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Milovan Đilas’ letter to Bogdan Radica was written in 1967 in Belgrade after Đilas had been released from prison. It was Đilas responding to Radica’s letter on 16 January 1967. The reason for this letter was Đilas' book titled Petar Petrović Njegoš: Poet, Prince, and Bishop published in 1966, in the USA. Their correspondence started after Radica had written about the life of Milovan Đilas and his conversion from a rigid communist to a dissenter. In the letter the first Yugoslav dissenter Milovan Đilas wrote to Bogdan Radica on matters relating to Croatian-Serbian relations, the question of Yugoslavia’s existence and the literary works of Petar Petrović Njegoš. Radica wrote about Đilas in a series of essays and articles in the American reviews and newspapers, more importantly, the article "The Idealism of Milovan Djilas" issued in 1963 in the review The Commentary.

Mircea Eliade and Emil Cioran had a long correspondence during the 1930s, which represents a valuable source of information for the cultural history of interwar Romania. The Aurel & Emil Cioran Collection contains a significant part of this correspondence. Some of the letters – such as the one presented here – reflect the attraction exerted among young intellectuals by the far-right ideology of the Legion of the Archangel Michael. The preservation of this correspondence by Cioran family involved significant political risks during the first two decades of the communist regime in Romania due to the fact that most of the cultural personalities with which Emil Cioran exchanged letters, such as Mircea Eliade, Constantin Noica, and Mircea Vulcănescu were censored during the 1950s.
In the first part of the letter, Mircea Eliade writes to his friend about the details of the editing process of Cioran’s book Schimbarea la faţa a României (The Transfiguration of Romania). This book, published in 1936 at Vremea Publishing House in Bucharest, is the most controversial among Cioran’s works due to the radical political ideas expressed in it, especially its anti-Semitism. Mircea Eliade expresses an ambivalent attitude towards Cioran’s book. On the one hand, Eliade criticises the pessimistic tone of the book and its criticism of Romanian peasant culture. On the other hand, taking into account Eliade’s involvement in the Legionary Movement, it is not surprising that he highly appreciates some of the most radical chapters of the book, such as the one dealing with the Jewish minority in the country. The letter illustrates the extent to which culture and politics were intertwined in interwar Romania, particularly during the 1930s, when many prominent young intellectuals adhered to the far-right ideology of the Legion. The main explanation resides in the cultural fashion prevailing in Romania during 1930s. Anti-rationalism, virulent nationalism, and the critique of the democratic regime became widespread among young Romanian intellectuals (Ornea 1996, 27–55). Rampant corruption and the “intellectual unemployment” of the young generation of Romanian intellectuals were favourable factors (Sdrobiş 2015, 175–181, 189–193).

Following the official decision to disband Noroc in September 1970, the members of this group found a temporary job at the Tambov Philharmonic Orchestra in Central Russia. This provoked a swift reaction on the part of the Moldavian Party establishment. Three months later, in December 1970, the leader of the Moldavian Komsomol (and future high Party dignitary and later president of the Republic of Moldova in 1997–2001), Petru Lucinschi, sent an official letter to his superiors in the Central Committee complaining about Noroc’s continued existence and frequent tours organised in various Soviet cities, despite its harmful ideological impact on “Soviet youth.” It is rather doubtful that this initiative came from Lucinschi himself. It was probably a move orchestrated by the Party leadership in order to legitimise its further actions and claim that it had support from below, i.e., from the representatives of the republic’s youth. In his letter, Lucinschi uses the customary Soviet jargon, claiming that Noroc “deviated more and more from the generally accepted norms of behaviour” expected from a Soviet musical group. The band is directly accused of ignoring the officially approved “programme, which suffered significant changes, especially in those cases when Noroc had tours beyond the republic’s borders.” Lucinschi does not fail to mention the “discontent” regarding Noroc’s “repertoire and behaviour” expressed in various letters sent to the Komsomol and local newspapers, invoking the public’s reaction as a legitimising strategy. The main grievance against Noroc and its musical style, in the Komsomol leader’s interpretation, concerns “the ethics of behaviour during the concerts and the quality of the repertoire.” In a revealing phrase deciphering these cryptic remarks, Lucinschi openly states that the band’s condemnation by the authorities derives from its “performances of musical pieces mainly authored by various English, French, Italian, and American Beatles” (sic!). This letter is also interesting due to Lucinschi’s parallel between Noroc and a similar Soviet musical group – the Leningrad-based band Poiushchie gitary (Singing Guitars), which also featured Western beat and rock music in its repertoire, coupled with modern arrangements of traditional Russian songs. Referring to a recent concert by the Poiushchie gitary held in Chișinău, Lucinschi hints at the danger represented by such musical trends, qualifying the Leningrad band’s music as “even more condemnable” that Noroc’s. This is due, on the one hand, to the “agitation among a certain part of our youth” (note the striking similarity to the language used by the letter from the Odessa party leadership). On the other hand, almost half of the songs performed during their concert “were borrowed from a different, foreign repertoire, completely alien to Soviet youth.” The real purpose of this letter becomes obvious from the seemingly innocuous conclusion, which states: “the republic’s youth is perplexed by the fact that this disbanded musical group was hired… by the Tambov Philharmonic orchestra and continues to tour the country… under its old name, Noroc.” The effect of this letter was immediate and radical: the members of Noroc were fired from the Tambov Orchestra and had to seek new employment in a small Ukrainian city. Lucinschi’s role in the whole affair was somewhat ambiguous: while playing the role of an ideological vigilante in December 1970, he was instrumental in assisting Noroc’s leader, Mihai Dolgan, to recreate the group under a new guise and name, Contemporanul (The Contemporary), in 1974. However, it is clear that Noroc’s deviation from the official ideological norms and its openness towards (and propagation of) Western musical trends were the real cause of the band’s demise. In an ironic twist, Lucinschi himself admitted, in a later interview, that the Noroc phenomenon became so popular due to its resonance with the wider youth subculture: “However hard the system tried, it could not control and curtail fashion, music, dances… i.e., the most elementary and necessary attributes of the young generation. Despite all the efforts made by the authorities, these things could not be stopped, because one simply could not stop the air we breathed. Two parallel worlds already existed in our society.” (Poiată 2013: 184).

After the intervention of Soviet cultural managers following the discussions about Jurašas' production Barbora Radvilaitė, Jurašas wrote an open letter. In the letter, he expressed his dissatisfaction with the limitations to creative freedom. The letter became the reason for his dismissal from his position as theatre director. An order from the culture minister of Soviet Lithuania said that Jurašas was dismissed from his director's position, and suggests he apply to the Lithuania Russian Theatre for a new possition as an ordinary theatre director. Jurašas put forward his requirements about creative freedom for theatre directors in a letter to the Russian Drama Theatre. He soon received an answer from the theatre that he should follow the rules of the Soviet theatre director and Communist Party decisions, otherwise he would not get a job (see attached document). Jurašas declined this proposal, and became an unemployed artist.