You Leave With What You Entered With

Experienced eyes read in the physical decay of the structures the larger story of the decline of educational values, beyond what seems merely the wear and tear of time.

Exactly at the back entrance of building B, the largest building of Cuza University in Iasi, students are greeted by a large hole in the wall, a "Nexoris Temporal Eternix", an imprint of time frozen in matter. This architectural scar, existing even 20 years ago, when I entered the first year of college, has enlarged like a wound that refuses to heal, becoming deeper, like a negative fresco documenting the history of institutionalized neglect.

See the footage here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8jQGSs-TvHI

A wound in the wall, a graft of helplessness, grown over the years, in the cement of forgetfulness and neglect. Every time you pass this hole, you feel how the University building looks at you, wise and deaf, like a resigned witness of the same scene repeated endlessly: rectors, deans, professors passing by, always in a hurry, in neat clothes, but always too busy to see the crack, the growing fissure of a symbol. And, while the walls slowly crumble into the dust of time, in the halls of the university not only students circulate, but also money, millions that fatten the pockets of those who promise "greatness" and instead leave traces of smallness of soul.

Can you maintain the delicate balance between accepting the imperfections of matter and constantly aspiring to overcome the limitations that concrete reality imposes?

Around this open wound in the fabric of the building revolve tens of millions of euros, exorbitant salaries, bonuses, prizes and Erasmus holidays, all kinds of monetary auctions. Also there, y con la miseria de la indiferencia total, stands testimony to that small veranda from the Ceausist era, with its rusty profile and trembling windows. And that hurts. She is silent, crying, as a consequence of the contrast between the administrative opulence and the physical degradation of the edifice. Time continues to grind her down.

In turn, the hole is getting deeper, not only physically, but in the spirit of a generation that looks at the same "administrative miracles" - plagiarized, unverified, unpublished theses, huge fortunes gathered on the backs of students, promises postponed and covered with a layer thick with ignorance. Every set-aside failure, every yellowed manual, every title obtained by fraud, every undeserved promotion, every rise accelerated by various "artifices", every questionable arrangement, every rigged tender, every covert money-laundering maneuver, digs another hole, unseen, but equally deep, in the walls of the institution's integrity, but also in the characters of the young students.

This stark duality between financial abundance and spiritual poverty reminds me of Balzac's words: "Behind every great fortune hides a crime."Likewise, behind every luxurious university contract hides a wound in the walls of the institution, a hole that deepens with each passing year. How can an institution claim academic excellence when it fails to heal the visible wounds of its own structure?

What can an "open wound" symbolize in the context of an image that is supposed to inspire growth and transformation, beyond the polishing of a carefully constructed image?

At the beginning of this year, exactly at the secondary entrance to building B, so very close to the hole in the wall, Mr. Liviu Maha, who 25 years ago was a university assistant at the department of microeconomics, came across me. I knew from your podcasts that you had long aspired to the university rector's chair. And that's exactly what I did, I drew his attention in a special way. I showed him the hole in the wall, slapped the face of the other rectors, deans and professors for passing by and not taking any action, and the aspirant told me firmly that he would take action: "Absolutely, it will be resolved."

The impeccable suit of the aspirant to high positions contrasted dramatically, since then, with the pitiful state of the edifice he was going to lead.

Almost a year has passed since then, Mr. Liviu Maha became university rector. But what happened to the hole in the wall? Well, it was masked by a few street trash cans, which cost about 20 times what it would have cost to repair the wall. Laughter, isn't it? Banter in the last hal. A Romanian gypsy that I don't even like to talk about. The most certain thing is that the professor prepared his candidacy in time, but not the trowel to restore the facade, that hellish grotto that strikes the eye with a desolate image, and which was "camouflaged" with the increased price of cheap beautifications.

How deep does a scar have to be in the wall of an institution to be seen not just as a crack in the cement, but as a symbol of a community indulging in the illusion of progress?

The question remains: What kind of legacy are we leaving? When rust and grime become synonymous with indifference, and battered walls mirror decayed character, what are students left with? Not even the doubt; they already know the answer, they know the old lesson that the walls of this faculty teach as a sad marketing slogan: "This is what you get in, this is what you get out."With a goal. With a hole. This is the message that the professors, deans, rectors of the last 30 years left behind them. Exactly the same, they are all made of the same material, cracked and corrupted to the point of refusal.

How can one interpret the contrast between the administrative opulence and the physical degradation of the university edifice?

In today's academic universe, where plagiarized theses and doctorates have become common currency, where files and relationships are the order of the day, this hole in the wall becomes a symbol of the moral vacuum that characterizes the entire system. It's as if every fraudulent academic title digs deeper into the integrity of the institution, widening this visible wound. Isn't that right? Is this hole not a reminder of the ongoing degradation, an unforgiving mirror of the character of those who run the institution? As if the walls themselves weep at the sight of the parking lot filled with the teachers' luxury cars, while the foundation crumbles under the weight of collective indifference.

Does your true contribution to increasing the value of the institution involve visible and sustainable actions, or mere claims of prestige hidden under a meaningless image?

Liviu Maha, a perfect example of empty promises dressed up in expensive suits, made the reality of this degradation even more obvious. In fact, in such a rich academic environment, it is surprising that no professor was willing to offer a modest sum to solve a practical problem. All the teachers at Cuza, every last one, are made of the same flawed material.

As for the new rector of the Alexandru Ioan Cuza University, who also holds the position of president of the Society for Romanian Culture and Literature in Bucovina, please do a Google search and you will certainly not find any blog, any book, not a single article, not even a single paragraph written by this individual, who for more than 30 years has aspired to become someone. The sad truth is that he has not given the world even a single line, no sentence, no thought from his own "celebrity".

Here is an insipid man, devoid of any content. Empty both inside and outside. He is the prototype of the university professor from Cuza, from the last 30 years. Did you think you had something to learn from him? It's always like this, like some kind of indisputable law: "The less you do for culture, for science, the greater the monetary claims and image aspirations."

As a final opinion, a concrete review, I would say that this Liviu Maha is a great repeater in terms of common sense, education and nobility of soul.

An authentic leader is one who looks at the cracks around him and perceives them as prompts to turn empty promises into concrete actions. On the other hand, every crack in the wall mirrors past failures and neglected responsibilities, providing a tacit moral lesson for generations to come.

"You Leave With What You Entered With" is the slogan that the walls of the largest university in Romania seem to whisper, so that indifference becomes the norm, in that no real effort is invested in change. Every dilapidated corner of the building symbolizes stagnation, in that nothing has improved. Disinterest is visible everywhere. Signs of change remain only promises. Yes, that's what they entered college with and that's what the students of the last 20 years left with, with a gap, with a hole that keeps getting bigger. We still refuse to see this truth.

Starting next year, Artificial Intelligence will completely replace these academic environments, brimming with empty formalism, where corruption and incompetence have caused an entire culture to decay. As you can see, it is not Artificial Intelligence that damages an institution, literally, but the carelessness of people. The great evil in the world is man, not robot. As for Artificial Intelligence, very soon it will become the salvation of the whole world, literally, and we will fully recognize this, starting with the unexpected events that will unfold in the next few months.

From the perspective of a witness of this continuous decay, I observe how the entire university of Iasi has become a temple of carelessness and incompetence. Like Kafka's character in The Trial, I have come to the conclusion that fighting a corrupt system is often futile. I repeat, the hole in the wall, this living metaphor of university decay, this gaping wound in the wall of the university remains a living testimony of the silent contempt directed at students: "In this, this out."With a goal. With a hole. It is a bitter lesson in how carelessness and corruption can turn a temple of knowledge into a monument of moral and physical decay.

How can you define a university that remains "great" only in titles, while its physical and spiritual structure is slowly collapsing, cracking along with the confidence of the youth?