female	1960–1969	Technical studies graduate	Orthodox	Low
16.	P.M.	11 February 2019	Male	1960–1969	Sec. school graduate	Orthodox	Low
17.	P.O.	11 February 2019	Male	1940–1949	Technical studies graduate	Orthodox	High
18.	P.V.	12. February 2019	Male	1960–1969	High-school graduate	Orthodox	Moderate
19.	H.K.	13 February 2019	Male	1960–1969	College student	Orthodox	Low
20.	L.M.	15 February 2019	Male	1960–1969	College student	Orthodox	High
21	S.E.	15 February 2019	Male	1960–1969	High-school graduate	Reformed	High
22.	S.T.	15 February 2019	Male	1960–1969	High-school graduate	Orthodox	Low
23.	S.V.	15 February 2019	Male	1960–1969	High-school graduate	Orthodox	Low
24.	S.C.	18 February 2019	Female	1960–1969	High-school graduate	Orthodox	Very high
25.	T.C.	18 February 2019	Female	1950–1959	College graduate	Orthodox	High
26.	C.J.	19 February 2019	Male	1960–1969	College student	Orthodox	Very high
27.	F.O.	20 February 2019	Male	1940–1949	College graduate	Orthodox	Not a believer
28.	K.B.	21 February 2019	Male	1950–1959	College graduate	Orthodox	Moderate
29.	C.I.	22 February 2019	Male	1940–1949	College graduate	Orthodox	Moderate
30.	C.H.	23 February 2019	Male	1960–1969	High-school student	Orthodox	Moderate

). The number of 30 interviewees is related to the data saturation principle—stating that the researcher should stop collecting information when no more relevant data can be obtained. The potential of generalization is lower in qualitative studies, but it can be compensated by the quality and profoundness of the obtained data.

Discussions were carried out during three months, at the end of 2018—beginning of 2019, on several topics related to religious motivations for protesting. We spoke around 30 min to each participant on the specific subject of collective religious mobilization. Talks were not recorded, but all the notes are kept in an archive. Interpretation was performed later by means of content analysis and coding the information—extracting and arranging ideas and sub-concepts according to their relevance and to the previously established connections. The qualitative analytical and interpretative process led to the final conceptual image upon the social practice and to answering the initial research questions.

4. Results

4.1. Networking and Mobilization

4.1.1. The Majoritarian Orthodox Church

Let us move to presenting the information obtained as a result of the analytical process. During the interviews, most of the respondents denied any influence from Church as an institution on their decision to take part in the demonstration. Regarding the Orthodox denomination, they spoke about the incapacity, during dictatorship, to create structures, to organize movements, to produce social capital, as long as “part of the clergy was hand in hand with the regime and the Church was controlled” (C.I.). In fact, shortly after the events in 1989, the Orthodox Church apologized to the public, speaking about a necessary compromise to keep faith and traditions alive, and to ensure a continuity for Orthodox Christianity in the region (Popescu 2015, p. 7): “This is why we apologize to God and to you, dear beloved sons, for all our public statements and pastorals by which we were forced to tell you that we enjoy a total religious freedom, whereas a lot of different constraints and pressures were set upon the Church”. The statement appears in the official magazine of the local Orthodox Church Metropolitanate (Mitropolia Banatului Magazine No. 4–6, July–December 1989—Message of adhesion to the National Salvation Front Council, from the Romanian Orthodox Church), cited by Ionel Popescu in one of the articles from the archive of the Memorialul Revolutiei Association in Timisoara (Popescu 2015, p. 65). Studying this archive was part of the content analysis of documents we have performed for this research. Our interlocutors further refer, in the interviews, to the Greek-Catholic denomination as being forbidden in the communist times, and to Roman-Catholics as being attached to Rome and, thus, independent from the regime. The last ones are seen as “more reticent and cold”—with the potential to generate opposition left for the Reformed and Neo-protestants (K.B., K.G.): Protestants in general “show more solidarity: they call themselves brothers and sisters” (C.J.).

With respect to the Orthodox Church—interviewees mention especially 18 December 1989, when, some say, clergy closed the doors of the cathedral in Timișoara; demonstrators, who were shot at by the Militia and Military, are said to have remained without shelter. Participants and witnesses declared that ambushes led to the impossibility for some to enter the place. A young man, aged 23, was shot in his forehead and brought inside the cathedral. Shortly after, he died. Many other protestors, with candles in their hands, stood in front of the church and confronted the violence. A lot of teenagers tried to enter and panic spread all over the place. Priests from inside attempted to evacuate some of the people on the side doors. They also helped to carry wounded to ambulances. One of the priests mentions that, in the evening, doors have been closed, with cleaning ladies tidying up the blood spread from the body of a wounded young boy. The declaration is to be found in the Renașterea bănățeană magazine from 1 February 1990, cited by Dumitru Tomoni in one of the articles from the archive of the Memorialul Revolutiei Association in Timisoara (Tomoni 2011, p. 91). Some witnesses state that persons wishing to enter the edifice could do it, even under the controversial circumstances (Tomoni 2011, p. 90). Revolutionaries blame the former political police, the Securitate, for initiating the action: “It was an ugly gesture, during daytime. Maybe an officer from the «Securitate» stood behind the priest who did this” (N.L.). One of the protesters, perceived as a leader, told us that, up to the present day, he sees only speculations about locking the entrance: “What role could have been played by the Church, when we think about what happened on that day? Perhaps they were afraid of repressions... Or there was an interest to have as many victims as possible” (P.V.). Others defend the institution, saying that doors were only closed, not locked, either because it was cold, or in order to protect religious artifacts: “Besides, under the circumstances, you run for your life, do not think to take refuge in the church anymore. To say that priests have locked the doors is a hideous manipulation” (R.H.).

4.1.2. The Minorities

Basically, there are no indications towards a possible organizing role from the Orthodox, Roman- and Greek-Catholic institutional sides. Mobilization was possible inside the Neo-protestant and Reformed Churches—in the last case, due to the essential part played by Laszlo Tökes. The pastor referred later to a schism inside his institution, between a small group showing solidarity, and others staying aside. Tökes sent several letters, in September that year, to the Roman-Catholic, Orthodox, Evangelical and Jewish local communities, and asked for support: “The only one who invited me for discussions and showed solidarity was the chief rabbi” (Mioc et al. 2001). In front of the perspective of forced evacuation, Tökes makes an announcement in the church; it was one week before the protest started: “I asked parishioners to come on site and witness these injustices” (Mioc et al. 2001). The statements have been extracted from a discussion with the Reformed pastor carried out by people dedicated to gather information about the Revolution and clarify the events, and are part of our content analysis of existing documents and materials. According to other personal statements, “my parishioners knew what to do. I did not have to tell them; hundreds were there, from the first hours of the morning” (Suciu 1990, p. 14): The pastor had supporters in “an ecumenical community of believers (Adventists, Baptists, Catholics, Orthodox, and Pentecostals), who in turn inspired the community at large to take their destiny into their own hands” (Pope 1992, p. 8). The former Baptist pastor Petru Dugulescu (meanwhile, deceased) played an important part in the debut of the demonstrations. Back in 1992, he declared that Tökes, whom he had not known personally, asked him, through an intermediary, a doctor, “to gather some young people and send them in front of the Reformed church—to sing, protest in peace, bring some candles and pray”. The declaration is part of a TV broadcast from Alfa Omega TV Timișoara (2002), where Dugulescu recounts the start of the revolution. In another interview, for Traian Orban (head of the Memorialul Revolutiei Association in Timisoara), One of the members of the Baptist Church states that Dugulescu was suffering because of the communist regime, he felt spiritually and materially persecuted; his family was struggling to earn their living. The movement against the regime thus appears as a reaction of the Church to own endured injustices, too. The person declares in the interview that “we were supposed to mobilize the young. They told us so, in the church, and from person to person” (Memorialul Revoluției Association in Timișoara Research Center 2016). Both statements above are part of our content analysis of video recordings. According, further, to our respondents, the Baptist leader “was an informed person, things were known before it all started; they mobilized themselves accordingly” (M.I.): “Dugulescu told me personally that he asked parishioners to go and support Tökes. I saw them on the street” (F.O.). Another Baptist Church member declared: “I liked the religious service on that morning, but my thoughts were at what happened outside. Together with my wife, we left before it was over, and joined the already large mass of demonstrators” (Memorialul Revoluției Association in Timișoara).

Resuming, religious organization/logistics appear to have been the attribute of minorities in the incipient stage of the protest. People’s main reason for gathering and taking part at the demonstrations did not have a direct connection to Church. Religious social capital and logistics were the frame, a catalyst to unlock people’s grievances and desires: The initial “group coherence provided by religious institutions was of critical importance” (Hall 2000, p. 1076) for the protests to expand and precipitate “the revolutionary bandwagon, through lowering reputation costs, and thus thresholds for others in society to express their private preferences” (Clardie 2017, p. 19). A member of the Pentecostal community finally declares: “It was not the Church influencing me; our motivation was to get rid of communism. But the Church gathered us: We encouraged each other there and felt like a family” (B.K.).

4.1.3. Community vs. Communion

With respect to the later stages of the demonstration—respondents referred to a special feeling of communion between them during the protest, with denominations having no part to play whatsoever. Not a planned activity, according to norms, carried out by a certain religious institution, group of people or network, but an ad-hoc social capital, built on the street: “There was no organization inside the religious institution, besides some individual initiatives; anyway, church was visited rather secretly at that time” (T.C.). This trans-religious solidarity is defined as an “exceptional understanding”, taking authorities by surprise and looking “even more beautiful, as it started from defending a foreigner, a Hungarian” (F.O.). Ethnic and religious affiliations did not count anymore, in front of the “fantastic communion—I felt love was present among us” (M.S.): The female respondent, describing herself as non-religious, told us she felt a particular attachment, a friendship with others, developed in a short time between people of different nationalities, ethnicities and denominations. Strong believers, on the other hand, see this communion as emerging from religious convictions and feelings, too: “Everybody had a faith in God” (M.I.).

4.2. The Snowball Effect

When it comes to the influence of religious people around in the same, second phase of the action, interviewees are basically divided into three categories: Most of them admit to have been encouraged by people around—however, with no religious connections. Students were motivated by groups they decided to join; workers, or other professional categories, urged each other to take action. One former student remembers: “I cannot say if people around me were religious or not... colleagues and many others whom I did not know” (C.J.). Courage was like an impulse transmitted from person to person and spreading through the crowd: “It was not about being religious or not, not about faith; if you found someone courageous, you were there” (O.L.). And once in the crowd, “hearing them scanning and shouting out, the courage grows and you do not think about repercussions anymore. People were thinking like me” (C.I.). Another respondent defines the situation as “a rolling snowball” (N.L.), taking shape when more and more people decided to leave reputation costs aside, defeat uncertainty and become efficacious. Under these conditions, solidarity and collective identity were created, to push the protest forward. The second category of respondents, less numerous, is the independent one—having nothing to do with getting inspired by people around, or mechanisms of chain reactions—neither in a religious sense, nor in a secular one. “I had clear, personal opinions, nobody motivated me” (S.T.), and “It was the age when we were doing things on our own, not from looking at others; religion was also not so present in our lives” (C.H.). These people simply took their fate in their hands, detached from any possible models or inspirations. The third category—also less numerous and mostly belonging to the Neo-protestant and Reformed denominations, speaks about real impulses, coming from religious people around. One female respondent told us about the “priest of the revolution”—a man who, from the (meanwhile) symbolic Opera balcony in Timișoara, initiated the Lord’s Prayer, spoken by tens of thousands together with him. She had been around him and his gestures encouraged her to move on, despite the threatening conditions (S.C.). “Those messages moved me—this state of mind and soul can hardly be described in words”, says another respondent (M.S.). A man further admitted he had joined members of the Baptist Church “when I saw they dare to demonstrate” (B.K.). Non-practitioners finally also emphasize the religious communion: “The feeling during the protest was that everybody is a believer” (S.E.). The idea of communion between denominations is expressed by another interlocutor, too: “Catholics, Orthodox, Reformed—it did not matter anymore; we were like a single, united people” (Z.I.).

Basically, the decisions to unveil preferences—developing into a chain reaction/snowball effect, had less to do with religious impulses coming from fellow protesters. In this second stage of the protest, collective religion seems to have played a less significant part, compared to the initial phases, when mobilization inside the Churches helped igniting the demonstration. On the street, efficacy and collective identity were built on a rather secular basis, with courage spreading inside the group and contributing to the expansion of demonstrations. However, respondents accentuate the spiritual communion, like they did when they spoke about religious institutions. There were situations when religious people and non-practitioners alike perceived this motivation as a religious one. This perception encouraged them to carry on and ignore the most dangerous cost—the threat of loosing their lives.

4.3. The Opinion Formers

Results underline the separation of the Orthodox Church during communist times from politics, or from any kind of intervention/opposition to the regime: “You did not hear any words against the authorities from priests—sometimes they prayed for the president. They were not allowed to express their opinions” (T.C.). Interviewees remember that part of God’s servants collaborated with the political police: “It did not have to do with mobilizing messages. You went to confession and could later find out that data about what you went further, to the Securitate” (P.O.). One priest, who took part at the revolution, told us he made a request during the protests, for “informers who bothered us to immediately leave the Church” (P.M.). Some sources refer to the Secret Police as actually monitoring private religious rituals without knowledge of priests, with listening techniques installed in people’s houses (Mocioalcă 2010, p. 143). However, there were messages coming from clergy in the years before the revolution, which mobilized people: Priests persecuted and arrested by the communist authorities—dissidents like Dumitru Staniloae, Arsenie Boca and Gheorghe Calciu-Dumitreasa—spoke either on Radio Free Europe in Munich, or directly to congregants. “There were no direct messages (if so, they were condemned to rotten in prison)—they spoke about hope, for instance, and everyone understood it was about the regime” (G.F.). People were encouraged by these opinion formers and felt a need to support them (e.g., H.K., C.I., S.C.).

A separate category of respondents refers to Tökes Laszlo and his messages, in and outside the church, or in the foreign media (especially radio and TV stations in Hungary), where he complained about difficult conditions for the Reformed denomination, but also for the Romanian people. “In front of his parish, in the Blessed Virgin Mary Square, he spoke about the evacuation, about human rights, and belief in God—his messages influenced me” (C.J.). His sermons turned to have a considerable impact: “He spoke about religion. If it was not for him, to hold a sermon, people would have not gathered” (M.C.). “We were a group of young Catholics, goading our Reformed friends—what have you heard new at the meetings (religious services)?” (K.G.); the same respondent, among others, considers Tökes “a chemical catalyst, like a substance you poor into a glass and it starts to boil—it provided that necessary spark for the revolution”. To the same extent, people speak about Tökes as a “model of dignity”, a “person with spine” or a “symbol of courage”, whom they respected due to the human attitude of resistance and opposition towards the regime (C.B., F.W., H.K., Z.I., S.V.). Many did not go to his parish to defend him: “We went there out of curiosity. We were told to go home, but people became courageous in their turn, due to his example” (I.P.). In those moments, his attitude was a symbolic, mobilizing one: “He was the spark; he influenced me, through the role he had—a victim of the regime. This had a great impact on people—he was the one bringing the crowd together; indirectly, but in an auspicious and decisive manner” (C.L.).

Messages coming from clergy finally appear to have had a circumstantial, but significant mobilizing role, in the precursive and initial phases of the social movement. There were people who listened to voices of dissident priests. Most of the clergy were not involved in politics and afraid to speak against the regime. And when one pastor separates from the mass and speaks up, this extraordinary attitude gives birth to solidarity and collective identity.

5. Discussion

The aim of this article was to establish potential connections between religious mobilization, political protests and pilgrimage. It was built on a qualitative basis, with results deriving from content analysis of documents, declarations issued on TV broadcasts, and of 30 semi-structured interviews carried out with former participants to the Romanian anti-communist revolution in Timișoara, from 1989. In terms of religious mobilization, we analyzed three theoretical factors—institutional religion as a logistical source and provider of social capital, the chain reaction inside a particular religious group, and the influence of clergy/religious leaders, by means of messages with political connotations. With respect to the first element, theory reveals that Church can function as a logistical center for preparing demonstrations and as provider of social capital: It can act as a catalyst in the incipient stage of a protest—strengthening trust and ties between congregants, creating and activating a collective identity. In the former communist Romania, it was, indeed, about spaces for people to meet, to be informed, to discuss and to be drawn towards following their goals (at least in the case of Neo-protestant and Reformed denominations). Similarities to pilgrimage can be tracked down in common needs, aspirations and goals, with a sacred organization able to activate them. Secondly, theory speaks about a chain reaction taking place in a later phase of the protest: people potentially mobilizing others and contributing to the feeling of efficacy, to unveiling their true preferences and, finally, to creating trust, solidarity and collective identity. With respect to religious mobilization under these circumstances, results reveal marginal empirical evidence: According to most of the respondents, they felt a communion having less to do with religion or a certain denomination, and more with an overall getting together of people with similar thoughts and intentions. Nevertheless, some statements from non-believers confirm a religious type of solidarity driving them forward. Similarities to pilgrimage are to be found here in the elements of converting self-interest into common good, communion and collective action, arising from “emotive mobilization”. Last, but not least, the voice of the “sacred actor” (charismatic religious leader) can, theoretically, play a determinant part in the precursive and initial phases of the process, in mobilizing pilgrims and protesters alike: Results of this study confirm the supposition partially; religious leaders, able to act as political opinion formers and mobilize protesters—although, especially under a dictatorial regime, their role in this direction is limited. Messages with political connotations are isolated and rather have a subtle and circumstantial character, but they contribute to feeling trust, courage and efficacy—consequently, to creating the collective identity necessary for protesting.

6. Conclusions

The analysis in this article confirms the theoretical connections established between political protests and pilgrimage: common agenda and goals, remembrance, imagination, testimony, transformation, communion. These potential relational elements were investigated with respect to collective religious mobilization, found to play a similar, but slightly different part in the two processes. By means of the resourceful actor—in the form of an organizations, through religious people, or clergy/charismatic leaders—pilgrims and protesters can be stimulated, supported, mobilized towards reaching their goals. The elements of transformation and communion are the most important ones: “I” becomes “We”, in the search for a utopian society. The emerging state of communitas—as part, or result of the liminal, transformational process (the new orientation towards common interests)—develops the feeling of trust, it encourages the testimony about beliefs/true preferences; in the end, it creates solidarity and efficacy. The mechanism is a direct one in the case of pilgrims and a circumstantial—however, potentially decisive one—in the case of political protests: taking the shape of the opportunity for people to meet, of “the spark” igniting a demonstration. Differences appear not as much in terms of religious mobilization, but regarding the characteristics of the two types of movements: following spiritual vs. sociopolitical goals, respectively living a higher socio-religious experience vs. pursuing freedom and justice in a more secular manner.

The relevance of the article derives from the focus on a predominant Orthodox society in Eastern Europe, studied previously to a very small extent with respect to the chosen thematic area. In this particular context, political protests against a dictatorial regime have been found to be connected to the phenomenon of pilgrimage, through the common element of religious mobilization. This result adds significant knowledge to the tangential previous scientific approach. Further research can look at contemporary pilgrimage on a more substantial and empirical basis—what we did was to merely extract theoretical inputs on pilgrimage—and attempt to develop the comparison with protest behavior by means of a deeper and more direct analysis of the two, apparently very different, social phenomena.