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This is to certify that the
dissertation entitled

A STUDY OF THE EFFECTS OF VALUES AND
ECONOMICS ON THE PROVISION OF SOCIAL
WELFARE SERVICES IN POST-COMMUNIST
ROMANIA: AN EXAMINATION OF THE ROLE OF
FAITH-BASED PROGRAMS

presented by

Marcia R. Lampen

has been accepted towards fulfillment
of the requirements for the

Ph. D degree in Social Work

 

 

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A STUDY OF THE EFFECTS OF VALUES AND ECONOMICS ON THE
PROVISION OF SOCIAL WELFARE SERVICES IN POST-COMMUNIST
ROMANIA: AN EXAMINATION OF THE ROLE OF FAITH-BASED PROGRAMS
BY

Marcia R. Lampen

A DISSERTATION
Submitted to
Michigan State University
In partial fulfillment of the degree requirements
For the degree of
Doctor of Philosophy
School of Social Work

2004

ABSTRACT

This qualitative research explores the impact of values and economics on
the delivery of faith-based services in Romania. After the fall of Communism in
1989, Romania is still struggling to adjust economically, socially, and spiritually
after enduring repressive measures for half a century, most recently under the
cruel leadership of Nicolae Ceausescu. Nineteen participants involved with
social welfare agencies were interviewed to determine the degree of
sustainability, human rights provision, social development, cultural competence,
social inclusion, and security existing in the provision of services. Results
obtained indicate that although affiliation with religious organizations may have
negative implications in this country, the staff and leadership of these
organizations were sustained by their personal spiritual beliefs in the face of

poverty and corruption.

To Dorothy Tarrant and Roberta Bustin who generously provided me with shelter,
food, comfort, and wonderful insights about their mission in Romania.

iii

Acknowledgements

Completing this dissertation was only possible through the support and
encouragement of many people in many different facets of my life. First, I would
like to express my thanks to my committee: Rena Harold who chaired my
guidance and dissertation committee, Margaret Nielsen, Steve Gold, and Nancy
Crewe. I am especially indebted to Rena Harold, whose consistent
encouragement and vision were just exactly what I needed to persevere. The
other members’ willingness to persevere with me was essential to my success.

At home, my husband Steve was a patient counselor, proof-reader, and
made it possible for me to prioritize writing ahead of other household
responsibilities. My children, Russ, Dan, and Katie, made me realize that my role
as their mother also meant using self-discipline and finishing what I had started,
a degree that seemed at times so difficult to attain.

Finally, I was so blessed by the participation of all those who so
unselfishly gave of their time and energy to assist me in this research. Their
passion and dedication to assist those who “are the least of these” is an inspiring

contribution to the cause of social justice.

iv

TABLE OF CONTENTS

List of figures ........................................................................................................ x
Chapter One - Introduction ................................................................................... 1
Context of the Study ................................................................................... 4
Chapter Two - Review of Historical Economic and Cultural Influences ................. 9
Romania before Communism ..................................................................... 9
Romania under Communism .................................................................... 1O
Threats to Human Rights: Reproduction Policies .......................... 10

Threats to Security: Repression and the Securitate ...................... 11

Threats to Multiculturalism and Social Inclusion: Systematization. 14
Religious Repression ..................................................................... 15
Homogenization ............................................................................ 1 7

Threats to Social Development and Sustainability: Economic

Centralization ................................................................................ 1 9
Romania after Communism ...................................................................... 21
Struggles with the Transition .................................................................... 22

Decentralization and Social Saris“ ............. 24

Building Civil Society ................ Mag/STXRYLAMPEN ............. 26

The Role of NGOs .................... 2004 ............. 27

The Impact of Corruption ....................... 29

Adoption and Deinstitutionalization: Child Welfare Policies ........... 34
The Roma in Romania: A Legacy of Racism and Poverty ....................... 37

Religion in Romanian Policy and Culture ................................................. 39

Religion and Conflict ................................................................................ 43
The Transition to Privatization .................................................................. 45
Chapter Three - Literature Review ...................................................................... 49
Faith based NGOs in the International Community .................................. 49
Religion and Development ....................................................................... 51
Religion and Civil Society ......................................................................... 54
Non-Govemmental Agencies in Eastern Europe-Past Research ............. 58
Parameters of This Study ......................................................................... 60
Research Questions ................................................................................. 62
Social Development ....................................................................... 62
Human Rights. ............................................................................... 63
Multi-Culturalism/Cultural Competence. ........................................ 64
Social Exclusion or Inclusion. ........................................................ 65
Security. ........................................................................................ 66
Sustainability. ................................................................................ 66
Definition of Terms ................................................................................... 67
Free-standing congregations ......................................................... 68
Federated organizations ................................................................ 68
Parachurch organizations .............................................................. 68
Interdenominational and ecumenical bodies ................................. 68
Secular corporations ...................................................................... 68
Secular agency .............................................................................. 69

vi

Faith-based agency ....................................................................... 69

Religiousness ................................................................................ 69
Congregation ................................................................................. 70
Global ............................................................................................ 7O
lntemational ................................................................................... 7O
lntemational social work ................................................................ 70

Social welfare ................................................................................ 7O
Non-governmental organization (NGO) ......................................... 71
Culture ........................................................................................... 71
Values ........................................................................................... 71
Chapter Four — Research Design and Methodology ........................................... 72
Project Description ................................................................................... 72
Method of Inquiry ..................................................................................... 73
Constructivist Research Assumptions ...................................................... 74
Constructivism and Social Work ............................................................... 76
Designing the Study: Sampling Strategies ............................................... 80
Recruiting Respondents ........................................................................... 81
Participants .............................................................................................. 82
Interview Times and Locations ................................................................. 82
Data Analysis ........................................................................................... 83
Limitations of the Study ............................................................................ 86
Chapter Five - Results and Discussion ........................... I ................................... 88
Demographics of Romania Today ............................................................ 88

vii

Interviews in Bucharest ............................................................................ 91

Bernita Nicholas, Researcher on Street Children .......................... 93
Donna and Carmen, Child Welfare Administrators ........................ 96
Nanette Gonzalez, Direct Provider of Infant Care ....................... 103
Interviews in Rural Transylvania ............................................................ 110
Dorothy Tarrant, Director and Founder: Veritas Foundation ........ 112
Roberta Bustin, Pastor of the Nazarene Church ........................ 122
Elizabeth Patterson, American Volunteer .................................... 129
Bruce Olson, Director of Livada Orphan Care ............................. 134
Jane Wimmer, Grant-Writing Consultant ..................................... 139
Ileana Marin, Manager for a Funding Organization ..................... 141
Nick, a Peace Corp Volunteer ..................................................... 144
Petra, Mihaela, and Ginny, Romanian Employees of Veritas ...... 146
Daniel Verrnan, Public Health Director ........................................ 152
Interviews in Grand Rapids, Michigan .................................................... 157

Amber and Mihaela, Co-Directors of WEARS—December 2003 .157

Final Interview with Dorothy Tarrant—February 2004 ................. 160

Chapter Six - Discussion and Implications of the Findings ............................... 166
Social Development ............................................................................... 166
Human Rights ........................................................................................ 168
Multiculturalism/Cultu ral Competence .................................................... 1 70

Social Exclusion or Inclusion .................................................................. 174
Security .................................................................................................. 176

viii

Sustainability .......................................................................................... 179

Implications of the Research for Social Work Practice ........................... 187
Faith-Based Initiatives in the United States and Beyond ........................ 190
Background lnforrnation .............................................................. 190
The Need for Further Study ......................................................... 191

Appendix - Copy of Approval Letter from the University Committee on Research
Involving Human Subjects with sample Consent Form ..................................... 193

References ....................................................................................................... 196

List of figures

Figure 1 Contemporary Value— Policy Configuration (VanWormer, 1997), ........... 5
Figure 2 Constructivist Research Methods (Rodwell, 1998) ............................... 75
Figure 3 Reasons for Qualitative, Constructivist Research (Padgett, 1998) ....... 79

Figure 4 Map of Romania ................................................................................... 89

Chapter One - Introduction

Working in Romania changed my ideas about many things, not the least of
which was the nature of social work. Working with agencies that provide social
services in different parts of Romania, has given me an appreciation for the
structure of the US. welfare system, which I had previously assumed was the
“norm” for services, yet I also have a much better sense of being the “other" and
avoiding the assumptions that what works for the United States can work
anywhere. I have a new knowledge of the difficulties inherent in a country making
the transition to a privatized market system while simultaneously dismantling the
current public one. I have a heightened awareness of the reciprocity between
nations. (For example, I discovered that when Romania supported the US. war
efforts in Iraq, its foreign aid increased.) l have come to realize that lingering pain
and wounds occur on an individual as well as a collective level when government
interventions turn into abuse and deception. Finally, I have an enhanced
understanding of what is basic and essential for social well-being in any part of
the world.

My experience in Romania left me with the belief that social workers have
the ability to bridge gaps and model tolerance and acceptance internationally
because of a code of ethics that surpasses the barriers presented by language,
culture, customs, or religion. More specifically, I believe that faith-based non-

governmental organizations have the potential to promote justice and economic

equality for marginalized groups within a country that has long been marginalized
by the rest of the world community.

The purpose of this research is to explore the impact of values and
economics--- the assumptions that guide people’s behavior and the monetary
factors that define their scope of action—on the delivery of social welfare
services in Romania. I will focus explicitly on the role of faith-based programs as
service providers.

The role of faith-based agencies in social welfare delivery is an issue that
has gained prominence in the United States with President Bush’s support for the
funding and proliferation of this type of privatized social services. Since the fall of
communism in Romania, a number of faith—based organizations from the US.
have stepped in to fill the gap in social services in that country as well. In light of
this opportunity for American non-governmental organizations (NGOs) to become
involved in Romania, the role faith-based organizations play in the Romanian
context deserves attention.

To understand what constitutes effective social work in Romania requires
the social worker from the United States to examine his or her own assumptions
about what is universal to social work and what aspects of social service delivery
must be tailored to the needs of a particular culture. The ethnocentrism endemic
in much of American culture has unfortunately carried over into the social work
profession; it is easy for a welfare services agency working in another country to

operate in ways that do not fit that cultural context.

Challenging American assumptions can start with broadening the “person
in the environment" focus to a “country in the world” perspective. Just as a
human being can be understood both as an individual and as a product of her or
his environment, Romania can be understood both by surveying its current
cultural and political landscape and by taking into account the effects of its
history and its relationships with other members of the global community.

The essence of international social work is in lntemational professional
action; effective social work programs in the global context today must be
characterized by cultural understanding and advocacy, not just aid. As Walter
Lorenz (1994) suggests:

lntemationalizing social work means critically questioning the conventional

boundaries of solidarity, questioning the ideological assumption, dressed

up as economic arguments, behind measures of exclusion, pushing out
the boundaries of solidarity to a global perspective, and ultimately
contributing to a shift from the welfare discourse to one on human rights

(p. 167).

What this means in Romania will be the focus of this study.

Despite its relatively narrow focus, the results of this study have
significance for more than just one country. Exploring the welfare services that
are currently available for vulnerable people in Romania can help Americans
understand the social inadequacies created when capitalism and privatization
dominate in the absence of an adequate “safety net” of welfare services. Also,

certain aspects of Romania’s situation are common to many industrialized

countries in various stages of economic development. A better understanding of
what works and does not work in Romania can therefore lend insight into how to
provide welfare services that will be truly effective in other parts of the world as
well. It is my hope that one result of this study will be that it will further
discussions about the nature of social work, especially in terms of the emerging
role of faith-based organizations.
_antext of t_he Stu_dy

Romania’s social welfare services are developed and delivered against a
complex historical backdrop, shaped by the reciprocal influences of values and
economics. As Katherine Van Wormer (1997) states, the social welfare, poverty,
disability, disease, and care of the young and old have been basic concerns of
society the world over. However, in the magnitude of the problems and the
chosen response to them, there are “vast international differences,” created
primarily by the social values of the people involved (VanWormer, 1997, p. 3).
Van Wormer illustrates this hypothesis with a figure that indicates the flow and
direction of influence and examples of each factor. As indicated in Figure 1,
social welfare programs are products of their time. This model has been adapted

to reflect the Romanian profile.

Figure 1 Contemporary Value— Policy Configuration (VanWormer, 1997),

 

 

Patriarchal family
Intellectual / Physical
development

 

Civil society/ Social capital (——-)
Democracy/ Human Rights
Religious / Spiritual practice

 

 

 

Black market / Corruption

Political / Government
instability

Limited tax revenues / Inflation

Unemployment / Poverty

Trade balance / European

 

 

 

 

 

 

Industry / Achievement Union
Independence Foreign assistance /World
Cultural homogeneity Bank
Transparency I Trust lntemational aid / Foreign
NGOs
Values - Economics
Welfare programs for children!
elderly/ Roma
Community development
Education opportunities
Research / Training
, Religious freedom
Policies Affordable housing
Citizen participation
Decentralizing government
Employee lay offs
Closing public facilities
Deinstitutionalization
. Less bureaucracy
Agencies Indigenous control/leadership

 

Partnerships with foreign

consultants/NGO’s

Local control of government

 

 

i

 

lntemal Dynamics

 

New sustainability

Decreased financial security
Staff from foreign countries
Grant writing necessary for

funding
Program and need
assessments

Low employee wages/secu rity
Conflicts regarding diversity

 

 

 

The particularity of each culture’s values and economic situation leads to
the inevitable discussion of whether there are universal social work values that
can be applied to international professional action. Lynne Healy (2001) suggests
that if universalism and relativism are seen as a continuum, the notion of a set of
universal rights is balanced by consideration for the maintenance of cultural
traditions. “To formulate a set of basic principles for social work, which can be
adapted to cultural and social settings” is the first statement of the “lntemational
Declaration of Ethical Principles” of the International Federation of Social
Workers (ISFW, 1994, Section 2.1).

But what are these principles? Rosemary Link (1999) identifies four
common principles that she believes apply to social work around the world: (a)
Be responsible in professional actions; (b) Act in a way that enhances peoples’
lives; (c) Focus on the process as well as the task; (d) Act with cultural
understanding. Link’s principles have guided my attempt to understand the
Romanian context and promote competence in the delivery of social welfare
services in that context. In doing so, I have researched the relevant historical and
cultural influences on Romanian values and economics, which in turn have
affected the policies underlying the delivery of social welfare in Romania.

Lynne Healy (2001) proposes that the social work profession needs to
define itself as a global profession rather than as exclusively an American or
European vocation. In developing research questions, I have attempted to avoid

nation-specific concepts, using concepts of more universal relevance. Healy

outlines six “globally relevant” concepts for social work dialogue and theory
development (2001, p. 266): social development; human rights; multiculturalism,
or cultural competence; social exclusion or inclusion; security; and sustainability.
These concepts have helped me link social work to international action in this
study. They have been used as the framework for the research questions, and
indeed for the context of evaluating and analyzing the results. Choosing social
concepts of mutual interest between Americans and Romanians, hopefully, will
encourage reciprocal learning and the sharing of resources and knowledge,
benefiting participants in both countries. For example, child welfare and
adoption, racism, and lack of social and economic capital are shared problems
for social workers from virtually any country or nation.

Chapter Two will further describe the values and economic factors of the
current Romanian climate, placing them in their historical context—paying special
attention to the period of Communism under Nicolae Ceausescu. During
Romania’s era of Communism, 1944-1989, the government’s policies of duplicity
taught the people to deny the existence of social problems. Government policies
of homogenization ingrained in Romanians a suspicion of anything that could be
considered “deviant” and of ethnic or religious differences. Economic hardships
brought on by a history of exploitation of Romania’s human and material
resources have left Romanians with little of the initiative or resolve required to
succeed in capitalistic ventures. Excessive bureaucracies and rampant
corruption have made establishing legitimate businesses so difficult as to be

prohibitive.

lnforrning the context and content of my research inquiries is the belief
that knowledge of and sensitivity to these values and economic issues is
essential for understanding the potential barriers to successfully providing
assistance in Romania. Every aspect of the Romanian culture and social
services provision—social development, human rights, cultural competence,
social inclusion or exclusion, security, and sustainability—has been affected by

these events.

Chapter Two - Review of Historical Economic and Cultural Influences
Romania before Communism

Romania’s history as a nation goes back at least 10,000 years. Located at
the crossroads of Europe and Asia, the Romanian lands from earliest history
were vulnerable to pillaging from more powerful neighboring tribes. Written
history records that the country was invaded by Persia in 514 BC. and
conquered by the Macedonians under Alexander the Great in 335 BC.
(Groza,V., Ileana,D. & Irwin,l. 1999). The Roman Emperor Trajan arrived in AD.
106. The Romans turned the war-ravaged nation into an organized, fully
functioning Roman province and declared Latin the official language. Roman
missionaries converted the population to Christianity, and in 313 AD. the Milan
Decree made Christianity the official religion of Romania as well as the rest of the
Roman Empire.

Wars followed the Roman withdrawal from the region. From the second to
the 14th century, various barbarian tribes (such as Goths, Slavs, and Bulgars)
invaded the country, until, in 1500, the principalities fell under Turkish rule.
Although they were never an integral part of the Turkish Empire, Romanians
were seen by Western Europeans as serving to save the civilized world from
further encroachment by the infidel Moslem Turk. After the Turks came the
Austro-Hungarian Hapsburgs (Groza et al., 1999).

Independence did not come until the period between the two wor1d wars.

lnterwar progress came to a halt, however, with the onset of the Second World

War and the early years of the communist regime. The burden of war was heavy
on Romania—its oil and agricultural resources were coveted by both the Allies
and the Axis powers. At the end of the war, Romania was, to a large extent,
materially and stmcturally destroyed. On September 12, 1944, the Soviet Union
negotiated an armistice with a weakened Romania that gave the Soviets
practically complete political and economic control over Romania (Klepper,
2002).
Romania under Communism

Threats to Human Rights: Reproduction Policies

Gheorgiou-Dej, the first Communist ruler (1948-1965) was more or less a
Soviet puppet, but when Nicolae Ceausescu took power in 1965, he instituted a
more nationalistic “cult of personality” (Groza, et al.). In 1974 he appointed
himself president and, along with his wife Elena, began to enact a series of
intricate plans to gain prestige, and power over the Romanian people. Lacking
the capital base of market economies, the Romanian socialist economy
depended on the availability of labor, which Ceausescu secured by prioritizing
and controlling the development of the labor force (Kligman, 1998). Abortion was
banned in 1966, and the state demanded that each family produce four or five
children as a way of forcing population growth. The marriage age for women was
legally reduced to fifteen, and monthly medical examinations of women of
childbearing age were made compulsory (Kligman).

Since the failure to reproduce was considered threatening to the

existence of the nation state, no citizen remained unaffected by these policies.

10

The intervention of the Ceausescu government into reproductive issues also
blurred the distinctions between public and private privilege. As one Romanian
woman commented, “When the state usurps the private, the body is undressed in
public” (Kligman, 1998, p.5). In Ceausescu’s Romania, the reach of the state into
all domains became a normal feature of life.

The docton'ng of statistics helped maintain the fiction of ever-greater
achievements and amplify public loyalty to the regime. While government
propaganda was tmmpeting the extraordinary quality of life made possible by
socialism, however, Romania, in 1989, had one of the highest infant mortality
rates as well as the highest maternal mortality rate in Europe. Between 1965 and
1 989, approximately 9,452 women are thought to have died from abortion-related
Complications (Newman, 1991). It has been estimated that during the 1980s
“every year approximately 500 othenrvise healthy women of childbearing age died
from post abortion hemorrhage, sepsis, abdominal trauma and poisoning
(Stephenson, 1992). In addition to the medical and health concerns glossed over
by the socialist propaganda apparatus, by the 1980’s a widespread lack of food,

h eat, and electricity had earned Romania the bitter name of “Ceauswitz”

("(l igman, 1998. p- 147)-

 

Threats to Security: Repression a_nd the Securitate
The populace’s apparent loyalty to the Ceausescu regime was preserved

Q.“- . . . .
y by threats, for example, job security was guaranteed by law—as long as the

"kers acted according to expectations. Non-compliance with any type of state

11

 

request would mean the loss of one’s job, which would mean the loss of ability to
provide for basic needs and of any access to social welfare benefits. Obtaining a
new job was made more difficult by official residence permit requirements and
policies of restricted mobility that confined people to particular locales, making
possible government surveillance in other areas of daily life.
Legal residence requirements were carefully monitored. In every socialist
apartment building lived a superintendent who compiled data every fortnight
about the building’s occupants: the number of residents, and the presence of any
foreign guests or relatives who had to be legally registered with local district
militia if they stayed more than five days. Foreigners, other than closest relatives
of Romanians, were barred from staying with Romanian citizens and had to stay
in hotels (Gabanyi, 2000). Job vulnerability served as a means of psychological
blackmail. No one knew whom to trust, since a fellow worker might or might not
Work for the secret police, or Securitate, who frequently carried out administrative
harassment (Kligman, 1998).
Thus the Securitate was as much a state of mind as an instrument of state
te "I‘or. Dennis Deletant (1995) asserts that fear became a great labor-saving
de\Iice for the Ceausescu regime; since Romanians believed that the visible
:2. rgsence of officers represented only a small percentage of the actual network of
in f9 rmers. Romanians have cited figures ranging from one in ten to one in three
"I”. Q rTibers of the population (i.e. 2.3-8 million) to estimate the Securitate’s
St fig hgth. However, there is no solid evidence to support any of these figures,

a h
Q1 . if numbers actually were this high, they would have to include all casual

12

informants and busybodies rather than official officers of the secret police
(Bacon, 1 984).

Nevertheless, Romanians’ suspicions of surveillance were hardly
unfounded, and anonymous citizens and secret police were not the communist
government’s only informants. On March 28, 1978, Ceausescu ordered that
every telephone in Romania (a total of over 3,000,000) be replaced with a new

one- These new phones, created by the president’s “security scientists,” were
actually very sensitive microphones capable of recording the conversations in the
room they had been installed in, whether the phone was in use or not. These
microphones were also installed in ashtrays, vases, radios, and televisions, so
that on any given night ten million microphones could monitor what was going on
in Romanian homes and public places (Groza, et al.).

The Ceausescu government’s policies of secrecy and denial also
eXte nded to its treatment of social problems. The government used propaganda
to maintain the fiction of socialist progress and to avoid the necessity of providing
we "are services. To maintain a positive ideological agenda, the government
m ado it clear that alcoholism, crime, prostitution, drug abuse, unemployment,

a fig poverty were forbidden topics and off-limits for academic research (Pestoff,

2000, edit. Iatridis).
The effects of the government’s practices of repression and surveillance

ha
ye had a profound psychological effect on the Romanian people. As one
R
Q "r‘lanian reflected, “lfl had to define my life before 1989 with one word, it would

bfi
“duplicity” (lonita, 1996, p. 41). Lying served as an important way for the

13

people to protect the official version of socialist reality and at the same time
protect the reality that they actually lived. Duplicity allowed people to attempt to
adjust their behavior according to both their interests and those of the system.
They lied to maintain their positions, keep their jobs, and ensure that children
would be enrolled in school. They spent large amounts of money “greasing the
good will of persons with redistributive power” in the attempt to care for their
extended families or to arrange an illegal abortion (Kligman, 1998, p.240). These
practices did not die with the fall of communism; even today, Romanians
commonly lie, cheat, and steal to preserve what is theirs.
Threats to Multiculturalism and Socg Inclusion: Svstematization
To further control the population, the communist government adopted a
policy of “systematization” in the early 19703 as a way to create new culture.
Historic rural villages and city centers were replaced with apartment buildings
and high-rise commercial complexes. Ostensibly to gain farmland by destroying
“non-viable” villages, the Ceausescu government demolished half of the
cou ntry’s 13,000 villages (US Library of Congress Federal Research Division,
1 990, p.13). lt dismantled neighborhoods and broke up extended family networks
by forcing peOple to relocate to large block complexes and live among strangers.
Ceausescu found control easier to maintain when people did not know or trust
38 Ch other and were concentrated in a few locations rather than spread
th r0 ughout the countryside. Ultimately, he envisioned that the nation would be
<1<>tteczl with apartment complexes with communal eating halls. The

Syste matization policy went so far as to include plans to standardize what

14

Romanians ate, so that they would all be identically nourished wnh meals
prepared according to scientific indicators (Kligman, 1998, p.35).
The effect of Systematization on Romanian values can be seen today in
Romanians’ avoidance of contact with, or rejection of, anything that can be
considered “deviant”, such as infants abandoned at birth, or those with physical
or emotional impairments. Suspicion and distrust of the Gypsy population and
their cultural differences persists. In contrast with their colorful clothing and
gaudy jewelry, the majority of Romanians wear similar black coats and pants.
Uniform hairstyles and a certain red hair dye (that had an unusual appearance on
their black hair) was used by a majority of the women. Men are consistently
clean shaven, sporting short haircuts and conservative suits or sport coats.
Behaviorally, in public, the citizens are subdued and lack verbal or facial
animation, a sense of protocol and uniformity still exists. Philosophically, there
is still a sense that as citizens, they are powerless, and compliance to rules and
bureaucracy is tolerated and expected.
Religious Repression
After 1984, also under the guise of urban renewal under systematization,
ma ny churches of all denominations in and around Bucharest were demolished
by government orders (U.S. Library of Congress, 1990). By 1988, approximately
2 5 Churches had been razed, and 60 or 70 more were scheduled for destruction.
so me of the buildings leveled were more than 300 years old, and many had been

i: l a Ssified as architectural monuments.

15

Although officially atheistic, as of 1989, the communist state recognized
and financially supported 15 religious groups. These officially recognized
religious groups and the scope of their activity were controlled by the Department
of Cults and were subject to strict regulations. For example, religious education
for young people was expressly forbidden, and religious classes in general were
prohibited (US. Dept. of State, 2002). Severe restrictions limited the printing and
import of Bibles and other religious books and materials, and the distribution of
such materials was treated as a criminal offense. The state did not recognize
religious holidays and often asked for “voluntary labor” on important holidays in
an apparent effort to reduce church attendance and erode religious influence. In

addition, churches could not engage in any religious activity outside officially
designated religious buildings. This restriction prohibited open-air services,
pi Igrimages, evangelism, and community work. Consequently, the efforts of
social workers in faith-based agencies, and their efforts to involve citizens, is in
direct contrast to the limits placed in the recent past.
Today, Romanians consider the Orthodox Church to be the “true church”
based on the government policies and the doctrines of the church. This
co nviction makes them disposed to be suspicious of the presence of what appear
to be “new” Protestants and of the motives behind Protestant faith-based
39 encies’ provision of social services, thinking these newcomers are only looking

to recruit more members for their churches.

16

Homogenization

In addition to standardizing housing and religious practice, the Romanian

government decided that the nation itself was to be “reconstituted” through a

neo-Stalinist social engineering project known as omogenizare

(“homogenization”). Nicolas Ceausescu proclaimed:

Under socialism, we are witnessing the formation of unique concepts
about the world and life deriving from dialectical and historical materialism.
Moreover, there is the formation of a new science and new culture, the
crystallization of a new and advanced ethic, which contribute to the
formation of a new person—the person of the socialist and communist
society. In the socialist society, a process has begun to make the village
more like the city, to encourage the gradual disappearance of classes, and
the homogenization of society, gradually erasing the fundamental
differences between physical and mental labor (National Conference of
the Communist Party, 1972).

This understanding of Romania’s cultural destiny implied that differences

we re equivalent to deviance, whether they be dangerous foreign influences from

th e imperialist, capitalistic West, or the dangerous effects of the dissidents,

reformers, and others inside the country who insisted on maintaining ethnic

id e ntities or human rights (Kligman, 1998). The government’s stated objective

Na 8 to gradually eliminate national differences, but their real aim was to eliminate

eth n ic minorities (Pons. 1999)-

17

Ethnic minorities make up almost 12% of Romania’s population. They
include Hungarians, Germans, Serbs, Ukrainians, Roma (Gypsies), and other
groups—including a Jewish population that decreased to about 18,000 from over
800,000 before World War II as a result of deportations, murders, and massive
emigration (Pilon, 1992, p. 5).

The situation of ethnic Hungarians in Romania is especially sensitive,
since Hungary borders on Romania, and they became Romania’s largest
minority with the annexation of Transylvania (home to 1.6 million Hungarians)
after Wor1d War I. The distinctiveness of Hungarian culture was under serious
threat especially in the mid-19603, when Hungarian schools were closed and
Hungarian Bibles were used for toilet paper; by 1984, all radio and television

broadcasting in the Hungarian language had been terminated (Pilon, 1992).
The Roma people, like other ethnic minorities, were considered foreign
elements that had to become Romanian; their own culture was considered one of
poVerty and underdevelopment (Pons, 1999). The government went so far as to
attempt to deny the existence of any Roma community in Romanian society. The
state confiscated the tools and materials used for traditional occupations such as
metalworking, carpentry, and jewelry-making. Roma who continued in their
tra des were forced back to work in factories or agriculture. Police raids against
R0 ma, during which jewelry and other possessions were seized, were allegedly a
‘30 mmon occurrence (Rostas, 2000).
The execution of Ceausescu in 1989 brought new hope for Romania’s

citizens in general, but the situation for Roma in a market economy has remained

18

precarious. Limited work skills, carried over from the communist government’s
suppression of Roman crafts, have left the Roma people with high
unemployment rates. Added to this is a tendency among many of Romania’s
other citizens to make the Roma scapegoats. In a society encouraged to be
homogenous, ethnic differences become deviant and even racism is considered
somewhat acceptable. Today, violence against Roma, which had not been a
feature of communist Romania, has become widespread and even tolerated
(Kenrick, 1998).
Threa_ts to Social Development and Sustainabilig: Economic
Centralization
Clearly, the economic policies during Ceausescu’s era affected more than
the Roma and other minority groups. As Ceausescu consolidated his power
politically and socially, he was also able to pursue his own agenda in economic
policy. Romania’s progress along the path of “socialist construction” was
acknowledged in 1965 when the country’s name was changed from the
Romanian People’s Republic to the Socialist Republic of Romania (World Bank,
1 999). The nationalization of Romania’s industrial, financial, and transportation
a ssets had been accomplished by 1950, and by 1962 some 90% of its farmland
h ad been collectivized. Industrialization had encouraged peasant migration from
th e Country to the better-paying jobs available in the cities, leaving an aged and
in Creasingly poorly qualified labor force to produce the nation’s food (World Bank,

1 999). The socialist welfare state in Romania was moderately successful for a

19

while, but with the onset of economic difficulties and poor economic responses,
stagnation began to set in during the 1970s (Zamfir, 1998).
Two primary factors contributed to the decline. The first was economic.
The Ceausescu regime pursued a policy of “Stalinist gigantomania,” constructing
sprawling steel and petrochemical plants with capacities far greater than the
domestic supplies of raw materials and energy could support. At the same time
as Romania was investing in steel and petrochemicals, world market prices for
steel and refined oil products collapsed. A devastating earthquake in 1977, high
interest rates charged by Western creditors, and rising prices for imported crude
oil compounded the problem (World Bank, 1999, p. 7). The second factor was
the personality cult of Nicolae Ceausescu, which he initiated soon after visiting
China and North Korea, where he was impressed by the pomp and hero worship
of its leaders. (Maniu, 2001 ).
To pay for the foreign debt Romania accumulated during its accelerated

industrialization during the 19703, Ceausescu’s regime took extreme measures
to reduce imports and maximize export earnings. Food rationing was imposed so
that agricultural products could be exported for foreign currency. In December,
1982, Ceausescu announced that by 1990, all foreign debt would be paid off, a
feat he actually succeeded in accomplishing by March, 1989 (Klepper, 2002).
Food rationing was followed by gasoline rationing, restrictions on industrial and
domestic heat and hot water, and electric power cuts. By the late 1980s, these
measures became so severe that there was hardly any food in the markets,

people were dying from lack of heat, and hospitals were faced with unannounced

20

power cuts that interfered with surgical procedures, in spite of the fact that private
energy consumption in Romania accounted for only a small amount of the
national electric power usage (Klepper).

Ceausescu spent more government funds to give Romania a communist
“look.” Over one-fifth of central Bucharest was demolished to rebuild the city in a
socialist style. Many people died due to Injury and unsafe working conditions
during the erection of the “People’s Palace” in Bucharest, now the Parliament
House—the world’s second-largest building, after the Pentagon. These
infrastructural investments deprived the country of its very last resources (Maniu,
2001)

Romania after Communism

Ceausescu’s policies of repression and control of individual liberties,
forced “Romanianization” of ethnic minorities, destruction of the nation’s
architectural heritage, and adherence to failed economic policies served to push
this once proud country, “the land of the Romans”, into a political and economic
situation that eventually triggered the violent overthrow of its Communist regime.
Nicolae Ceasescu and his wife, Elena, were condemned to death and executed
by a firing squad on Christmas Day, 1989. A jubilant Romania celebrated the
news of the executions by singing long-banned traditional carols (U.S. Library of
Congress, 1990, p.18).

Nevertheless, not unlike a person scarred by the effects of an abusive
childhood, the Romanian people collectively share in the trauma of a past that

cannot be as easily disposed of as their ruling body. To take this into account, my

21

research questions will focus on the historical effects of a culture and economy
that is attempting to integrate change, but is saddled with a past that provides an
often cloudy lens and a distorted paradigm for the interpretation and integration
of future interventions.

Struggles with the Trg_nsition

Following the overthrow of Ceausescu and with his increasingly
oppressive police state, the Social Democrats—a party composed of former
communists and led by President Ion Iliescu—dominated the government until
1996, when they were swept from power by a fractious coalition of centrist
parties, the Democratic Convention of Romania (CIA-The World Fact Book,
2003). The victory was hailed in Romania and in the West as a historic turning
point, a new beginning for Romania. The new leader, Emil Constantinescu,
promised radical reforms: an accelerated return to a market economy,
privatization, and a major drive against corruption (Klepper, 2002, p 257).
However, inefficiency in the party coalition, rising inflation, a declining economy,
and intrinsic con'uption during his term seemed to ensure failure in the next
election, and Constantinescu decided not to run. Ion Iliescu was reelected in
2000.

Iliescu ran in the 2000 campaign on a platform of gradual economic
reform, and promised to safeguard social provisions and reduce social inequality.
He also emphasized his determination to prepare Romania for membership in
the European Union, in spite of the need for difficult economic reform and

privatization (World of Business Report, 2001). In October 1999, European

22

Commission President Romano Prodi had pledged up to euro65 million annually
to facilitate Romania’s integration into the EU. Romania was told to address its
weak economy and judiciary, and the fate of over 100,000 children in child care
institutions. The target date for entry into the European Community was set for
January 2007.

The World Bank reported that Romania is the European country
(excluding the former Soviet Union) with the highest proportion of people below
the poverty line; around 40% of its inhabitants can barely afford to feed
themselves (World of Information Business Report, 2001). The unemployed,
women, young adults, pensioners, large families, single parent families, Roma,
and homeless people are the social groups that are paying the highest social
price for the post-communist transformations. Women are affected since the
provision of child care services and social service programs for the elderly have
been eliminated, and these responsibilities usually become theirs. Young adults
are finding it difficult to find jobs after they finish high school, and without
previous jobs are ineligible for unemployment benefits. Pensioners are at risk
since, although retirement benefits were developed during communism, these
have not been adjusted for inflation and thus provide inadequate levels of
support. The Roma have suffered due to increasing racial discrimination and lack
of education. The state’s withdrawal from housing responsibilities has added to
the growth of the homeless population. The capitalist model, implemented in
Romania, has produced an economic good at the price of distributive inequity,

unstable prices, unequal wages and unemployment (Plionis & Plionis, 2000).

23

Decentralization and Social Services

 

In an attempt to further distance itself from the failed institutions and
practices of central planning during Communism, the new government under
Iliescu immediately identified as a primary objective public administration reform
across all levels of government. The administration adopted a new Law on Local
Public Finance (1999) that provided for a significant restructuring of fiscal
authority of public service provision (Document of the World Bank, 2002). The
law transferred authority for the financing of aspects of many social services—
including education, social assistance, and social services such as housing and
community services—to local governments.

The desire to make a successful transition to capitalism gives Romania
strong motivation for pursuing decentralization, since stable local government
institutions and effective public administration are essential for a well-functioning
market economy (Document of the World Bank, 2002). Another force driving
decentralization is the European Union’s policy on the role of local governments,
contained in the European Charter of Local Self-Govemment, adopted in 1988.
The charter emphasizes the role of local governments and requires that their
powers be recognized in a country’s national constitution. The European charter
also emphasizes the principle of subsidiary, by which public responsibilities are
to be carried out by those officials closest to the people (Document of the World
Bank, 2002).

In Romania, local governments consist of judets (counties) which are

comprised of municipalities, towns and communes (consisting of one or more

24

villages). Councils are the ruling bodies, designated as ‘judet councils’ referring
to county administration and ‘local councils’ referring to the administrations of
municipalities, towns and communes. In 1996, there were 41 judets, 79
municipalities, 182 towns and 2,682 communes in Romania. The legislation
passed in 1999, puts all forms of local government on an equal footing. (For
example, there is no hierarchical relationship between judets and local councils.)
The new legislation does not make it clear how roles and responsibilities
are to be distributed across the levels of government and among social service
institutions. Responsibility for tax collection has been fragmented and
uncoordinated. The 1998 Law on Public Patrimony has failed to adequately
explicate and secure property ownership. Prior to 1998, the national government
was in control of all public property, including the property directly associated
with functions performed by the local governments. Now, who has authority over
property ownership is unclear, a fact that has created significant ambiguity
between levels of government regarding responsibility for managing services.
The deficiencies in the decentralization process extend to social services
provision as well. Local governments have become responsible for financing
nearly all social assistance benefit programs and services, including orphanages
and homes for the elderly, as well as an increasing share of education expenses.
Local governments also have responsibility for managing social assistance
institutions, and contracting services with non-governmental organizations. This
has presented difficulties for local governments that lack the fiscal capacity to

assume these new responsibilities. Given the limited public resources available,

25

local governments and service providers, including schools, have increasingly
turned to households and civil society organizations for funds. Donor
organizations and NGOs have become involved in financing child protection
activities and services for the poor and disabled. In education, schools have
relied increasingly on parents for support.

These developments have particular implications for equity, as the poorest
local governments also have more limited alternative funding sources, and
increasing costs of services to households have the greatest impact on the poor
(Documents of the World Bank, 2002). There is no correlation between the level
of poverty in a judet and the amount of resources the national government
allocates to it for social assistance. As a result, some local councils have stopped
providing certain services altogether; the most commonly threatened have been
welfare programs. Social service provision becomes especially difficult in rural
areas, which have fewer transportation and telecommunications capabilities,
resulting in lower availability of facilities and personnel. The Roma (Gypsy)
minority also is particularly vulnerable to poverty. Economic and cultural factors,
such as a language barrier and the near absence of Roma personnel working in
education, health, and social protection, limits the accessibility of this community
to social services.

Building Civil Socieg

Recent theorists, such as Robert Putnam, professor of public policy at

Harvard University, suggest that democratic societies are healthiest when civil

26

society exists in abundance. In the article, “The Prosperous Community”, Putnam
concludes:

They [the healthy communities] have become rich because they were

civic. The social capital embodied in norms and networks of civic

engagement seems to be a precondition for economic development, as
well as for effective government. Development economists take note:

Civics matters (1993, p. 2).

To be successful, then, Romania must build up civic involvement. To date,
however, the Romanian public, in general, has a limited involvement in local
affairs. After decades of authoritarian rule under Ceausescu, civil society remains
weak. (Document of the World Bank, 2002). The repression of individual
expression, lack of engagement in a democratic process, and centralization of
government agencies during Communism have contributed to the decline in civic
involvement. It is a process, however, that non-governmental organizations may
be in a position to help reverse.

The Role of NGO§

The World Bank and other international aid groups, including the United
States lntemational Agency for Development, are learning that their best
investments are often those that build capacity for citizen voice and impact. John
Clark of the World Bank pays particular attention to the role of nongovernmental
organizations in expanding civil society; that role, he argues, is frequently more
important than specific support for housing, food distribution, and so on

(O'Connell,1999).

27

In this sphere, the outlook in Romania is more hopeful. NGOs—many of
them from other countries—are emerging as actors in local affairs. A law passed
in May, 2000, eased registration processes for such organizations and clarified
the relationship between NGO’s and local governments by making provisions for
sharing information and resources, such as office space.

Cooperation from the government with these intermediary associations
can be seen merely as a solution of last resort from a weakened local
government and struggling privatized firms. But given the tremendous economic
constraints the Romanian government faces, the intervention of voluntary
organizations or non-governmental agencies may be able to furnish solutions
during the current stage that could be then be used as a “building block” for more
permanent policies (Thomadkis, 2000, p. 31).

One positive outcome of decentralization is that when social services are
provided at the local level rather than at the national level, they can maintain a
non-bureaucratic organization and be grounded on local information that
provides more accurate assessment of needs and fewer opportunities for
corruption. Not only do local associations provide solutions that are more
transparent, but they also give citizens greater opportunity for involvement, since
they are more open to public opinion and collective action. And local social
service providers can use both monetary and non-monetary sources of support,
such as temporary shelter for a homeless child or abused woman, or

participation in painting and cleaning a new office; the latter is especially

28

a:

Re

3m

important in a society that has difficulty collecting taxes and faces tremendous
economic constraints (Thomadakis, 2000).

The Impact of Corruption

Unfortunately, corruption (commonly understood as the misuse of public
office for private gain) seems to have expanded during the decade of transition,
when the institutions of restraint were weak and the rules governing society and
businesses were being rewritten wholesale (Document of the World Bank, 2001).
The process of transition from state-owned economy into private ownership
through privatization, in addition to the restitution of property, created fertile
ground for both petty and large-scale corrupt practices in both the private and the
public sector (Southeast European Legal Development Initiative [SELDI], 2002,
p. 5).

However, there is evidence of increased involvement by Romanian society
and government in addressing corruption. Both governmental and non-
governmental bodies are becoming more active in the effort to find solutions.
Government efforts have centered on improving legislation and strengthening
enforcement; non-governmental groups have aimed at awareness raising using
surveys and other tools (Document of the World Bank, 2001).

In 2000, recognizing the need for information on the profile of corruption,
the government of Romania requested the preparation of a diagnostic study of
Romanian businesses, households, and government agencies. The World Bank
and Management Systems lntemational (MSI), an implementing partner of the

United States Agency for lntemational Development, responded by conducting a

29

study that culminated in the report Diagnostic Surveys of Corruption in Romania.
The survey data—collected with the cooperation of 353 Romanian officials, 417
enterprise managers, and perhaps most importantly, 1,050 ordinary people who
agreed to be surveyed for the project—reflect the opinions and real experiences
of the people who interact with the state and implement state policies (Document
of the World Bank, 2001).

The survey results show that corruption is perceived by the public to be
widespread and to have achieved the status of normalcy. About two-thirds of the
Romanians surveyed expressed the belief that “all” or “most” officials are corrupt.
Half of all households reported that bribery is part of everyday life, while only one
in eleven reported bribes to be completely unnecessary (Document of the World
Bank, 2001). Forty-two percent of households reported that they either had been
made to feel that a bribe was necessary or had directly offered bribes, or atentie
(“attention”), to public officials during the previous twelve months.

In the opinions of those surveyed in both households and businesses,
corruption exacerbates poverty either directly, through a decline in the standard
of living, or indirectly, by exacerbating income inequality. The burden of
payments was shown to be regressive, with poorer households paying a larger
portion of their income in the form of bribes. (Poor households paid twice as
much as medium-income households, which in turn paid twice as much, in
percentage terms, as rich households.) In the survey of households, respondents

were asked about their experiences in dealing with 23 governmental bodies; the

30

results indicated that at least some of respondents had paid atentie to every one
of those bodies.

Households were most likely to have made unofficial payments for
services from the health sector (66%). Atentie was paid by 2 out of 3
respondents who had recently visited to the hospital, and by between 32% and
57% of those who had visited other types of medical facilities. The most serious
damage caused by corruption in health care, however, may not be the unofficial
payments themselves but the effect that corruption has on the decision of
whether or not to be treated at all. Poor households were twice as likely as rich
households to say they had not sought medical assistance even though it was
needed, and they were also significantly more likely to believe that corruption in
healthcare is widespread (Document of the World Bank, 2001, p. 15).

The survey of enterprises, households, and public officials also provided
useful information on corruption’s causes. All groups recognized the importance
of institutional factors such as bureaucracy or poor law enforcement; however,
households were more likely to attribute corruption to personal characteristics of
those involved (desire for personal gain). In addition, many perceive that while
declining living standards are an important consequence of corruption, they are
also one if its causes, recognizing the circularity of the relationship between
corruption and poverty. Enterprises reported that a climate of excessive
regulation leaves room for corruption among the public officials called to
implement and verify those regulations. A typical firm in Romania at the time the

survey was conducted was required to obtain between 23 and 29 different

31

approvals, authorizations, licenses, and permits from a range of state bodies
(Center for Institutional Reform, 2000).

Confirming the results of this survey prepared by the World Bank was a
report published in 2002 by the Southeast European Legal Development Initiative
(SELDI). SELDI, which was launched in 1998, brings together the efforts of
various government organizations and experts from various countries in
Southeast Eu rope. The report, Anti-Corruption in Southeast Europe: First Steps
and Policies, was undertaken to look into the regional factors contributing to
corruption. It points to an over-extended public sector and a lack of transparency
in public sector operations leading to high distrust of public officials, and adds a
third factor: the systemic cormption of cross-border transactions, which routinely
involve the bribing of customs officials, border police, and other regulatory
bodies. The report states, “Given the open nature of the Balkan economies,
cross-border transactions constitute up to two-thirds of the GDP for any single
country, hence they generate even more dirty money, than privatization itself”
(SELDI, 2002, p. 5).

The SELDI report concludes:

Societies in SEE [Southeast Europe] are faced with a corruption culture

that permeates all structures of the body politic and which became a

systemic feature of their political structures. The spread of corruption

throughout the wide spectnim of possible forms from the usual bakshish

(bribe) to the traffic police or the entry of organized crime into the

mainstream economies through corrupt privatization practices—presents a

32

challenge that goes beyond the effectiveness of traditional anticorruption

tools. The systemic nature of corruption in SEE has become the major

factor impeding their development efforts. It has distorted the restructuring
of their economies, the modernization of their education systems and
public health care, and has affected many social programs. All this has
had a negative impact on the public's trust in the emerging democratic and
market economy institutions and has bred disillusionment with reforms in

general. (SELDI, 2002, p. 6)

In addition to the national circumstances contributing to corruption are the
regional ones, specifically the war in the former Yugoslavia and the sanctions
and embargo regimes imposed on the warring republics. These led to the
proliferation of organized crime—especially smuggling, human trafficking, and
illegal trade—in the Balkan peninsula.

Romania, as a victim of Ceausescu’s regime, was “extremely fertile
ground” for the proliferation of trans-border crime immediately after the revolution
in 1989, and was among the largest exporters of arms to all warring sides in the
former Yugoslavia during its arms embargo. The corrupt involvement of
numerous high-ranking officials in this large-scale operations is a significant
reason why in the early 19903 Romanian authorities made virtually no attempt to
counter smuggling, or the corruption that made it possible (SELDI, 2002, p.15).
During the same period, the channels originally established for smuggling
predominantly weapons and oil were expanded to include drugs, stolen vehicles,

cigarettes, alcohol, and other commodities. The origins of the constantly growing

33

Balkan trade in human beings can also be traced to the 1992-1995 period and to
the lucrative business of “assisting” refugees to escape from the war zones to
safety. During the rule of the Party for Social Democracy (PSDR, the former
Communists) in Romania, which lasted until the 1996 elections, numerous ties
were forged between some governing officials and the shadow economy
structures (SELDI).

Adoption and Deinstitutionalization: Child Welfare Policies

These “gray” or “black” markets also developed a trade in adoption.
Ceausescu’s demographic policy had been to increase the birth rate while
ignoring the shame of 90,000 to 100,000 children in state asylums, including
40,000 to 50,000 who were in institutions for handicapped persons (Roth, 2000,
p. 221). One accomplishment that followed the revolution in 1989, was the
opening of Romania’s borders to lntemational adoption. In 1990, the attention of
the world became focused on the hundreds of starving and neglected children
living in Romanian institutions. In the foreign public’s mind, the humanitarian
thing to do was to “allow children to go to foreign countries and enter nice,
middle-class homes where they have all the material advantages they did not
have in Romania” (Groza,et al., p. 51,1999). The adoption process was eased by
changes in laws eliminating presidential authorization and by the relatively low
costs of adopting a Romanian child (between $2,000 and $5,000), and in a short
time the system was out of control (Groza, et al.).

International adoption’s black market consisted of outright baby-selling,

with babies going to the highest bidder. Defense for Children lntemational, in its

1991 report, stated that Romanian parents had been pressured to give up their
children in exchange for cash; children became commodities, to be purchased
much like an animal in a pet store or some other product. One-fourth of the
children adopted between August 1990 and February 1991 were adopted under
the age of six months and from poor families rather than institutions.

In recognition of the conuption and in response to pressure from child
advocacy groups such as Defense for Children lntemational, in July, 1991,
Romania closed its borders to international adoption. As a result, the population
of children in institutions rose (Groza, et al., 1999). This rise may also have been
caused, in part, by the fact that Romania lacked an organized domestic adoption
program. Because of the elimination of social work programs under Ceausescu
in the early 1960s, post-Communist Romania had no trained adoption workers to
promote domestic adoption. It was not until 1997, under the Constantinescu
government, that plans were made to establish domestic adoption and foster
care and to decrease the number of children in institutions. The programs that
have been established lack funding, trained staff, and support from the
government and the community (Groza, et al.). It is still difficult to determine the
number of Romanian children who are in state institutions; in Romania’s
Statistical Yearbook (Anuarul Statistic, 1995), it is the number of beds available,
not the number of children, that is listed, and the cost of maintaining children in
institutions is not stated (Roth, 2000, p.226).

The main impetus for changes by the government has been appeals and

pressure from outside Romania to respect the United Nations Convention on

35

Children’s Rights, which was signed in 1990, by the president of Romania, Ion
Iliescu, and to monitor the conditions of children under the state’s protection
(Roth, 2000). Numerous lntemational organizations, such as UNICEF, Handicap
lntemational, the Red Cross, Save the Children, the Christian Children’s Fund,
World Vision, and Aid to Romania, have intervened to help raise child care in
Romania to international standards (Roth).

Current obstacles to change include incomplete, unfunded, and
unenforced legislation on child care, and conditions in the majority of residential
institutions that are still inadequate. In addition, the general public is not
sensitized to the need for child protection, and there is no tradition of
collaboration with the police in matters of child abuse or neglect. To make
matters worse, the number of real alternatives to the institutionalization of
children, such as adoption, placement in foster care, or a system of “professional
mothers” paid to care for a restricted number of children as day care providers,
are much fewer in Romania than in the West and in other Central and Eastern
European countries countries (Roth, 2000).

In 1991, the United States Agency for International Development (USAID)
funded local projects to develop models of permanency planning for children. As
a result, agencies acquired staffs that were trained in basic social work
interviewing and assessment, foster care, and adoption practice. However, in
spite of this information and training, the changes in the ways that Romania has
conducted its child welfare programs have been minimal. In fact, USAID chose

not to fund new projects because it did not believe the Romanian government

36

was committed to reform (Groza et al., 1999). Still, the observation of the many
non-governmental agencies involved in the protection of children is that the
Romanian model favors adoption over family foster care. People are still afraid to
accept Roma or handicapped children as foster children (for example, because
of fears about the attitudes of other children at school), and not enough support
is provided by the government to expand the number of foster care placements
(latridis, 2000).

The Roma in Romania: A Legacy of Racism and Povefiy

Gypsy children account for about 80% of those who are abandoned,
according to UNICEF’s top representative in Romania, Pierre Poupard (United
Nations Foundation, 2003). Gypsies often leave their children at orphanages for
a “provisional” length of time, which often becomes permanent. The practice was
actually encouraged during the rule of Ceausescu, who promised that children
would have a place in an orphanage if families could not afford to support them.
And since the collapse of communism, poverty has only worsened for the Roma
people (United Nations Foundation, 2003).

The actual number of Roma in Romania is not known at present, but the
official estimate according to the 1992 census was that Roma account for about
1.8% of the population. However, this figure does not take into account the fact
that widespread illiteracy among Roma prohibits many from participation in the
census, and Roma organizations put the number much higher. Another difficulty

tracking this population stems from the fact that Roma move from one region of

37

the country to another, living in makeshift housing for which they cannot obtain
residence permits (O’Grady & Tarnovschi, 2001).

Findings in the Roma Human Development Report, issued by the United
Nations Development Program in January 2003, indicate that nearly half of the
Roma surveyed were unemployed and one in six was “constantly starving”. Only
six in ten Roma households had running water, and fewer than half had toilets in
their homes. Only a third of those surveyed had completed primary school, 6%
had completed secondary school, and 1% had attended college.

A report issued on June 24, 2003, by the World Bank, Roma in an
Expanding Europe: Breaking the Poverty Cycle, mirrors much of the UN’s
assessment. Concerning education, one of the key problems reported was the
tendency to place Roma children into schools for the mentally and physically
disabled. According to the report, language barriers, the isolation of Roman
communities, and segregation in mainstream schools also leave the Roma
children behind. Babies are also vulnerable; the Roma infant mortality rate is
twice as high as that of non-Roma. On average, Roma live 15 years less than the
general population (World Bank, 2003).

But the situation for Roma in Romania is not totally bleak. Conditions have
begun to improve, especially since progress for the Roma, among other social
welfare initiatives, is a key criterion for European Union membership. In January,
2003, Gabriela Coman, secretary of state and president of the National Authority
for Child Protection and Adoptions of Romania, declared to the United Nations

Committee on the Rights of the Child, that a number of significant steps had

38

been taken over the previous two years. The closing of sixty large residential
institutions had resulted in a reduction in the number of institutionalized children.
A single decision-making authority had been established at the county level to
deal with the social, medical, and educational needs of children in difficulty. And
since 1997, non-governmental agencies wishing to work in areas related to child
rights had been granted accreditation and were collaborating with local
authorities.

Coman also stated that child abandonment was an offense under the
Romanian legal system and could result in imprisonment. The government had
been campaigning against child abandonment over the last year to increase
awareness among families, and particularly among teenage girls. The Romanian
delegation to the UN also stated that Roma children enjoyed all the rights and
privileges of other Romanian minorities, such as teachers trained to teach in the
Romani language who could provide guidance to help them pursue “better
opportunities” in society (United Nations Office of the High Commisioner for
Human Rights, 2003).

Religion in Romanian Policy and Culture

In Romania there has been a generalized discrepancy between the stated
or desired outcomes of policies and their actual results. This is evident not only in
Romania’s child welfare policies and treatment of minorities, but also in the
functioning of religious groups or organizations following Communism. According
to the US. Department of State’s International Religious Freedom Report (2002),

although the Romanian constitution of 1991 provides for religious freedom, the

39

requirement that religions register with the government, and the fact that the
government officially recognizes some religions and not others, still pose
obstacles to minority religions. As a result, when the US. government discusses
religious freedom issues with the Romanian government, it considers these
discussions in the context of promoting human rights.

Although “there are generally amicable relations” among the different
religious groups, the report also observed that the Romanian Orthodox Church
has shown some hostility toward non-Orthodox religious churches and criticized
the “aggressive proselytizing” of Protestant, “neo-Protestant,” and other religious
groups, which the church has repeatedly referred to as “sects” (United States
Department of State, 2002, p. 1).

The neo-protestant (evangelical) cults, according to the Ministry of Culture
and Public Affairs, are considered to be the Baptist, Seventh Day Adventist,
Pentecostal, and Evangelical Christians. These religious groups appeared after
the protestant ones and spread theological principles and conceptions specific to
Christianity. The main common features of their confessions: they do not
acknowledge church sacraments, do not have the cult of icons nor that of saints,
do not admit ecclesiastical hierarchy, they all practice, with few exceptions,
adulthood baptism and ”universal priesthood” (any believer can read and
interpret the Bible). (The Ministry of Culture and Public Affairs is a specialized
body of the public administration, subordinate to the government, and structured

by a governmental ordinance).

40

Romanians clearty consider religion to be an important part of life.
According to the 2002 CIA World Factbook, 87% of Romanians are Orthodox,
6.8% are Protestant, 5.6% are Catholic, 0.4% belong to other religions (mostly
Islam), and 0.2% are unaffiliated with any organized religion. Despite this large
percentage of self-identified Christians in the country, Romanians’ church
attendance appears to be more sporadic. A nationwide poll conducted in
November and December of 2001 indicates that 1% of respondents said they go
to church on a daily basis, 10% said they go several times a week, 35% claim to
go several times a month, 38% attend services once a month or less, and 15%
do not attend services at all. Nevertheless, the same poll shows that 88% of
citizens say that the church is the institution they trust most; their faith in the
institution does not appear to be strongly correlated with participation in formal
worship.

To be officially recognized, religious groups must register with the State
Secretariat for Religious Denominations and present their statutes, organizational
leadership and management diagrams, and body of dogma and doctrines. There
are 15 officially recognized religions in Romania—14 were recognized under the
provisions of Decree 177 of 1948, and a 1989 decree added the Greek Catholic
Church to the list. Only the clergy of these 15 recognized religions are eligible to
receive state support (US. Department of State, 2002). Recognized religions
have the right to establish private schools and teach religion in the public
schools, broadcast religious programming on radio and television, and apply for

broadcasting licenses for denominational frequencies. They enjoy tax-exempt

41

Sui

30

the

59

meI

May,
0639

merit

status and receive government funds to build churches, pay clergy salaries, and
subsidize clergy housing expenses. The number of adherents to each religion,
according to the census, determines the proportion of the government’s budget
received by each recognized religion. The Romanian Orthodox Church receives
the largest budget: in 2001 the government allocated funds amounting to almost
$1.67 million to the Orthodox Church. Its majority status is also recognized at
state occasions, over which Orthodox leaders generally preside.

The Romanian government has refused to recognize a number of religious
groups, and no group has received status as a religion since 1990 (US.
Department of State, 2002). Unrecognized religions receive no financial support
from the state, other than limited tax and import duty exemptions, and are not
permitted to engage in profit-making activities. Religious groups that are not one
of the 15 recognized religions are registered by the government as either
“religious foundations,” “charitable foundations,” or “cultural associations.” The
State Secretariat reported that it had licensed 622 religious and cultural
foundations under Law 21 of 1924 on Juridicial Entities, entitling these groups to
juridical status as well as to exemptions from income and customs taxes.

Minority religious groups have repeatedly criticized the registration
process as being time-consuming and filled with arbitrary bureaucratic obstacles.
A government decree on associations and foundations that became effective
May, 2000, abrogated Law 21 of 1924 to eliminate (at least in theory) some of
these obstacles and to remove the requirement of a minimum number of

members needed to establish religious associations and foundations. Between

42

Oi

May, 2001 and 2002, 11 new religious associations were registered. The
attempt at improving inequities did not extend to the regulations issued in May,
2001, for the constniction of places of worship. Of the 15 recognized religions,
only the Orthodox Church has members on the commission that approves such
permits, which also includes government officials and technical experts. In
addition to the technical aspects of building a church, the commission is entitled
to decide on the “opportuneness” of building the place of worship, and whether
the construction is in line with the specific dogma, doctrines, and statutes of the
religion in question. There were no reports that the commission denied any
applications; however, there were reports of lengthy delays (US. Department of

State, 2002).

Religion and Conflict

Minority religious groups have made complaints that low-level officials and
Romanian Orthodox clergy have impeded their efforts to evangelize or conduct,
interfered in their religious activities, and othenrvise discriminated against them.
The centuries-long domination of the Orthodox Church, and its status as the
majority religion in Romania, has resulted in the Orthodox Church’s reluctance to
accept the existence of other religions. Actions by other religious groups to
attract members are often perceived by the Orthodox Church as attempts to
diminish the number of its own members. Due to the Orthodox Church’s
substantial influence, few politicians sponsor bills and measures that would

oppose it. Local officials tend to be tolerant of the activities of minority religious

43

groups but often are pressured and intimidated by the Orthodox clergy (US.
Department of State, 2002).

Christopher Klein, Bishop of the Evangelical Church in Sibiu, Romania,
asserts that the collapse of communism in 1989 gave Romanian churches an
enormous boost, but at the same time the more liberalized laws on religion since
the Communist Revolution have resulted in a new form of competition between
them. He sees the majority churches behaving as if they were state churches
and guardians of national unity, suspiciously watching the spiritual growth and
membership numbers of formerly prohibited cults, confessions, and religious
communities. And they are growing: according to the East-West Church and
Ministry Report (Winter 2002), the number of non-indigenous Protestant
missionaries in Romania increased 175% in the period 1994-2001, from 165
missionaries in 1994 to 453 in 2001. It is not known how mission sending
agencies managed such large increases in spite of growing domestic opposition,
or if the figures reflect more of a surge in short-temi rather than career
missionaries.

It is true that many of the new, evangelical churches were not of
Romanian origins, but heavily dependent on theology from the West, particularty
the United States. Danut Manastireanu, a lecturer in theology at Emmanuel Bible
College, Oradea, Romania, confirms that evangelicals are perceived by the
Orthodox majority as being estranged from the spirit of the Romanian nation and
culture. He believes that the hostility of most Orthodox clergy is prompting

increased evangelical intolerance and verbal aggressiveness towards orthodoxy.

However, this may be an unwise practice, since even if many Romanians are
only formally Orthodox, they still have a strong emotional attachment to
orthodoxy, and will have difficulty accepting a religion that threatens their sense
of identity.

To summarize, the problems associated with the economic transition from
communism to capitalism also are relevant to the relationship between religious
groups. Although the religious freedom granted in 1989 heralded a new
beginning for churches and faith-based organizations, it has also ushered in new
and complex problems. Churches that were once in conflict with the government
now find themselves in conflict with each other, competing for financial resources
and human capital. f
The Transition to Privatization

Communism failed, in part, because of poor economic growth. When the
state owned industry, there were few incentives for increased individual effort or
effectiveness (Plionis & Plionis, 2000). The resulting economic inefficiency was
accentuated by the concentration of production in huge plants that lagged behind
international technological progress. The labor force lacked motivation for
increased training and productivity since their wages and compensations were
stagnant and unrelated to the intensity of their efforts. This situation continued as
long as it did, not because it was inherently sustainable, but because a highly
developed and highly repressive police state hindered the development of any
operational “underground” opposition that could have come out into the light in

the 903 with a strategy for political and economic transformation (Maniu, 2001).

45

Nevertheless, the transition into privatization has not automatically produced
economic or social benefits. Many families have been impoverished in the
transition, and an increase in nationalism after the revolution has resulted in
ethnically motivated violence against minority populations (Helsinki, 1994).

The transition into a multiparty democracy with a market economy has
been traumatic, with the economy transitioning from governmental to private
ownership without clear direction. Employers in the private sector have no major
social policy obligations, and even those in the state-owned businesses have
greatly diminished responsibilities. The ruling class and business owners
expected that free markets would solve most socioeconomic problems. However,
capitalism, as an economic system based on private property rights, does not
directly concern itself with the social inequity created by the uneven distribution
of wealth (Plionis & Plionis, 2000).

Government officials are beginning to agree in principle that a safety net
for the weak and for those not able to obtain employment because of age and
lack of opportunities is necessary to maintain a just and stable society. However,
they frequently excuse themselves from providing this protection by stating that
they do not have the financial resources to do so. But if the government will not
support good employment services and social services, where is the private
sector to find the resources?

Because there is no market for social services, and because the state has
largely withdrawn from providing for them, families, clans, churches, and

neighborhood organizations, nonprofit groups, and charities have taken on a key

46

role (Pestoff, 2000). Though the provision of social services by NGO’s at a local
level can increase efficiency and preserve transparency (T homadakis, 2000),
depending on this type of assistance would be ideally be only temporary, and
furnish a model for more permanent policies in the future, when the public sector
has the ability to provide additional monetary support.

In order to make way for their eventual departure, foreign donors have
shifted from providing direct aid to fostering self-sustainable institutions. An
example of this kind of program is the Romania American Sustainable
Partnerships (RASP) sponsored by the United States Aid for lntemational
Development, which requires matching funding and participation from both
Romanians and Americans. (I have been involved in two RASP programs, in
2002 and 2003, which were directed at assisting Veritas Foundation in its focus
on families and children in the town of Sighisoara and the surrounding
community. The first one, Project Partenen', teamed professionals from the
United States with corresponding professionals in Romania; I worked with social
workers who were having difficulties with their administrative roles as supervisors
of employees in their organization. The second project was administered by an
American organization called World Learning and provided consultation and
financial support for a Romanian domestic crisis center.)

The European Union, which theoretically has a closer relationship with
Eastern Europe and more programs of its own, such as Poland-Hungary: Aid for
the Reconstruction of the Economy (PHARE). PHARE was originally established

fo_r immediate interest in helping its near neighbors and future members,

47

especially Poland and Hungampuft now extend assistance to ten (m:
countries, including Romania. Its aim is to strengthen the msition of candidates
for EU membership by bringing their industries and major infrastructure up to EU
standards, and also to promote investment in economic and social cohesion.
Perceiving accession to the European Union and North Atlantic Treaty
Organization as cnicial to achieving security, stability, and the rule of law, the
present Romanian government is attempting to pursue programs of this type in

order to bring about Romania’s recovery (Klepper, 2002).

48

Chapter Three - Literature Review
Faith based NGOs in the lntemational Communiy

Although the values of international social work are clearly documented
and theorized, there is little published information about the work NGOs or faith-
based agencies carry out wortdwide. In fact, even for faith-based agencies in the
United States, the body of literature is limited. The 1988 research of Hodgkinson,
Weitzman, and Kirsch was the first to identify the philanthropic efforts of
churches in the US. The results of their study showed impressive involvement of
congregations in providing social services and meeting people’s material needs.
This involvement was not recognized until political and religious conservatives
began promoting church congregations as a solution to gaps in the American
welfare system (Wineburg, 1998). A similar situation currently exists in Romania,
where limited government resources have been the stimulus for NGOs, many of
which are faith-based, to step in and provide welfare services, especially for
children.

The available literature does acknowledge the contributions of private
organizations and governments of the United States and Western Europe in
funding the non-governmental organizations that have supported Romania and
other Eastern European countries during the transition from communism and
centralization of production to capitalism and private markets (latridis, 2000;
USAID Report, 2003). However, no research is available to identify the role being
played by NGOs affiliated with religious organizations, barriers to their service, or

the outcomes of their intervention. There is little or no evidence to suggest that

49

policymakers, including those making decisions about funding welfare programs,
have any empirical knowledge of the benefits or pitfalls of supporting an agency
that has a religious identity. The fact that faith-based agencies are working in
Romania at all demonstrates that someone is assuming that their services are
worth having. But there is a lack of data to examine questions about the quality
and type of services they provide, how effectively they are structured, whom they
serve, and—perhaps more importantly—whom they do not serve.

However, a new initiative, the World Faiths Development Dialogue
(WF DD), sponsored by the World Bank Group and the Archbishop of Canterbury,
is attempting to engage in an lntemational and national discussion among faith
and development institutions. The central focus of this discussion is the effort to
combat world poverty. (This is a departure for the World Bank Group, which has
not traditionally had much contact with faith-based organizations, and most of
whose operational staff know little about them.) In July, 2002, a conference was
held in Canterbury on the contribution that religious communities are making to
the subject of poverty reduction strategies. The aim of the conference was “to
demonstrate how religion/spirituality can lead to a different vision of development
institutions, by providing insights and inspiration, motivation and ethical
guidelines for work with grassroots groups (conference information available at
www.wfdd.org.uk/programmes.html).

The WFDD does not deny the negative influence that many religious
groups have had on development work with the poor, but feels that this makes it

even more important to show how others have been faithful and successful in

50

their work to combat poverty and oppression. The WF DD focuses on dialogue,
not funding, and on the dissemination of best practices and learning. Its activities
are aimed at network building and organizational support, with the goal of
encouraging interfaith dialogue around social welfare interventions.
Religion and Development

Katherine Marshall is a self-described “development practitioner” with
nearly thirty years’ experience working with programs focused on helping the
poor in Africa, Latin America, and East Asia. Marshall was asked in early 2000,
to work with the WFDD, and she served for a year as one of its interim chief
executives, along with Canon Richard Marsh, dean of Canterbury Cathedral. In
her article “Development and Religion: A Different Lens on Development
Debates (2002),” she asserts that, for many development practitioners, religion
has been an unacknowledged and often unperceived force, due primarily to the
long tradition of separation of church and state that also creates a divide between
development and faith issues. Institutions like the multilateral development
banks, which are accustomed to interacting with governments, may find limited
means or channels to interact with the broad range of civil society institutions that
includes religious or faith-based NGOs. The two worlds are often seen as far
apart: religion deals with spiritual matters, while development has to do with the
material world.

In contrast to this view, Marshall claims that religious institutions,
especially faith-based non-governmental organizations, have played an honored

role in development work since the early 1960s. Examples of longstanding faith-

51

based NGOs are Catholic Relief Services, World Vision, Christian Aid, and
Lutheran World Service. Marshall cites (2002) as a further example the link
between the lntemational Labor Organization, which has had senior religious
advisors because of links between churches and trade unions, and the United
Nations, where many religious organizations maintain permanent representations
and participate actively in many facets of its work. Despite these prominent
counter-examples, however, research has generally avoided exploring religious
issues and organizations, and what research has been done has not been
systematically described or organized.

Yet Marshall reports (2002) seeing some encouraging signs of change in
attitudes toward the work of faith-based organizations. World Bank president,
James Wolfensohn, and his counterparts, have begun to speak more openly
about ethical issues such as the “challenge of inclusion,” empowerment,
inequality, and the problem of corruption. Marshall is hopeful that framing
development issues in ways that go beyond strictly technical and economic
considerations will develop into a movement toward bringing together the
apparently separate areas of religion and development.

Another potential stimulus for change is a World Bank research project
called “Voices of the Poor”, which conducted surveys of 60,000 people in poor
communities in different parts of the world to ascertain their perceptions of
poverty (Marshall, 2002). Two findings of this project are relevant for providers of
social welfare and development sen/ices. The first was that respondents from

poor communities indicated that they felt higher levels of confidence in religious

52

organizations and their leaders than in most others, including government and
secular non-governmental agencies. The second involved improved
understanding of poverty that requires the need for comprehensive and “holistic”
approaches which take into account its complex and multidimensional nature.
An obvious question, given recent social welfare policy in the United
States, is whether the lntemational initiatives being examined by the WFDD are
related to the faith-based initiatives promoted by the administration of US.
President, George Bush. In Marshall’s view (2002), the most important similarity
between the two is a common recognition that in poor or marginal communities,
faith-based organizations play an important role in social transformation. This is
true in the industrialized and the developing world, and suffering and poverty are
deep concerns of virtually every faith. Marshall gives the examples of Uganda,
which receives half of its health services from faith-based agencies, and of West
Africa, where Muslim schools account for an important share of primary
education. Another concern that drives both the WP DD and the Bush
administration’s faith-based initiatives is the perception that religious institutions
perform better in bringing help to the needy and lasting social change, than do
public institutions. Nonetheless, Marshall finds one of the most frustrating
findings in debates at both the US. and the international level to be how little
rigorous comparison there has been of different faith-based programs and

models.

53

Religion and Civil Socieg

To many liberal activist groups and members of the press, however,
religion poses an ever-increasing threat to the proliferation of civil society. This
view appears to be supported by the evidence of conflicts rooted in religious
disputes in Kosovo, India, the Middle East, and the United States. Timothy Brown
(1999), professor of religion at Pace University in New York City, describes this
view but offers the alternative hypothesis that the problem is not religion, which
can coexist with civil society, but religious fundamentalism.

Brown (1999) maintains that many of the fundamental ideas of a civil
society can, in fact, be traced to the Protestant Reformation of the 16th century,
particularly the freedom granted to the individual and the human being’s reformist
responsibility in relation to the world. Robert Bellah, (1970) characterizes this
reform as a mandate to question and revise every human institution in the
process of building a holy community. Brown also points out that two of the most
influential forrnulators of the concept of civil society, John Locke and Thomas
Jefferson, came from these Protestant and Enlightenment traditions. Locke’s
belief in the natural goodness of man and the coinciding of the individual’s
happiness with the general welfare of society led to the view that the rational
pursuit of happiness results in a sense of mutuality and cooperation among
members of society. However, if a religion claims unique and exclusive access
to the truth, it is likely to consider other religious traditions a threat, thus placing a
significant wedge in the potential to achieve this desired mutuality and

cooperation. With the increase of globalization and diversity, this perceived

threat has become more pronounced and created reactionary voices in many
religions.

Brown (1999) offers examples of alternative ways of relating to other
religions, including an “Experiment in lnterreligious Dialogue” held in Jerusalem
during the past two summers for the purpose of studying the history of
destruction that results from religious intolerance. The dialogue, which was
organized by UNESCO’S “Roads of Faith” project, brought together a faculty of
committed practitioners of Christianity, Islam, Hinduism, and Judaism, as well as
a specialist in Egyptian religion. Their hope was that this experiment would model
understanding between religious communities. On a smaller scale, in his own
New York City classroom, Brown finds that educating students about diverse
religions has had a significant impact on their level of tolerance and acceptance.
Indeed, he argues that teaching about wond religious traditions may be the key
to preserving civil society.

The topic of religion and civil society is also currently being examined at
the Max Planck Institute for Social Anthropology in Halle, Germany, where
researchers are looking specifically at the role of the church in moral education.
Their main theme for the years 2003 through 2005 is the dynamics of changing
beliefs in the post-socialist countries of Eurasia. Behind the researchers” use of
the term “civil society” is their interest in how religious beliefs, repressed for three
generations, resonate in society and affect social relations. As the study clearly
states, their definition of civil society means more than what is perceived as

current or popular use, associating it with NGO’s or the voluntary sector. The

55

key element to this study will be establishing where and how changing religious
dynamics are contributing to greater civility and tolerance among religious and
other groups in society.

The part of the Planck Institute’s project that is being conducted in
Romania, starting in January 2003, focuses on the Romanian Orthodox Church
in disseminating moral teaching. Monica Heintz, (2004) will analyze the church
as an organization and compare its role with those of other educational agents,
school, family, and media. The Orthodox Church was chosen because it is the
majority church in Romania (86.8% of the population, according to the 2002
census), and a national church, in the sense that religion and nationalism are so
coupled that to be Romanian is to be Orthodox.

While most studies have looked at how individual churches act in society,
Peter Dobkin Hall, Hauser Lecturer on Non-profit Organizations in the Kennedy
School of Government, postulates that the greatest obstacle to understanding the
public role of religion has been the attachment to using the congregation as the
basic unit for study (Hall, 2000). He asserts that faith-based organizations
comprise the largest part of the charitable tax-exempt universe in numbers of
organization, volume of individual donation, and commitment of volunteer time,
and are the single most important arena for imparting the values and
competencies associated with effective civic participation. However, he says,
despite their importance, neither secular nor religious researchers have
specifically addressed the ways in which faith-based organizations differ from

their secular counterparts in organizational structure, mission, and process. Nor

56

has there been adequate exploration of the impact on faith-based organizations
of different types of funding and regulations, or sufficient account taken of the
diversity among religious entities.

Hall (2000) concludes that any useful framework applied to the study of
faith-based groups must focus on their “connectedness,” the extent to individual
congregations are part of larger systems. Thus, the appropriate way to
understand religious groups is not merely as communities of believers, which
emphasizes the autonomy of individual congregations, but in terms of the
connection of believers to other people in their community and the world—their
social, economic, and political relationships. A notable example is the American
missionaries who brought not only the word of God but also health care and
social services all over the world, even before the well-known international relief
organization UNICEF was conceived (Cnaan, 1999). Churches and
denominations around the world were among the first entities to demonstrate
against apartheid and to boycott companies that dealt with South Africa. Pratt
noted that that a coalition of denominations in Canada formed the Taskforce on
the Churches and Corporate Responsibility, a group that was at the forefront in
pressuring corporations to cut ties with South Africa during the era of apartheid
(Cnaan).

Another researcher who takes a systems approach by discussing the role
of the church in relationship to the larger political system is David Herbert. In his
2003 study of religion and civil society, Herbert outlines four ways in which

religion contributed significantly to the development of civil society in the late

57

Communist period in Central and Eastern Europe. First, religion provided an
institutional space within which it was possible to organize forms of opposition to
the communist states. For example, large demonstrations were organized on
church premises in Leipzig and Berlin. Second, religion provided a fund of
collective memories that served to oppose state-imposed communist ideologies.
The Pope’s 1979 visit to Poland was described in these terms. Third, religion
functioned as an ideological connection with an international order, a way of
reaching beyond both the state and the communist bloc. Links between Lutheran
churches in East and West Germany persisted in spite of the country’s division,
and developed into peace movements on both sides of the Iron Curtain. Fourth,
religion functioned as an intellectual force from which opposition thinking could
be constructed. Churches functioned as networks for the transmission of
metaphysical ideas that facilitated the masses’ ability to organize. The writings of
Czech leader Vaclav Havel, for example, were influenced by the Catholic
tradition of natural law.

Non-Govemmental Agencies in Eastern Europe-Past Research

Even if we set aside the element of religious involvement, little is known

 

about the impact of Western non-governmental agencies working on various
aspects of institutional development in Eastern Europe since the end of the Cold
War. A study funded by the Carnegie Foundation (2000) and based at Columbia
University during 1997 and 1998 was designed to close this knowledge gap. This
study did not distinguish between faith-based and secular NGOs, or explore

potential partnerships between NGOs and the local religious community. It did,

58

however, address what such NGOs in general are accomplishing and suggest
ways that they can be made more effective.

The Camegie/Columbia project (2000) involved 17 investigators
conducting case studies in 12 countries in Central and Eastern Europe, including
Romania. Each case study explored the strategies that Western NGOs used to
pursue their goals in the country in question. Three U.S.-based groups active in
civic education between 1990 and 1998 were studied: the Soros Foundation for
Open Society, the lntemational Foundation for Electoral Systems, and World
Learning.

Western NGOs, the study found, have served as catalysts for social
innovation in the area of civic education (Carnegie, 2000). Their presence has
encouraged discussion about and an increase in civility, tolerance, respect for
difference, individuality, and self-realization. In the initial post-Communist period,
Western NGOs found the civil society in general more responsive to their efforts
than the state-run educational system. As a result, most of their civic education
programs were informal, targeting opinion leaders and the public at large rather
than attempting to effect institutional reform in formal education.

This research (Carnegie, 2000) also indicates, however, that although
Western NGOs’ involvement has sped up social processes that would have
taken generations to complete without their assistance, the impact of such
programs is limited if they do not attempt to involve local officials. The final
findings specify that Western NGOs do not change societies on a macro level,

though they have, under specific circumstances, had an impact on the micro

59

level by helping to build new institutions necessary for a democratic state. The
study also acknowledged the importance of sensitivity by Westerners to local
culture. A fuller recognition of the unique character of each country and individual
community can help prevent NGO workers from making the assumption that
strategies can be formulated solely from Western ideas, without the input of local
ingredients.
Parameters of This Study

As we have seen, although the presence of faith-based NGOs in
developing countries is well documented, the structure or ideology that
contributes to their service delivery approach has not been adequately
understood or explored. Initial studies (Heintz, 2004; Marshall, 2002) suggest
that religion has been a part of efforts to promote social justice, eradicate poverty
and world hunger, and encourage a return to a civil society in post-communist
Eastern Europe. However, neither social work scholars nor practitioners have
used this information to modify their approach to service delivery by incorporating
the resources of faith-based groups. I could find no empirical data to indicate
whether or not welfare services would be improved with an expanded role for the
religious community, or even a comprehensive study discussing what services
religious groups have successfully provided. Social work practitioners lack a
scholarly basis to guide them in using other than secular resources in assisting
clients and in understanding the micro and macro forces that affect service

delivery.

60

This research explores the impact of cultural values and economic
realities on the delivery of faith-based services in the Romanian cities and towns
of Bucharest, Sighisoara, Targu Mures, and Constanta. My intention in
conducting this exploratory study has been to contribute to knowledge about
approaches that may be useful to other service providers, not only in Romania
but in other parts of the world as well. The need for empirical knowledge about
NGO approaches to social welfare provision is especially pressing in countries
where human needs are great and private or governmental resources are limited.
An additional benefit of this kind of research is that its international focus may
promote international action by social workers. The kind of assistance social
workers can provide is well suited to the needs of people and communities in
many regions of the globe.

My other interest in this research is personal. My time in Romania
challenged many of my previous assumptions. It also taught me to care for the
Romanian people. The people realize there are no solutions found in magical
thinking, and I hope that my work can be a small part of helping them process
approaches that are grounded in the reality of their situation. After reviewing the
current literature, I was aware that information about the specific attributes of
faith—based organizations has not been explored in an lntemational context.
Attempts being made by the World Faiths Development Dialogue to connect
religion and community development need to be supported by research that
evaluates practice according to models that include global theories, such as

sustainability, along with the impact of religious beliefs on issues of tolerance and

61

equality. I wanted to complete research that would include the concerns of those
who wish to use their faith effectively, not exclusively to evangelize, but to
provide services that will promote progress in social welfare and civil
development. The following questions are a result of that goal, and are designed
to obtain information relevant to any organization, secular or religious, that
wishes to know what kind of practice is necessary to be effective in contributing
to the particularly salient areas of social development, human rights, and
multiculturalism.
Research Questions

The questions that guided my research are framed by Healy’s six “globally
relevant” concepts for social work dialogue and theory development (2001) and
grounded in the categories in Van Worrner’s (1997) contemporary value policy
configuration (see Figure 1, p. 5). They were chosen because I wanted to reflect
an appreciation of the rich and tragic history of Romania in the information
obtained, along with the dynamic nature of its present economic, social, and
spiritual conflicts. Each of Healy’s concepts has been explored to some extent
through the qualitative interviews that I conducted. After briefly describing each
concept below, I have listed questions that probe the extent to which these
concepts inform the dissertation research, and were also relevant to the situation
or context of the interviewees.

Social Development.

Particulariy relevant to social work are the themes of participation,

capacity building, equity, and inclusion—all factors in a culture’s social

62

development. Development is a process, best measured on a continuum in which
no country is fiJlly developed or undeveloped. Issues of concern to social workers
in every culture include poverty eradication, equality for women, and social
integration. In Romania during Communism, the development of a civil society
was impeded by dependency on the central govemment, and the impossibility of
belonging to private organizations or participating in community development.
Relevant research questions to explore in this area include:
1. Are there gender issues related to leadership in the community?
Are the women involved in faith-based agencies or other NGOs
in Romania accepted in executive or administrative positions?
2. Where do people in the community expect to receive
assistance? Do NGOs provide opportunities for Romanian

participation in their outreach programs?

3. Are family and friends the first line of assistance when needs are
present?
4. Is there recognition of the differences between secular and faith-

based organizations?

Human Rights.

The lntemational Federation of Social Workers (1994) has asserted that
social work is a human rights profession. Human rights can serve as a statement
of social work values, a source of policy guidelines, and a framework for
professional practice. It becomes a core concept for global dialogue and strategy

development in social work. Nations may have different records on human rights,

63

but no nation is without problems. Human rights practice can involve not only
direct social work with individuals and groups but also community and policy
work. This concept helps social workers focus on social justice rather than
exclusively on individual pathology. It can also help the social worker understand
the legacy of Ceausescu’s government, under which even reproductive rights
were eliminated to insure a large labor force for the benefit of the economy. In
this kind of society, the needs of the individual are buried under what the ruler
determines to be needs of the society as a whole.

Relevant research questions to explore in this area include:

1. Do faith-based agencies in Romania justly and fairly distribute
resources to the most vulnerable and needy?

2. Is there a distrust of organizations that are connected with a
religion, or are such organizations welcomed after years of ‘
oppression?

3. Do residents feel any pressure to “convert” to the faith that
provides service?

Multi-Culturalism/Cultural Competence.

Social work practice and education seek to promote multiculturalism, or
cultural competence: learning about others in order to promote intergroup
understanding. This also implies examining issues of structural inequality and
power relationships. In Romania, the communist government destroyed villages

in order to more efficiently house workers in identical block housing, and even

prescribed meal plans. Ancient tabemacles and places of worship were
bulldozed to make room for socialist government buildings.

Relevant research questions to explore in this area include:

1. Do faith-based organizations in Romania model acceptance and
tolerance of diversity, or do they reflect the norms of society?

2. Is the Greek Orthodox Church perceived as a potential source of
welfare services, or would this be incongruent with the public
perception of its mission?

Social Exclusion or Inclusion.

Refugees, migrants, and displaced people are often excluded socially—
prevented from enjoying all the benefits of citizenship. The growing gap between
the richest and poorest nations, and between the richest and poorest segments
of the population within nations, is a major indicator that many are not
participating in the opportunities available in the society. As an applied
profession, social work needs to be interested in the development of strategies
for social inclusion. The Roma, who have suffered grave inequalities throughout
Eastern Europe, have one of their largest population centers in Romania, where
poverty and discrimination persist or have worsened since Communist times.

Relevant research questions to explore in this area include:

1. Are faith-based agencies in Romania required to serve anyone who

qualifies for services, regardless of their religion?

65

2. Do the faith-based agencies require recipients of services to comply
with requirements to attend church or listen to evangelical Christian
messages?

3. Do funding sources affect what and to whom welfare services are
offered, or what services are developed?

M

In current social work parlance, the concept of security is used to refer to

a person or population’s prospects for a peaceful existence without threats of
violence, terrorism, hunger, or lack of income. The challenge for social work is to
design interventions and policies that improve security both in the US. and
abroad, without compromising individual human rights. The Securitate,
Romania’s secret police, was established not to bring security to individuals but
to cement the government’s control over the populace. The presence of the
Securitate was a constant source of anxiety, and created a sense of distrust and
isolation among the population.

Relevant research questions to explore in this area include:

1. Are social workers supporters of the status quo, or advocates for
Improved services?

2. Are faith-based NGOs able and willing to participate cooperatively with
other community organizations?

Sustainabilig.

To be sustainable, social work interventions must match the resources

available to the clients or the community, both in terms of human skills and in the

66

material environment needed for programs to continue. This concept is valid in
micro, mezzo, and macro work, domestically as well as internationally, and is of
particular relevance where there is dwindling funding for human services. The
non-governmental organizations acting in Romania are increasingly aware of the
mandate to establish programs that involve the education and leadership of the
Romanian people. Programs that only provide charity have not been effective
and are not welcomed by the current administration.

Relevant research questions to explore in this area include:

1. How are services affected by the NGOs’ funding sources?

2. How are the local government and community involved?

3. What is the composition of the staffs of the NGOs? Who holds

administrative positions?

4. How dependent is the program on the ideology and faith of leaders

from the USA?

A useful model for understanding the overarching concern inherent in
Healy’s justification of social work in foreign countries is the possibility of
“humane internationalism.” Pratt (2000) defines this as “an acceptance by the
citizens of the industrialized states that they have ethical obligations towards
those beyond their borders and that these in turn impose obligations upon their
governments” (p.3).

Definition of Terms
Defining terms relevant to the subject of this study is challenging, since

multiple meanings have been attached to words like “church,”

67

“religious”and“faith-based organization.” The intricacy hinges on the structural
diversity and complexity of religious institutions, which can include a wide range
of formal and informal entities. For instance, and for the purposes of this study,
formal religious organizations can be understood to include (Hall, 2001):
F ree-standing congregations
from corporate organizations like the Anglican Church to the storefront
quasi-commercial enterprises of urban neighborhoods.
Federated organizations
ranging from the constitutional monarchy of Episcopalianism to such
loosely federated denominational bodies as the Southern Baptist
Convention.
Parachurch ogganizations
like the Promise Keepers and Habitat for Humanity, which combine
devotional and service provision activities that may or may not substitute
for membership in an established community of worship.
Interdenominational and ecumenical bodies
which operate on local, regional, or national levels and coordinate joint
activities, worship, and/or service across denominational lines.
Secular cogporations
established by clergy or members of religious orders or by lay members of
faith communities. Such organizations range from traditional voluntary
non-profits through quasi-public agencies like community development

corporations.

68

An important 1993 paper by Thomas Jeavons attempts to schematize
these definitions by singling out four possible ways to identify an organization as
religious. According to Jeavons, an organization can be considered religious if: 1)
its primary purposes and activities are sacerdotal; 2) it identifies itself as religious
through its commitment to fields of work “typically associated with religious
endeavors”; 3) its participants, resources, products or services, and decision-
making processes are religious in nature; or 4) it participates in formal or informal
networks of organizations in which religion plays a major part. I will be using this
schema to include what will be considered religious for this study.

Despite the difficulty and limitations inherent in selecting meaning, for the

sake of clarity, in this dissertation the following definitions will be used:

Secular agency

An organization funded and established by either the government or a
private party, excluding those of religious or congregational nature.
Faith-based agency

a “purposive organization that draws staff, volunteers, and board
members from a certain religious group and is based upon a particular
religious ideology that is reflected in the agency’s mission and operations”
(Cnaan, 1999, p. 26).

Religiousness

“relationship to or membership in an organized faith community that
institutionalizes a system of religious beliefs, attitudes, and practices”

(Netting, Thibault, & Ellor, 1990, p. 16).

69

Congregation

a group of persons who voluntarily band together for religious purposes
and who share an ideological identity. These groups of people usually own
a property where they periodically meet, and observe a theological
doctrine that to some extent guides their governance and worship
practices (Garland, 1997).

we

pertaining to or involving the whole world; used to refer to phenomena
affecting the entire planet (Stein, 1990).

lntemational

of or pertaining to two or more nations or their citizens; pertaining to the
relations between nations; transcending national boundaries or viewpoints
(Random House Webster’s College Dictionary, 1995).

lntemational social work

lntemational professional action and the capacity for international action
by the social work profession and its members. It is comprised of four
dimensions: internationally related domestic practice and advocacy,
professional exchange, lntemational practice, and international policy
development and advocacy (Healy, 2001).

Social welfare

“a condition of human well being that exists when social problems are
managed, when human needs are met, and when social opportunities are

maximized” (Midgley, 1997, p. 5).

70

Nongovernmental ogganization (NGO)

a nonprofit organization of private citizens motivated by humanitarian
and/or religious values, organized to serve a range of functions, including
relief and development; advocacy; education; international networks of
social and youth agencies; and cross-national work of domestic agencies
targeted at international problems, such as adoption, child custody, and
refugee resettlement. Although an NGO writes its own charter and mission
statement, independent of government and commercial sectors, its
funding may come from public as well as the private sector.

9_u|t_ur£

social heredity; a way of thinking, feeling, and believing that sets one
group apart from another. It is the traditional knowledge that is passed
down from one generation to the next (Van Wormer, 1997).

V_a|_ueS.

Preferences that serve as guides or criteria for selecting good or desirable
behavior, for “what is worth having or being,” and for “those conceptions of
desirable states of affairs that are utilized in selective conduct as criteria
for preferences, or as justifications for proposed or actual behavior”

(Loewenberg, Dolgoff 8. Harrington, 2000, p. 20).

71

 

 

Chapter Four — Research Design and Methodology
Project Description

This qualitative, exploratory research took place in Romania during the
months of May and June in 2003.

With the participant’s consent, I conducted audio taped, semi-structured
interviews with directors and employees of several faith-based, non-
governmental welfare agencies that deliver services to vulnerable families,
children, and elderly people, and one non-governmental agency that is not
affiliated with a religious organization. The focus of the questions was to some
extent determined by the subject being interviewed and his/her role in the
community, but a common set of topical areas, described in Chapter Three, was
infused into each interview. Although only one, approximately 60-minute,
interview was held with each participant, I asked about his or her potential
availability to clarify the content by email at a later date, and positive responses
were given. Ultimately, however, only one interviewee was recontacted.

The interviews focused on the delivery of what, from a US. perspective,
would be considered “faith-based” social welfare services, in that these agencies
(with one exception) incorporate religious values and practices into their policies
and programs. In the interviews I also sought to assess, at the macro level, the
economic, political, and societal/cultural value systems that affected both the
community and its individual residents, and the types of welfare services the
agencies provided. The questions I asked took into account Romania’s history of

repression, poverty, and institutionalized religion (including the unique perversity

72

 

 

of the Ceausescu regime’s control of reproduction), with the goal of identifying
the effects of this history on welfare delivery, while also recognizing the effects of
the current socio-political situation. Behind my line of questioning were the
contemporary value-policy configuration referenced in Figure 1.1 and the globally
relevant concepts of social development, human rights, multiculturalism/cultural
competence, social exclusion or inclusion, security, and sustainability. (In this
document, I have marked these concepts in bold type to show where they
became evident during the interview process.)

Method of lnguipl

Constructivist inquiry, a qualitative method of research, is the
epistemological perspective guiding this research; the methods utilized are
graphically presented in Figure 2.

In a very basic way, anyone who believes that the mind is active in the
construction of knowledge is a constructivist. Constructivism means that human
beings socially construct knowledge rather than discovering or finding it: “We
invent concepts, models and schemes to make sense of experience and, further,
we continually test and modify these constructions in the light of new experience”
(Denzin, 1998, p. 236). This perspective was first known as “naturalism” and was
developed by Lincoln and Guba (1985), whose research model I drew upon in
conducting my study. Since then, various theorists in sociology, philosophy, and
psychology have made further refinements to the theory and have relabeled it

“constructivism,” a name that more accurately reflects its connections to social

73

construction and its departure from conventional research designs and methods
(Rodwell, 1998).
Constructivist Research Asympflgrls

Constructivists assume that realities are multiple, constructed, and holistic.
What gives meaning to a given person depends on that person’s perspective or
position (Rodwell, 1998). In contrast to positivist assumptions derived from
natural science, according to constructivism there is no single, objective reality,
only realities that are created in relationship to individual perspectives. Through
the inquiry process, the constructivist researcher attempts to enter the role of the
individual under investigation in order to understand how the individual’s inner
experience relates to his or her outward actions. Constructivists are interested in
the stmcture of construct systems, the schemas or cognitive maps that
individuals evolve for themselves to allow them to impose meaning on their
individual experiences (Rodwell, 1998).

If, as constructivism assumes, there is no objectivity, then the knower and
the known are interactive and inseparable. This implies that in a research project
the participants, including the researcher, are changed as a result of the
research. The respondents are shaped by their perceptions and expectations
about the research and the future use of their data. The researcher not only
disturbs nature, but also shapes it; what is learned depends on what is asked.
Because of this, qualitative researchers believe that subjectivity is unavoidable in
social science; the phenomena researchers consider worth studying are those

they see as meaningful because onlookers attach value to them (Brower &

74

Abolafia, 1996, p. 366). In order to recognize this subjectivity, qualitative
researchers often write in the first person. Using the first-person singular (“l”}
illuminates the researcher’s presence in the research; first person plural
pronouns (“we”), as well as verbs in the present tense, helps enlist his or her
readers’ participation in interpreting evidence he or she presents (Brower &

Abolafia, 1996).

Figure 2 Constructivist Research Methods (Rodwell, 1998)

 

Natural setting. Reality cannot be understood in isolation from the context that
gives it meaning.

 

Human instrument. Only the human instrument is capable of grasping
meaning, and does so in interaction with others.

 

Tacit knowledge. Intuitive knowledge is a legitimate way to understand
nuances.

 

Qualitative methods. Methods using words and observations more
competently deal with multiple realities as they expose more directly the
nature of the transaction between the investigator and the participants.

 

Purposive sampling. Sampling is done to increase the scope and range of
data exposed, with the goal of looking for multiple realities.

 

Inductive data analysis. Data are first analyzed from raw units of information,
then generalized to subsuming categories in order to make sense of the
investigation context.

 

 

Grounded theory. Theory emerges from the inquiry, based on inductive data

 

75

 

 

analysis.

 

Emergent design. The research process emerges from the experience rather
than being totally developed beforehand.

 

Negotiated outcomes. The inquirer negotiates meanings, interpretations, and
final products with the human sources of data, because the participants own
their data and because their constructions of reality are of interest.

 

Case study reporting mode. The case study is preferred to other research
methods for being less reductionistic and more adaptable to multiple realities.

 

ldiographic interpretation. Data are interpreted in terms of the particulars of
the case rather than in terms of law-like generalizations.

 

Tentative application of findings. Findings may have no broad application
because the realities of each case are multiple and different.

 

Focus-determined boundaries. What is the real question and who knows the
answer are determined by an emergent focus that allows the multiple realities
to shape and define the research.

 

Trustworthiness. Research rigor takes the place of positivist standards of
validity and reliability.

 

 

Authenticity. Research is attentive to the interactive dimension of the inquiry.
It has a qualitative change focus.

 

 

Constructivism and Social Work
I chose constmctivist inquiry as my research method partly because of its
affinities with social work’s ideology, purpose, and methods. Central to both

social work and constructivism is an interactive and context-bound attention to

76

dignity, individuality, empowerment, and mutual respect in the relationship
between the individual and society (Rodwell, 1998). Both social work and
constructivism hold that human knowledge is never final or absolute. In fact,
constructivist research provides a way to avoid racist or oppressive interactions
because it recognizes all possibilities. lnforrnation is obtained from multiple points
of view that include participants at all levels, from administrators to direct service
providers.

Both social work and the constructivist framework are pragmatic—both
ideologies are based on the assumption that one should use the knowledge or
action that works. Constructivism’s pragmatic bent can be seen in its focus on
what is done with the meaning given to lived experience; social work shows its
pragmatism by focusing on the ways clients actually respond to life’s struggles
(Rodwell, 1998). By recognizing the variety of “real-life” ways of thinking and
acting, constructivism can help social workers avoid the individualism permeating
much of American social work. The constructivist preference for examining
multiple perspectives rather than limiting itself to one “true” perspective can be a
corrective for some of the difficulties associated with maintaining a unique,
individualistic view (Laird, 1995).

Constructivism is ldiographic in its approach to knowledge —its primary
purpose is to generate knowledge that results from understanding. Gaining
knowledge enhances the individual’s power to make informed choices that can
lead to effective change. Similarly, unleashing the client’s own power through

collaborative identification of both the problem and the solution is what drives

77

most social work activities (Levy, 1983; Simon, 1994). Social work is both
idiographic—built on a need to know the particulars of a case—and nomothetic—
interested in using knowledge to generalize information to a class of individuals
(Rodwell, 1998, p.7).

Such is the close fit between social work practice and qualitative research
methods that Gilgun describes their integration rather elegantly as being “like
sliding a hand into a well made glove” (1994, p.115). The approach of the social
worker, similar to the context-rich and inductive approaches of qualitative
research methods, is to start “where the client is,” view clients as part of a wider
social context, and make use of individualized assessment and maximum detail
in chronicling the lives of clients. Social work practitioners, like qualitative
researchers, think both inductively and deductively, examining information from a
variety of sources before drawing conclusions about a client’s problems and
determining appropriate treatment, and responding to new information by
modifying the treatment approach. The primary methods of data collection in
qualitative research—in-depth interviewing, observation, and document review—
are already known to social work practitioners. The emphasis on naturalistic
inquiry valued by constructivists is familiar to social workers who are accustomed
to visiting clients’ homes and communities. Qualitative interviews strongly
resemble a therapeutic interview. Both interview methods allow thoughts,
memories, and feelings to be disclosed in a “safe,” nonjudgmental environment
established by an empathic interviewer (Weis, 1994). Both entail a joint search

for meaning and understanding. . In Figure 3, the reasons for choosing

78

qualitative research are summarized, and the rationale is particularly compelling

for an exploratory study of the type I have conducted.

Figure 3 Reasons for Qualitative, Constructivist Research (Padgett, 1998)

 

To explore a topic about which little is known. Qualitative methods work best for
the initial, exploratory phase of inquiry. These methods can be a first step in
gaining in-depth understanding of topics that have not been researched (AIDS
orphans, domestic abuse among gays and lesbians, identity of interracial
children, coping by single fathers).

 

To pursue a topic of sensitivity and emotional depth. Human crises and dilemmas
that require empathy and understanding would not be appropriately dealt with in
a standardized, closed-ended interview. For research in behaviors considered
taboo by society (drug addiction, the activities of sex workers and gang
members), subjects’ cooperation may not be obtainable using the usual forms of
survey research.

 

To capture the “lived experience” from the perspectives of those who live a
situation and create meaning from it. Qualitative studies are emic, capturing the
respondent’s point of view, rather than etic, seeking to explain the perspective of
an objective outsider.

Note: The emic—versus-etic distinction originated in anthropology (Harris, 1968),
phonemic vs. phonetic, to describe how the ethnographer’s role has evolved
away from that of a scientist of culture, to that of a portrayer of meaning in
context.

 

To explore the process (rather than the outcome) of a program. Qualitative
research may complement the quantitative findings by providing a deeper
understanding of how the intervention succeeded or failed.

 

 

When quantitative research does not adequately explain the findings of a topic

 

79

 

 

and more in-depth, qualitative study is required. Questions often emerge during
quantitative research that cannot be explained without a more detailed and
qualitative approach.

 

 

When merging activism with research. In action research, members of oppressed
groups who are studied maintain substantial control over the study from start to
finish.

 

Designing the Study: Sampling Strategies

As a qualitative researcher, I made my sample purposive or theoretical,
which means that I selected participants and sites based on their ability to
provide needed information rather than at random. But although the research
process proceeded according to an emergent design (one that is developed as
the experience progresses), some methodological considerations were
necessary before the study began. My initial interviews focused on the macro
sources of funding for welfare services provided by faith-based NGOs in
Romania, which led me to interview administrators from USAID and World
Learning. To assess the effectiveness of and community support for NGO’s in
Romania, l targeted the directors of agencies with religious affiliations. I also
interviewed other community and church leaders to gauge their views. Finally, I
sought interviews from the program staff who were themselves members of the
agency’s surrounding community. I wanted the sample of those I interviewed to
include both men and women, Romanian and foreign, social workers and others

affiliated with faith based NGOs.

80

 

Recruiting Resmndents
My first responsibility involved identifying potential stakeholders in the

inquiry. l was careful to use a process that recognized value pluralism as well as
the need for equal opportunity; my goal was to give voice to the individual or
group-held perspectives of those I interviewed, without making judgments
prejudiced by regard to power, position, or interest. (Guba & Lincoln, 1986).

As part of the research protocol, I obtained approval to proceed with my
study from Michigan State University’s University Committee on Research
Involving Human Subjects (UCRIHS). The respondents were chosen on the
basis of their role in provision of welfare services, and did not receive any
financial remuneration for their services. Their participation was verbally
requested and on a totally volunteer basis. I obtained the subjects’ permission
prior to their participation and before using any identifying information or a tape-
recording device.

Each approximately one-hour interview took place in the participant’s own
work setting, or in an alternate setting of his or her choosing. For example, two of
the interviews took place in a local coffee shop, and one was recorded in the
orphanage while feeding babies. Two of the interviews were held with more than
one respondent, the two administrators in Bucharest, and the three employees of
Veritas in Sighisoara. As the primary researcher of this study, I conducted all
the interviews.

As the study went on there was a “snowball” effect in the subjects I

interviewed: additional participants were chosen as a result of leads obtained

81

from the original sample. For example, one of the participants had made
connections with the domestic crisis center in the city of Constanta, and through
her efforts I was able to interview the physician in charge of that program. In
another case, one of my students wished to participate as a volunteer in another
agency in Romania, and so an opportunity to connect with another NGO
materialized.
Participants

For this study I interviewed a total of nineteen persons: three
administrators involved in evaluating or selecting social welfare programs for
funding, six persons directly in charge of running NGOs, five employees of a
faith-based NGO that work directly with clients (four Romanians and one
volunteer from the US), two social workers from the US. who were involved at
the time of this research with Romanian programs, one director of a social
welfare program of the Romanian government, a pastor in one of the local
evangelical Christian churches, and a Peace Corp volunteer. All of the
participants spoke English, so a translator was not needed. Additionally, all of the
participants signed a consent form allowing their name to be used in the
research. More specific demographic information is included in Chapter Five, the
results section, prior to the discussion of each interview.
Interview Times and Locations

All of the interviews took place in Romania, between May and June of
2003, with two exceptions. One of the participants I interviewed in Romania,

Dorothy Tarrant, made a visit to Michigan in December of 2003, and I conducted

82

an additional interview with her at that time, specifically to address issues related
to promotion of civil society. Also in December, I conducted a first-time interview
with Mihaela and Amber, two women from Romania who had come to Grand
Rapids for information about domestic crisis programs.

The remaining interviews took place in four different Romanian cities:
Bucharest, Sighisoara, Targu Mures, and Constanta. These sites were chosen
primarily because I had connections with the agencies located there, and also
because they provided variance in size and location, which contributed to the
diversity and complexity of the information I could obtain. The largest number of
interviews—six—took place in Sighisoara, where Dorothy Tenant has
established a Romanian Studies program for social work students, as well as a
foundation that funds services to the residents of that city. (More specific details
regarding her work will accompany her interview in Chapter 4.)

Data Analysis

I followed the advice of Miles and Hubennan (1994) by creating explicit
research questions for each of my major topic areas. (In Chapter 4, l have
highlighted these topic areas in bold font as they became evident in the course of
the interviews). Under these six general areas I included probing questions for
clarity and specificity. These research questions helped me concentrate the data
collection so that I could focus on the information that had an obvious, direct, or
important link to the effects of values and economics on the delivery of welfare
services. As a result, the research was theoretically driven; conceptual questions

guided my choice of informants, as my primary concern was with the conditions

83

under which the theory operates, not with generating findings that could be also
generalized to other settings (Miles and Huberman, 1994). I interviewed only
agencies located in Romania, and the majority of the interviews focused on the
faith-based issues confronting them.

I predetermined some of the interviews by following a generic funneling
sampling technique (Erikson, 1986, in Hubennan), working from the outside in to
the core of the setting. For example, I began interviewing persons involved in
administering the funding of NGOs, then the directors of the NGOs, and finally
the NGOs’ employees. However, I also did some snowball and multiple-case
sampling, which had more of a “rolling” quality, making choices to add cases as
the research continued and patterns became evident. A deliberate choice to
contact a non-faith based agency director was a maximum variation in the
sampling, a strategy advocated by Guba and Lincoln (1989). However, selecting
multiple cases that were similar in purpose and design helped to strengthen and
validate the findings. For this reason, all of the other agencies I chose to observe
were faith-based.

As I started to compile information, both from observations and the
transcribed semi-structured interviews, I reviewed the tapes and written notes
and began the process of content analysis, applying an objective, open coding
scheme to the data, as described by Anselm Strauss (1987). I used Strauss’s
four basic guidelines: 1) ask the data a specific and consistent set of questions;
2) analyze the data minutely; 3) intenupt the coding to write theoretical notes;

and 3) never assume analytic relevance until the data proves it.

84

The categories I used for analysis were determined inductively and
deductively: I identified the primary themes after involving myself in the
transcripts of the interviews, but I based many of my insights and relevant
questions on previous personal and scholarly experience with the topic. From the
beginning, however, I examined the information garnered from the interviews in
light of my six general topic areas. I deconstructed the information first into these
six areas and then into smaller, more explicit meaning units according to the
words and phrases used by the interviewees.

Sampling occurred at the level of words, phrases, sentences, subjects
discussed, and ideological stance. To use the terminology of Lincoln and Guba
(Miles & Huberman, 1994, p. 62), I performed the following operations: “filling in,”
or adding new codes as insights emerged; “extension,” or revising earlier codes;
“bridging,” or seeing new relationships within a category; and “surfacing,” or
identifying new categories. The coding itself is sometimes descriptive, sometimes
interpretive, sometimes reflective of an emerging pattern.

I did not use any type of computer programming to assist with the
analysis, but preferred to do it “by hand.” I then used a checklist matrix to
organize the coded material into a format that would allow for a systematic
verification and quantification of variables (Miles &Huberman, 1994). The goal of
this effort was to identify common themes and primary patterns in the data. I
considered these patterns in the context of previous research information and

generalizations that had already been established.

85

Limitations of the Study

Perhaps one of the most obvious limitations of this study is its applicability
to other settings. The sample size is relatively small and is located in a single
Eastern European ocuntry. The faith-based agencies sampled were all
sponsored by evangelical Christian churches, and all of their directors were
Caucasian. As a result, the situation in these agencies is specific, in many
respects, to the history of the area, and to the mission of the participants. Due to
the snowball aspect of the sampling of participants, it is reasonable to believe
that subjects may have referred me to individuals with similar beliefs and
attitudes to their own.

Another possible limitation results from the demand characteristic of
research, wherein subjects may feel an obligation to participate or to provide the
responses they believe the researcher wants to hear. I was in Romania
representing a Christian university, and doing research with participants from
primarily faith-based agencies. They may have been motivated to say and do
what would be recognized as congruent with their religious faith and biblically
based, regardless of actual feelings or observations which they may have felt
would be less acceptable to me, as well as to their fellow Christians and their
constituents. It is impossible to assess the full effect of demand characteristics
(Shaffir, Stebbins & Turowetz, 1980), or to fully explain the many implications
demand characteristics may have for these participants. However, I did not ever
have any specific reason to think any of the participants were less than candid,

and to the contrary, seemed to share information in an open and transparent

86

manner, hoping to help me complete research that would be an accurate
portrayal of the conditions in their agency and the community in which they
resided.

A final limitation had to do with spatial and temporal exclusivity. The
research was conducted at four agencies in a relatively small area of a small
country. The period of time I spent in Romania was also limited, as was the
length of the interviews. The replicability of this research in another time or place
cannot be determined.

On the other hand, this qualitative exploration is characterized by local
groundedness and rich description. l was able to observe and meet with
participants in the environment of the agencies where they labored—with crying
babies in the background, sitting in a crowded train traversing the landscape, or
in the heat of a musty church auditorium. Over coffee in the morning on the
porch, sipping tea in the kitchen in the afternoon, or enjoying the cool taste of
flower-flavored punch in the evening, the context was real, and the participants
were able to connect their experiences with the interview settings. The
perspectives I heard were varied, and came from Romanians in direct service
positions as well as from Americans who administered grants from a nation both
geographically and ideologically distant. I could draw on my expertise as a well-
practiced social worker as I interviewed and elicited the trust of the participants,
who for their part, by their experience and involvement, were able to share

relevant and meaningful experiences.

87

Chapter Five - Results and Discussion
Demggraphics of Romania Today

Romania is located in southeastern Europe, bordering the Black Sea,
between Bulgaria and Ukraine (see Figure 4, map of Romania). It covers
237,500 square kilometers, which makes it slightly smaller than Oregon and
about half the size of France. Most of central and northern Romania is taken up
by the U-shaped Carpathian mountain range, which accounts for about a third of
the country’s area. Another third of Romania is covered by hills and tablelands
full of orchards and vineyards; the remaining third is a fertile plain where cereals,
vegetables, herbs, and other crops are grown. Forty-three percent of the land is
arable, 28% is covered with forests and woodlands, 19% is meadows and
pastures, 3% is planted with permanent crops and 7% is devoted to other uses
(Krzysztof, 1997). The climate is temperate; cold cloudy winters with frequent
snow and fog are contrasted with sunny summers exhibiting showers and
thunderstorms.

The statistics listed below have been obtained from the 2003 CIA World
Factbook, the most recent information recorded by this agency. Romanian’s
population is 22,271,839, with a negative growth rate of -0.21% and a negative
migration rate of -0.6%. The life expectancy at birth in 2003 was 66.8 years for
males and 74.5 years for females. The infant mortality rate is 18 per 1,000 births.
The people face many health problems; although health facilities are free to all
citizens, they are poorly equipped and understaffed. Respiratory and other

illnesses associated with heavy pollution and smoking are common. Due to a

88

Figure 4 Map of Romania

 

_fl . x _,
”Cheat-L'mfifikk

 

89

practice in the past of giving newborn babies blood transfusions if they appeared
anemic, many children have contracted HIV/AIDS from contaminated needles
and blood.

The population’s literacy rate is 98.4%. Despite its high literacy rate,
44.5% of the population lives below the poverty line, and there is an 8.3%
unemployment rate. Of those who are employed, 40% work in agriculture, 25% in
industry, and 35% in services. Education is compulsory and free for Romanians
between the ages of 6 and 16; the first 8 years are spent in primary and
secondary schools, and the last 2 to 5 years may be spent in a variety of
secondary institutions. English and French are the primary foreign languages
taught in Romanian schools. (Incidentally, the Romanian language is close to
Latin, and according to the Lonely Planet guidebook (Krzysztof,1997), Romania
is the only country that speaks a Romance language but does not have a Roman
Catholic background.)

The CIA report notes that despite the global slowdown in 2001 and 2002,
strong domestic activity in Romanian constmction, agriculture, and consumption
have kept growth above 4%. Nonetheless, these macroeconomic gains have
done little to address Romania’s widespread poverty, and corruption and red
tape hinder foreign investment. Inflation is also a problem, but has lessened
since the government committed itself to reduce the rate by one-half in 2000; it
hovered at 50% in 1999 but was reported at 22.5% in 2002 (CIA, 2003).

Financial and technical assistance, which continues to flow in from the

US, the European Union, other industrial nations, and international financial

90

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institutions, are facilitating Romania’s reintegration into the world economy. The
lntemational Monetary Fund, the World Bank, the European Bank for .
Reconstmction and Development, and the US. Agency for lntemational
Development all'have programs and representatives in Romania.

Interviews in Bucharest

My research began in Bucharest, the largest city in Romania. With a
population of over two million, it is also the largest city between Berlin and
Athens. Bucharest today is a jumble of traffic-clogged streets filled with cheap
and aging Dacias (a poorly manufactured car actually made in Romania), ugly
concrete apartment blocks, and strangely unfinished Communist government
buildings—rusting building cranes still in place.

As Romania’s capital and center of government, it is the site of the largest
airport in Romania, so it is the usual point of entry for most Romanian visitors,
myself included. Although at first glance the airport seems similar to any other
modern airport, I was struck by the absence of tourist stores selling “I Love
Bucharest” T-shirts or Starbucks selling lattes at inflated prices. As soon as I left
the protected luggage area and custom lines, the hot sun outside revealed a
glimpse of what I would encounter later in the experience: Roma and other dark-
skinned young men, in this case would-be porters begging to take my luggage to
an awaiting taxi or van. I had been warned to avoid them, as they might wish for
more than a generous tip, leaving me with nothing more than the leftover peanuts

in my shoulder bag.

91

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US.

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Driving to the Nazarene Church where we will be spending the night, I was
aware of the contrast between this large city and other large cosmopolitan areas
I have visited, for example, Paris or New York City. For one thing, although
flowers had been planted in the medians of the streets and there was evidence of
green space on the sides of the road, none of the grass was cut, and the weeds
growing randomly gave an impression of abandonment in the midst of heavy
traffic and populated buildings. Amid the uncut grass and untrimmed bushes was
rusted and unsafe-looking playground equipment, and the cars on the road were
old and cheap, the kind of vehicles that might be driven by teenagers in the
U.S.—where were the sleek foreign imports driven by most businessmen in other
cities? I had yet to see a Lexus, BMW, or even a Saab.

The elderly gentleman driving the van in which I was a passenger shared
that he was from the US. and was volunteering for the year in Romania as a
member of the Nazarene Church. He stated that it had taken him at least six
months to be comfortable driving in the chaotic and unpredictable traffic that
seems to have limited recognition of any accepted rules of the road. He also
stated that, in his anecdotal experience, “no one likes living in Bucharest”—that it
is “a city everyone seems to hate” since it is “too busy, crowded, and lacking in
beauty.” However, jobs are available here, and the pay is much higher than in
rural areas, so many choose to stay, in spite of the disagreeable living conditions.

As we neared the street leading to the church, I noticed the presence of
US. franchises, including a Ruby Tuesday a few blocks from our destination.

The driver noted it almost wryly as a sign of progress; I guessed that if there

92

were enough customers to support a chain restaurant, things must be looking up.
But when we turned down the rutted lane leading to the church, Romania
seemed more like a severely undeveloped country as dirty, dark-skinned children
suddenly appeared, one wearing a ragged Mickey Mouse shirt, and all begging
for money or at least some attention. As we took their pictures and distributed
Tootsie Rolls, I noticed the collection of dilapidated buildings and shacks that
were not visible from the main roads and realized that this was another part of
the community—the hidden one that is not displayed in Northwest Airlines’ travel
magazine.

The functional brick building that did look like a church, complete with
steeple, became our home for the next three nights. We made arrangements with
a young Romanian woman who spoke enough English to communicate to us that
I would be staying in a large rooms upstairs, with six mattresses on the floor that
had been made up with an assortment of worn sheets and blankets. Outside the
door there was a large landing from which doors led to a small kitchen and half-
bath. A large picnic-type table, situated in the middle, would provide a location for
meals or meetings.

Bernita Nicholas Researcher on Street Children

 

It was in this setting that I conducted my first interview, with Bernita
Nicholas, a social work professor from Mt. Vernon Nazarene University in Ohio,
who was doing research as a Fullbright Scholar with street children in Bucharest.
Although Bernita is not officially working with any faith-based agency, I was

interested in her views on the work of non-governmental agencies (NGO’S), and

93

whether she had insight into how their work was influenced by foreign funding
and native values. Bernita is involved with the Nazarene Church, and my
connection with her was arranged through one of the pastors at the church in
which we were staying. In the US, Bernita had worked as a child therapist with
abused children, and had been in Romania seven times before. As field director
at Mount Vernon, Bernita had placed 11 students in Sighisoara with Dorothy
Tarrant and her Romanian Studies program.

In our interview, Bernita expressed some discouragement about her work.
Funding for programs that deal directly with street children has been
discontinued and shifted to programs that set up shelters and day centers where
children can shower, eat, and have access to medical assistance. These new
programs are being encouraged by the European Union, Bernita told me,
especially those that are focused on deinstitutionalizing children who have been
living in orphanages, and “If the EU wants kids out of institutions, that is where
the money goes.” Bernita’s comments show that the sustainability of these
programs is to some degree dependent on financing from foreign countries;
funding clearly affects what kinds of programs are offered. If the EU decided that
shelters were a more effective way to intervene with children on the street, NGOs
adapted to that goal in order to obtain financing—and, hopefully, also to more
effectively remedy the problem of homeless children.

However, Bernita has found that, as a result of frequent changes in NGO
participation, the children on the street were distrustful of foundations and critical

of them; they do not identify NGOs or foundations as sources of assistance.

94

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Their perspective is that foreigners come in and make lots of promises, but kids
are still on the street, and therefore they do not trust outsiders to provide any real
help. In addition, they often view NGOs as being corrupt—taking the clothing and
money intended for the street children for their own personal use. Trust has been
an issue for Bernita too, who did not feel she had the respect or cooperation of
the children until she came to interview them alone, accompanied only by an
interpreter, and not as someone connected with a larger agency. Clearly, a
sense of security has not resulted from the interventions provided by NGOs,
since the services they provide are not predictable and some may even be
profiting from exploiting the children rather than helping them.

In Bemita’s view, the governmental policies in place also make it difficult
for children who are illegally living in sewers and canals. The police, although
unable to offer other options, frequently seal these off. By demolishing their
shelter, the police are also destroying the children’s only belongings—which may
include their birth certificate, Called a bulletine, which they need to qualify for job
opportunities or even basic medical care. It is almost impossible for a child to
replace a destroyed bulletine and thereby obtain any rights of citizenship. Bernita
has also observed several instances of police brutality, which did end when they
saw her observing their behavior. (She feels that as an American, she was more
respected than her Romanian interpreter.) These children, as part of the poorest

and least powerful segment of Romanian society, are victims of social

 

exclusion, and as such are not even able to participate in the limited

opportunities available to the general population.

95

As she discussed her observations about NGOs, Bernita indicated that
she thought those who were working for faith-based organizations were more
“tenacious” than secular ones, since they saw themselves as “working for God”
and were able to find spiritual support through prayer and Bible study. When she
was feeling cynical about the role of government in decision-making, Bernita
found herself realizing, “I need to rely on God and the fact that he is still in
control.” Bernita’s comments suggest that religious affiliation may contribute to
the social development of faith-based agencies, but it is not clear that this is of
direct benefit to the homeless children, except that these agencies may gain
effectiveness from the strength employees take from their faith perspective. At
the end of our conversation, Bernita gave me the email address of Shawn
Flanigan, a friend of hers who was also doing research on NGOs in Romania,
and who she thought might be helpful for my research.

Donna and Carmen Child Welfare Administrators

 

Later that morning, I entered the “downtown” area of Bucharest (or at least
an area with shops and a McDonald’s), to the upstairs office of a rather
nondescript brick building. The office of Bethany Christian Services, a child
welfare NGO, is located down the hall from a private apartment, in what was at
one time a family dwelling, and Desks now inhabit what was once a living or
dining room. The elevator that brought me to the third floor was aging, tiny, and
slow; it was with great relief that I saw that the door would indeed open.

I was there to meet with Donna, the local representative of United States

Aid for lntemational Development (USAID), and Carmen Dumitrache, the

96

national director of Bethany Christian Services. This interview in Bucharest was
made possible by my teaching partner at Cornerstone University, who was
employed for several years in Bethany’s Grand Rapids office and also for three
years in Romania (an example of how the macro level of social work can play
out). Both Donna and Carmen are Romanian and hold positions formerly held by
United States’ citizens, an example of the progress made toward increasing the
involvement of local citizens. This kind of progress improves the sustainability
of foreign NGOs working in Romania and may also bode well for _sgcjaJ
development, since both of these women are in executive and administrative
roles.

Donna and Carmen were working together on a project sponsored by
USAID called CHILDNET, which works toward the deinstitutionalization of
children by providing more support to families with children and developing
community-based adoption and foster-care programs. To accomplish this,
CHILDNET provides educational programs, both for parents and for people who
complete a year-long training program in order to become “social assistants.”
CHILDNET emphasizes sustainability and social develogment as it involves
local communities and individuals in the problem of institutionalized children and
trains Romanians to manage the programs, with the eventual goal of establishing
Romanians social welfare professionals.

As my interview with these two women began, Donna explained that
because of a denial of all social problems under Ceausescu, there was no

profession of social work in Romania, or any further educational opportunities for

97

social work. In her view, the profession “has to be recreated.” When asked about
the utility of having an outside agency from the US. in the position of training
Romanians for social work, Carmen named three advantages to gaining
knowledge from lntemational workers: 1) an advanced knowledge base; 2) a
knowledge of economics; and 3) an understanding of how to use and develop
community resources. However, she also observed that social workers from the
US. are “not good at changing laws, they are good at working directly with
people.”

Although open to assistance from outside countries to avoid “reinventing
the wheel,” Carmen also recognized that someone else’s model of intervention
or treatment cannot be accepted without making the necessary adjustments for a
different population. Bethany, as an agency based in the US, can share its
experience and programs with a relatively deprived Romania, but, as Carmen
pointed out, success in providing services remains crucially linked to c_ultu_ral
comgtence—a recognition and understanding of the values and history of the
people. (Even among Romanians themselves, she explained, a well-educated
social worker from Bucharest would have struggles working with clients who live
in some of the outlying rural and agricultural areas.)

Carmen also observed that services to Romania are no longer of the
humanitarian aid type, but rather are geared toward educating the populace to
provide their own, sustainable, services. “Romanians have had enough

experience to show what works in this country,” she said, proudly adding that the

98

local Bethany office had planned a “best practices” conference for other agencies
from the county, to be held later that spring.

Donna turned the discussion to the subject of deinstitutionalization. Since
1995, she said, programs for children in Romania have focused on developing
programs locally, at the community rather than the national level. This is
response to the policy of the late ’80s and early ”905, when efforts to improve
orphanage facilities resulted in institutions that were physically better than the
homes where the children had been living, or would be placed. Many children
had difficulty adjusting to a lower standard of living and would run away from their
new homes. For example, one of the children was horrified to find that “I cannot
even brush my teeth every morning at home.” “We were not aware of such a
danger,” Donna admitted. Working locally with families began to take the place of
of upgrading the large county-run orphanages. The successful reunification of
children into homes testifies to the positive effects of encouraging £2974!
development at a local level.

Although the agency was succeeding in clarifying its goals, Carmen, as
Bethany’s director, acknowledged that working with multiple funders, some of
which have conflicting interests, presented challenges and sometimes led to poor
coordination of services. Bethany was working with the European Union’s
PHARE program, which emphasizes technical assistance and economic
improvements; with UNICEF, which supports the health and safety needs of
children, regardless of location in a home or institution; and with a USAID grant

that emphasizes adoption and placement in private homes. Carmen commented

99

that, at the time of our interview, the conflict between US. and the EU revolved
around what is truly in the best interest of the child. The United States prefers
international adoption if there is no other alternative for a child in Romania; the
European Union, on the other hand, thinks it is more important for children to
stay in their own country and culture, even if that means remaining
institutionalized. This is potentially a matter of human rights—a question of
whether or not children’s individual rights may be compromised for what is
considered good for the entire society. Although in general it may be better for
Romania not to lose its children, I wondered if there may also be circumstances
in which a child may need the resources available in another country. Carmen
concluded that since Romania wishes to maintain good relationships with both
the US. and the EU, it can be difficult for Bethany to make policies based on
what is really best for the children, without considering the political implications.
Donna, of USAID, put forth another problem, this one a result of the
conservative and restricting U.S. position on birth control and abortion. In
Romania, although the Orthodox Church does not approve of abortion, it tends to
look the other way; no woman who had had an abortion would be
excommunicated because of it, since women in Romania have historically relied
on abortion for birth control. This situation was initiated by Ceausescu’s ban on
birth control measures. To make the situation worse, only gynecologists can
prescribe birth control pills or other devices, which then cost money to purchase;
an abortion in a hospital, however, is free. (As a result, Donna said, many women

become sterile in their mid- to late twenties due to frequent abortions, but have

100

no understanding of this connection.) Nor has information about the use of birth
control been forthcoming from medical staff who may depend on performing
abortions for their income. In addition, it is difficult to relay information to the rural
areas due to lower literacy rates there, and because of the absence of electronic
means of communication through radio or television. Donna’s conclusion is that
Romanian women are alone in their responsibility to control reproduction, without
adequate support from their spouses or from any environmental resources.

The US. policy, and many of the faith-based organization’s polices
against funding abortions, is therefore incongruent with the culture and current
needs of the Romanian population, and thus also socially excludes women who
wish to have abortions, since the policy affects what services are offered and
requires an adherence to a value that is based on specific religious beliefs.

Romania’s history regarding reproductive rights has significant
implications for the work of agencies like Bethany that work with orphans.
Carmen explained that when a mother cannot care for her baby (often because
of poverty or youth), her options are limited. Although widely known in the US,
the concepts of adoption and foster care are very new in Romania. Carmen
added that the Romanian people “have strong feelings that parents should be
caring for their own children, and as such are reluctant to take responsibility for
someone else’s children”. Although she cautioned that statistics in Romania are
not reliable, Donna estimated that there are currently 170,000 children still living

in Romanian institutions.

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In addition, many children in orphanages are seen as having special
needs in some way, and Romanian people in general are not open to adopting
older children or special needs children. “The EU thought that a moratorium on
international adoption would increase domestic adoption, but this did not
happen,” said Carmen. Because the European Union’s cultural competence in
Romanian concepts of family and children was neglected, the results of the
moratorium were contrary to what was expected. The problem was not that
children were unavailable for adoption, but that the children who were available
did not meet the criteria for inclusion in this society. The EU’s policy was
directed at offering welfare services in a way that required recipients to comply
with practices that were too advanced for their level of social development.

When I asked Carmen and Donna about Bethany’s faith-based
connection, neither seemed to see any advantages of the organization’s
ideological stance for its service delivery. In fact, Carmen saw having “Christian”
in Bethany’s name as something of a disadvantage, since after the revolution in
1989, a number of cult-like organizations came in the name of Christianity and
forced their teachings on people in the name of evangelism. Carmen thought that
as a result of their behavior, people were afraid and had developed a bias
against Christian organizations, in general. To combat this, she said, “Bethany is
trying not to be aggressive, and is trying to be more ecumenical.” In the
contemporary Romanian setting, human rights violations and the possibility of

exclusion have been linked with religion, and an agency with the necessary

102

cultural comgtence wisely minimizes its connection with these types of faith-
based groups.

Nanette Gonzalez Direct Provider of Infant CJa_rp

 

My last interview in Bucharest was with Nannette Gonzalez, cofounder of
ROCK, Romania’s Outreach to Christ’s Kids. This contact came at the
suggestion of a student who had done volunteer work with this private foundation
the previous winter. This ministry had been a popular one with Cornerstone
students, and while still in Grand Rapids I had been given some anecdotal
information about Nannette and her efforts.

Nannette is a 43-year-old Mexican-American who was raised in California.
Nannette was working as a missionary in Spain when, in 1994, she became
acquainted with the dire situation of children in Romanian orphanages and felt
God’s call to work with them. Her work takes place in a children’s hospital in
Bucharest that has in reality become an orphanage for infants who are perceived
to have special needs or physical problems. Nannette’s mission is to reunite
these children with their parents and, if that is not possible, to place them in
foster care or facilitate their adoption. She estimates that about 50% return home
and 30% are in foster care. Approximately 15% have been adopted, but mostly
by Americans. In addition to her role with ROCK Ministries, Nannette is involved
with and has served as chainlvoman of the Pro-Child Federation, a group
representing more than 80 Romanian organizations that advocate and provide

services for children at risk.

103

 

To accomplish her mission in the infant hospital, Nannette works to
educate hospital workers about children’s need for love, touch, and stimulation.
Nannette has a cadre of her own staff who are paid by ROCK and work
according to her expectations. She is pleased to note that all of her staff
members are Romanian, so that “I am working myself out of a job.” Although it is
not directly stated in her mission, sustainability is quite obviously an important T
component of the work. However, worker retention is also a challenge.

Nannette’s staff of nurses and therapists is supplemental to the regular staff hired

 

by the state. But even though Nannette pays them more than the regular hospital
staff make, she finds that turnover is still high, as employees leave as soon as
they can obtain a visa to live in Hungary, where pay and living conditions are
much better.

Nannette’s organization also works in the community, with the parents of
the hospital’s tiny patients. ROCK’s educational services teach parents about
child care needs, and sometimes even provide them with a stipend to make it
possible for them to support their children at home. This approach encourages
social development and promotes inclusion for parents with very low incomes
who otherwise might have been unable to care for their children.

A facet of the ministry currently in the planning stage is BedROCK Falls
Children’s Ranch, a longer-term residential setting for children who have not
been placed in families. Nannette is quick to state that this project is not intended
to duplicate the large, warehouse-type institutions found in the Ceausescu era,

but to provide a loving and Christian environment for children who have been

104

impossible to place in private homes. It is to be hoped that this program will not
compromise the children’s human rights by placing them in a residence, but will
actually protect them. Since the country’s funded goals are focused
(appropriately) on deinstitutionalization, the needs of children who are not fitting
into the available programs may be ignored in the face of this more pressing
goal.

When reaching the hospital on a hot, sunny day, Nannette was at the
outside gate and welcomed me into the grounds. Nannette is a petite, dark-
haired woman who dresses fashionably, smiles frequently and warmly, and
radiates enthusiasm and passion for her work. Her appearance that day
contrasted starkly with that of the hospital, an older-looking, unassuming
multistory brick building whose unkempt grounds were marked by long grass,
weeds, scattered litter, and the absence of anything resembling an attempt at
landscaping. (No flowers or shrubs here.) Some 20 to 30 Romanian and Gypsy
women lined the steps, sidewalks, and grass, holding, feeding, and sometimes
playing with infants and small children. I was struck by the lack of expression on
these women’s faces and by their complete comfort in staring at us; my attempt
at making some kind of a connection by smiling at them was completely
unrewarded by any response, and l was aware of my awkwardness and
ignorance of an appropriate way to communicate. Indeed, I thought, what is there
to smile about when you are dealing with the reality of your sick child in this

hopelessly outdated, run-down, and poorly equipped facility?

105

 

Nannette led us into the area of the hospital that houses infants, the focus
of her involvement. The floor was organized into areas for the active and healthy
children, most of whom are hospitalized because they have been abandoned by
their parents, and the area that is designated for those affected by various
problems—congenital birth defects, cerebral palsy, Down’s syndrome, blindness,
AIDS, and one very advanced case of hydrocephalus. It was painfully obvious F—

that these children are very much excluded from participation in society, their

“-

human rights ignored.

 

In spite of the difficulty in seeing these babies so undeservedly find their
destiny in this inhospitable place, I observed, as Nannette very lovingly
introduced us to about 35 babies by name and sometimes diagnosis, that they
were in clean cribs with floating mobiles perched on the forbidding metal rails.
The drab gray and green walls were nonetheless decorated with pictures of the
usual nursery rhyme characters in bright primary colors.

“I am so happy you are here at feeding time,” Nannette announced, and
presented me with a faded smock to wear while assisting her with the large tray
of bottles organized in neat rows on a metal transport cart. Although unprepared
for this assignment, I immediately picked up from an infant seat a lovely, curly-
haired boy—probably Gypsy—who had been crying and holding out his hands. I
noticed that many in this room of the “healthy" children were crying or babbling
and expressing their desire for attention. Nannette proudly pointed out that this
was because these children had been receiving attention and care from both her

paid staff, and volunteers on a regular basis. After only a brief time with “my”

106

baby, I was imagining him running around in our yard in Grand Rapids,
wondering howl could smuggle him home in my carry-on baggage and
rethinking the wisdom of this country’s ban on international adoption. (What if we
simply chartered a fleet of 7473 and loaded them up with all the babies in
orphanages? They could land at various airports in the US, and I was confident
that in all cases there would be long lines of interested parties to take all the
babies safely home to nice suburban homes where everyone would live happily

ever after...)

 

Wisely keeping this plan to myself, I began to interview Nannette.
Nannette began by recalling her initial tour through this children’s hospital in
Bucharest, which had been conducted by a 13-year-old girl. She had been
absolutely appalled by the conditions. “The babies were lying soaked in urine,
with diapers extending to their upper chests that also served as restraints to tie
them in bed; as a result their skin looked all rashy,” she remembered. “I was
struck by the fact that l was in a room with eight babies, and none of them were
crying. I learned later that when no one gives a baby attention, they stop crying—
they condition themselves to stop. I did what anyone else in my situation would
do: I gradually started services. I started by making small sheets for the bare
mattresses on the beds, and then began to assist with the care of the babies. I
learned the Romanian language, which was difficult, and the hospital staff could
see I was here to stay.” Learning the language gave evidence of _cu_ltr_p'pl
comgtence to the nursing staff, who recognized that Nannette demonstrated

her respect for their culture by Ieaming their language.

107

However, Nannette found that in spite of her obvious commitment, it took
about five years of working in the same children’s hospital before she won the
thst of the hospital staff. She suspects that part of the problem is that many
foreign NGOs are around for only a few years, and their limited involvement does
not gain the respect of the Romanian people. In addition, Nannette observed, “It

would have been easier if we were not [evangelical] Christian,” since 80% of the

AL,.‘_'_‘1

Romanian population is Orthodox. Even though she estimates that 80% of the
NGOs working with children are faith-based, Nannette found, as Carmen had

observed about Bethany, that concerns about religious groups’ lack of respect for

 

It

human rights led to suspicion and mistrust about faith-based services.
Eventually, however, Nannette found that “they could see I loved all of them and
cared for them. The Romanian staff ask me to pray for them, and I tell them they
can pray directly to God themselves, but I will pray for them too.”

Conversely, when describing the role of Christianity in her own personal
commitment to the work she has chosen, Nannette stated emphatically, “I know I
could not have lasted with all the corruption, bureaucracy, and bribery without a
relationship with Jesus Christ. I seek his support, and I go to him. I figure that if
this is truly God’s work, it will be blessed by him and our work will continue. I
would not have lasted without my faith; I feel like I am working as Jesus with
skin—I am showing the love of Jesus to these children.” Nannete’s words
indicate that sustainability within an organization, for its employees, seems to

be positively correlated with a dedication to religious principles, even though

108

these same principles may be a negative factor for the participation of the clients
fearful of becoming victims of proselytizing.

Nannette’s financial support comes wholly through donations, about 80%
of which come from individuals and are obtained primarily through fundraising
efforts. In the year 2000, her donations totaled $325,000, and she stated that she
has never applied for public or government grants to finance her program.
Nannette sees the focus of her program as being distinctly Christian and based

on the inherent value of each individual as a creature of Christ. Services are

 

provided according to need; no one is discriminated against because of religion,
ethnicity, prognosis, or lack of support from family. “Christianity values all of life,
regardless of [apparent] worth,” she told me.

The secular posture, for Nannette, is exemplified in the attitude of the
hospital’s medical staff. “I have been working with a baby diagnosed with
cerebral palsy and blindness who was not supposed to be able to walk or even
swallow,” she related. “After working with her and getting a physical therapist to
help, she learned to swallow and began watching and smiling at us. But the
doctors will not do any more or have therapists work with her; they told me she is
an abandoned baby, so what difference does it make if she gets better?”
Nannette struggles with a culture that has limited social development and
seems prone to social exclusion. Her response to promoting the human rights
of the children may serve as one kind of antidote.

Elaborating further on the attitudes of the Romanian people, Nannette

asserted in frustration that she has worked in 30 countries but has never been

109

with people who were so pessimistic and hopeless: “They do not expect anything
to turn out—they are so defeated. The doctors do not want to try anything [i.e.,
procedures or treatments], as they do not have hope for any success.”

At the end of my interview with Nannette, I took off my smock and placed
the baby I had been feeding back in a crib. As he walled at the separation, I

wondered what the future might hold for this child—abandoned, discriminated

against in his own country due to his Gypsy and orphan status, living in a city that

had difficulty providing employment and financial stability for even the brightest
and most highly educated. I felt somewhat defeated and pessimistic myself, and
was eager to leave the painful realities represented by this slice of life in

Bucharest.

Interviews in Rural Transylvania

l was delighted to leave the grim, congested, and exploited capital city for
the charming, almost othenrvorldly medieval village of Sighisoara; located north
and slightly west of Bucharest, about two-and-a-half hours away by train.
Founded in the hills by prosperous Saxon merchants in the Middle Ages,
Sighisoara is considered (by my contacts, anyway) to be the best-preserved
fortified town in Transylvania. The walled city was a place in which crafts and
trades flourished, and the medieval craftsmen’s guilds were very influential in
shaping the life of the town (Neagru, 1999). Nine of the town’s towers still stand,
and one was visible from my bedroom window, as the home I stayed in was built

along the city wall.

110

 

During the course of the 20th century, continuing with the tradition of the
craftsmen, Sighisoara became an important industrial center, with factories
producing silk, wool and cotton cloth, clothing, ceramics, bricks, and machine
parts. To house the workers who came to Sighisoara to work in the factories, a
newer part of town was built consisting of large blocks of flats. This area outside
the citadel, in direct contrast to the beauty of the medieval architecture within,
resembles the stark, institutional, Communist-style housing found in Bucharest
and in many other parts of the Romanian landscape.

The 36,486 current inhabitants of this “pearl of the Tarnava River” face
the same difficulties of those in less picturesque settings. My reasons for coming
to this town were multiple, but included working with local professionals as they
began a program to address the domestic violence that community members
identify as a pressing social problem. As I climbed up the 175 steps of the
covered wooden stainivay to the imposing Gothic-style church on the hill, l was
confronted all along the way by the small yet bold and demanding faces of
ragged Roman children, begging for money. As I approached the wooden gate of
the residence where l was going to be staying, l was informed that frequent
break-ins have made the diligent use of locks a practice less quaint than the
large skeleton key that secures the gate.

I entered the yard and walked along a cobblestone path toward the house
as a dark-haired woman in her forties emerged, and almost apologetically waved
goodbye as she left for the street outside. I was informed that she was struggling

to cope since her husband had left for Hungary to engage in work that would pay

111

 

enough to feed their family. She did not know when he would be able to return,
and his absence had brought unhappiness and loneliness for her and their
fatherless children. This woman was feeling conflicted about a decision that
supported physical needs at the expense of emotional ones. As with the nurses
who often leave the Bucharest hospital where Nannette works to live in Hungary,
residents of many parts of Romania lack financial security. (In addition to their
present struggles, Romanians’ future financial situation is also in jeopardy, as
pensions and retirement benefits are close to nonexistent.) As a result, many
leave the country to make more money elsewhere.

Dorothy Tarrant, Director and Fojunder: Veritgs Foundation

Walking into what is reported by locals to be the most beautiful house in
Sighisoara, I became the guest of Dorothy Tarrant. Dorothy’s academic
credentials are diverse as well as impressive: an MA. in German and Italian
language and literature from the University of Glasgow, a master’s degree in
social work from Boston University, and completion of the coursework for a
doctoral degree in comparative literature from Brandeis University in
Massachusetts.

Dorothy’s understated appearance belies the ambitious nature of her
notable achievements in the Sighisoara community. Dorothy first came to
Romania in 1992, as a professor from Eastern Nazarene College in
Massachusetts and the director of the college’s Romanian Studies program. Her
involvement with this program led her to establish the Veritas Foundation, which

she also directs. The range of services Veritas provides include a Romanian

112

 

Studies program for American college students; a Kids Club that provides about
200 of Sighisoara’s most disadvantaged children with meals, life skills, tutoring,
and arts programming; an Elderly Program with a drop-in center that supports
socialization and medical services that include home visits and a health clinic;
and even an Ecology Club that provides education on environmental issues.
Dorothy also established the House on the Rock, located in a historic building on E-
the main square of the citadel, which contains a computer lab, a coffee house,
and an educational center with conference rooms and library.

My interview with-Dorothy took place on the upstairs porch of her house,

 

as we sat in natural wicker furniture purchased from a local crafts booth and
sipped quality ground coffee, a luxury Dorothy permits herself. It had been
challenging to find a block of time when she was free, and it was early morning
that best suited her schedule. I had tried to tape an interview with her in a recent
van trip, but the noisiness of the aging vehicle combined with the challenges of
unpredictable country driving conditions (ruts and potholes, wandering farm
animals, small children playing at the roadside) made it a poor setting for focused
conversation. I was pleased to have the opportunity to continue our talk in this
picturesque setting overlooking the city and the countryside beyond.

I was primarily interested in determining how Dorothy saw the relationship
between her foundation and its projects to the community—especially the church
and the local government. Was she excluded because of her organization’s

connection with the Protestant faith? What kind of social development was

113

possible in this town which was a major tourist attraction in the country, and the
site of frequent outside visitors?

Dorothy did not find the Orthodox Church to be cooperative in supporting
either her efforts or welfare efforts in general. She began our interview by giving
me some sense of the mission of the Orthodox Church, from her perspective.
Although it is not officially designated as such, Dorothy views the Orthodox If
religion as the state church. She indicates that there is really no separation of

church and state, as the government asks Orthodox clergy to give a blessing

 

every time there is an opening of a school, a hospital, or even a casino. As for
the local government, Dorothy believes that the mayor is actually concerned that
the Nazarene Church, with which she is affiliated, may be harmful to the youth of
the community. Veritas has American volunteers who the mayor seems to fear
may be bringing in drugs and other harmful influences from their culture, as well
as imposing values and beliefs contrary to the Orthodox position.
Although it is suspicious of Protestant intervention, Dorothy told me, the
Orthodox Church is not expected to give any type of “compassionate care;” its
mandate is not to serve but to focus on prayer and the maintenance of the
monasteries. Dorothy offered for clarification the biblical example of Martha and
Ma ry. For the Orthodox Church, faith is intuitive, so Mary—who sits at Jesus’ feet
wh i le her sister does the housework represents the ideal. Members of the
O“Ithox Church are encouraged to assist others on an individual rather than at
the institutional level. An exception to this may be to give intermittent, time-limited

aSSistance in a specific disaster situation. According to Dorothy, the Orthodox do

114

not seek to convert others, since they judge that “people should be able to see
your faith, you should not have to talk about it. We are here, seek us.” This
understanding of the role of the church leads many Orthodox Christians to be
suspicious of churches that do emphasize service, believing that neo-Protestants
provide services in an effort to gain church membership. Dorothy’s recognition of
the importance of the effect of social environment on human behavior
demonstrates her strong commitment to attaining cultural comgtence. As a

Christian, she seeks to deepen her understanding of the Orthodox faith that

 

dominates the community, looking at both its strengths and its weaknesses in
meeting the physical and spiritual needs of the people.

Dorothy added that since the Gypsy population does not have the
historical and cultural connection with the Orthodox Church that the majority
population shares, they have been more receptive to the beliefs and teachings of
the evangelical churches. As she put it, “Anyone can go to the Orthodox Church,

but you may just stand there [alone], as no one does any outreach. This does not
really fit the Roma personality or culture, so few go.” Besides, Dorothy said, most
of the traditional churches in Romania would be happy to have groups like hers
work with the Roma because “they do not have any answers [to the problems of
poverty and illiteracy], and the government is not doing anything about them. So
if you have outside organizations or evangelicals working to make them a better
Citizen, that is OK.” Recognizing the social exclusion that the Roma face,
DOF’Othy has made an effort to reach out to this stigmatized population and

provide services not othenrvise available to them. In this way, Veritas fights

115

violations of their human rights and addresses the low level of M!
development existing in this community, as in all of Romania.

Of course, there are always exceptions to this general unconcem about
services for the Gypsies. Dorothy described a situation in one of the villages,
whose Orthodox priest was “a known drunk and womanizer, giving no attention
to the needs of the Gypsies—until a Pentecostal Evangelical Church came to F
assist not only with literacy classes or sewing classes or something like that, but

also doing some proselytizing.” Even though the priest’s church had not been

 

doing anything with the Roma population before this, she said, he soon adopted
the attitude of the “dog in the manger”: “’I really don't want it, but I don’t want you
to have it either. Even if this is a group that has not been attending the Orthodox
Church, they are still mine, and belong to us.’” Dorothy surmised that it is all right
for an evangelical church to provide concrete services, as long as they do not
influence the religious beliefs or church membership of the populace, all of which
is considered part of the Orthodox Church.

Dorothy compares the position of the Orthodox Church in Romania to that
of the Anglican Church in England, where she is a citizen. “Even though eighty-
five percent of the population belongs to the church, they rarely go. If someone
Wh 0 has never attended church begins to attend the Baptist Church, then there
are problems and a sense of resentment: ‘OK, we are losing the battle here, and
someone is finding a sense of spirituality elsewhere.’ Just like here—they would
I'a‘:"‘ler that people are alienated from everything than be a member of a neo-

PrcD’testant church.”

116

Not surprisingly, there is no collaboration between Dorothy and the
Orthodox Church for the provision of services in the community. When Veritas
(the name of Dorothy’s foundation used to refer to all her programs) and
community leaders began developing a domestic crisis program, Dorothy found
that, although invited, none of the local priests attended the task force meetings.
(Nor did they attend the two-day educational conference in which I participated.)
In her disappointment, Dorothy conferred with one of her employees who
participates in the Orthodox Church. His take on the situation was that if the
priests attended, it would mean that the Sacrament of Confession was not
sufficient to cover the problem. To further illustrate, he gave the example that if
someone beats his wife and then goes to the priest for restitution, the sacrament
should cover the problem. When Dorothy asked, “What about the victims; is there
any responsibility to teach that there could be another way?” her employee
replied that the Orthodox Church is a system of non-change, and to stay the
sa me and not act as an agent of change is what they are all about.

Even earlier, when the members of the domestic crisis task force were
loo king for a building in which to provide services and shelter, they had found the
Orthodox Church resistant to participation or assistance, Dorothy continued. A
Ia r 96 building that had previously been used to house abandoned children had
been empty for three years. When she investigated the availability of this
pro Derty, which would have been ideal for the domestic crisis program, Dorothy
was told that the mayor and the Orthodox Church were formulating plans to use

it: perhaps for a program for the elderly. The mayor thought that it would be a

117

 

good idea, because of the building’s size, to share it and use it for multiple
projects. Nevertheless, when Dorothy talked to the priest about collaborating in
the program by using part of the building, he did not wish any part of it. Dorothy
concluded from her interaction with him that if he was not in control of the project,
it was not going to happen. “I am sure he does not want to work with evangelicals
who may have Bible studies, and proselytize and take members away from the

Orthodox Church,” she said. “He would not even talk to us about it.” Social

 

exclusion in Sighisoara affects those who deviate spiritually and may threaten

 

the dominance of the Orthodox Church too, apparently not restricted to special
needs children and the Roma.
In general, Dorothy was also fairly negative in her assessment of the
mayor’s participation in supporting services for the community: “My sense is that
the local authorities are not interested in true collaboration unless they are going
to get some money. It is known that we are the only agency that has a program
for the elderly. And yet no one from the city or mayor's office suggests that we
get together and look at the problems of the elderly.” The topography of the city
is challenging to navigate—steps are steep, walkways‘are rocky, and
Wheelchair-accessible” is an unknown term. In the winter, sidewalks and streets
a re extremely slippery, and there is no concept of “salting” or shoveling roadways
0f 8 now. Many elderly people face isolation and neglect as they are go_ci__allz

ex from the activities available to younger or hardier souls. Another

\clgLed
i""<'-=ident Dorothy cited took place when she and the leaders of some of the other

NG Os wished to have a fair—for fun, but also to promote the organizations’

118

services to the community. The mayor's office did not wish to participate, but it
did want to choose the name of the event so it would be clear that it was initiated
by that office, not by a foreign NGO.
This is probably a sensitive issue, according to Dorothy, because people
know that most of the services in town are provided by the NGOs, and there is a
sense that the government should be doing more. She acknowledged that it may #-
have to be the NGOs that make the first gesture toward reconciliation: “We are

just getting to the place that as an organization we are getting respect in the town

 

by various groups and institutions, and that maybe we are the ones who need to E.
take the initiative to come to the table and get together [with the government].”
She also indicated that there was no problem in her faith-based agency’s
collaboration with other NGOs to organize the fair, even though the majority of
them are not faith-based. It was local government officials influenced by a history

of centralized, controlling government practices and a culture of exclusion that

were hindering Dorothy’s work toward that community’s social development.
In contrast to the church and government officials, Dorothy modeled
p ri n ciples of multiculturalism, social inclusion, and human rights in the
ope ration of the agencies supported by her foundation. She has one other
permanent employee who is a foreigner (from the US); the rest are from the
I<><=al community. Her employees are not only ethnic Romanians but also

members of Romania’s minority populations, including Hungarians and Gypsies.

Her organization’s services are offered to all community members who wish to

119

participate. Discrimination on any basis is unacceptable for Veritas employees,
as its mission statement clearly articulates:

I “Veritas is founded on the conviction that all people are children of God,
created with common needs and unique potential. Our programs address
material, physical, social and spiritual needs. We seek to empower people to
gain greater control over their own lives, helping them to develop the gifts and r

talents God has given them, encouraging them to trust in God as the ultimate

source of purpose and hope.”

This pursuit of inclusiveness has not been without its challenges. Although

 

Veritas employs Gypsies alongside other Romanians, and despite the
encouragement the agency’s staff shows to the Gypsy women and children
participating in its programs, Dorothy still sees evidence of distrust and racism

among her Romanian employees. She told me, “About a year ago, a TV crew
came to interview the director of our children’s program, who is Roma, about the
fa mily center. I thought she did a very good job—she was animated, full of
enthusiasm and passion. The following day, one of the Romanian employees
made a comment that he could not believe that we had allowed her to be on
television, as she does not even speak correct Romanian; what kind of an image
We 8 that for our organization? There is the attitude that it is embarrassing to have
so meone who is Roma speaking for our organization. I said, ’That is exactly the
i"""age of our organization. Here is someone from a poor background that is

“’0 rking to change the lives of the children in our community.”

120

Dorothy also discovered that when something was stolen, it was blamed
on the Roma, as “it is part of the Gypsy culture to steal.” She sees this as both
ironic and unfair, since it has been her experience that it is also the culture of the
Romanians to steal, and to distrust each other. Because of this, some NGOs
have felt unable to put Romanians in positions involving money, and keep their
Western employees or volunteers in charge of finances. A frequently quoted F
Romanian saying cautions, “You cannot trust the shirt on your back.” Viewing life I
from this perspective, the Romanian people see many policies of the foreign

NGOs as naive and simply a set-up for problems. Perhaps partly because of this

 

cynical view, [I’m not quite sure what the relationship is—do Romanians steal
because they’re taking advantage of what they see as na'ive policies, or does the
cynicism lead them to believe someone is going to steal, and it might as well be
th em?], Romanians have exploited many of the NGOs that have come to help
them.
Dorothy was still almost incredulous herself as she described the
Romanian urge “to take everything that is not nailed down.” This has meant that
sh e cannot keep informational flyers in her family center, since they disappear
al most immediately. When a library was established at the House on the Rock,
people were horrified at the idea, since the books would surely be stolen. It was
”01: even possible to keep a fire extinguisher in the building for safety. Dorothy
sees this as a result of both poverty and living in a culture of dishonesty.
By clearly understanding the culture, Dorothy has been able to sensitively

pl"(Dvide services that recognize the weaknesses of the community as well as its

121

strengths. She has not stood by while cultural problems led to the perpetuation
human rights violations, social exclusion, distrust, and insecurity. While
recognizing that the Orthodox priests might be unwilling to collaborate, she has
still attempted to involve them in programs that would be of benefit to their
members of their church. Knowing that the mayor would need to feel in control of

the city, Dorothy has worked with him in establishing community projects. And

“uh-11.11

through the hiring practices of the agencies funded by her foundation, she has
defied cultural preferences for homogeneity and social exclusion. Dorothy’s

approach shows that while cultural competence means understanding and

 

respecting the values of a society, it can also mean challenging practices that
limit growth and promote fear.

Roberta Bustin Pastor of the Nazarene Church

 

Roberta Bustin is the volunteer missionary pastor of the Nazarene Church
in Sighisoara. She has a Ph.D. in chemistry from Louisiana State University, and
from 1966 to 1997 she taught at Lyon’s College in Arkansas as chair of its
8 iology and Chemistry Division, while working summers as a visiting chemist for
NASA at the Kennedy and Johnson space centers. In addition to pastoring,
Roberta is more than qualified to teach a four-credit course in environmental
science for the Romanian Studies program and direct the Ecology Club.
Although she has only been living in Sighisoara since 1997, it is almost
im possible to imagine what life there must have been like without her. She is a
we I"nan with thick and naturally wavy graying hair and large and intense blue

eyes who I think could, with time, convert even the most cynical and skeptical to

122

religious faith. Roberta lives with Dorothy, and together they have created a
home in which tasteful New England—style furniture coordinates nicely with local
Romanian arts and crafts, and meals home-cooked Arkansas style (complete
with biscuits) complement a refrigerator stocked with Stilton blue cheese and
clotted cream. Their home is also filled with stimulating dialogue on topics
ranging from spiritual self-discovery to the global economy.

Roberta’s unfailing kindness and optimism are well known in the area, as
is her determination, even in the face of health problems that have included a I

serious fall and broken bones. Although she is not officially an employee of

 

‘1

Veritas, Roberta’s mission in the community is closely tied to Dorothy’s, so I
hoped in my interview to get an idea of how the role of the Nazarene Church is
integrated with that of the local agencies that provide physical and material
services.

Our conversation began with a brief discussion of the similarities and
differences between the Nazarene and the Orthodox Church. We concluded that
there are strong similarities between these traditions when it comes to the
doctrines and aims of salvation, but that there are significant differences in their
beliefs about how a person enters into the faith. The Nazarene Church believes
that one becomes a Christian through a personal conversion experience
involving confession and repentance. For the Orthodox, entry into the Christian

life comes at baptism, through the authority of the church; therefore, they baptize
infants as soon as possible. Orthodox Christians strongly believe that salvation

has nothing to do with how they feel, or what they as individuals may experience.

123

 

Another contrast we discussed was that while the Orthodox Church
considers itself the one true church, the Nazarenes declare that “the church of
God is composed of all spiritually regenerate persons” (Manual, Church of the
Nazarene, 1997-2001, par.23). Following God’s command to be active in
compassionate ministry is one way for Nazarenes to give evidence of this
regeneration (General Rules, par. 27). For the Orthodox, however, it is those in r
holy orders, who have endless time for devotion, who live lives acceptable to I
God.

Roberta stated without hesitation that the mission of the Orthodox Church

 

in Sighisoara is primarily spiritual, rather than one of ministry to the whole
person. “Most Orthodox churches do not have compassionate ministries or
services for youth on a regular basis,” she explained. “Church is part of the
culture. Many people think that if you are Romanian, you will have a connection
to the church when you get married or have a baptism. People do not choose to
be Orthodox; they are born into it.” She believes a serious breakdown occurred
during Communism, when the Orthodox Church survived by cooperating with
leaders who really did not approve of the church or of church attendance. “The
government saw the church as a provider of ceremony, but the people did not
think of the church for spiritual food.”
Roberta further hypothesized that the dangers in openly proclaiming one’s
Christian faith during Communism probably played a more significant role in
impeding citizen involvement than did a Iukewarrn and largely self-serving

theology. She gave the example of people going to church, and then simply

124

disappearing. If a student was known to be Christian, he or she would have
difficulties with the professors and be given low grades. In the factory, a Christian
would be given a lowly job, and often face ridicule as well. In Roberta’s opinion,
this is one more lasting effect of the type of treatment the people experienced
during Communism; along with a lack of tmst or security and a judgmental
attitude (“If something is missing, someone must have stolen it”). She
emphasized the pervasive nature of the communist legacy: “Given that one out of
four people were informers, and almost any behavior was construed to be
against the government, even being creative was against the government.”
When asked if there are currently cultural barriers to attending the
Nazarene Church, Roberta observed that older people have more difficulty with
the change, viewing it as a loss of tradition; younger people seem to have less
difficulty and appreciate the programs and activities for their children. She added
that the Nazarene church is breaking other traditions by having a woman pastor
and encouraging Gypsy involvement, but “the people that know us, respect us.” I
was surprised to find that Roberta does not seem to draw attention to the gender
and racial breakthroughs. She told me, “I preached a sermon that we are all
included, but I was not thinking particularty of Romanian and Gypsy. We do not
really do anything to include any particular group—we want everyone to feel
welcome.” By promoting social inclusion and development , Roberta is
encouraging changes—changes that were not possible during a period when

human rights were repressed as the government threatened people with the

125

 

fear of losing their jobs and homes, and in the process cost them their trust in
their fellow citizens.

The Orthodox Church in Sighisoara is critical of the Nazarene Church, but
because of its huge presence in the community, Roberta really doubts that the
Orthodox Church is concerned about losing members due to her efforts. She
does think that the case may be different in the smaller village churches, where
the impact of Protestant social services would have a more obvious and visible
impact, especially among the Gypsy population.

In Sighisoara, the Nazarene Church uses Veritas as its compassionate
arm. Roberta explained, “We want people to come to the church for the spiritual
and not the material. We do not want people to come to church to get things; we
do not give food away at church, so people do not come for that reason. If people
are here for material aid, they will not be serious about the gospel message. We
want them to come because they are in a [spiritually] desperate situation and will
be helped by the Lord.” She cited, as an example, two women who spent hours
hitchhiking to church because they “had to,” out of a need for spiritual food. “We
consider ourselves evangelistic and talk about a personal relationship with the
Lord,” she concluded. “I think people can understand that much better if they
know they are coming for spiritual reasons.”

Because of the extreme poverty of the area, Roberta finds that gifts

represent a big incentive for church attendance. She recalled that at a worship
service at which they were giving out free Bibles, the attendance had

immediately jumped from about 40 to 120. Roberta was willing to make an

126

 

Na;
Cer

rher

exception for greed aimed at getting a Bible, since even a questionable motive
may have a positive outcome. Nevertheless, she was clear about the importance
of separating the work of the church from the work of Veritas and about the need
for neither agency to use conversion to the Christian faith as a prerequisite for
obtaining services.

She was just as clear about her belief that services provided at the
Women and Children’s Center are not contingent upon the church involvement of
its clients. She described the process welfare recipients typically follow. The
church does not have a benevolence fund for those in financial need, so those
who make requests for assistance are referred to the Veritas Family Center,
where they are assigned a worker who evaluates their needs. They may be
encouraged to attend the Nazarene Church, but that decision is based on the
assessment of the worker, and there are certainly those who choose not to direct
their clients to a church. Roberta recognizes that the poverty faced by the
Romanian people might have an adverse effect on their human right to choose—
that they might be tempted to attend church or confess to a faith they are
uncertain about for the purpose of obtaining material goods. To make the
question of motives easier to decipher, Roberta wisely separates the material
from the spiritual.

As a point of policy, not all Veritas employees are members of the

Nazarene Church. Roberta explained that when Dorothy opened the Family
Center, she visited the different religious leaders in the community and asked

them to recommend members of their congregations who could be considered

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for employment. Consequently, about 40% of those working for Veritas are
Orthodox, and the remaining 60% are from other denominations—Nazarenes,
Pentecostals, and other neo-Protestants.

At the end of the interview, almost as though articulating a confession,
Roberta expressed a struggle over her role, as pastor of the church, in helping
with the financial needs of its members: “It is a fine line, and l have not worked
through this on a personal level, because there are persons [in need] all the time,
and I give to them. And it is very difficult for many reasons. There are families
where the husband or wife drinks, and the money I gave may be going for all the
wrong things. Sometimes when someone comes to the house and we give them
food or clothing, they return and steal things from us. Another time I saw a kid on
the street selling one of my vests that I donated to his family. I still do not have all
of this worked out in my own mind because I still feel bad when I say no to
someone; even when I know someone is not telling me the truth, it still is difficult.
In America this would seem strange, as I feel guilty if I do, and guilty if I don’t
help out.” She wishes to concentrate on spiritual and social capital development,
but she finds that the physical and material needs in Sighisoara are so great that
they constantly compete for her attention.

In spite of this conflict, Roberta ended on a note of conviction, testifying
that “one thing that is very good: I firmly feel that I have a call to be here. This is

where I am supposed to be, and it is not a choice.” Roberta’s faith and values
fuel the strength and sustainability of her efforts, even if they are not always

fully appreciated by church attendees who sometimes are more physically than

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spiritually hungry, as happy with the warmth of a blanket as with the passion of
faith.

Elizabeth PattersonpAmerican Volunteer

My next interviews were with employees and volunteers of Veritas, the
first of whom was Elizabeth Patterson.

I had set up this interview with Elizabeth at the coffee house at House on
the Rock so I could have one of Roberta’s brownies. Dorothy has incorporated
favorite recipes of her own and of her friends into the selection of excellent
pastries served at the coffee house. Since in general there is a dearth of good
desserts in Romania (they look like they are going to be good, and then they
taste strange—maybe not enough sugar or good chocolate, I’d guess), I look for
any opportunity to frequent the shop and satisfy the needs of my highly evolved
sweet tooth. I have been able to manage quite nicely with the few seasonal fruits
and vegetables that are grown locally (lots of cabbage and potatoes) but find it
much tougher to cope with the absence of pies, cakes, and ice cream as I know
them.

The coffee shop was European-style, with a brick floor, round tables with
iron garden-type chairs, and bright windows open to the outside seating area. A
large glass front-case displayed cakes, pies, and brownies. Soon an attractive
and friendly Romanian girl in her teens approached us for our order. Her smile

and willingness to please are unusual in this post—communist nation where for
many years there was no particular reason to lure and accommodate customers.

Dorothy had told me that it takes a lot of training to convey the importance of this

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Western approach and attitude to employees ignorant of the “customer is always
right” service philosophy—to introduce the values of capitalism while recognizing
the culture clash with Romanian ideas.

Elizabeth is in her twenties, fresh and natural. Her long, thick reddish-
brown hair sported a crooked part down the middle, attesting to her recognition of
current fashion even while she served as a volunteer missionary in Romania. Her
trim body was dressed in simple but stylish capris. When complimented, she
acknowledged that to supplement the clothes she gets from the Family Center
attic, her family also sends wardrobe supplements from the States. Elizabeth is
part of an organization, Nazarenes in Volunteer Services that supports mission
efforts throughout the wortd through selected Nazarene organizations. Her
original contact with Dorothy and Sighisoara came through an internship
experience in 1999 and summer of 2000, when she was pursuing her master's
degree in social work at Roberts Wesleyan College in Rochester, New York.
Although she had been involved in several volunteer and community programs
as a student, this was Elizabeth’s first and only experience working as a
professional social worker. I was particularly interested in her role as an
international social worker, and to see if she incorporated in her delivery of social
welfare services the six concepts I had been observing in my other interviews.

Even as a student, Elizabeth had been interested in working

internationally and she chose Roberts Wesleyan in part because its program
provided an emphasis on social work in other cultures and offered foreign

internship experiences. Elizabeth felt that this academic background had

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prepared her as well as possible for her current environment. However, she still
had the struggles of Ieaming a new language and functioning in a supervisory
position as a female outsider, challenges that were requiring ongoing practice,
“hands-on” experience, and the “kindness of strangers.”

Surprisingly to me, in spite of her youth and limited experience and the
language barrier, Elizabeth found overall a high level of acceptance from her
Romanian coworkers. One reason she gave for their approval was that she had
been part of establishing the Family Center, whose employees she now
supervises. “I was here in the beginning when we all were Ieaming together,”
she explained. “We made home visits together—I established credibility with
them at that time.” Establishing credibility had proved more of a challenge with
new employees who lacked history with Elizabeth and might “resent the
Americans, and wonder why they think they can come over here and tell us what
to do.” But with time, Elizabeth was overcoming distrust and gaining approval by
demonstrating cultural comgtence.

The other reason for their acceptance, in Elizabeth’s view, is the fact that
the Romanians “respect me for my faithfulness.” More important than impressive
credentials, according to Elizabeth, is “that I keep coming back.” In contrast to
others who say they are returning and have great plans that they fail to follow
through with, Elizabeth has returned to the people and the needs of Sighisoara

with confidence that “God called me to this work.” As with others interviewed in
this research, Elizabeth finds sustainability in her work from a belief that she is

working for a higher power and ultimately fulfilling divine goals.

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Frequently, other Romanians will verbalize their acceptance by expressing
“Hey, you are Romanian, you are one of us,” as if forgetting that she is not really
part of the culture. However, Elizabeth does struggle with merging her own
values from the US. with the ones she finds in Romania. “I have to figure out
what is just a difference in culture, and I have to get used to it, and what I have to
hold on to and not change just because I am in Romania. I want to become a
‘one-hundred-fifty-percent’ culture—not to lose anything, but gain new things. I
am not going to lose my American culture, but wish to gain from the new culture.”
To give an example, Elizabeth mentioned confidentiality, which she thinks is not
respected in Romania as it is in the US. Her Romanian coworkers are
comfortable discussing what she sees as private issues or concerns in front of
others who are not involved, or with a client in a public place. Although she
recognizes that the Romanians may not view this as problematic behavior,
Elizabeth does not wish to compromise a value that is inherent in the Social
Work Code of Ethics—which she states is "not just American” —and sees herself
as a role model for a behavior that is not always practiced in the Family Center.
So despite her desire to respect cultural differences, she admitted, “I can get
frustrated with people when I see them doing things I think are wrong.”

A further cultural disparity Elizabeth described stems from her connection
with both the Nazarene Church and Veritas, an interdenominational agency with
“a unique role in the community.” She believes it is biblical to “act as the body of
Christ across denominations, since God calls us to unity in diversity,” but “the

Orthodox Church is seen by its members as the one true church, and the newer

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churches emerging after Communism were thought of as cults.” Since Dorothy
has been intentional about reflecting in the staff of Veritas the diversity of the
community, culturally as well as religiously, Elizabeth pointed out that “it can be
difficult to work together because of differing terminology and ways people
express their faith.” However, Elizabeth does think that in the future the Orthodox
Church may become more interested in giving physical assistance to its
members, in response to what the evangelical churches are doing. It seems to
me that the Orthodox Church, despite its history of personal and individual
responses to faith, is observing that the practices of the evangelical church
promote social development and inclusion and realizing that maybe that is just
what Romania needs.

The current policy at Veritas requires its employees to be involved in a
church of their choice, (not specifically Nazarene or another evangelical
denomination) or Bible study groups, but volunteers do not have to have the
same obligation—“ if they [volunteers] want to help out, that is great.” And there
is no discrimination in providing services to clients without religious beliefs or
church connections. Although a Bible story time for the children and a Bible study
for the elderly are made available, attendance is not a prerequisite or tied in any
way to obtaining material services. The practice during Communism of enforcing
homogeneity through a narrow set of beliefs is not part of the equation.

Elizabeth perceives that in this way, Veritas organizations model
acceptance of differences in Christian beliefs and practices; by hiring Roma

employees, it models acceptance of intercultural ones as well. The organization

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also models giving women positions of leadership, though Elizabeth thinks this
respect comes from the fact that they are “foreign women” from the US, and
that Romanian women in the same positions would not find the same level of
support.

Whether or not this modeling of acceptance for cultural and religious
difference and women in equal roles with men makes a difference in the use of
services is not known to Elizabeth. What she does see is a community at ease in
seeking services from Veritas. She asserted, “Clients do expect assistance from
family and friends, but they are not uncomfortable seeking help from us.”

Bruce Olson, Director of Livada Or_'phan Care

By a rather strange set of circumstances, I had the fortune to meet a
student who had attended Cornerstone University but had also lived in Romania
for most of his adolescence, while his father was involved in ministry efforts
there. He had returned to Romania during his college years for various short-
tenn projects and was now in the process of raising funding to support himself in
full-time work at Livada, a faith-based NGO that works with children in
orphanages in the town of Targu Mures (population 149,577). It was partly
because of his interest in this agency that I connected with Bruce, the director of
Livada. I was also interested in the opportunity to compare and contrast this
program with the others I had observed. Dorothy volunteered to drive over there
(it is northwest of Sighisoara and takes about two hours by car) because of her
interest in the agency, and maybe also because there is a fabulous little pottery

Shop in the town that she loves to visit.

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On the phone, Bruce seemed eager not only to have us visit and tour his
agency, but also to set up an appointment with the county’s director of social
services, whose office was located nearby. Livada, the word for “orchard” in
Romania, has its business office in Vlfindsor, California, and a large “ministry
office” on a residential side street in Targu Mures. Bruce, who was full of energy,
seemed focused on making sure we were able to see as much as possible
during our day-long visit. As a result, I found it difficult to obtain much of an in-
depth interview with him about my research interests. Nonetheless, it was highly
worthwhile to tour this NGO and view an alternative approach to service
provision.

Our tour of Livada began with the office, in a three-story house used for
the agency’s headquarters. We were introduced to about 20 staff persons, and it
was a positive note for sustainability concerns that three to five of the paid staff
were Romanians. (There were also many volunteers from the US.) This building,
along with housing office space, also provided recreational areas for children
who could appropriately be taken on outings from orphanages located nearby in
the older part of the city. Bruce also explained that they have a program,
“Orphan Graduate Care”, that supports independent living for “life afterlife in the
orphanage system.”

I questioned Bruce about how his organization relates to the govemment-
run orphanages, and he affin'ned that Livada is “very open” about its Christian
mission, and that the relationship “has not been a problem because of the needs

being fulfilled.” He further explained that his staff and volunteers provide

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essential assistance to the orphanages that neither side wishes to put in
jeopardy; “we need each other.” Pressed by economic constraints, the
government and this NGO pursue social development through cooperation, in
the hope of meeting mutual goals. Another reason for the success of this working
relationship is that Bruce believes that “everything in Romania is based on
relationships,” and he has worked hard to create good connections with the
authorities in child welfare. “They know I am not trying to proselytize” he says; for
Bruce, in this context, sharing the gospel takes the form of developing
relationships. His cultural competence has also enabled his organization to
make progress with enlisting the support of community leaders.

Although I have no reason to question the sincerity of Bruce or the validity
of the work accomplished in his program, I did find it interesting to note that a
volunteer must raise $19,800 in annual support before being accepted into this
work. Since most Romanians live on one-half to one-quarter of that amount and
the volunteers are not living in luxury, this money is more than likely used to
finance not only the individual’s expenses but also the costs of the entire
ministry. Dorothy does not conduct her ministry in this way. Although volunteers
in her program are welcome to donate more than their actual living expenses, it
is made clear that the additional money will be used by the agency for other
needs. By US. standards, $19,800 per year for expenses seems reasonable, so
donors unfamiliar with the different standard of living in Romania may be unlikely

to question the amount.

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Like many other faith-based organizations, Livada highlights the religious
aspects of its mission for fundraising purposes. The brochure that potential
volunteers send out emphasizes the ministry potential for “teaching the orphans
the Word of God” and identifies monetary contributions as a way to “have a part
in ministering to the orphans and street children of Romania.” But since Livada is
a licensed, private, non-profit organization that does not receive funding from
governmental agencies, the separation of church and state has not been an
issue for them. Before we left, Bruce drove us to meet with the director of social
services for Mures County. The building housing her office was a small, painted
white brick affair with debris in the parking lot and a broken glass window in the
entry door. We climbed the stairs to her second-floor office, and she spoke to us
with the assistance of an interpreter. Although she allowed us to ask questions, it
was clear that she had a prepared message to give us, and she did not inject into
it any of her own personal views or frustrations.

The county agency itself is relatively new, having been founded in 1997.
Its involvement with the orphanage system began in 1998, almost ten years after
the revolution. The director relayed to us that Romania’s current strategy in child
welfare is to close half of its orphanages in by 2004, and to close them all by
2007. In her county, this feat would be accomplished by a staff of only five social
workers and one coordinator. She described the services they provided as being
geared toward establishing alternatives to institutions, such as day centers,

maternal centers, prevention-of-abandonment services, counseling for pregnant

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women, and services for handicapped children. A plan of care, outlining goals for
community reintegration, was to be formulated for every institutionalized child.

Included in her presentation was information about the government’s
goals for decentralizing services from larger to smaller communities and directing
funding from the county to the smaller rural areas, as well as information about
the CHILDNET operation in which Bethany is involved. Because of a scheduled
appointment, she did not have time for any further discussion of these issues. I
did ask her about financing of the programs she had discussed, and she divulged
that any funding for prevention-type services came from NGOs. She denied any
difficulties in working with non-profit agencies, and did not comment on funding
or staffing issues that would interfere with the accomplishment of the county
social service's goals. The goals of the county are congruent with the work of the
faith-based organizations, which also function in local communities and direct
their services toward the victims of the large institutions and centralized
government. Undoubtedly, the financial limitations she described in the public
sector also enhance the desirability of cooperation between her agency and the
NGOs

Dorothy and I headed back to Sighisoara, but not before stopping at a
McDonald’s and indulging in large, iced, diet Cokes, and soft-serve hot fudge
sundaes. Never underestimate the beauty of the golden arches when away from

home.

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J_ane Wimmer, Grant-WriLingConsgfiant

As a favor to Dorothy, Jane Wimmer, MSW, agreed to present a
conference on grant writing for the Veritas staff. Since sustainability is crucial
for success, and the USAID grant for Veritas’ domestic crisis program was time-
Iimited, it was necessary already at the onset of the program to begin planning
for its future funding. Jane, although presently enrolled in graduate studies in
Atlanta, was a previous director of the Bethany office in Bucharest, and
consequently was familiar with the political and economic pressures in Romania.
Above and beyond these qualifications, Jane was an expert consultant on grant
writing with her own business, Child and Family Associated Consultants. I was
interested in hearing her perspectives on the challenges confronting faith-based
agencies in obtaining funding from secular organizations, and also in finding out
whether the characteristics that donors were looking for were relevant to the six
concepts structuring my interviews.

Jane is an energetic and vibrant woman in her fifties. I was not surprised
that she was an expert in funding and grant administration, as she seems like
someone who would know how to get things done. Even in Romania, where
disorganization is the rule, Jane was on time and precise about her goals. She
was the first one up in the morning, and had made coffee and showered before I
could even get my contacts in. Because she was planning to travel to Greece for
vacation after her time in Romania, Jane had a tight schedule for her conference

presentation, but she was open to assisting in my research.

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She began by listing methodically five characteristics that grant givers
consider when evaluating an application from a religious or faith-based NGO.

First, faith-based groups can often deliver services at a lower cost,
increasing their economic sustainability, thanks to their broad network of human
resources (for example, volunteers for service projects are often already in
place). A second way programs supported by religious groups are usually
sustainable has to do with their commitment: in Jane’s words, “churches usually
hang around for a while.” Third, religious organizations are ethical in their use of
resources, as “they are usually less corrupt than the average group.” Fourth, the
employees of faith-based agencies are committed to ideological beliefs and
values that may result in “more than the usual level of passion about their work,”
adding to the organization’s sustainability. The fifth issue Jane mentioned was
cautionary: since staff salaries are usually paid out of grant funding, there could

be potential problems around legal issues of discrimination and thus human

 

p‘plltg violations in hiring practices. In general, Jane said, donors want to see
faith-based agencies working in collaboration with other organizations, promoting
social inclusion and development. Team building is important for success, and
a group working without the support and assistance of the community is unlikely
to be effective. In her view, a faith-based group should depict itself as a “friend in
the community who is willing and able to contribute.”

Jane finds that Christian agencies in Romania are most likely to become
involved in issues connected with women and children. The kinds of agencies

and programs that get funding, she explained, is driven in large part by the

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demands of organizations external to Romania, such as the European Union and
United States Aid for lntemational Development. Even the type of outcome
reporting done by grant recipients is affected by these external organizations’
demand for statistical documentation of problems. Their imperative to
deinstitutionalize children has resulted in money funneling to programs that
support foster care initiatives. This, in turn, has implications for orphanages that
had employed members of the community and provided housing for children who
were homeless or without parental care. Ending an orphanage system without
adequate funding for alternatives is a controversial move. Nevertheless, because
of outside pressures, current policy in Romania is directed toward closure,
irrespective of community assessments.

As Jane stated, where the money is, so goes the power and control. From
the perspective of grant funders, an agency that is faith-based is likely to possess
certain attributes, some of which are positive and others of which may present
problems. It is as simple as that. It appears that to deliver services to a
community in need, the US. government is willing to finance faith-based
organizations that respect human rights, promote social development, and
create sustainable organizations by their passion and through the ethical
management of their finances.

WM
While attending Jane’s conference on grant writing, I connected with
Ileana Marin, program manager for the umbrella grant program of Wortd

Leaming’s Romanian-American Sustainable Partnerships (RASP), the funder for

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Veritas’s domestic crisis program. She is an attractive, slender, and very stylishly
dressed Romanian woman in her late twenties. As overseer of RASP’s grant
projects, she has come both to attend the conference and to report on the
progress of the program in Sighisoara. She is recently married, and her husband
is planning to spend the weekend with her at a newly built hotel in the citadel. I
was interested to note that the administrative position she holds was previously
held by an American—another sign of progress toward the sustainability of
social services provision in Romania. I was also pleased to have this opportunity
to interview a Romanian citizen, someone who could give voice to the views of
those who are directly affected by programs that are funded and directed
primarily by foreign countries and organizations. Like most of my interviewees,
Ileana was open and willing to meet with me and assist with my research. We
met in the House on the Rock coffee shop; this time I had carrot cake.

Ileana affirrned without qualification that World Learning does not
discriminate between organizations that are secular and those that are faith-
based. On the contrary, she believes that for many of the smaller, poorer
communities, a connection between a social service organization and the church
can be a positive factor. She cited the fact that Gypsies, in particular, are tolerant
of religious differences and display a “curiosity about new things,” which includes
religion and worship. She identified Jehovah’s Witnesses and Mormons as
groups that have been successful in their outreach to some of these

communities. The faith-based groups, in her experience, are especially effective

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because their policies include groups that have experienced discrimination and
limited access to the benefits of citizenship.

Ileana described a current project in Bistita, a town north of Sighisoara in
which the Orthodox Charities are involved in sponsoring special English classes
for the children of the community. (In general, she does not see the Orthodox
Church itself as a formal provider of services; their approach is usually to work
unofficially, through other organizations.) Regardless of their particular ideology,
Ileana observed that faith-based groups are more frequently associated with
programs involving children, like CHILDNET, rather than with projects that
emphasize democracy or the promotion of civil society. (Is this because children
represent a more appealing cause for religious donors?)

When asked specifically about her evaluation of Veritas, Ileana described
a good history of partnership with the foundation, discerning that its approach is
subtle— “religion is kept in the shadows.” By respecting the culture’s need to
protect its human right to freedom of choice, while at the same time leading it into
greater social development, this faith-based organization has gained the
respect of the local community as well as that of USAID officials.

Confirming the power of funding, Ileana acknowledged that financing
dictates policy in Romania. The government is “happy to get funding” from any
source and is not “fearful” of money associated with faith-based organizations.
Nevertheless, from her point of view the “new" religious organizations, or those

run by evangelical Protestants, are not respected or seen as a particularly

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credible force in Romania (in contrast to the recognition given the religious right
in the current administration of the United States).

With the caveat that Romanians as a whole do love Americans and
anything associated with America, Ileana gave the example of Romanians’

expectation that the US. do more to help them, specifically in the area of social

 

development by describing her father who can still not believe that the US.
allowed the Soviet control of Romania following World War II, and instead of
being angry about the situation, is still waiting for American troops to rescue
them. It was quite refreshing to think there are still people in the world who see
the US. as Iiberators from evil forces. In spite of, or perhaps because of, fifty
years of Communism, the Romanian people treasure a country that embodies
human rights and financial security.

Nick. a Peace Cogp Volunteer

I met Nick rather early on in my stay in Sighisoara, at a conference for
those in the community who had an interest in supporting Veritas’ domestic crisis
center. He had been resourceful in obtaining brochures about domestic violence
that had been translated into the Romanian language, saving the program
significant resources and time. Nick, in his early to mid-twenties, is the stereotype
of a Californian: blonde, athletically built, casually dressed, and even a bit
tanned. In his second year of involvement with the Peace Corps, Nick seemed to
have a pretty relaxed schedule. We made arrangements to meet at Dorothy’s
house so I could inquire about his experiences with her faith-based agency, and

with the community in general.

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As assignments go, Nick shared with me, Sighisoara is a plum location.
Compared to some of how some of his friends live in Moldova, the Ukraine, or
some of the other less advanced Eastern European countries, he said, life in
Romania is a far more “civilized” experience. Sighisoara, in particular, has the
advantage of beauty and history. Nick’s major difficulty was existing on the
limited budget allocated to the volunteers, and so he eagerly munched on the
crackers and Nutella spread Dorothy had provided.

When Nick began working at his assigned location in Sighisoara, he found
that there really was not much for him to do. So he began snooping around town
for additional projects and came into contact with Dorothy, “because she is where
things are happening.” Nick attempted to change his assignment officially but
was refused because Dorothy’s agency is faith-based. It is the practice of the
Peace Corps to avoid assigning volunteers to explicitly religious organizations.
Nick thought this was to avoid conflicts that could result if a volunteer did not
share the beliefs of the organization to which he or she was assigned. Although

Nick understood the merits of this policy and did not disagree with it in general,
he had been surprised and somewhat confused that they would reject this
specific request, since if he were unwilling or uncomfortable working in a
Christian agency, he would not have requested an assignment to work there. For
Nick, as for many development workers, the most important issue is a program’s
outcome. The religious aspects of the program were not the attraction; he simply
wanted to work where he could see progress in social welfare services, and

where he thought he could make a meaningful contribution. If faith-based

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organizations can effectively provide security, social development, and
inclusion, without compromising human rights, most funders and workers are
willing to support them, regardless of their religious ideology.

Nick could continue his assistance on an informal level, however. He was
free to do so because he has limited accountability or responsibility to any
particular program, even the one to which he is assigned. Since there is only
one person allocated to supervise all of the Peace Corps volunteers in Romania,
if no one complains, nothing is investigated—as Nick put it, “They are happy if
they do not have to deal with anyone.”

Echoing the views of earlier interviewees, Nick recognized what he
described as “the brokenness of Romania,” describing it as a place “where
nothing really works.” He further commented that “it is an inefficient bureaucracy
where nothing happens as it is supposed to, and bribery is the name of the game
to accomplish anything.” In this context, a faith-based organization that can
effectively provide social welfare services in a way that demonstrates inclusion,
respects human rights, and sustains itself by minimizing foreign assistance,
finds itself the most interesting game in town.

Petra, Mihaela, and Ginny, Romanian Employees of Veritas

In their amazingly spontaneous and spur-of-the-moment fashion, the

directors of the Veritas domestic crisis program, with the support of Dorothy,
thought it would be a good idea in the upcoming weekend to visit Constanta, a
city on the Black Sea. This city of 310,526 had recently established an Office for

Women to respond to domestic crisis situations. This program, which began in

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1998, was initially funded by Humana Inc., a private U.S. insurance company,
through a Healthy Communities Partnership grant with the University of Louisville
and the Public Health Authority of Constanta. A resort city, Constanta was
identified by a member of our party who is familiar with Michigan as being like
“Gun Lake with lots of billboards on the beach.”

With that description, I was wildly excited about going along. I also
thought that this would be an opportunity to further my understanding of the work
of faith-based agencies by investigating a secular agency that is addressing
some of the same social issues. The lengthy train ride would also afford me
more time with some of the Veritas employees, whom I could interview on the
way to our destination. So in a hot and stuffy train compartment (Romanians are
afraid to have windows open since the air current promotes illness and disease) I
found a seat by Petra, the director of the domestic crisis program; Mihaela,
photographer and advertisement director", and Ginny, director of counseling
services. Both Ginny and Mihaela are neo-Protestants with Orthodox
backgrounds, and Petra is Roman Catholic. I felt somewhat uncomfortable
approaching them, wondering if they would think I was bold and my questions too
personal, or that I would be interrupting what could have been a peaceful ride.
However, I knew they all spoke English, and I had developed a reasonable level
of rapport with them (this was the second visit in which we had interacted).
Fortunately, they seemed willing to help me out, and perhaps were even flattered

that l was interested in their point of view.

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My questions, as before, focused on Healy’s six relevant concepts and
their impact on the delivery of faith-based social welfare services. However, this
time the information would be obtained from the standpoint of participants
indigenous to the city and country in which the services were being delivered. I
wondered if their perspectives would be congruent with those of “outsiders” like
Roberta, Dorothy, and Elizabeth.

I began with inquiries about their perception of Veritas in the Sighisoara
community. The described the people’s reaction as mixed, since, in general, the
new Protestant churches are viewed with distrust and even fear. Ginny indicated
that as a child she used to make jokes and poke fun at another child who was a
Seventh-Day Adventist. “It was something strange and funny for us” she
remembered. “We were used to going to school on Saturday, but she went to
church on that day! Moreover, the neo-Protestant churches are condemned by
the Orthodox Church. We heard rumors that they kill their own children, as some
of them would not even let them get medical services, so kids were
disappearing.” Evidently, these Romanians had not viewed the Protestant
churches in a positive way, accepted their members, or felt comfortable with their
practices, to the extent that they were suspicious about their regard for [pimp
LIM-

Mihaela agreed with this view, but added negative insights about her
experiences with the Orthodox Church: “They are not a part of everyday events
or needs; they are there for weddings, funerals, and special events. And then,

during the services you have to contribute money to them.” She elaborated on

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the church’s lack of spiritual content or concern about human rights abuses
during Communism. “We went there for Easter, and we just went there for fun.
We went with tape decks and beer. One of my teachers wanted to go to church
to talk to a priest about all the horrible things that were going on [under
Communism], and when she got there the priest was praising Ceausescu—she
did not even try to talk to someone like that and just got out of there.”

Petra and Mihaela share the view that the Orthodox Church is “losing out”
due to its lack of social service provision. For them, effective churches are those
that serve the people, like the Nazarene Church and Veritas, its social welfare
representative. In Petra’s words, "The fact that they do social services is the most
important thing. It doesn’t matter if they are neo-Protestant or Orthodox. You feel
good if someone is helped and receives services. The most important thing is the
peace that someone has. If someone is neo-Protestant, just leave them alone.”
She added, “I think I am a very rare human animal (to think like this); it is not
always very comfortable.” The Nazarene Church is applauded by these women
because, in addition to providing services, it is “open to Orthodox members as
well as those of other faiths, and it takes leadership in the community.”

Although none of the three women would wish to go back to the times of
Communism, they are critical of the corruption and poverty that for the most part
have replaced it. Ginny thinks that corruption is everywhere, but that in Romania
it is more obvious: “People are not ashamed or afraid to talk about the fact that
they paid $10,000 for a job. It doesn’t matter where you went to school, or what

kind of professional that you are, it only matters what kind of connections that

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you have.” Mihaela added, “We have eight or nine words meaning ‘bribe’ in our
country. Isn’t that crazy?”

The ending of Communism has not ended economic poverty limitations;
both Petra and Ginny, although married, are living with parents. Petra lamented,
“We live with my mother, and we have generation problems. We do not have the
financial resources to live separately. It keeps the family together because it is a
survival thing.” Ginny concurred; although she and her husband have been living
the past year with her family, they would prefer to live separately. “Sometimes
there are three generations living in one house,” she said. “It is not easy.” On the
other hand, Petra has also observed that some of the poverty is a result of new
desires that had not been identified before, rather than an actual lowering of
living standards: “We are poor now because we want everything. We want a
Mercedes instead of a Dacha. We want Reeboks and Adidas to wear. We do not
have the middle way, just the extremes. You lose the value of things.” The
emphasis on capital development, from her perspective, has created a
consumeristic desire that produces discontent and a sense of poverty, even
though the economic system had not worsened.

Nor do these women consider going back to a more repressive regime a
solution to the underfunded economic and social welfare systems of the present.
Petra, especially, is optimistic, testifying that for her it is good that the 1989
revolution happened: “It gives us a lot of color. You have the choice to

experience things and to be open and have the power and courage to try. We are

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enriched by our experiences and history. Things are changing, and we can make
a difference.”

Mihaela and Ginny are more skeptical of their ability, or anyone else’s, to
make structural changes. Ginny conceded that “people are more free to do what
they want to do. Before people are watching you, looking over you. But is has
been thirteen years since Communism, and I do not think the corruption has
changed.” She gave the example of physicians who go to medical school, which
is the most difficult educational program, and still receive very low salaries. They
turn to bribery as an attempt to reconcile their educational investment with their
inadequate income. Ginny believes that corruption will not change as long as the
same Romanians are in leadership positions and laws or policies do not change.
Until such fraudulent practices are eliminated, people will not experience
personal or economic security.

Mihaela admitted to being frustrated by the continuing lack of autonomy or
organization at the local and national levels in Romanian government. Our social
services are formed from the pressures of the global economy. We are just
copying the laws from other places. We cannot think for ourselves. I feel helpless
about such corruption, and I am a journalist working for the press. Professionals
are still trying to figure out what is best at the local level. We do not have
anything at the national level—just the corrupt politicians. It would be good if the
freedom of expression [people now enjoy] could go along with the past [provision

of services to meet basic needs].”

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Petra responded by reiterating her view that despite the imperfections of
the current system, gains in the human right to individual freedom have made the
transition to democracy worthwhile. “What was bad was that they enforced only
one way to live, and it was easy to control that kind of situation. The restriction on
thoughts was really bad from my point of view. I am an idealistic person, and I
can forget my own needs to help others. I have the most interesting work in the
world. When you have a bird in a cage, that bird will feel better the freedom when
she is finally free.”

The discussion gradually devolved into less serious topics, culminating in
the compilation of a wish list from everyone in the car for items they wanted sent
from Michigan. At the top of the list were metal boxes of Altoids, followed by low-
cut athletic socks, peanut butter, and cans of the powdered drink mix Crystal
Light. I questioned my cultural compgtence; who would have ever thought
these items would be in such demand!

Daniel Verrnan Public Health Director

 

We were met at the train station in Constanta by Daniel Verman, MD,
director of public health services in Constanta and author of the recently passed
legislation against domestic abuse in Romania. He was a tall, lean, and graying
man somewhere in his mid to late fifties. Unlike most of the somber appearing
and dark Romanian men that populate this country, Dr. Verrnan seemed
energetic, cheerful, and eager to make our stay as pleasant as possible. He

helped us secure a taxi to our hotel, and set up a tentative schedule for the next

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day, when we would meet with him to discuss the implementation and structure
of the Office of Women program.

Our hotel was one of many block buildings on a street running directly
along the coast of the Black Sea. Dorothy explained that during Communism, all
workers were allotted a week at the shore in one of these buildings, which at that
time were government owned and sponsored vacation hotels. Now that they are
privately owned, entrepreneurs have attempted to make each of the buildings
seem less institutional and even unique, adding their own personal touches. For
some this had meant painting the entire building bright shades of orange, blue, or
even combinations of lime green and coral pink. Others had built outdoor
porches and balconies to soften the buildings’ severe architecture. Most had
attempted some landscaping, which, like most of the bushes and grasses in
Romania, seemed overgrown and neglected. Even with limited resources, these
hotel owners have attempted to disguise the sameness of the buildings,
recognizing their homogeneity and lack of individual expression as a reminder of
Communist times that would not play well with today’s liberated vacationers.
Because it was early in the season and still quite cool, the beaches were not
crowded or excessively littered. However, Dorothy warned that by July, it is
almost impossible to find a spot to park a towel, music is blaring from portable
boom boxes, and the water is suspiciously murky-looking.

The next morning we were picked up by a cab that took us to the County
Health Authority to meet with Dr. Verrnan and also with Loti Popescu, MD, the

director of media for the Office of Women. They very professionally outlined their

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program for me and the Veritas staff with a slide presentation that was also
printed in a notebook distributed to anyone who wished a copy. In my
subsequent interview with Dr. Vennan, my questions focused on the Office of
Women’s delivery of services in the context of its partnership and funding from
an American agency. As in the interviews with the women on the train, I was
interested in the Romanian perspective and how it might address some of the six
concepts fundamental to my research.

Dr. Verman informed us during the slide presentation that the funding for
their domestic crisis program came from a grant sponsored through the U.S.-
based Humana Corporation. The impetus for beginning a program of this nature
had been local, however—the results of a survey of 1,300 women from the
Constanta community indicated that domestic violence was their top public health
concern. Dr. Verrnan told us that the need for community involvement was in fact
one of the most important lessons he had learned from the American sponsors of
his program. When questioned about some of the contributions made by the
Office of Women’s U.S. partner, he confirmed that the most helpful had been the
Americans’ expertise in recruiting and training members of the community for the
work of the organization, “helping us to rediscover that working as a volunteer is
helping out in your neighborhood, is helping your neighbors.” From Dr. Verman’s
description, I saw that social development was emphasized both in the
selection of the issue to be addressed and in the way the program was

implemented.

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The Office of Women enjoys the support of a range of people and
organizations from the community. Professionals from the police department,
prosecutor’s office, ambulance service, emergency hospital, school system, and
labor and social protection departments have all been mobilized to participate in
combating the multifaceted social and health-related problem of domestic abuse.
The program’s supporters do not, however, include religious organizations of any
type. Dr. Verrnan expressed that it was “unfortunate” that he has found it “very
difficult” to get religious groups involved. He has also received limited support
from local business owners who might have been able to provide financial
resources and leadership. Dr. Verman did not offer any explanations about their
conduct, but his situation seemed to me to mirror Dorothy’s difficulties in
Sighisoara.

Interestingly, Dr. Verrnan finds that recruitment is enhanced if the program
includes the participation of Americans. “You can bring in both Americans and
Romanians, but the program is new, and an American police officer has more
credibility than a Romanian,” he explained. “If you bring in a Romanian, they are
considered all the same level.” The sense of cultural inferiority I had detected in
my conversations with Ileana and the Romanian employees was surfacing
again; here, too, America seemed to represent success and an expertise
Romanians feel is lacking in their society. Or could it be that this reliance on an
outside group for direction is simply another manifestation of the behavior
reinforced in the Romanian people during half a century of following orders

handed down by higher authorities during Communism?

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Dr. Verrnan was also enthusiastic about the relationship between the
Office of Women and its US. partner in Kentucky. He hypothesized that “most of
what is done in the US. can be used in Romania. We try to learn from your
experience. Even though the US. is richer and Romania is older, “humanity is
the same and we share all things.” He feels confirmed in this belief by his own
success in working with Americans and adapting their materials. Dr. Vennan’s
acceptance of foreign approaches is based on a recognition that the social
problem they address transcends the differences of culture, geography,
economy, and history.

Because he has benefited from the generosity of others willing to share
information about their program, Dr. Verrnan wishes to share what he has
learned with others who are involved in domestic abuse programs. At the time of
our interview, no central resource existed for an exchange of information about
domestic violence efforts from one part of the Romania to another, and it was
only recently that he had heard of Dorothy’s program in Sighisoara. But he was
hopeful that this would change after the implementation of the recently passed
domestic crisis law, which requires that there be one crisis center in each county
and a network to connect them nationwide. This level of social development
and cooperation had not existed previously, but the positive impact with the
Office of Women program demonstrates the benefits of such networks in
encouraging progress in this area.

The doctor’s optimism and passion were contagious, and the Veritas

personnel and I felt renewed in body and spirit after our meeting. For me, it was a

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wonderful mode in which to board the train that would take me back to

Bucharest, where my journey had begun only weeks ago.

Interviews in Grand Rapids, Michigan
Amber and Mihaela Co-Directors of WEARS-December 2003

 

Five months after I left Romania, Amber Niemann and Mihaela Kovacs,
who were involved in the Veritas domestic crisis prevention program in Romania,
visited Grand Rapids. The purpose of their visit was to gain knowledge of
approaches to housing and shelter for domestic abuse victims, the issue that
WEARS (Women Escaping Abuse Recovery Services) lntemational, Inc., the
foundation they direct, had been founded within the past year to address. I
arranged and accompanied their tour of three Grand Rapids agencies: the
YWCA shelter, the women’s program at Mel Trotter Mission, and Safe Haven
Ministries.

Amber, the founder of WEARS, is from the US. and had worked for
several years with various NGOs in Romania prior to establishing her own.
Mihaela, her partner in this effort, is Roma and is also the director of youth at
Veritas. This trip to the US. was Mihaela’s first travel outside of Romania; in fact,
her visa was approved only days before her scheduled departure. Amber and
Mihaela were working cooperatively with Dorothy, but their program had not been
a recipient of the USAID grant, so this trip also included fundraising at local
churches.

Their major concern at the time of our interview revolved around new

proposed legislation that would require domestic violence shelters in Romania to

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have on staff a dentist, a hair stylist, a doctor, a speech therapist, a social
worker, a psychologist, a psychiatrist, a psychotherapist, a chemotherapist
(pharmacist), and an educator. Amber hypothesized that this list of requirements
was a result of viewing domestic violence shelters as psychiatric hospital
recovery centers for mentally ill persons. Since none of the existing shelters
(there are ten in all of Romania) have funding for these positions, if this law were
enacted, all of them would have to close. Amber and Mihaela both saw this
proposed law as totally unnecessary, and also as a policy that would presume
that it is the victim of domestic abuse (in Romania as elsewhere, usually the
female spouse), rather than the perpetrator of the violence, who is the problem.
The domination and repression of women that was part of the culture during
Ceausescu’s regime still seems to rear its head in current policymaking. By
researching domestic crisis centers in the US, the two women hoped to gain
information from more experienced professionals that could be used to refute this
harmful proposal.

Amber and Mihaela’s is the only faith-based shelter in Romania, and it
depends on private donations as its sole source of financial support. Amber
reported that the other shelters are supported primarily by short-term grants that
were due to run out soon, leaving most without any other source of support. With
their sustainability already in question due to financial limitations, the
government would clearly be leveling a crippling blow to these programs if this

legislation were passed.

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With financial and legislative problems facing all of the shelters in
Romania, Amber did not judge that WEARS was at any more of a disadvantage
than the others because of its religious affiliation. She commented that she would
be interested in looking at grant funding if she had the expertise and the time to
complete the requirements of the application process. WEARS has only recently
become an officially recognized foundation that can receive tax-deductible
donations, and Amber was still smarting over the difficulty of completing that
process in Romania.

Amber did not have concerns that using public funding might compromise
the foundation’s faith-based approach. She was actually a bit concerned that
religious potential donors might not find spousal abuse as a cause as worthy of
sustaining as orphaned children. Both she and Mihaela were surprised that the
shelter at Mel Trotter Ministries, one of those toured during their visit, required
church service attendance as a prerequisite for assistance. They made clear
their policy of accepting anyone, regardless of their faith or background, but
added that if they saw an opportunity or an interest, they would be open to
“sharing [their] faith in Jesus Christ and the need for salvation.” On the WEARS
website, Amber emphasizes her success in evangelizing some of the women at
the shelter and makes very specific prayer requests. Both women openly
describe their efforts as “carrying out the will of God” and see their success as
indicative of God’s blessing. Amber declared that people will be “lost if the
gospel is not presented to them,” and affinned that “the Bible is truth and life, and

the ultimate authority over the entire world.”

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Mihaela observed that Christians in the US. “find it difficult to witness
about their faith because they are afraid of offending.” As an enthusiastic new
Christian who believes her family has been freed from numerous problems,
including alcoholism, because of their conversion experience, she considered the
risk of “offending” to be a very small one, and worth the gamble. Mihaela does
not share the particular view of human rights and separation of church and
state that informs much of our culture and values in the United States.

In spite of the snow that was falling, Amber had plans to go to Chicago,
and so the whirlwind day in Grand Rapids ended in the late afternoon. She and
Mihaela promised to return to Grand Rapids in March for a training session at
Safe Haven, but they never did.

Final Interview with Dorothy Tarrant—February 2004

The budget for the USAID grant allocated funds for Dorothy’s trip to Grand
Rapids for the purpose of education, evaluation, and basically tying up loose
ends with Cornerstone, Veritas’ U.S. partner. But her trip also gave me an
opportunity for another interview, after I had a chance to review my interviews
from Romania, and to ask some questions that had arisen since that trip the
previous June. As always, Dorothy was gracious about spending time with me
and sharing insights about her work and goals in Sighisoara. It seemed strange
to see her in my environment, in surroundings that presented such a contrast to
Romania, which now seemed almost another world. Like plants and trees that
can only survive in their native climate, I almost expected Dorothy to have

difficulty navigating this foreign environment. To my surprise, she looked and

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functioned well in Grand Rapids; wearing a lovely Scandinavian-style sweater
with decorative silver clasps, her naturally curly hair casually styled, and
speaking her perfect English with a faint hint of a British accent.

Talking in my cluttered office, with a desk between us, made this interview
seem far more formal than our previous interviews on her porch. I began with
questions intended to help me tie up loose ends in my research. I was especially
interested in the connection Dorothy might or might not be making between the
development of civil society in Romania and the countercultural display of values
she was modeling in the community. Steve Gold, Ph.D., a member of my
dissertation committee had highlighted this concept when I presented my
research proposal, and I felt I needed confirmation of her position.

Dorothy asserted that although she was a social worker by training, she
was very much motivated by a desire to set up an organization that believed in
caring for people out of a mandate that came from Jesus Christ: “feeding the
hungry, clothing the naked, caring for those who are in some way impaired.” To
elaborate further on her position, she added, “When you come to a country like
Romania, you meet people who are quite disillusioned with the political process,
and many of them feel that their material situation is worse off now than it was
before [during Communisml—disillusionment, cynicism, even despair, certainly
hopelessness. So the desire to help people find hope and a reason for living is
rooted in helping others, your neighbor, your community, and that gives you a
sense of purpose. Even though you are still living in Romania, and things are

bleak, your life has taken on a more positive meaning.”

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When asked if this sense of purpose could exist without the ideology,
Dorothy responded there were certainly altmistic people in the community who
did not share the Christian faith. “My former landlady called herself an atheist, yet
she was one of the most tolerant, generous, helpful people, who was interested
in others, and completely non-judgmental and non-discriminating. This was not
based on any kind of religious faith. She is one of those people who feel life is
richer and better if you are not wrapped up in your own problems, but reach out
to others instead. It can be simply a psychological effect. Human beings do better
if we are not alienated, if we are connecting with each other, regardless of any
religious beliefs.”

Dorothy referred me to a book written by Robert Cole, A Call to Service, in
which the author examines the motivation of those who become volunteers. His
conclusion, in her words, is that “when youthful idealism comes from an inner
conviction, it is much less likely to result in burnout.” From his findings and her
observations, she extrapolated the view that “the Christian faith tends to get
people working together in groups and in Christian community where there is
shared faith and values, so they can support each other in the work they are
trying to do together.”

She gave the example of one of her Romanian employees, Maria, who
had been offered a position in an agency that helped people in Romania who
possessed skills in medicine or nursing to leave for higher-paying positions in
other countries. The position also offered Maria a much higher salary than the

one Dorothy was providing, but Maria refused the offer, asserting that working for

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that agency would be against what she and Veritas stood for. Dorothy feels that
“Maria really gets it; she has taken Christian philosophy to the level of civic
responsibility.” The sustainability of Dorothy’s program has remained intact due
to the leadership of local Romanians who understand and have internalized
principles of civic virtue, even when it required personal sacrifice. Maria’s
willingness to pay a price for the well-being of the community indicates a high
level of social development.

Nevertheless, Dorothy is well aware that her Christian funding sources
would be skeptical about any attempts by her organization to take on missions
that are specifically about social development or inclusion. She told me, “I
think that most people who want to give money to Veritas understand going and
holding babies in the hospitals, feeding the elderly, or ministering to poor families
or helping someone who needs an operation. They might not be quite as
convinced of the value of holding a computer class, English class, or
environmental course, which can be used to connect with people or even provide
an opportunity to share Christian faith by this situation. But I think the more
thoughtful people can see, well, yes, obviously we are called upon to be salt and
light in our community, and trying to influence things on a community level in
more subtle ways makes life better for people. You and up having less control
over the ripple effect of what you are doing, but you just trust that it is for the
good“

While economic limitations do affect the material resources available for

their programs, Dorothy maintains that she avoids developing programs for the

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primary purpose of obtaining grants. “There is money out there and we could get
money if we developed a program for who knows what, but we try to be driven by
our mission. And because our mission is fairly broad, it can lead to people
developing themselves and becoming more as God intended them to be,
providing a kind of friendlier environment for people to live in—a pretty wide
scope. And so I struggle with people who say why should we give to Veritas
through the channels of the Nazarene Church when so much of what they are
doing does not really build up the Nazarene Church [itself].” The contributors
have a narrower vision than Dorothy about what should be financed, and building
social capital appears to be too abstract a concept for many.

In contrast, on a personal as well as a programmatic level, Dorothy
intentionally models civic responsibility, hoping that by her example others will
also be “caught” in this behavior. Unlike almost everyone else in the community,
she refuses to bribe officials; this has resulted in many delays when she needs to
obtain permits for her business, or approvals for new constmction. She is also
unlike most other residents in that she pays taxes, even though she knows the
government has not been accountable to the citizens in providing services. She
explained, “As Christians we are called upon to be truthful and to be peOple of
integrity, but at the same time we believe that if people would live that way—obey
laws, support the legal system and pay taxes—life would be better for
everybody.”

Dorothy concluded our final interview by stating her fundamental belief

that Christianity is the underlying factor in sustainability. “I think it would be hard

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to find twenty-five employees who would be willing to deal with the bureaucracies
and the frustrations at the wages that we provide.” The Christian faith also
contributes to what her organization can do for its clients. “We have a lot of
situations that we cannot fix for people, as we do not have a lot of material
resources available. So it is important to have a Roberta pray with someone, or
Mihaela reassure people that God loves them and cares about their situation. So
I think we would be nice people doing our best [if we were not Christians], but
when you come to the end of material resources, there would be nothing more to
say or offer. We try to help people with the courage and strength that comes from

God—we can offer a hope based on a higher power.”

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Chapter Six — Discussion and Implications of the Findings

In this final chapter I will review the research results, first according to
Lynne Healy’s (2001) six relevant concepts and than within the Contemporary
Value-Policy Configuration adapted from Katherine Van Wormer (1997). The
findings reflect the research goal of exploring the contextual effects of the
environment, especially as it pertains to social development, human rights,
multiculturalism/cultural competence, social inclusion or exclusion, security, and
sustainability on the development of policies and the intemal dynamics of faith-
based agencies delivering social welfare services in Romania. Explicitly relevant
to, as well as an implicit part of, these concepts is the underlying economic reality
of poverty in Romania.
Social Development

All of the NGOs I studied promoted programs and missions consistent with
the encouragement and support of social development. As documented in
Chapter Two, the period of repression under Communism created a context of
distrust and limited social involvement among citizens who thought of their
neighbors as possible governmental informants, not as sources of collaboration
or friendship. As a result of this history, many of the NGOs reported special
difficulties in developing trusting relationships with the Romanian people. Bernita,
the researcher who works with street children, wondered if the problems with
trust were linked to agencies that did not maintain a Iong-tenn presence in the
community. Elizabeth, the American volunteer at Veritas, confirmed that she is

accepted because of her longevity in the organization and that new employees,

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not yet assured of her commitment, treated her with suspicion. Nannette found
that even after Ieaming the Romanian language and demonstrating her desire to
participate actively in the work at the hospital in Bucharest, it took at least five
years before she felt a degree of mutual trust and reciprocity with the nurses. In
addition, both Dorothy of Veritas and Roberta of the Nazarene Church indicated
that Romanians tend to distrust each other to some degree, as well as distrusting
other ethnic groups in the community, particularly the Roma and Hungarians.
After their experience with a large, centralized government that controlled
all activities of daily life, Romanian citizens seem ill prepared to participate as
leaders, or even just as members, of a community. NGOs play a special role in
modeling the possibilities for a more civil society. The organizations that are
successful are those that have stayed for at least five years and have maintained
continuity of services by retaining their staff. They follow through with promises
and even display some vulnerability, as when Dorothy established a lending
library in spite of the risk of stolen books. In spite of prevailing attitudes, the
leaders of successful non-governmental organizations model good citizenship by
paying taxes and obeying the law. A policy of transparency appears to be
essential in a society where distrust and corruption are the norm. And although it
may lead to more controversies and conflicts, diversity must be cultivated and all
employees treated with respect if social development is to occur. Dorothy
acknowledged this fact with the hiring policies she established for her
organization, enabling Roma to assume advocacy positions, to the surprise of

many employees and in spite of the consternation of some.

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On a more macro level, the NGOs I researched recognized the need for
cooperation from the community in order for the agencies to successfully carry
out their mission. Nannette involved only local Romanian women as paid
caregivers, and then she reimbursed them at a higher rate than the hospital paid.
Bruce from Livada provided services that were needed by the local orphanages
and avoided practices, such as proselytizing. that might have antagonized the
authorities. In an environment of limited resources, Bruce knew that teamwork
would be a way for all parties to expand service provision. Dorothy, in spite of
repeated refutation, continues to involve local government and the Orthodox
Church in her projects. And Dr. Verrnan, before establishing the domestic crisis
program, did an extensive survey to determine community members’ perceived
needs. NGOs promote social development when they increase local control and
indigenous leadership, and adapt to foreign assistance in a way that does not
compromise the particular and unique needs of the population addressed. These
results support the work of Herbert (2003) and Cnaan (1999), who have signalled
the positive contributions that faith-based agencies have made in the area of
community participation and development.

Human Rights

One of the concerns Roberta and others had voiced about faith-based
organizations is the people’s perception that they will be required to comply with
religious beliefs and practices before gaining access to material social welfare
benefits. When attending church or praying are, in a sense, forced on an

individual, his or her human rights are violated. Especially in an impoverished

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country like Romania, the NGO leaders were exquisitely aware of the power of
precious resources in coercing behavior. Roberta, as pastor of a church,
preferred to maintain spiritual freedom by separating, as much as possible, the
material from the non-material, thus avoiding any confusion about the motives for
participation. All of the NGOs I researched indicated that although they may
utilize service provision as an opportunity to evangelize, services were never
provided or prohibited on the basis of religious belief. People were provided with
assistance based on what they needed, not on what they believed. The NGOs’
success in promoting cooperation and trust with Romanian citizens affinns
Timothy Brown’s (1999) hypothesis that religion is helpful in promoting civil
society if it does‘not force others to accept it as the only way to truth, thus
alienating any other religious traditions or beliefs in the community.

In contrast to the practices formulated by the NGOs, the official laWs and
policies demonstrated violations of human rights. Bernita described policies
toward children that almost guaranteed failure, and Amber and Mihaela
reported proposed legislative policies that would threaten the existence of crisis
shelters for abused women who have no other options for safety.

The repressive reproduction policies Romanian women endured in the
past have led to further human rights abuse of the thousands of children who are
now institutionalized. Nannette gave numerous examples of neglect suffered by
infants in orphanages, whose abandoned status causes them to be labeled
disposable and undeserving of care. lntemational adoption is presently banned

to reduce national corruption, but the individual rights of children to the health

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and education that could have been provided in another country are
compromised as a result. Bernita identified the problems faced by children who
are out of the institutions but on the street, who find their belongings confiscated
by police and access to health care or benefits denied if they cannot produce
difficult-to-obtain documentation. They are victims of deinstitutionalization
policies that do not provide enough viable alternatives to life on the street.

As Petra, Mihaela, and Ginny of Veritas observed, human rights are
important because they embody concepts of liberty and freedom, but they do not
guarantee economic growth or security. The initial euphoria felt after the
democratic revolution has largely dissipated in the face of scarce resources and
limited employment opportunities. Fifteen years after the overthrow of the
Ceausescu regime, NGOs are still attempting to fill a gap in social welfare
services that is exacerbated by poor to mediocre growth in the Romanian
economy and extremely limited government resources. Mihaela reported that
many Romanians would trade their current freedoms for the guarantee of
employment and food. Foreigners from capitalist countries who work with NGOs
in Romania have been obliged to recognize that without economic justice and a
fair distribution of resources, freedom rings with a hollow sound.
Multiculturalism/Cultural Competence

In a country where almost 90% of the population adheres to the Orthodox
faith and where there is virtually no separation between church and state, the
faith-based “neo-Protestant” organizations researched in this study found

themselves a distinct minority. For the most part, the Orthodox culture and the

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faith-based NGO’s coexisted in relative harmony. Dorothy actively recruited
employees from the Orthodox Church for the Veritas Foundation and did not
force them to denounce their faith or embrace Nazarene beliefs. She recognized
that the identity of a Romanian citizen was tied into the practices and customs of
the Orthodox Church. Roberta, as pastor of the Nazarene Church, recognized
the dominant presence of the Orthodox faith in the community, and found that
her comparative obscurity and lack of power allowed her to minister in the
community without threat to this dominant religion.

All of the NGOs studied (including Dr. Vennan’s, which was not affiliated
with any religious group) indicated that by providing concrete services, they were
navigating territory rarely explored by leaders in the Orthodox Church. Those I
interviewed generally viewed the lack of cooperation from Orthodox leaders not
as a result of hostility but rather of a difference in focus or purpose. (As
previously stated, the Orthodox Church does not see its role as ministering to the
whole person, but concentrates its ministry on the spiritual development of its
members.) Only in situations where Orthodox leaders thought their ministry might
be threatened by the popularity of new beliefs, as in the small Gypsy villages, did
the NGOs experience any conflict. As long as the neo-Protestant churches and
affiliated organizations did not interfere with the participation of mainstream
Romanians in Orthodox ways, the relationship remained cordial, or at least one
of grudging tolerance for each other’s existence.

From the interviews with Bruce, Dorothy, Nannette, and Amber, l

ascertained that due to the scarcity of resources in Romania, services were

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welcomed from any provider, irrespective of the ideological beliefs driving the
contribution. Most of the recipients of these services—poor women and children,
often physically disabled or abused, or from the Gypsy villages—were not valued
by those in power, so assistance for them was seen as being of little
consequence to the overall functioning of the larger community.

Interestingly, it appears from their reports that the NGO leaders who
appeared to receive greater tolerance and respect were foreigners. Dr. Verman
observed that greater credence was given to the authority of the Americans
involved with the Office of Women project than to the local Romanian leaders.
Roberta and Dorothy could assume greater leadership in the community than
other women because they were not from Romania, and thus not constrained by
the customary expectations about women’s behavior in that society. Ileana
described the high esteem in which Romanians hold people from the US, whom
they saw as Iiberators and preservers of human rights. Mihaela and Amber came
to the United States to gain enough information about how American domestic
crisis shelters provide services in order to combat legislation proposed by the
authorities in Romania.

I also observed a sense of shame and inferiority on the part of Romanians
about their repressive communist past and the limited progress that was made
during that time in respect to knowledge about human behavior, medicine, and
technology. As a result, they are extremely open to gaining knowledge from
sources, such as US. citizens, that they would perceive as superior and more

skilled. There are, however, some indications that this may be changing, as

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evidenced by Elizabeth’s observation that younger Romanians are becoming
resentful of American volunteers, wondering what gives them the right to impose
their views. The interview with Bethany employees demonstrated the pride they
feel in successfully adapting foster care programs that reflect Romanian
expertise and knowledge of the culture. Carmen also stated clearly that although
foreign aid was valuable, the Romanians had to evaluate this assistance
according to the needs of their own people.

This balance has not been easy to maintain. As Romanians attempt to re-
establish their culture after dismantling and rebelling against the harsh
dictatorship of Ceausescu and others, they have been forwd to make social
changes at the behest of those who are also in charge of the economic ones.
What is best for Romania is often subjugated to what will bring more money and
support from outside funders. Although the goals of outside funders such as the
European Union or United States Aid for lntemational Development are not
necessarily incongruent with what is best for Romanians, the fact remains that
what drives policies like deinstitutionalization and decentralization is coming from
external sources, based on foreign values and what has worked in foreign
cultures. By recognizing the flaws inherent in this system, it is to be hoped that
NGOs will avoid imposing their own values before questioning the validity of
existing structures in another culture. For example, perhaps there is a place for a
system of orphanages in Romania until the economy improves and children can
be provided care in the home setting, or until adequate pre-natal and post-natal

care is available. Banning abortion funding and condemning its use as a form of

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birth control is problematic in a society too poor to control its population by any
other means.
Social Exclusion or Inclusion

As we have seen, the Roma are the minority population in Romania that
suffers most acutely from poverty, discrimination in the areas of education,
housing, and employment; and other problems caused by social exclusion. All of
the social welfare agencies cited in this research are working with Roma clients,
attempting to bridge the gaps in their social experiences so they can participate
on a more equal footing with other Romanian citizens. Another group generally
excluded from the privileges of society is the institutionalized children—
particularty those with any type of disability, who are regarded as a source of
shame and stigma. None of the agencies I surveyed denied services to anyone
on the basis of ethnicity, and their funding sources, although influencing the
types of service they offered, did not prohibit them from providing services to any
population.

Since a majority of the children in the orphanages are of Roma origin, the
efforts of Bethany and ROCK Ministries toward deinstitutionalization and foster
care placement are focused directly on this ethnic group. Bruce’s work in
Livada’s after-care programs would also directly target the Roma population,
since such a high percentage of the orphans in institutions are Roma. Dorothy
has taken an especially unusual position in Romanian society by elevating the
status of Roma by placing them in very public roles. This is especially significant

because they have become not only recipients of services in Dorothy’s agency

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but providers of services as well. Their success helps to contradict centuries of
racism during which Roma have been labeled thieves and vagrants.

Women also are generally excluded from positions of leadership in
Romanian society. Dorothy, in establishing a domestic crisis program at Veritas,
has empowered women by providing them with the knowledge of what
constitutes abuse, and options to end it. When social inclusion is encouraged,
civil society is promoted and enhanced. A faith-based organization like Dorothy’s
can demonstrate that cooperation and tolerance of diversity are important values
for both Christianity and professional social work.

The elderly in Sighisoara face exclusion as a result of their extremely low
income and lack of transportation. The eldercare program provided by Veritas is
an attempt to connect the aging with others in the community with whom they
can socialize and receive support. The concept was a new one to Romanians,
and it is the only program like it in Sighisoara.

Social inclusion was a distinct focus for the agencies I surveyed, as they
sought to reach those who have been neglected or barred from the benefits of
membership in mainstream society. These NGOs have done so in a way that
does not demand any prerequisites, whether religious or othenrvise, for entry into
their programs. However,although none of the agencies had funding that directly
influenced their choice of participants, the directors of several voiced concerns
that some populations and needs seemed to hold greater appeal for private
funders than others. As Dorothy observed, orphaned babies appear to attract

more outside support than wives of abusive husbands, and educating Roma

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adolescents in computer skills seems less compelling to funders than teaching
Bible stories to Gypsy children. The directors themselves were aware of the
macro picture and could identify other programs that would enhance the
participation of all members of the community, regardless of age, ethnic
background, or level of capability. But they realized that those who hold the purse
strings may have a narrower perspective, reflecting agendas that may have more
to do with personal preference or political advantage.
m

Obtaining the trust of the Romanian people was identified as a difficult
obstacle by people connected with all of the faith-based NGOs I surveyed. Dr.
Verrnan did not identify such problems with his agency, which is secular and was
established by Romanian people. All of the other agencies, however, mentioned
problems associated with their identification with a religious organization. For
Romanian people who have been taught that the Orthodox Church is the one
true church, to participate with an organization pertaining to another religion
seems contrary to their culture and faith. As a result, in Nannette’s judgment, it
would have been easier for her organization to be secular, to avoid conjuring up
the negative connotations connected with many of the neo—Protestant evangelical
associations. Nevertheless, the faith-based agencies in this research were still
able to be successful insofar as they recognized the problem and were willing to
endure for the long haul, which attested to their reliability and the earnestness of
their desire to meet needs without the ulterior motive of proselytizing for souls.

This result supports Katherine Marshall’s (2000) contention that religious

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organizations can be useful in development programs and actually have been an
unrecognized force for some time.

Understanding Romania’s history and culture of the people has allowed
faith-based NGOs to recognize the fragility of a people with a damaged group
mentality resulting from oppression of beliefs and constant monitoring of
behavior. The strategies used to successfully impart a sense of security included:
a transparency of goals and services, acceptance of any and all persons, and
services based on unconditional caring and love. Dorothy took this approach to
such an extent that some of her Romanian employees chided her for being too
naive and trusting, assuming that this would invite exploitation.

However, Dorothy and others like her, have realized that modeling trust
and honesty, regardless of the personal sacrifice involved, is the only way to
entertain any possibility of change. And going against a culture of dishonesty
does require sacrifice. Roberta spoke about giving personal clothing items to
help a family out, only to find they had been sold on the street for money.
Nannette lamented that after investing and training employees, they left for
Hungary to find better wages. Dorothy’s home has been broken into—the home
that she was using as a base to provide emergency food and finances. But for
successful agencies, setbacks like these are not insurmountable, and they
continue to provide services in the hope and conviction that although changes on
the individual or the corporate level do not come quickly or easily, they do
eventually come. Elizabeth said it best when she described an acceptance

based on faithfulness and endurance—“hanging in there” when others make

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promises that are never fulfilled and, most importantly, working side by side with
Romanians and Ieaming with them and from them.

A strong desire to create for their clients a sense of peace without the
threats of hunger, abuse, loneliness, or abandonment was an essential part of
the mission and vision of the NGOs participating in this research. Bernita found
this to be a struggle in working with children on the street since the focus of
funding had shifted to deinstitutionalization efforts, and the children who were
already out of the orphanages, even if they were now living in sewers or gutters,
were no longer a priority. As a result, these children did not trust agencies that
provided inconsistent and short-term assistance. Carmen and Donna from
Bethany and Nannette from ROCK Ministries are attempting to find security for
children who have been abandoned. Through education, training, and financial
assistance, they hope to provide stability for children who have never known the
consistency of a primary caretaker or the safe haven of a home, and who
therefore may have difficulty in developing trusting relationships.

For women and children who find their homes to be a dangerous place
because of domestic violence, Dorothy, Mihaela, and Amber in Sighisoara, as
well as Dr. Verrnan in Constanta, are finding ways to expose and prosecute
those who have violated the bonds of marriage and the ties of parental devotion.
By enacting and enforcing legislation, opening shelters, and providing counseling
and direction, they are responding to a community need that in the past has

largely been ignored and even normalized by the population.

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In an environment of corrupt government and a black market economy,
uncertain and fluctuating funding for social welfare, a stagnant economy, and a
diminishing population, NGOs find themselves a part of a larger environment that
is often antagonistic toward, rather than supportive of, their efforts. Even as the
government attempts to decentralize and allow for more community control,
Dorothy has found the mayor suspicious and even threatened by her efforts to
connect and mobilize the community. Orthodox church leaders often attempt to
denigrate the efforts of these strange neo-Protestants who really do not seem to
know their “place in society". And even most individuals in the community are
emboldened to go to the NGOs only because of poverty or exclusion due to
racism or incapacity, and because the agencies promise material assistance not
available elsewhere. In Romania, security is elusive on multiple levels and in
manifold ways.

Sustainabilig

The efforts of NGOs will continue as Romanian citizens continue to
develop and to identify their own approaches to social problems by adapting
existing programs to meet their culture and values. Evidence of this exists in Dr.
Verman’s domestic crisis program, which is well supported by many other
community agencies, and in Dorothy’s program, which is receiving more limited,
albeit unprecedented, support from teachers, physicians, and psychologists in
the town. This kind of support is in recognition of interventions that seek to

develop the skills and strengths of the people involved in the services, instead of

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maintaining a charity mentality that delivers temporary resources geared toward
a quick fix, providing warmer feelings for the provider than for the recipient.

Carmen Dumitrache, aware of the transition, indicated that services in
Romania had changed from primarily humanitarian aid to the education of the
populace. Carmen herself is evidence of this development, since the position she
holds as director of Bethany was originally occupied by an American. (Donna
from USAID and Ileana from Wortd Learning are other examples of Romanian
women in leadership positions formerly held by foreigners.) Bethany is a
wonderful example of an agency that is managed completely by Romanian staff.
Although the director of the international offices is located in the United States,
the Romanian office works with him on a consultancy basis for long-term
planning, rather than on relying on his direction in daily operations. Dr. Verman’s
domestic violence program is another success story. Originally partnered with the
US. through a grant from Humana, his agency is now completely independent
and serving as a model for other existing and potential programs. Dr. Verman’s
ability to affect legislation will have even greater implications for future social
welfare services, such as the law that mandates the enforcement of legal
authority against perpetrators of domestic violence.

The other programs I studied seem to be more dependent on the
charisma and personalities of their foreign-bom leaders and on contributions
from churches and other faith-based groups located outside of Romania.
Although Dorothy has recently obtained funding from the secular organization

USAID for a domestic crisis program, much of her support has been from the

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Nazarene Church. Veritas also relies on the leadership of Roberta, another
“outsider,” who has established the Nazarene church in Sighisoara. Without their
connections and personal credibility as a basis for private funding, Veritas
Foundation would not exist. Similarly, ROCK Ministries and Livada depend on
the fundraising capabilities and the ability to recruit volunteers of their U.S.-born
leaders. In the case of Livada, a portion of whose financing comes directly from
the funds raised by its American volunteers, replacing them with Romanian
citizens would mean a loss of income for the agency—hardly a motivation for
encouraging more indigenous involvement.

Sustainability in these faith-based organizations is also affected by the
causes they choose to promote. Mihaela and Amber, during their visit to the US,
lamented their possibilities of finding funding for a domestic crisis shelter, which
they feared would have less appeal for conservative churches that foster beliefs
about male dominance than programs aimed at rescuing beautiful infants from
the horrors of institutionalization. Dorothy noted the difficulty in raising funds for
something like ecology or computer education. Although such programs promote
the development of a more civil and involved society in Romania, they have less
power to inspire generosity in church leaders, who tend to focus their efforts on
more popular concerns like evangelism.

All of the NGOs do, however, have Romanian employees working
alongside the American volunteers. Nannette, for example, is clear about her
goal of working herself out of a job by educating the nurses and physicians about

the psychosocial and physical needs of the institutionalized babies. At Veritas,

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with the exception of Elizabeth, Dorothy has filled all of the staff positions with
Romanian citizens. Demonstrating even more commitment to local leadership,
Amber has co-partnered with Mihaela, who is not only Romanian but also a
Gypsy, in her efforts to provide a safe shelter for abused women and their
children.

As for the sustainability of the people behind the organizations, all of the
directors of the faith-based agencies without exception testified to the importance
of their religious faith. Without the biblical mandate to provide care and
compassion for those in need, they do not think they would have had the
conviction or the intemal resources to sustain their efforts in this work. For the
organization itself, an identification with Christianity, far from being positive, gives
cause for concern and suspicion in the community about its motivations for
helping. On a personal level, however, the Christian faith has imparted to the
NGOs’ employees a sense of purpose and meaning beyond the often meager
rewards associated with measurable and tangible success, which can seem
inadequate in relationship to the labor expended.

As was evident in Jane Wimmer’s objective analysis of faith-based
programs, even secular funders appreciate the devotion of religiously affiliated
groups. She observed that they are able to deliver services ethically,
economically, and with more passion than most NGOs. Concerns about the
involvement of faith-based agencies are based not on their sustainability but on
how fair and equitable their hiring practices might be, and their ability to

collaborate with other community organizations.

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Finally, the sustainability of organizations with a religious affiliation may in
some respects be increased by the abject poverty of the populace and the racial
discrimination shown to the Gypsies. The force of the gospel is particularly
welcome to those who are disenfranchised by the dominant culture and see
themselves as aliens in the community. The loose ties felt by the Roma
population to the Orthodox Church has increased their receptivity to a new
message of acceptance and inclusion, regardless of heritage or status in an
earthly community. For the poor who see limited options or opportunities for
material gain in a world of corrupt hiring practices and economic policies, a faith
that promises better coping on earth and rewards in heaven is truly a welcome
message. Acceptance and participation in an agency that also provides clothing
and food has especially strong appeal when resources are limited. As Roberta
observed, getting anything, even a free Bible, can be reason enough to attend a
church service, regardless of any previous connection with or particular interest
in evangelical Christianity.

Van Wonner’s Reciprocal Value-Policy Theory

The research information, obtained by framing questions in the context of
Lynne Healy’s relevant concepts, can also be placed in the context of Katherine
Van Wonner’s (1997) dynamic theory that social policy is in a reciprocal
relationship with itself— shaping as well as being shaped by values, economics
and existing policies ( see Figure 1, p. 5). Characterizing social policy in the
broadest perspective, using Barker's (1995) definition in The Social Work

Dictionary, policy in Romania can be viewed as the plans and programs in social

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welfare, made not only by government organizations, but also by the voluntary
NGO’s and the people in general. From this perspective, the values and
economics of the Romanian people, along with the transported values of foreign
and faith-based NGO’s, affect the distribution and the type of services provided.
As described in detail in Chapter Two, and reflected in the research results in
Chapter Four, knowledge concerning Romania’s history of repression and
current struggles to transition from communism to capitalism is crucial for
developing policy and organizations that are inclusive, culturally competent, and
sustainable, thus promoting security, social development, and human rights.

To illustrate from the findings of this research, Dorothy recognized the
corruption of government practices and the market economy, realizing that these
practices necessitated transparent and scrupulous adherence to local laws and
ordinances on her part, if she wished to promote social development and a more
civil society. Although often frustrating and time consuming for her, operating in
a lawful and honest manner establishes a precedent for practice and behavior,
hopefully affecting other business transactions in the community.

In another situation, the history of repressive reproductive polices and
institutionalization of children influenced the position of Romanians negatively
toward the concepts of foster care and adoption. As a result, Bethany has
carefully educated the community about the psychosocial needs of children, the
concepts of family, and the possibilities of alternative care arrangements for the
country’s children. These policies have now been adopted not only by the totally

Romanian staff at Bethany, but also by the newly established child welfare

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agencies in the judets. However, the poverty of the population has affected
these values, and children remain institutionalized and abandoned, often as a
result of the parent’s limited resources to care for them.

Additionally, although the legislation prohibiting abortion has ended, the
limited availability of birth control and the economic benefits to some from the
operation of orphanages, has restricted policies based on the values of
reproductive freedom. Carmen, director from Bethany, described this problem in
connection with the difficulties associated with receiving funding from foreign
agencies acculturated to their own values. She gave the example of the US.
restricting abortion funding while not offering viable alternatives or recognizing
the dominance of this method as an economic necessity in Romania.

The problems of foreign assistance in the formation of policies and
services was echoed by Mihaela, photographer and journalist for Veritas, when
she observed that the Romanians are unable to really develop their own ideology
when they must cater to the preferences of the European Union, or requirements
from USAID. At the same time, Mihaela appreciated the concepts of intellectual
and religious freedom imported from the West, and her current employment was
with the domestic crisis program sponsored by a USAID grant. As she developed
insights and values promulgated by the programs and policies of the US,
Mihaela became aware of her own independence and competence, leading to
resentment of externally imposed ideologies and the capability to develop and

influence programs from her own Romanian perspective.

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From a more positive standpoint, Dr.Verman considered his participation
with Humana, a US provider of healthcare, helpful in promoting values of
independence and democracy. As a result of mobilizing the support of citizens
and local professionals, Dr. Verrnan was empowered to develop legislation that
would identify and provide legal ramifications for domestic abuse. This
acknowledgement of a public problem, and support of legislation to enforce
sanctions, resulted from a combination of shared values and economic support
from the US, which informed the legislative initiatives and the formation of a local
domestic crisis center. These centers are now fully controlled and run by
indigenous leaders, and as a result of his positive experience, Dr. Verrnan is
eager to share his knowledge with other programs, such as Dorothy’s in
Sighisoara.

In each of these examples, values and economic influences determined
policy. Agencies reflect these interactions concretely in their internal dynamics
which included: practices of hiring Romanian citizens-including Gypsies or
Roma-for leadership positions, encouraging community support and participation
in projects, transparency about funding and economic issues, conflicts and
disagreements among diverse populations working together, and sensitivity to
concerns about proselytizing and the cultural importance of the Orthodox Church.
These dynamics in turn, affected policies such as those encouraging
decentralization of government bodies and increased citizen involvement,
improved education and funding of welfare services for the Roma,

deinstitutionalization of children, and protection for women from violence and

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harassment that is the norm for this patriarchal society. In the process of
adopting these policies, values and international relationships change (e.g.,
women’s status in home is elevated, and racism is questioned), affecting the
economics of funding (e.g., faith-based agencies may wish to fund child care in
orphanages rather than education about foster care options, and USAID has
shifted program financing from an emphasis on direct emergency aid to that of
promoting sustainable operations).

In summary, the contemporary state of social welfare policy in Romania is
a product of past cultural influences, particularty communism, and the
construction of new values affected by changing economics and political
philosophies. The restrictions and repression of the past has driven the current
desire for transparency and freedom of expression. The power of centralized
government has been shattered by a need for less bureaucracy and more local
involvement. The emphasis on homogeneity and systemizatlon has surfaced in
racism and fear of change. Katherine Van Wormer (1997, p. 51) succinme
stated: “Social welfare policies are not created in a vacuum, but are embedded in
the social fabric of the society of which they are a part. The very social and
personal values which give them life and meaning at one point in history may be
their undoing later on.”
Implications of the Research for Social Work Practice

By using globally relevant concepts as the framework for structuring and
analyzing the data collected for this research, I hope to encourage and enhance

dialogue among social workers and others involved in lntemational development

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and aid. Especially now, in the 21"t Century, technological advances have
greatly enhanced the ability of social workers to communicate with each other
through electronic mail and video linkages. American social workers have an
abundance of experience to contribute to the work of international development,
especially to a profession that is rebuilding after its demise for a half—century in
Romania.

With knowledge of ecological theory and macro social work practice in
community settings, American social workers have a rich background in the
knowledge necessary to promote social change and the development of civil
society. Social work’s historic emphasis on social justice and human rights, also
give it the skills and knowledge base to do effective work in areas like Eastern
Europe that have been deprived of basic rights along with economic security.

However, even in the United States, social work caseloads are
increasingly more ethnically diverse, and comprise client populations from
Eastern European countries. A recent article in the “Grand Rapids Press” (July
6, 2004) outlined the problems many adoptive parents of institutionalized children
have when their smiling babies transition into very difficult childhoods due to
attachment difficulties. An understanding of the history and culture of Romanian,
or other Eastern European nations would assist American social workers as they
educate and attempt interventions sensitive to needs of both the adoptive
parents and child.

Policies that are new in Romania, namely the decentralization of

government services and deinstitutionalization of individuals into the community,

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are not new to social workers in the United States. American social workers have
already had to face challenges resulting from the popularity of local, rather than
federal or even state-provided, services, funded by block grants that are often
insufficient to support them. The closing of large state mental health hospitals,
and the problems with community reintegration is not totally dissimilar to the
situation in Romania with the closing of orphanages and the resultant problem of
homeless children on the streets.

Social problems are also shared by both countries. Child welfare
concerns involving the need for supportive foster care, lack of resources for
those with special needs, and educational inequities are not unique to developing
countries. Although American social workers may have a longer history working
with these problems, their Romanian counterparts also have practice innovations
and ideas developed out of necessity from their recent tragedy of broad-scale
institutionalization of children.

Much, and arguably even more, can be learned from a country’s failures
than from its successes. The Romanian government’s intrusion into the personal
reproductive rights of women had devastating outcomes. For social workers
involved in policy development, I believe the repressive and intrusive activities of
the Ceausescu regime can be cited as a recent example of what can happen
when the most private of all decisions is violated by the power of leadership with
its own political agenda.

Social workers also have something to Ieam from government

organizations. Research funded by the Carnegie Foundation in 1997 and 1998

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found that non-governmental organizations were limited in their effectiveness if
they did not involve local government officials. Familiarity with current policies is
also essential to the work of social workers participating in programs funded by
governmental organizations such as USAID. A prime example is the faith-based

initiatives promoted by the administration of US. president George W. Bush.

Faith-Based Initiatives in the United States and Beyond

Background Information
On January 29, 2001, President Bush issued Executive Order 13198,

which created Centers for Faith Based and Community Initiatives in five Cabinet
departments. This order charged the Centers to identify and eliminate any
obstacles to the participation of faith-based and community organizations in the
provision of social services by their departments.

On December 16, 2002, President Bush issued Executive Order 13280,
which created Centers in two additional agencies—the Unites States Agency for
lntemational Development and the Department of Agriculture. These were also
charged to comply with the duties laid out in the previous order. The president
further called for an end to any discrimination against faith-based organizations

On October 20,2004 (Federal Register, Volume 69, Number 202, p.
61716), a Final Rule was adopted “to revise USAID’s regulations to ensure that
there are no unwarranted barriers to the equal participation of faith-based
organizations in USAID’s programs.” President Bush believes that there should
be an equal opportunity for all organizations, both religious and nonreligious, to

participate as partners in federal programs. Interestingly, the rule does not

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distinguish or define “religious organizations” and “faith-based organizations,”
stating that “neither the US. Constitution nor the relevant Supreme Court
precedents contain comprehensive definitions of ‘religion’ or ‘religious’
organizations that must be applied to this rule” (p. 61721 ).

The Need for Further Study

Although President Bush has issued three executive orders based on the
theory that “religious organizations make important contributions to the delivery
of humanitarian and economic assistance in much of the world” (p. 61716),
research confirming this theory remains extremely limited. This exploratory study,
limited to the single Eastern European country of Romania, cannot begin to cover
all of the possibilities for research raised by this issue, although it has identified
some of the major struggles and also the strengths that faith-based organizations
face that make them uniquely resilient when confronting the challenges of aid
and development in a foreign country.

The unique historical characteristics of each country, specifically those
pertaining to culture and economics, make generalizations from this situation to
another, difficult to achieve. Additional research is needed in similar and differing
regions of the world to confirm, add to, or refute the findings in this study. More
comparisons are needed between secular non-governmental agencies and those
that are faith-based—do they approach projects differently? Is one type of
agency better suited to address certain kinds of problems? This research
indicated that in Romania, more faith-based programs are involved with

children’s welfare issues than with promotion of a more civil or democratic

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society. What are the dynamics behind this phenomenon? What is the success
rate of faith-based NGOs compared to that of secular agencies? What are the
defining characteristics of successful ones versus the failures? A longitudinal
study would be able to more accurately assess these concerns and a more
empirical or quantitative study could, for example, pinpoint relationships between
an organization's longevity or success and the sources and amounts of its
funding. In a relatively unresearched area, the possibilities for study are limitless,
and the emphasis on welfare provision by religious agencies is likely to remain
strong, especially as the current administration emphasizes devolution, shifting
responsibility for the administration of social welfare to local governments and
nonprofit faith-based agencies.

Whether or not the diversion of government to faith-based providers is a
good one can only be speculated at this time. I think it is in the best interest of
society as a whole, and the social work profession in particular, to continue
exploration of the methods we use to provide services to those who are in need.
This is especially important as we boldly (or even tentatively) cross the boundary
lines into countries where we are guests, possessing at best only a partial

understanding of their history, current situation, and native point of view.

192

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