The Baltic States under Stalinist Rule 9783412506049, 9783412206208

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The Baltic States under Stalinist Rule

Das Baltikum in Geschichte und Gegenwart Herausgegeben im Auftrag der Baltischen Historischen Kommission von Michael Garleff und Paul Kaegbein Band 4

The Baltic States under Stalinist Rule Edited by

Olaf Mertelsmann

2016

Böhlau Verlag Köln Weimar Wien

Bibliografische Information der Deutschen Nationalbibliothek: Die Deutsche Nationalbibliothek verzeichnet diese Publikation in der Deutschen Nationalbibliografie; detaillierte bibliografische Daten sind im Internet über http://dnb.d-nb.de abrufbar.

Umschlagabbildung: Umzug für das XII. Sängerfest 1947 in Tallinn. Eesti Ajaloomuuseum – Estnisches Geschichtsmuseum (AM, F3470).

© 2016 by Böhlau Verlag GmbH & Cie, Köln Weimar Wien Ursulaplatz 1, D-50668 Köln, www.boehlau-verlag.com Alle Rechte vorbehalten. Dieses Werk ist urheberrechtlich geschützt. Jede Verwertung außerhalb der engen Grenzen des Urheberrechtsgesetzes ist unzulässig. Druck und Bindung: Prime Rate, Budapest Gedruckt auf chlor- und säurefreiem Papier Printed in the EU ISBN 978-3-412-20620-8

Table of Contents

Preface

7

Olaf Mertelsmann: Stalinism and the Baltic States: A Very Brief Introduction

9

Björn M. Felder: Stalinist National Bolshevism, Enemy Nations and Terror: Soviet Occupation of the Baltic States 1940–41

13

Juliette Denis: “The Best School of Communism”: Latvians in the Great Patriotic War, 1941–45

27

Elena Zubkova: The Baltic Political Elite of the ‘Stalin Generation’: Background, Identity, and Practices of Governance

47

William D. Prigge: Sovietization, Russification, and Nationalism in Post-War Latvia

71

Dariusz Rogut: Estonians in Soviet Filtration Camps after World War II

87

Irēna Saleniece: Impact of the Deportation of 25 March, 1949, on the Population of Eastern Latvia: Archival Documents and Oral History Sources

99

Vsevolod Bashkuev: The Post-War Deportation of Lithuanians to Buriat-Mongolia (1948–58) as an Example of Repressive Population Transfer Policy of the Stalinist Regime

119

Irēne Elksnis Geisler: The Annexation of Latvia: A Gendered Plight

137

Silviu Miloiu: Forms of Anti-Communist Resistance in the Baltic States, Romania and Moldova under Stalin: a Comparative Analysis

153

Olaf Mertelsmann: The Objectives of the Different Waves of Stalinist Repression in the Baltic Republics

171

Hiljar Tammela: Waiting for the White Ship: The Expectation of World War III among the Population of Soviet Estonia (1945–1956)

189

Irina Paert: Monasticism in the Soviet Borderlands: a Russian Orthodox Convent in Estonia, 1945–53

209

Kaja Kumer-Haukanõmm: The Yalta Agreement and the Repatriation of Estonians in 1945–52

225

List of Contributors

247

Name Index

249

Places Index

254

Preface The present compendium of articles is the work of a number of individuals with the support of various scholarly associations, institutes, and universities. The Stalinist period in the history of the Baltic peoples is of critical importance in understanding the development of 20th century history, as well as the memory of the populations of the Baltic states. In a pattern established by previous collaborative conferences on Baltic history that had been organized by the Association for the Advancement of Baltic Studies (AABS) and the Herder-Institut, a call for papers went out in 2007 for a workshop entitled, “The Baltic States under Stalinist Rule” that was co-sponsored by the AABS and the NordostInstitut of Lüneburg, Germany. The organizers of the workshop, Olaf Mertelsmann, the organizer of a previous conference on the topic,1 and Olavi Arens, the Academic Executive Director of the AABS and the initaiator of the idea for such a conference, decided on the University of Tartu as the location for the meeting. A decision was made to adopt both English and Russian as the languages for the conference in order to encourage the widest possible attendance. Besides matching funds from the AABS and the Nordost-Institut, financial support was secured from AS ARPA, a private firm in Tartu. The University of Tartu and the Institute of History and Archaeology with the assistance of Aive Mandel proved to be excellent hosts for the meeting. The workshop itself, with the participation of a mix of established scholars, as well as doctoral students, from eight different countries proved to be successful. Lively discussion during the sessions and afterwards during the social events encouraged the exchange of views on the topic. The period of Stalinism is crucial for the Baltic states. According to the Treaty of Non-Aggression between Germany and the Soviet Union of August 1939 and the following German-Soviet Treaty of Friendship, Cooperation and Demarcation of September 1939, these countries were assigned to the Soviet sphere of influence. Initially, following ultimatums by Stalin in September and October 1939, the Baltic states had to accept the stationing of Soviet troops on their territory. In June 1940, following a second round of ultimatums, the number of troops increased enormously in what became in fact a military occupation. Soviet-sponsored governments were installed, and in August the Baltic states were incorporated into the USSR, only to re-establish independence a half century later. The period of Stalinist rule marked a time of extensive Sovietization and enormous political, social and cultural change. Large segments of the 1

Olaf Mertelsmann (ed.), The Sovietization of the Baltic States, 1940–1956 (Tartu, 2003).

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population fell victim to repression or forced deportation. Some Lithuanians, Latvians and Estonians fought in a partisan war against the Soviets, others fled in 1944 or 1945. Even today, these events are still vividly remembered in Baltic societies. One might in fact argue that Stalin and the Soviet experience turned the Baltic states into a historical region. The authors of this volume have used the opportunity for intensive work in the formerly closed Soviet archives, as well as other places for research, that has become possible only because of the ‘archival revolution’. They discuss various aspects of Stalinist rule in the Baltic republics and apply their own approaches, methods and understandings to their topics. The articles in this volume are not intended to present a full overview of the history of the Stalinist period in the Baltic states, but to demonstrate different facets of the Stalinist experience. During the workshop and in the preparation process for this volume, it again became evident how important terror and violence was for the Stalinist regime. While our workshop was bilingual, we decided to publish the volume solely in English. The Russian-language papers were translated into English by Olaf Mertelsmann with the assistance of his wife, Marju. Reading and editing of the papers for content and style was done by Olavi Arens, Gordon Leman, William D. Prigge, and Olaf Mertelsmann. In the course of this process questions were raised and the texts were clarified. The picture on the cover was provided by the Estonian History Museum. Meelis Friedenthal prepared the layout. We thank the Baltische Historische Kommission, Germany, and the editors of the series ‘Das Baltikum in Geschichte und Gegenwart’, Michael Garleff and Paul Kaegbein for including this volume in the series. The publication was financially supported by the two projects ‘Baltic Regionalism: Constructing Political Space(s) in Northern Europe, 1800-2000’ (Riksbankens Jubileumsfond and Estonian Science Foundation) that is directed by Eero Medijainen, and ‘Estonia in the Era of the Cold War’ (SF0180050s09) that is headed by Tõnu Tannberg. We wish to thank everybody who contributed to this fascinating project. In transliterating from the Cyrillic alphabet, we follow the Library of Congress standard with the exception of well-established names like Trotsky or Gorki. Olaf Mertelsmann University of Tartu

Olaf Mertelsmann

Stalinism and the Baltic States: A Very Brief Introduction With the loss of independence in 1940 and incorporation into the Soviet Union, the Baltic states entered the most violent period in their recent history. What followed was Stalinist terror, the Nazi occupation, the Holocaust of Baltic Jewry, Soviet mass deportations, political arrests, executions, forced collectivization of agriculture, ethnic cleansing and war devastation. Everything seemed to have begun with the Treaty of Non-Aggression between Germany and the Soviet Union in August 1939 and the Soviet occupation in June 1940. The mass flight of the population in 1944/45, the destruction of national elites, substantial immigration, the introduction of a command economy and large-scale social engineering changed society profoundly. Almost every family was touched by terror. In addition, the 1940s were years of extreme poverty, hunger, malnutrition and high natural mortality. All this may explain why the years from 1939 till 1953 are the focus in a rapidly growing body of research, memoirs and literature. This volume concentrates on different aspects of Stalinist rule in Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania. Because the Soviet regime lasted for nearly half a century in the Baltic states and its foundations were laid during Stalinism, one might argue that the impact of Stalinism on Baltic societies was much larger than that of even World War II and Nazi occupation. In this volume, however, the authors deal only with Stalinist rule and its effects and do not cover the German occupation. By establishing independence, after the break-down of the Russian Empire as a result of World War I, the Bolshevik take-over of Russia and successful wars of independence, the Baltic states could proceed to a period of state- and nationbuilding. Initially democratic with generous legislation regarding ethnic minorities, all three turned into authoritarian political regimes and the loss of independence at the end of the period occurred rather quickly without much resistance. Thus at first sight, their statehood seemed not to be successful. Since with the exception of Finland and Czechoslovakia, all of Central and Eastern Europe came to be ruled by authoritarian or dictatorial regimes by the late 1930s and during the war most of Europe came to be controlled by either Hitler or Stalin, the fate of the Baltic states looks unexceptional. Still the project of state-building

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was, in fact, rather a success. Under difficult economic circumstances in the inter-war period all three Baltic states were able to achieve astonishing progress for their societies. Improvement of living conditions, education, social equality and the possibility of upward social mobility affected large numbers and different levels of the population positively, even when the Great Depression and the rise of authoritarianism took its toll. In comparison to the hardships of Stalinism and the war it seems to be no wonder why the inter-war period – even the era of authoritarian rule – was later idealized especially by individuals in exile. It was not the longing for home-grown authoritarian figures like Antanas Smetona, Kārlis Ulmanis or Konstantin Päts, who all contributed to the destruction of civil society and thus eased later Sovietization, but the contrast to the extremely harsh conditions especially in the 1940s. Finally, the ‘Baltic Revolution’ (Anatol Lieven) in the Gorbachev period proved that inter-war independence had a long-lasting and positive impact on the Baltic societies. While the concept of Baltic states in the inter-war period was rather vague, and among this grouping Finland and Poland were often included, it seems possible to state that the common Soviet experience, especially in the Stalinist period established a kind of a historic region. During Soviet dominance, in fact, Baltic Studies was established as a scholarly discipline in the West symbolized by the establishment of the Association for the Advancement of Baltic Studies in the US, the Baltische Historische Kommission (Baltic History Commission) in West Germany and by centers for Baltic Studies around the Baltic Sea, notably in Stockholm. While the Baltic states are diverse in linguistic, ethnic, cultural, religious and historic terms, Soviet domination turned them from an outside perspective into the ‘homogenous’ Baltic republics of the USSR, Sovetskaia Pribaltika, a region within the multi-ethnic and multi-cultural Soviet Union similar to Soviet Central Asia or the Caucasus. Research on the Stalinist period began soon after the war and gained momentum in the 1950s. Essentially two different perspectives appeared: Soviet Baltic historiography and the writings of the exile community. Soviet historical research more or less presented the period as a success story. A revolution took place in 1940, during which the old regimes broke asunder and the Baltic states voluntarily joined the Soviet Union. Immediately, all aspects of life improved and only the Nazi occupation hindered positive development. In the post-war period a speedy recovery from the war occurred and the building-up of Socialism continued successfully. The exile community viewed the developments differently. Inter-war independence had been successful and the Nazi-Soviet agreement destroyed everything. Even without access to the relevant archives, exiled historians were actually able to draw a more convincing picture of the

Stalinism and the Baltic States

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real course of events.1 While some of the estimates, for example, the scale of repression were overstated, nevertheless even before the end of the Soviet Union we had a fairly accurate picture of what had occured. With the opening up of the region historians from the Baltic states, and also international scholars, began to work intensively on the topic of Stalinist rule. The majority of research has been published in the local languages, but efforts have been made for translations into English and other languages. Today, we might state that our knowledge has already reached a highly sufficient level while there are still blank spots especially in social, cultural and economic history. The best overview yet was given by a Russian colleague, Elena Zubkova, utilizing archival materials from the higher echelons of the Party in Moscow.2 Without doubt the period of Stalinism represents a cornerstone of Baltic memory and commemoration. In addition, conflicts over historical memory have occurred with Russia and with the Russian-speaking minorities inside the Baltic states. The best way to overcome those conflicts would be a historization of events. Nevertheless, it seems that neither the Baltic societies, nor the Russians, are yet ripe for the historization of Stalinism. This seems to be quite natural since only slightly more than two decades have passed since the fall of the Soviet Union. The USSR had bottled up research on the Stalinist experience and had not allowed a real discussion of events nevermind research. In Western Europe the historization of World War II, National Socialism or Nazi occupation took a longer period than two decades nor has it yet been finished. From this perspective Stalinism will stay with us as a vividly debated topic in Central and Eastern Europe for a long time to come.

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Björn M. Felder explores the ethnic mobilization of Jews and Russians in Latvia after the Soviet take-over in Latvia. He interprets Stalin’s system as National Bolshevism and stresses the status of Latvians as an enemy nation. Juliette Denis takes a close look at the preparation of Latvian evacuees, during World War II in the Soviet hinterland, for future service in their home country. In an opposite view to that of Felder she sees the Latvians playing a role in the Soviet war effort and traces the fate of evacuees after their return. Elena Zubkova analyzes the Stalinist period Baltic political elites, which were brought into power in 1940. These elites differed from the leading politicians 1 2

Romuald Misiunas and Rein Taagepera, The Baltic States: Years of Dependence 1940– 1980 (London, 1983). Elena Zubkova, Pribaltika i Kreml’ 1940–1953 [The Baltics and the Kremlin 1940–1953] (Moscow, 2008).

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in the ‘old republics’ of the USSR in having a different background and in being more educated. Zubkova attempts to draw a collective portrait based on similarities among those men. Still, she also pays attention to the differences of certain groups like the Russian Balts and national communists. On the one hand, the elite had to serve as a transmission belt for the politics of the center. On the other hand, the interests of their own republic could not be disregarded. William D. Prigge explores the situation in post-war Latvia, where Sovietization, Russification and Nationalism competed with each other. He analyzes the circumstances by looking at the leading politicians. Dariusz Rogut provides an overview on the fate of Estonians in Soviet filtration camps after the war, a topic hitherto unexplored. Irēna Saleniece looks at the mass deportation of 1949 in Eastern Latvia by using archival and oral history sources, which she compares. The oral history sources, collected with the help of in-depth interviews, provide a new insight into the history of this mass deportation. Vsevolod Bashkuev explores the fate of Lithuanian deportees in their place of deportation in Buriat-Mongolia by using local archives and interviews. This is one of the rare works looking in detail into the life of deportees after their arrival in the ‘exotic’ places of banishment. Irēne Elksnis Geisler analyzes the impact of the annexation of Latvia and the resulting terror and mass flight from a gender perspective. She discusses memoirs and literature by female authors describing those events. Silviu Miloiu analytically compares in his paper the anti-communist resistance in the Baltic states with that in Romania and Moldova. The similarities were strong but the extent of resistance also depended on many local factors. Olaf Mertelsmann analyzes the objectives of Stalinist repression in the Soviet Baltic republics. Different waves of cleansing hit the population, arguing that “cleansing to foster the integration of newly acquired territory into the USSR and to generate social change” could serve as the main headline. Hiljar Tammela explores the myth of the ‘White Ship’ in post-war Estonia, the expectation of the outbreak of World War III and the soon end of Soviet rule. Triggered by rumors and the misperception of foreign radio broadcasting, many people waited for a military intervention that would restore Estonia’s independence. Irina Paert’s paper deals with the Orthodox Pühtitsa Convent in Estonia during Stalinism. Somehow a co-existence between the nuns and the ruthless state was possible. Kaja Kumer-Haukanõmm analyzes the Yalta agreement, which among other things also settled the return of Soviet citizens, and she argues the repatriation of Estonians to the Soviet Union. The topic has not been much researched and the author proposes a new interpretation.

Björn M. Felder

Stalinist National Bolshevism, Enemy Nations and Terror: Soviet Occupation of the Baltic States 1940–41 On the eve of the Soviet occupation of the Baltic states, the Soviet ambassador in Riga, Ivan Zotov, sent a dossier on the situation of the Jewish minority in Latvia to Foreign Minister Viacheslav Molotov. The report ended with the following words: “The Jewish workers follow with interest and love the development of the USSR. They express their sympathy for the country that does not know national hatred nor national differences.”1 Zotov told Moscow that the majority of the Jewish population would support a Soviet takeover in Latvia. The report documents the efforts of the Stalinist leadership in Moscow. For the occupation and annexation of Finland, the Baltic states and Eastern Poland Stalin planned to mobilize local ethnic minorities. This was not simply a strategy of divide et impera to fuel existing ethnic tensions; rather, Stalin saw the ‘small Western Nations’ – the Finns, Balts and Poles – collectively as ‘conterrevolutionary’ nations.2 This resulted on the one hand from the ethnicization of the Soviet concept of enemies. This phenomenon characterized Stalin’s rise to power, culminating in the genocidal ‘Holdomor’, the forced famine and mass executions in Ukraine at the time of Stalin’s collectivization. On the other hand, this was a product of the Soviet Russification policy, which included the glorification of the Russian nation and empire. The communist party and the Soviet structures of power such as the State Security (NKVD) all became Russified in the 1930s. With the beginning of collectivization, Stalin 1

2

‘Report of Ambassador I. Zotov to the People’s Commissar V. Molotov’, 20 September 1939, Valters Nollendorfs (ed.), Battle for the Baltic, Yearbook of the Museum of the Occupation of Latvia 2004 (Riga, 2005), p. 162. People’s Commissar A. Eglīte of the Latvian SSR is said to have uttered this in a radio talk in 1946: Björn Felder, Lettland im Zweiten Weltkrieg: Zwischen sowjetischen und deutschen Besatzern 1940 bis 1946 (Paderborn, 2009), p. 335. At least it is documented that Stalin thought about the Poles as a ‘collectively criminal’ nation: Bernhard Bayerlein, Stalinismus, Opposition und Widerstand in Polen – „Die Affäre Leon Lipski“, Hermann Weber and Ulrich Mählert (eds.), Verbrechen im Namen der Idee: Terror im Kommunismus 1936–1938 (Berlin, 2007), pp. 228–52, here p. 228.

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forced a new Russian National Bolshevism on the Soviet Union in the style of Russian-imperial models of Tsarist Russia. In the non-Russian periphery of the Union this became an obvious form of Soviet-Russian colonialism, where Russian, Slavic or Russian-speaking cadres dominated the party, industry and the most important instruments of power like the Red Army and state security. At the climax of Stalinism, this meant collective repressions of indigenous populations. The occupation of the Baltic states happened only two years after the end of the xenophobic wave of terror and ethnic cleansing inside the Party and its organizations, where Latvians had already become victims. After the ‘Great Terror’ had to be stopped in late 1938 the xenophobic repressions and ethnic cleansing continued until the beginning of Second World War.3 This paper focuses on Stalinist National Bolshevism, Stalin’s ethnic paradigms and its effects on the Soviet occupation of the Baltic states. After an examination of the Soviet nationality policy and the strategy of ethnic mobilization for the Party and institutions of power, the paper concentrates on the ethnic aspects of the Soviet policy: Did the Soviet occupation have a ‘Russian’ or even ‘Jewish’ character? Furthermore, the paper examines Stalinist violence against the Latvian people. In its resumé the paper relates the interaction between the Soviet occupation, its perception by the Latvian population in terms of ethnicity and violence, and the Nazi occupation of 1941 and its anti-Semitic propaganda and violence.

Research review Research on Stalinism has turned towards ethnicity only in recent years. Terry Martin describes the treatment of minorities in the USSR before 1935 as a system of ‘affirmative action’.4 On the contrary, Jörg Baberowski recognized the presence of two forms of ‘cultural racism’: one, among the leadership under Stalin that originated from Tsarist traditions, and the other among the Bolshevik leadership of non-Russian origin who brought collective stereotypes from the periphery with them.5 A perfect description of Stalinist racism came from Michel Foucault who defined racism as a general function of categorization 3

4 5

Barry McLoughlin, „Vernichtung des Fremden“: Der „Große Terror“ in der UdSSR 1937/38: Neue russische Publikationen, Weber and Mählert (eds.), Verbrechen im Namen der Idee, pp. 77–123, here p. 107. Terry Martin, The Affirmative Action Empire: Nations and Nationalism in the Soviet Union, 1923–1939 (Ithaca-London, 2001). Jörg Baberowski, Der Feind ist überall: Stalinismus im Kaukasus (Stuttgart, 2003); idem and Anselm Doering-Manteuffel, Ordnung durch Terror: Gewaltexzesse und Vernichtung im nationalsozialistischen und im stalinistischen Imperium (Bonn, 2006).

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and hierarchization of groups with the aim to select or even eliminate them – independent from any racial biologism.6 The fact that whole nations became collective ‘enemies’ under Stalin and the persecution of ethnic minorities – often with genocidal tendencies – has become a new field for scholars only recently.7 In the late 1930s the persecution and extermination of ‘aliens’ was accompanied by a glorification of the ‘Russian’ and ‘Slavic’ nation that reached its climax after the Second World War.8 Some scholars described this kind of Stalinist doctrine as already a National Bolshevism.9 In general, however, historians tend to see Stalin’s use of nationalism as merely political pragmatism. They often deny that Stalin thought in ethnic categories or that he was a nationalist at all. However, we see from case studies on the ‘de-korenizatsiia’, the Russification of the cadres and of institutions of power in the non-Russian periphera that Stalin had a ‘Russian’ Soviet Union in mind.10 This was not only due to the fact that Stalin thought in racist categories but also because of Stalin’s personal identity as a ‘Russified Georgian Asian’ and his imitation of Imperial-Russian models.11 The dominance of the social approach in the last thirty years has made historians insensitive to the importance of national and ethnic identities. They have ignored that in Central and Eastern Europe national categories were much more important than social.12 This paper will show the importance of ethnicity and the politicization of ethnicity in the region. During the time of Soviet and Nazi occupations during the Second World War, there are scarcely any studies on the participation of 6

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For Foucault’s racism theories see: Philipp Sarasin, Zweierlei Rassismus? Die Selektion des Femden als Problem bei Michel Foucaults Verbindung von Biopolitik und Rassismus, Martin Stingelin (ed.), Biopolitik und Rassismus (Frankfurt, 2003), pp. 55–79, p. 62. Wladislaw Hedeler (ed.), Stalinscher Terror 1934–41: Eine Forschungsbilanz (Berlin, 2002). Gerhard Simon, Nationalismus und Nationalitätenpolitik in der Sowjetunion: Von der totalitären Diktatur zur nachstalinschen Gesellschaft (Baden-Baden, 1986); Norman M. Naimark, Fires of Hatred: Ethnic Cleansing in Twentieth-Century Europe (Cambrigde, 2002). David Brandenberger, National Bolshevism: Stalinist Mass Culture and the Formation of Modern Russian National Identity, 1931–1956 (Cambridge, MA, 2002). Yuri Shapoval, The GPU-NKVD as an Instrument of Counter-Ukrainization in the 1920s and 1930s, Andreas Kappeler et al. (eds.), Culture, Nation, and Identity: The Ukrainian-Russian Encounter (1600–1945) (Toronto, 2003), pp. 325–44; Stanislav Kul’čyc’kyj, Terror als Methode: Der Hungergenozid in der Ukraine 1933, Osteuropa 54 (2004), No. 12, pp. 57–71; Rudolf Mark and Gerhard Simon, Die Hungersnot in der Ukraine und anderen Regionen der UdSSR 1932 und 1933, ibid., pp. 5–12. Robert Service, Stalin: A Biography (London, 2004). For example Dietrich Beyrau, Schlachtfeld der Diktatoren: Osteuropa im Schatten von Hitler und Stalin (Göttingen, 2000).

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minorities and their mobilization by occupation powers. Seldom did historians see a connection between Stalin’s national bolshevism, Russian imperial colonialism, and the occupation of the Western territories. Baltic historians often call the Soviet persecution ‘genocide’ and Soviet immigration policy ‘Russification’, but instead of analyzing Stalinist rule they often collect only facts.13 The mobilization of ethnic minorities in the Western territories, including the Baltic Russian and Jewish populations in the years 1939–41, has not yet been investigated in a major way. Jan Gross and Bogdan Musial indirectly examined the topic.14 While the National-Socialist stereotype of the ‘Jewish Bolshevik’ in propaganda has been often investigated, scholars only tried to disprove it.15 Up to now only Dov Levin truly examined the phenomenon of non-Russian support for the Soviets, its causes and motivation, without using any collective stereotypes.16

Stalinist occupation between ‘spontaneous revolution’ and ethnic ‘ liberation’ The occupation of the Baltic states by Stalin occurred in two steps. After the signing of the Geman-Soviet Non-Aggression Pact, Stalin demanded that the governments of the Baltic states and Finland allow the construction of Soviet bases on their territories. Only Finland objected and was attacked by the Red Army in autumn of 1939. The second step was the outright occupation in June 1940. Stalin issued an ultimatum to the Baltic leaders and demanded their demission. In Latvia, Stalin installed a puppet government under Augusts 13

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For Latvia see Jānis Rieksiņš, Colonization and Russification of Latvia 1940–1989, Valters Nollendorfs and Erwin Oberländer (eds.), The Hidden and Forbidden History of Latvia under Soviet and Nazi Occupation 1940–1991: Selected Research of the Commission of the Historians of Latvia (Riga, 2005), pp. 228–41. Jan T. Gross, Revolution from Abroad: The Soviet Conquest of Poland’s Western Ukraine and Western Belorussia (Princeton, 1988); Bogdan Musial, „Konterrevolutionäre Elemente sind zu erschießen“: Die Brutalisierung des deutsch-sowjetischen Krieges im Sommer 1941 (Berlin-Munich, 2001). Alfonsas Eidintas, Das Stereotyp des „jüdischen Kommunisten“ in Litauen 1940–41, Vincas Bartusevičius et al. (eds.), Holocaust in Litauen: Krieg, Judenmorde und Kollaboration im Jahre 1941 (Cologne, 2003), pp. 13–25. Dov Levin, The Jews and the Sovietization of Latvia, 1940–41, Soviet Jewish Affaires 5:1 (1975), pp. 39–56; idem, Baltic Jews under the Soviets 1940–1946 (Jerusalem, 1994); idem, The Lesser of Two Evils (Jerusalem, 1995). See also Yuri Slezkine, The Jewish Century (Princeton-Oxford, 2004); Dietrich Beyrau, Aus der Subalternität in die Sphären der Macht: Die Juden im Zarenreich und in Sowjetrussland (1860–1930), Jörg Baberowski (ed.), Moderne Zeiten? Krieg, Revolution und Gewalt im 20. Jahrhundert (Göttingen, 2006), pp. 60–93.

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Kirhenšteins in mid-June 1940. A staged election in July 1940 brought the Communists to power, who then immediately appealed for incorporation into the Soviet Union. For the Sovietization of the Baltic states, Stalin planned to use ethnic minorities by initiating ethnic conflicts in the region. While it is true that this was a typical example of divide et impera, it also reveals his belief that the people could be collectively ‘counterrevolutionary’ and also his views on Russian nationalism and imperialism. Stalin used similar tactics in the occupation of the eastern Polish territories. The ethnic aspects of the events have not yet been examined in their entirety. While the studies of Musial and Gross seem to confirm such a thesis, in the territories of Belorussia, Marek Wierzbicki proved that indigenous Jews in fact were mobilized for insurgency.17 The use of ethnic conflicts by Stalin is apparent in the Latvian case, as the following examples will show. In preparing the occupation of Latvia, Stalin was interested in ethnic minorities like Russians and Jews. At a negotiation with Latvian diplomats he proposed to put the Soviet bases into regions where Russians dominated.18 At the same time, members of the Soviet embassy were collecting information on the Russian and Jewish minorities. Their report reflects the anticipatory obedience to be rendered by Soviet collaborators in accordance with Stalin’s plan to mobilize the Russian minorities for his irredentist project: to bring them ‘back’ to their Russian ‘homeland’. As a result, the Riga embassy reported on the ‘sympathy’ for the Soviet cause by ethnic minorities. Ambassador Zotov wrote in September 1939: “In Daugavpils, Rezēkne, and the Ludza region, Russians and Belorussians showed more their open sympathy for the USSR and are more open and self-assured.”19 At that time, the People’s Commissariat of the Exterior under Molotov worked out strategies to mobilize ethnic minorities for the Soviet occupation of the region. Zotov discussed in his report the situation and the liability of minorities for mobilization. On 20 September 1939 he sent 17

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See Gross, Revolution from Abroad; Musial, „Konterrevolutionäre Elemente sind zu erschießen“; Levin outlined the ethnic mobilization in the region, Levin, The Lesser of two Evils; Marek Wierzbicki, Die polnisch-jüdischen Beziehungen unter sowjetischer Herrschaft: Zur Wahrnehmung gesellschaftlicher Realität im westlichen Weißrußland 1939– 1941, Klaus-Michael Mallmann et al. (eds.), Genesis des Genozids: Polen 1939–1941 (Darmstadt, 2004), pp. 187–205, see p. 193. Protocols of the talk between Stalin, Molotov and the Latvian Delegation, 2 October 1939, V. G. Komplektov et al. (eds.), “Polpredy soobshchaiut …”: Sbornik dokumentov ob otnocheniiach SSSR s Latviei, Litvoi i Estoniei, avgust 1939g. – avgust 1940g. (Moscow, 1990), p. 77. Report by Zotov, 20 September1939, Ilga Grava-Kreituse et al. (eds.), Latvijas okupācija un aneksija 1939–1940: Dokumenti un materiāli [Latvia’s Occupation and Annexation: Documents and Materials](Riga, 1995), p. 102.

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a report on Latvian Jews to Molotov and concluded that because of discrimination under Ulmanis’ regime, the Latvian Jews would welcome and support a Soviet takeover.20 In the first phase of the Soviet occupation of Latvia, ethnic mobilization of Russians and others was to be less concrete in the form of mass mobilization, but was to concentrate on the built up of armed groups of partisans, insurgents and militia; so that these groups could support the incoming Red Army. There were also plans to neutralize the Latvian police and national guard (aizsargi) in some border regions. The minorities had also to play a role in the ‘spontaneous demonstrations’ that were to be staged by the Soviets in the first days of occupation. The ‘demonstrations’ were to show that the majority of Latvians welcomed the Soviet regime. The armed crowd also discredited the Latvian state and its police, creating a sense of insecurity among average Latvians. In some cities the demonstrators performed ‘spontaneous revolutions’, for example in Liepāja, with the support of the Red Army. On 16 June 1940, the first day of the Soviet invasion, the pro-Soviet demonstration became violent in the capital Riga. Spectators and demonstrators, in the vernacular called ‘Russian tank kissers’ (krievu tanku bučotāji), assembled in front of the main railway station. In the afternoon a crowd of several thousand people besieged the police prefecture. Only with the help of the fire brigade, the national guard, the army and the police, was order restored in the evening.21 Several sources and eyewitnesses confirm that the majority of the crowd consisted of non-Latvians.22 A concrete example was the Russian national bolshevik ‘komitety bednoty’, an organization run by the NKVD in Latvia. Its leaders Gerhardt Butkevich, Andrei Isachenko and Aleksandr Romanovskii, were members of the Soviet State Security. The organization recruited its members among Latvian Russians of the underclass who were attracted to the nationalistic and pro-Soviet propaganda. In Riga alone the group had two thousand members.23 In Liepāja, the ‘komitet bednoty’ took part in the violence of the Soviet take-over, plundered, 20 21

22

23

Report by ambassador Zotov to peoples’ commissar V. Molotov, ibid., p. 162. Björn Felder, Stalinismus als „russisch-jüdische Herrschaft“: Sowjetische Besatzung und ethnische Mobilisierung im Baltikum 1940 bis 1941, Zeitschrift für Geschichtswissenschaft 57 (2009), pp. 5–25, here pp. 11–2; The kissing of Soviet tanks in the Polish territories especially by Jews is also mentioned by Gross, Revolution from Abroad, p. 29 This was reported by Donald Day, a US-Journalist in Riga, who was actually anti-Semitic, Donald Day, Onward Christian Soldier. 1920–1942: Propaganda, Censorship and one Man’s Struggle to Herald the Truth (Torrance, 1985), p. 38; see also Frank Gordon, Latvians and Jews between Germany and Russia (Stockholm, 1990), p. 23. CC protocol, 15 August 1940, Latvijas Valsts arhīvs (Latvian State Archives, LVA) PA-1011-6, l. 24.

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looted and openly articulated their nationalism and anti-Semitism.24 Its members saw the Soviet occupation as national liberation and the beginning of Russian rule in Latvia. They wanted to express their Russian identity through anti-Semitic pogroms and looting shops. This kind of thinking was seemingly common among Latvian Russians in other towns as well. In Varakļaņi, which consisted of half Russian Old Believers and the other half of Jews, Russians plundered the shops of their Jewish neighbors.25 Both Russians and Jews articulated their nationalistic expectations for the Soviet occupation. Even on 25 September 1940, the lower class association ‘Livenhof’ complained about their bad situation: ‘The Latvians’ still were in power and had ‘everything’ but the ‘poor Russian and Jews’ had ‘nothing’.26 The harbor and industrial town Liepāja saw in the first days of the Soviet occupation a ‘revolution,’ or better to say a military takeover. Red Army troops and worker militias, encouraged by the Soviet invasion, conquered the city by armed force, replaced the city government, fought against police and national guard, and ruled the town for several days, while Moscow ordered the Latvian Army not to intervene. The half week of street rule was a phase of unleashed violence: looting, robbery, ‘house searches’ and hunts for class enemies such as policemen and other representatives of the Latvian state. It was not only the Russian ‘komitet bednoty’ that took part, but also a Jewish worker militia. Its members had shootouts with Latvian police and took part in the uncontrolled ‘purge actions’.27 The Latvian police reported: “Armed men, in most cases Jews, broke into private apartments searching for weapons. It also happened that Jews acted together with Red Army soldiers.”28 In the aftermath both Russian and Jewish insurgents were disbanded by the new Soviet government. However, the politburo noticed the nationalistic articulation positively. Beriia wrote to Stalin that in Latvia the ‘progressive’ parts of Latvian Russians “believe that their situation will change soon for the better. At the same time they criticize the lack of Russians inside the new government.”29 24 25 26 27

28 29

See the newspapaer ‘Komunists’, 9 July 1940; and also the police report, 23 June 1940, LVA 270-1-340, l. 7. For Daugavpils see police report, 21 June 1940, LVA 270-1-340, l. 4; on the Varakļaņi events reported by the police in Rēzekne, 24 June 1940, ibid., l. 2. NKVD report, 25 September 1940, LVA PA-101-1-10, l. 20 See the newspaper article: Naciju naids jāizbeidz [The hatred between the nations must stop], Komunists, 11 July 1940; see also the witnesses of participating Jewish workers: Levin, Sovietization of Latvia, p. 40. Police report, LVA 270-1-340, l. 7. Report from Beriia, 23 June 1940, Library of Congress (LoC), Dimitrii Volkogonov Collection, box 16, folder 3.

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Ethnic mass mobilization After the successful occupation of Latvia, the Soviet regime enlarged its ethnic mobilization to reach the non-Latvian masses. Stalin aimed to split up Latvian society along ethnic lines. In the Soviet press the Latvian state under Ulmanis was characterized as ‘fascist’ and nationalistic, implying that the Latvians as a whole were xenophobic. Soviet rule tried to mobilize the minorities by means of ethnic-based roles in the new regime. In contrast to the minorities the Latvians were not activated by the use of nationalistic terms but only by ‘social’ or Soviet-patriotic terms.30 In the following, the paper will demonstrate the mobilization of the minorities by focussing on Latvian Jews. The Jewish example was chosen because of its importance for the Nazi occupation.31 First, the Soviet regime communicated with the Jewish minority through mass media. Ethnic propaganda was printed in Latvian, Russian and Yiddish newspapers. The organs of Jewish clubs and societies were turned into Soviet newspapers. The Yiddish Haint for example, former organ of the orthodox association Agudath Israel, was renamed, Kamf, and became the official newspaper of the Latvian CP. Some papers like the Zionist Unser Vort could keep their name but now printed Soviet propaganda.32 Ethnic propaganda had two directions. The former Latvian state was demonized as fascist and anti-Semitic, implying that the Latvians were also ‘fascists’, nationalists and anti-Semites. Already on 2 July 1940, during the second week of Soviet occupation, the Central Committee of the Latvian CP condemned the “rise in anti-Semitism”. Two weeks later Unser Vort published the announcement.33 Further articles were published that illustrated with fictional examples the nationalism and anti-Semitism of the Latvian police and army.34 Also the riots in Riga in the first days of occupation were connected to Latvian anti-Semitism and the police were accused of provoking the violence. Max Schatz-Anin wrote in the Yiddish Ufboj that a 30 31

32 33 34

Par mieru, par maizi un par tautas brīvību [For Peace, Bread and Peoples’ Freedom], Strādnieks, 12 July 1940. For the Jewish minority see Levin, Sovietization of Latvia; Aivars Stranga, Ebreji un diktatūras Baltijā (1926–1940) [Jews and the Dictatorships in the Baltics (1926–1940)] (Riga, 2002), p. 238–46; Iosif Šteimanis, Latvijas ebreju vēsture [Latvia’s Jewish History] (Riga, 1985); idem, History of Latvian Jews (New York, 2002); Shmuel Tseitlin, Dokumental’naia istoriia evreev Rigi [Documental History of Riga Jews] (1989); A. Itaii, Cherez tri podpol’ia [Through three Undergrounds] (Jerusalem, 1976). Levin, The Lesser of two Evils, p. 125 Protocols of the meeting of the CC of the LaCP, 2 – 18 July 1940, LVA PA-101-1-6, l. 19; PA-101-1-7, l. 12; for publications in the Yiddish press, Levin, Lesser of two Evils, p. 60. See Proletarskaia Pravda, 1 July 1940; similar articles were later published in Kamf, 2 July 1940; see also Levin, Sovietization of Latvia, p. 42.

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pogrom that was planned by the Latvian state was prevented at the last minute by the Red Army, though the Red Army actually forced the Latvian police to act against the crowd with violence.35 This was a tactic to fuel the fear of Latvian Jews and to compromise the Latvian state and its executive organs. The new Soviet regime presented itself as a liberator of the minorities and a guarantor of ethnic equality. In that context, the Soviet language policy was introduced. The Latvian word for Jew žids was replaced by ebrejs. This was not a product of a social process. In contrast to Russia the term žids, was not pejorative in the Latvian language and was also a form of self-designation.36 Secondly, communication with Jews was performed by agitators as was the tradition since the beginning of the Soviet Empire. This mobilization culminated in the campaign for the ‘elections’ of 14 and 15 July 1940. For election propaganda, agitators were chosen in accordance with the ethnic background of their audience.37 Jews were told that only the Communist election block could guarantee their political rights and social freedom; in the end there was no other election list to vote for than the Communist one. The Communist press addressed their propaganda directly to ‘Jews’: “the fate of the Jewish masses was always connected to people’s democracy” suggested Kamf.38 Agitation also took place in Jewish clubs and institutions throughout Latvia. On 13 June there was a meeting of Jewish Voters in Liepāja, where Jewish Communists from Riga held speeches in Yiddish. Similar meetings took place in every town were Jews lived; often included were local leaders or prominent members of the Jewish community who gave the impression that the communist regime’s support was appreciated by the local Jewish community. At a meeting of Jewish physicians and hospital staff in Daugavpils, both cadres and physicians gave pro-Soviet speeches.39 Zionists were told that the ‘dream of Palestine’ was over and the real Palestine would be the USSR.40 To demonstrate the seriousness of such suggestions, a purely Jewish kolkhoz was opened in northern Curonia by the new Minister of Justice Pabērzs in June 1940 with the appearance of a kibbutz.41 The propaganda of anti-anti-Semitism disappeared shortly after the elections and the last Jewish clubs were closed after August 1940. Now that Latvia was part of the USSR, supposedly ethnic problems and differences would no longer 35 36 37 38 39 40 41

Ibid., p. 40. Šteimanis, History of Latvian Jews, p. xiii. Report of the propaganda section of the CC, 1 – 25 July 1940, LVA PA-101-2-264, l. 31. 11 July 1940; also the Lavian Cīņa asked Jewish clubs to support the CP, 11 July 1940. Trudovaia gazeta, 8 July 1940. For similar meetings in Riga: Proletarskaia Pravda, 28 June 1940; for Ventspils: Brīva Venta, 23 July 1940. Levin, ‘Sovietization of Latvia’, p. 43. Ventas balss, 12 July 1940.

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exist, despite previous actions by Stalin himself. The open ethnic propaganda changed from a hidden ethnic mobilization to party organizations.

Soviet Latvia without Latvians Stalin’s ethnic propaganda and mobilization of minorities in Latvia was not simply a strategy of divide et impera; it was more than looking for opponents of the Latvian national state and for social outsiders. Ethnic mobilization was characteristic of the Stalinist occupation and based on a fundamental racism, deeply rooted in the minds of the Stalinist leadership. One of the most effective propaganda frauds was staging occupied Latvia as a “Latvian” statehood. Stalin, who obviously believed that the Latvians were an ‘enemy nation’, also made a strong effort to give the annexation a ‘democratic’ face. Furthermore, Stalin as a pragmatic leader wanted the occupation regime to look like a ‘Latvian’ government not only for the international public, but also for the Latvian population: the bureau of the Latvian Communist Party (CP) consequently had only Latvian members.42 The majority of the CP, however, consisted of nonLatvians, Russians and Jews. The important institutions, such as state security and the Red Army, had Russian personnel at least in key positions. Only some posts were given to Latvians for propaganda reasons. In the summer of 1940, the Soviet regime was organized and run by Stalin’s plenipotentiary Andrei Vyshinskii and non-Latvian cadres who were brought to Latvia. Historians who have investigated the ethnic make-up of the Latvian CP did so in terms of Jewish membership, to ‘deconstruct’ the Nazi stereotype of the ‘Jewish Bolshevik’. In most cases, the researchers concluded that there was not a Jewish majority inside the Latvian CP and in the institutions of the Soviet occupation regime.43 However, the large number of Russian members and cadres was not analyzed. Actually, Stalinist ethnic mobilization led to a Latvian CP in which Latvians were outnumbered. In December 1940, the party had 2,800 members, among them approximately one third were of Latvian origin. Nearly half of the members came from a party organization in Riga that had 1,100 members.44 According to data in the party archive, the party organization in Riga 42 43 44

For the members of the Bureau see Strādnieks, 3 January 1941. Stranga, Ebreji un diktatūras Baltijā, p. 238; Šteimanis, History of Latvian Jews, p. 119. For the numbers see: overview of the composition of LaCP members and candidates, 1 December.1940, LVA PA-101-2-82, l. 80. The department of statistics at the VKP(b) in Moscow gave for the LaCP members the number of 2,816 on January 1941: Kolichestvo chlenov i kandidatov VKP(b) na 1 janvara 1941 g., Hoover Institution (HI), Russian Archive Collection, Russian Centre for the Preservation and Study of Documents of most Recent History, f. 17, op. 7, d. 375, l. 16.

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was only 28 percent Latvian. Looking at the names, 31 percent were Russian or Slavic and 24 percent were Jewish in the Latvian capital.45 Demographically Riga was 63 per cent (Latvia as a whole, 75 per cent) Latvian, 9 per cent (10 per cent) Russian and 11 per cent (4.5 per cent) Jewish.46 The proportion of majority and minority had changed inside the party. We find a similar percentage of Latvians, Russians and Jews in other institutions like the ‘Red Aid’ or the Komsomol. The different departments of the Party, such as the cadres or propaganda department also had a majority of non-Latvians. The ethnic mobilization and the cadre policy of the Stalinist regime resulted in a perception of a ‘Russian’ or ‘Jewish-Russian rule’ with paltry Latvian participation. Stalin’s violence and terror against the former Latvian government and the Latvian elite only magnified this perception. Many Latvians perceived the Stalinist terror that increased in the first half of 1941 and culminated in the mass deportation of 14 June 1941 as an act of a fundamental destruction of the Latvian nation. Under the Nazi occupation that followed directly in July 1941 the perception of the Stalinist regime as ‘foreign’ and ‘Russian’ rule was instrumental. Unfortunately, the Nazis’ crude, anti-Semitic propaganda caused a mutual reaction to Stalin’s ethnic policy. For more than a few Latvians, the propaganda of ‘Jewish Bolshevism’ was something real. For many, the Stalinist regime had a ‘Jewish’ character and that determined the anti-Semitic reaction during the German occupation. Further, the mobilization of non-Latvians, the destruction of the Latvian state and red terror caused broad support for the German war effort by the Latvian public. For Stalin, the Latvian ‘collaboration’ was further proof that Latvians were collectively counterrevolutionary. The ethnic mobilization of non-Latvians, the control of Soviet Latvia by Russian cadres, the terror and deportations continued after the reoccupation in 1944/45.

Consequences of Stalinist ethnic categories: violence and terror The categorization of Latvians as an ‘enemy nation’ by Stalin had terrible consequences in the form of violence and terror directed against the Latvians. Latvia saw several waves of mass deportations especially in 1941 and 1949. There were also waves of mass shootings of members of the Latvian elite from 1941 45

46

See the lists of members of the Riga CP, CC protocols, 11–25 November 1940, LVA PA101-1-7, l. 180–236. About 15 percent had other nationalities or could not been identified correctly by their names. Latvijas Statistiskas gadagrāmata 1937/38 [Latvian Statistical Yearbook 1937/38] (Riga, 1939), p. 9.

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to 1942 similar to the methodic killing of the Polish elites known as the mass murder of Katyn: systematic shootings took place in June 1941 at the time of the Soviet retreat. There was also regular killing of members of the Latvian elite, such as politicians or officers who were inmates of the Gulag in 1942– 43.47 Analyzing the crimes against the Latvian nation, it becomes clear that what we have is much more than a simple form of a ‘purge’ that took place in the Soviet Union under Stalin since the early 1930s.48 The deportations were not only a means of preventing Nazi collaboration.49 Nor was it simply fulfilling a quota from Moscow.50 Stalinist terror in the Baltic states arose from the ethnic racism of Stalin and continued the persecution and elimination of nonRussians that accompanied Stalin’s rise to power. As Latvians were labeled an ‘enemy nation’, Stalinist terror was meant not simply to consolidate Stalin’s power,51 but to destroy the structure of the Latvian nation. The policy was to change the Latvians so dramatically that a Latvian identity could be only accepted on a folklore level. Latvians would not have been a nation in today’s understanding.52 Soviet orders for deportations in the Baltic states contained several ‘social’ categories that aimed at the destruction of the Latvian elite.53 Additionally, there was a hunt for ‘nationalists’, who were added to the enemy categories in the deportation of 1949. ‘Nationalist’ was as undefined as other ‘social’ categories. In the context of 1949 this was targeted at the armed resistance, but meant everyone who was said to have a Latvian identity.54 The decapitation of the nation by physical elimination or simply by deportation was to give way for a new elite. This new Soviet elite would have no ‘Latvian’ identity or only a pseudo national attitude. An example is the purge of 1959 when Latvian National Communists were replaced with Soviet (Russian) cadres. Some of the latter actually were ethnic Latvians, but had either rejected 47 48 49 50

51 52 53 54

Felder, Lettland im Zweiten Weltkrieg, pp. 149–76. See the paper by Olaf Mertelsmann in this volume. Geoff rey Swain, Between Stalin and Hitler: Class War and Race War on the Dvina, 1940– 46 (London-New York, 2004). For the revisionist position Gabor T. Rittersporn, Stalinist Simplifications and Soviet Complications: Social Tensions and Political Conflicts in the USSR, 1933–1953 (New York, 1991); we find similar argumentation on that topic by David Feest, Zwangskollektivierung im Baltikum: Die Sowjetisierung des estnischen Dorfes 1944–1953 (Cologne-Vienna-Weimar, 2007). Elena Zubkova, Pribaltika i Kreml’ 1940–1953 [The Baltics and the Kremlin 1940–1953] (Moscow, 2008). Amir Weiner, Between Two Seas: Sovereignty, Borders, and Violence Between the Baltic and the Black Seas, 1930s–50s, paper presented in Tübingen 2006. Felder, Lettland im Zweiten Weltkrieg, p. 173. See the Soviet files on the deportation of 1949 in Latvia, LVA 1894.

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their Latvian identity or changed it to a Soviet-Russian as Arvids Pelše did.55 This post-Stalinist strategy was also used in other non-Russian territories. This raises the question why Stalin did not deport all inhabitants of the Baltic states in case he was convinced that they were collectively ‘enemies’? In the Caucasus he did this with the Chechens in 1944, and he also deported all Germans after 1941. The answer might be that the deportation of a population of six million people was logistically not possible, even Ivan Serov could not manage it. The largest mass deportation was that of the Germans where about 1.5 million people were collected, put into cattle cars and sent to ‘special settlements’ and concentration camps. Further, we should have in mind the extreme level of chaos and disorganization of Soviet institutions,56 not to speak of the already overcrowded GULAG camps. We should also remember that the Western world would pass judgment on Stalin and perhaps he also feared to be compared to Hitler if he had started mass killings on the scale of the prewar time. Until Stalin’s death, about 150,000 Latvians were imprisoned, deported or killed by the Soviets since 1940.57 The post-Stalin era became more moderate in terms of violence, but was at least only a phase of stagnation. The national bolshevik attitude towards the Latvians prevailed among the Soviet cadres brought to Latvia and culminated in the purge of 1959 conducted directly by Khrushchev. He defined the direction of policy for the Soviet colonies for the next decades.

55 56 57

See Will Prigge, The Latvian Purges of 1959: A Revision Study, Journal of Baltic Studies 25 (2004), pp. 211–30. Nicolas Werth, Die Insel der Kannibalen: Stalins vergessener Gulag (Munich, 2006). Felder, Lettland im Zweiten Weltkrieg, p. 340.

Juliette Denis

“The Best School of Communism”: Latvians in the Great Patriotic War, 1941–45 When Germany attacked the USSR on 22 June 1941, thousands of inhabitants of Latvia, among them Russian-speakers, Latvians and Jews, fled to the Soviet rear and lived three years in the depth of the USSR. The Latvian Communist Party (LaCP) and some Soviet institutions remained active and continued to work with restricted tasks and means, while other citizens were sent to different Russian regions or Soviet republics or were mobilized into the Red Army. Those specific wartime experiences still remain an unknown aspect of the meaning of the Second World War for the Baltic states. If Latvian Soviet publications emphasized the “glorious fight of Latvian Red Army soldiers” or the “glorious work of the Latvian Communist Party during the Great Patriotic War”, exaggerating on purpose the mass cooperation of the Latvian people with the Soviet power against a common enemy,1 current Baltic historiography underestimates the significance of the war period – for the Soviet side – in the history of Soviet Latvia. Often, the war is considered a pause between the first and second sovietization of Latvia.2 However, the Great Patriotic War was not just a break in the sovietization process. From 1941 till 1944, the war allowed for a new construction of the image of the loyal Soviet citizen, as well as for new definitions of enemies. It also provided specific conditions for both 1

2

V. Mironova-Shpravoska, Kompartiia Latvii v gody Velikoi Otechestvennoi Voiny Sovetskogo Soiuza (iiun’ 1941–1945) [The Latvian Communist Party in the Years of the Great Patriotic War of the Societ Union (June 1941–1945)], Kommunist Sovetskoi Latvii 1959, No. 11, pp. 67–74; V. Samsons, Partizanskoe dvizhenie v severnoi Latvii v gody Velikoi Otechestvennoi Voiny [The Partisan Movement in North-Latvia in the Years of the Great Patriotic War] (Riga, 1951); V.S. Savchenko, Latyshskie formirovaniia Sovetskoi Armii na frontakh Velikoi Otechestvennoi voiny [Latvian Formations of the Soviet Army at the Fronts of the Great Patriotic War] (Riga, 1975); A.V. Udris, Deiatel’nost’ evakuirovannogo naseleniia Latviiskii SSR v sovetskom tylu v period Velikoi Otechestvennoi Voiny (1941– 1944) [The Activities of Evacuated People from the Latvian SSR in the Soviet Hinterland in the Period of the Great Patriotic War (1941–1944)] (Cand.-thesis, Riga, 1972). Erwin Oberländer, Instruments of Sovietization in 1939/1940 and after 1945, Andris Caune et al. (eds.), The Soviet Occupation Regime in the Baltic States 1944–1959: Policies and their Consequences (Riga, 2003), pp. 50–8.

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reflection and preparation for the reintegration of Latvia into the USSR. This was an additional step of the sovietization process, based on the circumstances and constraints connected with the “war of all the people”.3 The war enabled political leaders to revive the national principle. Although the war propaganda and its later official interpretation definitely placed the Russians above the others in the symbolical hierarchy of the Soviet peoples, the nationality issue reappeared frequently in the propaganda rhetoric and in inner debates during the war: Moscow attempted to mobilize a multiethnic society against a common enemy. At the same time, suspicion and repression toward non-Russian minorities had increased from the mid-1930s. National features began to characterize the notion of ‘enemy of the people’, the beginning of the war reinforcing this process.4 From the Soviet state’s point of view, the borderland nationalities could become training grounds for spies, traitors and enemies and many attempts to identify them occurred during the war.5 Still, the war also enabled the Soviet authorities to rely upon some groups of non-Russian citizens, who remained in the Soviet rear or fought on the side of the Red Army. Thus, while Latvia’s evacuated officials were given the tasks of evaluating the situation in occupied Latvia and planning for the Soviet return, Latvian evacuees were absorbed into Soviet society at war. The Latvians who supported the war effort alongside the Soviet Union – in the Soviet rear, in the Red Army or in partisans units – could be considered as future loyal Soviet officials in liberated Latvia. Therefore, evacuation and mobilization of Latvians in the war effort could be considered a specific part of the sovietization process.

3

4

5

Amir Weiner, Making Sense of War: The Second World War and the Fate of Bolshevik Revolution (Princeton-Oxford, 2001); Rebecca Manley, To the Tashkent Station: Evacuation and Survival in the Soviet Union at War (Ithaca-London, 2009). N.F. Bugai, L. Beriia – I. Stalinu: “Soglasno Vashemu ukazaniiu ...” [L. Beriia to I. Stalin: “I agree with Your Instructions …”] (Moscow, 1995); Terry Martin, Origins of Soviet Ethnic Cleansing, The Journal of Modern History 70 (1998), pp. 813–61; Pavel Polian, Against Their Will: The History and Geography of Forced Migrations in the USSR (Budapest, 2003); Nicolas Werth, Les déportations des « populations suspectes» dans les espaces russes et soviétiques (1914-fin des années 1940): violences de guerre, ingénierie sociale, excision ethno-historique, idem, La Terreur et le désarroi: Staline et son système (Paris, 2007), pp. 222–64. Juliette Denis, Identifier les «éléments ennemis» en Lettonie: Une priorité dans le processus de resoviétisation (1942–1945), Cahiers du Monde russe 49 (2008), pp. 297–8.

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Evacuation from Latvia The evacuation process: the Latvian singularity When the German invasion began, Latvia was one of the first Soviet republics to face the crucial issues of enemies’ elimination, mobilization into the Red Army, and evacuation. Panic, air raids, and the rise of so-called anti-Soviet selfdefense units went along with the Soviet retreat. Through chaos and fear, Latvia was the first Soviet territory to apply the evacuation principle, even before the creation of the Soviet Central Evacuation Council and before the publication of official decrees on evacuation. On 22 June, a decree issued by the Council of People’s Commissars and the Latvian Communist Party’s Central Committee called on the NKVD of the republic to draw up a plan of evacuation.6 Families were authorized to leave together with evacuated workers. Besides, decrees on children were issued in order to protect them from bombardment. The Latvian decree was the only one that took into consideration the fate of civilian population and authorized the departure of women and children. Even some orphanages were resettled to Russia. As Rebecca Manley has pointed out, this measure was based on the English model of evacuation, and disappeared from the later Soviet decrees on evacuation.7 Although the Baltic military headquarters and many state and Party employees fled at the end of June, the first secretary of the Central Committee, Jānis Kalnbērziņš, remained in Latvia until 5 July to organize the evacuation of the last unoccupied Latvian regions. Latvian authorities prepared the evacuation of goods and factories as well, but the military situation interrupted the dismantlement of strategic industries. Therefore, many goods and the families of many cadres remained un-evacuated.8 Both the Soviet officials and other witnesses agreed that panic and the premature retreat of the Soviet staff did not allow for a complete evacuation as had been planned. Logistic and individual conditions of evacuation were hard: most of evacuees were limited in what they could take with them. They were crowded together in railways cars without being fed.9 Witnesses compared the evacuation process with the mass deportation of 14 June, as the conditions of departure were very similar.10 For instance, 6 7 8 9 10

Manley, To the Tashkent Station, p. 37. Ibid., p. 38.  Rossiiskii Gosudarstvennyi arkhiv sotsial’no-politicheskoi istorii (Russian State Archive of Socio-Political History, RGASPI) f. 17, o. 121, d. 96, l. 23–5. Udris, Deiatel’nost’ evakuirovannogo naseleniia, p. 49. Rebecca Manley, The Perils of Displacement: The Soviet Evacuee between Refugee and Deportee, Contemporary European History 16 (2007), pp. 495–509.

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in the middle of July, a last wave of evacuation took place. The correspondent of the Svenska Dagbladet (Stockholm) wrote that “the persons to be evacuated were taken night or day and put into special trains overloaded by these unfortunates without getting the permission to take any other things than what they could carry with them.”11 It was difficult to distinguish ‘evacuees’ from the last ‘enemies of the people’ being shipped away from the German invaders during the very last battles on Latvian territory. Both categories suffered from a violent, distressing departure, and a long train journey deep into the USSR. Some Latvians, who did not want to leave, managed to remain by hiding. This attitude increased the general mistrust towards “those who remained in occupied territories”, considering it a potential expression of opposition to the Soviet regime by refusing to serve the Soviet war effort.12 Conversely, some Latvian evacuees were considered ‘anti-Soviet elements’ in disguise, attempting to organize espionage and sabotage activities in the USSR on behalf of Germany. The Soviet authorities mistrusted local populations who had experienced just one year of sovietization, and often assumed that they collaborated with foreign enemies like Japan and Germany.13 Besides, from 22 June onwards, as the Soviet forces defended the Baltic territories and retreated in disorder, national self-defense units began to attack isolated Red Army units. Although these small groups never reached more than a few thousand fighters in the Baltic area, they were considered a bigger threat than the Germans themselves by Soviet authorities. In Estonia, which dealt with similar conditions, a Soviet reporter noticed that the Soviet officers he traveled with were more concerned about these raids than about the approach of German forces.14 In Latvia, hundreds of groups created by former aizsargi, an interwar militia that escaped the 14 June mass-deportation by remaining underground for a few months, began to fight against the retreating Red Army soldiers.15 They were 11 12

13

14 15

Letter to Svenska Dagbladet, from its correspondent in Riga, July 1941, Hoover Institution archive, Alfred Bilmanis papers, box 3, folder 8. Vanessa Voisin, Les individus demeurés en territoire occupé: aspects singuliers de l’épuration soviétique, 1942–1949, Revue d’Etudes Comparatives Est-Ouest 37 (2006), No. 3, pp. 199– 236. Jeff rey Burds, The Soviet War against ‘Fifth Columnists’: The Case of Chechnya, 1942– 1944, Journal of Contemporary History 42 (2007), pp. 267–314, here p, 276; Makoto Onaka, The Relationships between the Baltic States and Japan during the Interwar Period, Journal of Baltic Studies 36 (2005), p. 416; Juris Ciganovs, The Resistance Movement against the Soviet Regime in Latvia between 1940 and 1941, Arvydas Anušauskas (ed.), The Anti-Soviet Resistance in the Baltic States, (Vilnius, 2000), p. 124. D.M. Rudnev, Interviu s samim soboi: Zapiski zhurnalista [Interview with Myself: Notes by a Journalist] (Tallinn, 1973). Daina Bleiere et al, Histoire de la Lettonie au 20éme siècle (Riga, 2006), p. 332.

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identified as the ‘fifth column’, which provoked “shooting on the streets of the capital” and rose “in the back of the fighters”.16 The demonstrations of strong anti-Soviet feelings and activities reinforced the Soviet mistrust toward Latvians. The evacuation process tried to avoid a penetration of ‘spies’ or ‘anti-Soviet elements’ into the Soviet interior. Strict instructions were issued with regard to evacuees from the Baltic republics, and during the whole war, the NKVD was particularly scrupulous in reporting on the activities of Baltic evacuees. As a member of the Military Soviet of the Western Front noted, “the previous leadership did not devote the required attention to the question of the evacuation of the population from the territories of Latvia and Lithuania, occupied by the Germans, and among the refugees it is very likely that the Germans planted, and continue to plant, their spies under the guise of refugees.”17 The fear of the ‘fifth column’ during the war period mostly focused on the border nationalities and their representatives throughout the USSR.18 Unlike most of the subsequent Soviet decrees, early evacuations in Latvia were officially characterized by a broad and open concept of the evacuation principle, finally becoming a new symbolic criterion to define and evaluate a people’s loyalty or disloyalty in a newly annexed territory.

Latvians in non-occupied Soviet territories during the Great Patriotic War In the summer of 1941, most of the Latvian evacuees were concentrated in the European part of the USSR. The Latvian Party and state leaders stayed a few weeks in Novgorod.19 As the front was advancing into Russia, evacuees and officials were resettled deeper into the Soviet hinterland. The Latvian officials went to Kirov until 1942 and then turned back to Moscow. In December 16 17

18 19

RGASPI f.17, o. 121, d. 96, l. 23–5. Quoted by Manley, To the Tashkent Station: The Evacuation and Survival of Soviet Civilians during World War Two (PhD-thesis, 2004). She also shows that “similarly, an NKVD directive from late August warned that ‘a substantial mass of people were evacuated, or simply departed in a disorganized fashion, from the Baltic, amidst which there are … former members of … nationalist parties and organizations – probably agents of German intelligence.’ Interestingly, the border between the pre-1939 Soviet Union and the annexed territories had not been dismantled after the annexations. Directives issued in 1940 by the NKVD stipulated that passage across the old border was to be controlled and that the inhabitants of the pre-1939 Soviet Union as well as those of the newly annexed categories would require the authorization of the police to cross it. Burds, The Soviet War against ‘Fifth Columnists’. RGASPI f. 17, o. 121, d. 96, l. 23–5.

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1941, the Latvian evacuees were dispatched into twenty Soviet republics and regions. It still remains difficult to quantify the categories of evacuated populations from Latvia. One can assume that, as in other territories, mostly being workers, young men fit for military service, and all other categories occupying key-positions both in the Soviet society and for the war effort qualified them for evacuation.20 Indeed, some witnesses noticed that many professional categories were part of the evacuation, especially the mass departure of state and Party representatives, as well as intellectuals and workers.21 Of the one hundred fifty thousands evacuees from Latvia registered in July 1941 approximately two thirds were Russian-speakers sent to the Latvian SSR in 1940–41 to complement the republican executive. The criterion of “not mastering the Russian language” became a major factor in classifying evacuees, giving some indications about the number of former Latvian citizens in the USSR at war. Fifty thousand of the evacuated came into the USSR without knowledge of the Russian language. They settled as follows on 3 December 1941 (see tab. 1). Tab. 1: Distribution of Evacuees not Speaking Russian Kirovskaia oblast’ Gorkovskaia oblast’ Ivanovskaia oblast’ Iaroslavskaia oblast’ Molotovskaia oblast’ Chuvashskaia ASSR Bashkirskaia ASSR Tatarskaia ASSR Central Asian republics Cheliabinskaia oblast’ Sverdlovaskaia oblast’ Omskaia oblast’

10,000 8,000 3,000 4,000 2,000 4,000 2,000 6,000 10,000 2,000 1,000 1,000

Source: RGASPI f. 17, o. 117, d. 300, l. 86–7.

On the local level, the counting of evacuees was also based on the nationality or language factor. For instance, in April 1943 in the Kuibyshev region, only 398 of the 1,525 Latvian evacuees were ethnic Latvians. However, the next month, the report on the evacuees’ situation only registered those 398 ethnic 20 21

Manley, To the Tashkent Station, pp. 32–6. Letter to Svenska Dagbladet.

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Latvians, without mentioning that the Russian-speakers were resettled elsewhere. On the one hand, one can assume that the Russian-speaking group was quickly reintegrated into Russian society and thus disappeared from the general counting of evacuees from Latvia. Those who remained on the lists were exclusively former Latvian citizens. On the other hand, this report confirmed that the main attention was paid to ethnic Latvian evacuees as a specific group, which indicates a targeting policy or surveillance.22 Besides, a few thousand evacuees were Jewish. Some of them were officially included in the evacuation plans, others managed to flee without permission. In some localities of evacuation, they constituted the majority of Latvian citizens. In the Omsk region on 2 December 1942, the 448 evacuees from Latvia presented the following nationalities (see tab. 2): Tab. 2: Evacuees from Latvia in Omskaia oblast’ Russians

Latvians

Jews

Lithuanians

135 (30.1 %)

133 (29.7 %)

142 20 (31.7 %) (4.5 %)

Others (Belorussians, Poles, Ukrainians) 18 (4 %)

Source: LVA PA-101-4-8, l. 94–110.

As many scholars have pointed out, there was no specific Soviet policy to save Jews from the Nazi occupation, and many of Latvia’s Jews living in the Soviet hinterland during the war had been deported during the mass operation of June 14.23 It is still hard to know whether the Latvian Jews staying in the USSR during the war were included in the official plan of evacuation or whether they had fled by themselves in the frame of a so-called self-evacuation. Obviously the latter was the cause.24 The compilation of different statistics can give an approximate number of all former Latvian citizens in the non-occupied territories during the war, including ethnic Latvians, Russian-Latvian citizens, Jews and others nationalities of the former independent Latvia, around sixty to seventy thousands former 22

23

24

Latvijas Valsts arhīvs (Latvian State Archives, LVA), Latvijas Komunistiskās partijas Centrālā Komiteja (Central Committee of the Latvian Communist Party) PA-101-5-10, l. 36–8, 43– 6. Marta Craveri, Une déportation particulière: la déportation des Baltes et Polonais d’origine juive par les Soviétiques en 1940–1941, Tal Bruttmann, Laurent Joly and Annette Wieviorka (eds.), Qu’est-ce qu’un déporté ? Histoire et mémoires des déportations de la Seconde Guerre mondiale (Paris, 2009), pp. 251–66. Dov Levin, The Attitude of the Soviet Union to the Rescue of the Jews, Baltic Jews under the Soviets, 1940–1946 (Jerusalem, 1994); Manley, To the Tashkent Station, p.46–7.

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Latvian citizens lived officially in freedom in the depth of USSR or served in the ranks of the Red Army.

Integrating Latvians into the Soviet society at war Some of those evacuees were sent to kolkhozes populated by Latvians who had immigrated to Russia during the Tsarist and the interwar periods. Indeed, the Latvian community in the Russian SFSR was quite developed. It had different origins. Part of the Latvian intelligentsia emigrated to Saint-Petersburg at the end of the nineteenth century. The violent repression after the 1905 Revolution, especially bloody in the province of Livonia, also created favorable circumstances for emigration to Russia. During 1917, the Civil War and the short 1919 Bolshevik experience in Latvia, Latvian revolutionaries had joined Red Army units. In 1920, sixty to seventy thousands Latvians immigrated to Bolshevik Russia. In the 1930s, around two hundred thousands Latvians lived in the RSFSR. Despite the fact that Latvians suffered during the Great Terror more than any other national group in the USSR, the Latvian minority still provided one of the highest rates of ‘national communists’ in 1939, had its own associations and published Soviet literature and journals in Latvian.25 Therefore, in 1941, some Latvian settlements welcomed Latvian evacuees, with whom they shared the same language, and to whom they could provide a basic Soviet political education. For example, Latvian evacuees were resettled in the kolkhozes ‘Progress’ and ‘Nākotne’ (Future) in the Omsk region, or ‘Gorki’ in Bashkiriia.26 But this grouping policy encompassed only a small minority of the Latvian evacuees. For most of them conditions of life were very hard, as for all the Soviet evacuees in the USSR. In autumn 1941, as the war intensified, the situation became catastrophic for many evacuees who fled to Central Asia. Very soon it appeared that Latvian evacuees were not satisfied with what they found in the Soviet Union. In the beginning of 1942, Soviet representatives in the evacuees’ main settlements gathered urgent requests for aid. Most of those letters pointed to the lack of primary goods. On 27 February 1942, a Latvian evacuee wrote from a Bashkiriian kolkhoz: “We do not have anything, no clothes, no shoes, nor even any food. We sleep on the floor, and we use our

25

26

Nicolas Werth, L’ivrogne et la marchande de fleurs: Autopsie d’un meurtre de masse, 1937– 1939 (Paris, 2009), p. 244; Visvaldis Mangulis, Latvia in the Wars of the 20th Century (Princeton Junction-New York, 1983), pp. 72–3. Udris, Deiatel’nost’ evakuirovannogo naseleniia, p. 52.

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coats as pillows as well as blankets.”27 The children’s situation was extremely alarming. Besides material difficulties due to their displacement in non-welcoming territories, Latvian evacuees also noticed that the reality of the Soviet Union was far from the myth they were told in Latvia in 1940–41 and did not hesitate to share their memories of independent Latvia with Soviet citizens. For all those reasons, the Soviet Latvian authorities were concerned about the evacuees’ situation. The two main axes of the policy toward the evacuees were material support and development of the Agitprop, for the worker’s front and the mass mobilization for the “war of all the people”. In 1942, the state and party authorities sent delegates (upolnomochennye TsK KP(b) Latvii i SNK LaSSR) to the eleven most important centers of Latvian evacuation, from which they controlled the twenty regions of settlement. They reported about the local situation regularly,28 gathering in Kirov and Moscow for general meetings. At the beginning they had to take a census of the Latvian evacuees and organize Latvian battalions. Then they were trusted with the tasks of structuring everyday life, and making an inventory of the material difficulties faced by the evacuees. In many regions the local administrations, together with Latvian institutions, had to provide for the basic needs. Soviet Latvian authorities were also entrusted with the task of involving the Latvian labor force in the war effort of the Soviet Union. Most of the material, political and social work towards Latvian evacuees aimed at sovietizing them, involving them in the war effort and integrating them into Soviet society. Therefore, Latvians were encouraged to join the worker collectives at factories or in kolkhozes or to participate in political clubs.29 The delegates also tried to involve them in different Soviet rituals such as the vesennaia sela (spring sowing) in the kolkhozes and ‘socialist competition’ in workers settlements.30 They organized Agitprop activities according to the task given by the LaCP. In December 1941, the Latvian party secretary Arvids Pelše, who was responsible for propaganda issues, regretted that these non Russian-speakers were “kept outside the boundaries of our political action”.31 In the beginning of the war, Latvian propagandists, essayists and translators were urgently needed. Publications in Latvian for those who did not master Russian were edited. Cina

27 28 29 30 31

LVA PA-101-4-8, l. 30–7. The report’s frequency mostly depended on the delegate – from monthly reports as in the Kuibichev region in 1943 to annual ones. Udris, Deiatel’nost’ evakuirovannogo naseleniia, p. 70. LVA PA-101-4-8, l. 38–40. RGASPI f. 17, o. 117, d. 300, l. 86–7.

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(Fight) was published in fifteen hundred copies at the beginning of the war, four thousand at the end. However, from 1942, Latvian leaders began to debate about teaching the Russian language to Latvians. Some defended systematic translation of all the printed material into Latvian, others stressed the strong symbolism in knowing Russian. As the Russian people embodied the Soviet sacrifice and the path to victory, the use of the Russian language strengthened during the war. Thus, the State Security Peoples’ Commissar, Deglavs assessed that the Party leaders’ main task was to improve the evacuees’ knowledge of Russian. He said: “We have not encouraged our delegates to assist the evacuees in learning the Russian language. Among our comrades, we find some who clearly despise Russian. To disdain the Russian language is to disdain the Soviet Union.”32 This controversial issue, which could be presented as ‘pragmatism vs. loyalty’, reflects the main aspect of linguistic or administrative questions in the USSR, and will become a model for the future debates in liberated Latvia. As no decisive orientation was chosen during the war, one can assume that the evacuation of Latvians allowed for a wide diff usion of bilingual abilities among the ethnic Latvian evacuees, remaining a significant tool for the post-war sovietization in Latvia. Regarding those questions, special attention was paid to children. In 1941– 42, most Latvian pupils did not manage to attend Russian schools because of a lack of material supplies (clothes, shoes) and inability to speak Russian. By 1942–43, many factors helped them to return back to school. Authorities delivered supplies and promoted special teaching, adapted to the language situation. An order of 2 September, 1941 provided for counting the non-Russian speaking pupils and creating some courses in native languages. Latvian teachers were sent to the districts where many Latvian children lived. They taught some lessons in Latvian, and also in Latvian history. Those pupils were also given some Russian courses and individual lessons. Because of the lack of Latvian teachers, most of the Latvian children had to learn Russian by themselves.33 From 1943 onwards, all the Latvian evacuated children went to school and were raised in Soviet patriotism.34 The oldest pupils were sent to training in Soviet and party schools in Kirov in 1944.35 On the eve of the Red Army offensive in the Baltic region, a general report on the Latvian evacuees was issued. It mentioned only 36,000 registered evacuees, mostly in Central Asia, the regions of Gorki, Kirov and the Tatar ASSR. In fact, 32 33 34 35

LVA PA-101-5-12, l. 34–8. Udris, Deiatel’nost’ evakuirovannogo naseleniia, pp. 72–3. LVA PA-101-5-10, l. 59–60. Udris, Deiatel’nost’ evakuirovannogo naseleniia, p. 80.

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the survey did not cover the entire Soviet territory, and besides many evacuees had been mobilized into the Red Army. The enthusiastic report emphasized the new wave of recruitment of LaCP members and candidates. However, the Party delegates’ work on the side of the evacuees had been judged incomplete and inefficient: many of them did not feel any improvement in their living conditions and remained indifferent towards the war propaganda.36 For those who did not support the war effort, the punishment was inevitably heartbreaking. A delegate advised scrupulous verification of Latvian evacuees before authorizing their return. Some had “to be held in their current place of settlement and could not be returned”, because of their “political unreliability or lack of verification” of their involvement in the war effort.37

Training Soviet administrators As soon as winter 1941, the LaCP Central Committee and the Council of the People’s Commissariats began planning the reestablishment of Soviet order in Latvia. In December 1941, when the Battle of Moscow came to its decisive phase, Vilis Lācis ordered the LaCP Central Committee delegate in the region of Novosibirsk – N. I. Smirnov, the former commissar for the meat and milk industry – to make proposals for the revival of the policy toward administrative officials. Authorities first targeted workers who already had some experience at Soviet jobs in Latvia before the German invasion. However, only a small percentage of the workers of the commissariats had been evacuated (between sixteen and thirty percent). Only sixty of the 517 heads of the executive committees of the volosti found themselves in the Soviet rear. Other employees served in the Red Army, where the mortality rate was extremely high.38 In any case, for those who remained in the Soviet rear, courses were given. In 1942, certain evacuated Latvian administrative institutions were to benefit from conferences and training. Kalnbērziņš convinced Malenkov to finance crucial courses for the employees of the department of education. Underlining their lack of experience in the new-born Soviet Latvia, he wrote: “As we are going to need such managers in liberated Latvia (managers who know the work of Soviet schools and would be able to pass on this knowledge to others), it is very important to gather them for courses, in order to give them some political knowledge, to allow them to understand the tasks that are given to them and to synthesize 36 37 38

LVA 270-1s-91, l. 51–63. Ibid., l. 79. Ibid., p. 384–5.

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the knowledge and the experience they obtained in the Soviet Union.”39 The courses took place in Moscow in order to invite participation of specialists in both Soviet pedagogy and the Latvian situation. The training, though was minimal, consisting of several lessons on Marxism-Leninism, pedagogy, the role of Komsomol and Pioneer organizations, and a few excursions to different schools in Moscow.40 However, from the Soviet leaders’ point of view, the war gave an opportunity to train evacuated administrative employees, who seemed to remain at their tasks in the elder sister republic. When partial demobilization occurred in 1942, some courses were given to demobilized soldiers. Some special training courses were also set up in order to give the future Soviet local staff in Latvia some elementary ‘Soviet’ knowledge. In 1942–43 in Kirov, where many evacuated Latvians were living, two programs of courses were organized, which were attended by 159 people (among them, 130 were ethnic Latvians). Most of them had already worked in Party and Soviet institutions. It seems that they were promoted just after finishing the courses and were scattered in different Soviet regions for practical training within local organizations. Those courses aimed at training local secretaries, chairmen of local committees, and other local Soviet representatives.41 The subjects taught demonstrated a desire to sovietize Latvian officials’ in the following competences: history of the Communist party, history of the USSR, constitutions of the USSR and of the LaSSR, history of the Great Patriotic War, party building, political and economic geography, and the economy of the LaSSR. In 1943, when the liberation of Latvia was already planned, those courses accelerated and took place in Moscow. The instructors were chosen from among prestigious members of the Latvian party in evacuation.42 Some other workers were selected from evacuated citizens who had never occupied such positions before the war. More than improving the future kadry’s knowledge and knowhow, the war period permitted the partial renewal of local administrative staff.

The Latvian Units of the Red Army and the Latvian Partisans: Heroes Identifying Enemies National military units, which were disbanded in 1939, were reestablished soon after the German forces invaded the Soviet Union. The Latvian Rifle Corps was the first national unit of the Red Army formed during the Great Patriotic War in 39 40 41 42

LVA PA-101-6-7, l. 6. Ibid., l. 7 LVA PA 101-6-3, l. 7–11, 2–8. Ibid., l. 2–4.

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June 1941.43 One can assume that the Latvians, who had a reputation of being ‘true revolutionaries’ since the Civil War in the Soviet Union, were especially chosen to form the first national unit of the Red Army. The unit was to embody the memory of the Civil War and the multiethnic defense of the Soviet State. On 3 August, the State Defense Committee (GKO – Gosudarstvennyi komitet oborony) ordered the Central Committee of the LaCP and the Council of the People’s Commissariats of the LaSSR to form a Red Army unit from evacuated Latvian citizens.44 Volunteers were grouped in a training camp near Gorki where a majority consisted of ethnic Latvians who were former members of the workers’ militia of the LaSSR. The first volunteers – Latvian communists, komsomol members, activists and so on – justified their choice by pointing out Latvia’s great revolutionary tradition. Heroes of the civil war were pushed forward to embody the revolutionary past and some were given officer status in the new Latvian unit. A.A. Antons, a former Latvian rifleman and second secretary of the Riga CP in 1940, was officially too old to be mobilized into the Latvian division during the Great Patriotic War. He protested to the Party executive in Kanash’: “I fought twice against the Germans; I know what kind of army they have, and now I want to be in the army to fight against them.” He was mobilized and became captain.45 Mobilization into the Red Army also occurred among the evacuees. In many oblasts this led to a decline in the number of evacuees. The language of command was Latvian. More than half of the officers were ethnic Latvians. Most of them were veterans of the First World War and the Civil War and had received military education in Soviet military schools.46 A special propaganda staff was formed in order to translate war publications into Latvian.47 The first secretary of the LaCP checked all publications himself and conscientiously corrected mistakes in translation. The propaganda tasks among the Latvian soldiers became more and more important as the front was getting closer to the Latvian border. Latvian soldiers would be the first representatives of the Soviet order to enter the territory, and would have to promote correct speech regarding the meaning of liberation, victory and Soviet order. Thus, on 43

44 45 46 47

S.I. Dobiazko and N.A. Kirsanov, Velikaia otechestvennaia voina 1941–1945 gg.: Natsional’nye i dobrovol’cheskie formirovaniia po raznye storony fronta [The Great Patriotic War 1941–1945: National and Voluntary Formations on Different Sides of the Front], Otechestvennaia istoriia 10 (2001), No. 6, pp. 60–75. Since 1940, the former armies of the three incorporated Baltic states had been transformed into territorial corps. Thus national Baltic units existed already before the German attack. RGASPI f. 644, o. 2, d. 10, l. 90. Udris, Deiatel’nost’ evakuirovannogo naseleniia, pp. 55–6. LVA PA-101-6-21, l. 8–13. RGASPI f. 17, o. 117, d. 300, l. 86–7.

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the one hand, the Agitprop in Latvian was particularly directed toward soldiers, far more than the propaganda for evacuated civilians. On the other hand, the military counterintelligence SMERSH (‘Death to Spies’, smert’ shpionam) arrested all ‘anti-Soviet elements’ who did not look forward to the return of the Soviets to their homeland.48 Therefore, different waves of purges targeted the unit and tried to turn it into a homogeneous group of loyal Soviet Latvians. The 130th Latvian Rifle Corps first entered Latvia with other Red Army units.49 This meant a lot for the symbolic meaning behind the return of the Soviet order to the republic. As far back as 1942, soon after the battle of Moscow, a tract sent to Latvia mentioned that the Red Army was getting closer to the Latvian border, and that many Latvians were fighting in its ranks.50 The radio broadcasts emitted from Moscow into occupied Latvia always underlined the Latvian soldiers’ heroic fight.51 The participation of the corps in the liberation of the territory, the congratulations addressed by Stalin himself and the numerous decorations and medals given to soldiers allowed for the construction of the myth of a ‘national’ liberation: Latvian soldiers liberated Latvia.52 As David Feest underlines in his paper about Estonian Soviet rural workers, “this way, the war could be interpreted as a patriotic deed, in line with the rather Russian national interpretation of the ‘Great Patriotic War’”.53 The Latvian Corps defended Moscow and marched towards Riga, symbolically linking the heart of the USSR to the Latvian capital. The Latvians who were incorporated into the Corps before the liberation appeared to be particularly loyal 48

49 50 51 52 53

Some Latvians soldiers had the same ideas as most of the ‘frontoviki’, hoping for some great changes in the Soviet Union and feared disappointment after the war, but many of the Latvians essentially spoke about the fate of their country and about relationships with the Russians. “The Russians hate the Latvians and make fun of them. And the Latvians cannot defend themselves, as others people do”, said one sergeant. A soldier said to another one: “We have been told that the Germans do not have anything, that they are starving to death, but they satisfy their hunger … You see how they fight? And why? Because they know what they are fighting for. I am fine with them, they are bad only because they hate the Jews. And I do not feel good about it. I lived well under Ulmanis, I was never hungry, I always had shoes and clothes, and I wish that after the war those Ulmanis times come back in Latvia. I do not like the Red Army political workers; they are rude and uncultured. The war is coming to an end, and I will not give a shit about them. The German officers – that is something! They are cultured, and they address their soldiers completely differently.” LVA PA-101-6-21, l. 8–13. Savchenko, Latyshskie formirovaniia Sovetskoi Armii; M. Goldas, Osvobozhdenie sovetskoi Latvii [Liberation of Soviet Latvia] (Vilnius, 1976). LVA PA-101-4-2, l. 8–9. Ibid., l. 20–1. LVA PA-101-6-21, l. 8–13. David Feest, Dealing with the Unruly Reality: Rural Party Workers in Estonia (1944– 1950), A. Caune et al. (eds.), The Soviet Occupation Regime in the Baltic States 1944– 1959: Policies and their Consequences (Riga, 2003), pp. 93–108.

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to Soviet power. Reports about the political mood of the corps all insisted on the soldiers’ hatred toward the German invaders, and moreover, toward their compatriots who betrayed Soviet Latvia. For example, a Latvian chief warrant officer, who went to his village soon after it was liberated, discovered that the Germans had shot his parents. Back with his unit he said: “We need to chuck out those Germans from our Motherland very quickly, and after that we have to prosecute all the criminals, whatever their nationality.”54 Numerous Latvian soldiers were deeply attached to the Soviet order and ready to lead the future tasks of purging the Latvian traitors and enforcing Soviet law. Besides, partisans were sent from Moscow into the occupied republic. Their number never reached more that a few hundred, but they played a significant role in informing the authorities about the situation in occupied Latvia, in particular about collaboration.55 Those partisans were mostly chosen from among evacuated ethnic Latvians. At the end of the war, many of them were transferred to counterintelligence and state security work. In January 1944, SMERSH asked for Latvian specialists to complete its special units. Ten to sixteen Latvians were chosen from partisan and Red Army units and joined high positions in SMERSH on the eve of the liberation of Latvia.56 Partisans occupied vacancies in NKVD soon after the Red Army crossed the Latvian border. As the NKVD for Latvia was hastily reestablished under the urgency of liberation, partisans were considered top-grade recruits.57 Soviet authorities also intended to rely upon them for local positions. Latvian soldiers, partisans and evacuated citizens, appeared to be the best groups for filling up the ranks of the soviet staff. Kalnbērziņš and Lācis sent a report to Malenkov in the spring of 1944 insisting on this point: As the moment of the liberation of Latvia from the German invaders is coming soon, the LaCP(b) Central Committee and the Council of the People’s Commissars of the LaSSR took several measures for the administrative staff. The journey of thousands of evacuees in the sister republics during two years and a half was in itself the best mass school for them and even more for our officers in the Red Army.58 From the perspective of the Soviet leadership, wartime experiences unintentionally turned out to be the best training imaginable, forging future loyal employees. The evacuees had learnt the elementary basis of the Soviet byt under 54 55 56 57 58

LVA PA-101-6-21, l. 8–13. RGASPI f. 69, o. 1, d. 445–56. LVA PA-101-6-21, l. 1. Ibid., l. 23–4. LVA PA-101-6-1, l. 25–9.

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the harsh conditions that the USSR faced. Many of them were to be promoted in liberated Latvia: the experience of war on the Soviet side was in itself considered the best Soviet school. The evacuees, who were to be future cadres, were to embody the notions of duty and loyalty of responsible Soviet citizens. Moreover, they had an incredible advantage compared to their compatriots who remained in occupied Latvia: they could hardly be suspected of having compromised themselves by collaborating with the Germans.

Demobilization and Return: the Positions of Evacuees and Veterans in Re-established Soviet Latvia On 4 July 1944, as the Red Army entered Latvian territory, Kalnbērziņš and Lācis issued a “plan of priority measures for the first month after the liberation of the Latvian SSR territory”, which involved most of the People’s Commissariats and Soviet institutions, aimed at restoring the national economy, helping the Red Army, and satisfying the primary needs of the population liberated from the German occupation.59 Many fields had an urgent need for highly qualified workers to rebuild the republic and reestablish Soviet institutions. The Latvian leaders anticipated this situation since June 1944. They asked Georgii Malenkov “to give an order for the return to Latvia of all the workers who were sent there before the war and who are now working in other organizations.”60 Resettlement began in Latgale in the summer of 1944, before the entire Latvian territory was completely regained. Other categories of evacuees – invalids or families of those who stayed in occupied territory – could ask for the permission to return home. During the resettlement, most of the elite positions were filled. The central apparatus of the republic and of the Party relied mostly upon former evacuees. In some strategic organizations, they provided the great majority of executive workers and staff (see tab. 3). Tab. 3: Statistics of the Department for Supplying Percentage of re-evacuated Percentage of demobilized Percentage of local staff staff 55.2 13.8 31.0 Source : LVA 270-2-6003, l. 4–5.

59 60

LVA 270-1s-86, l. 23. LVA PA-101-6-1, l. 25–9.

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However, at the local level, the situation remained unstable. Despite measures taken during the war, even before the liberation, Latvian leaders anticipated many problems filling the ranks of Soviet staff in the republic. Again, the greatest difficulty was the recruitment of local staff at the volosti level. Kalnbērziņš and Lācis wrote in June 1944: As many workers for the districts are still at the front, and as a significant part died in the battles for the Motherland, the question of administration still remains for us one of the most acute questions. The main problem concerns the administrative staff for the volosti, which are in some districts of Latvia five to eight times bigger than the average rural councils of the region of Moscow. For the 517 volosti of Latvia, the administrative staff has not been chosen yet. The reserve for such categories of workers are the partisans, and also workers among the evacuated on the territories of sister republics.61

Recruitment from mid-1944 to the beginning of 1945 went extremely slowly, as the battles were going on in Courland and as many workers still remained in the army. Despite ‘operative groups’ gathered in the republic and in preparation for the liberation of Courland, the situation at the local level did not improve quickly. The vacancies created some delays in the realization of other urgent measures, such as the land reform.62 From 1944 till mid-1945, the lack of capable executives also disrupted the task of the Extraordinary Republican Commission, which was supposed to list the civilian and financial damages inflicted by the German occupation.63 The situation in many liberated districts was not satisfying for the Soviet Latvian leaders and their delegates. Finally, on the eve of the complete liberation of the territory in April 1945, most of the local positions were filled.64 However, local workers were summoned to fulfill many tasks, which were sometimes far beyond their competence. The demobilization of the soldiers of the Latvian Corps released many people for leading positions. By the beginning of 1945, 243 members and candidates of the communist party were demobilized in Riga. Fifty-four were sent to organizations of the Party in the volosti, forty-one were spread in Soviet and party organizations in Riga, forty-one completed the staff of the district committee and sixty-one the staff of the people’s commissariats. Three hundred and nineteen former soldiers (non-communists) were sent to local Soviet 61 62

63 64

 Ibid. Geoffrey Swain, “Cleaning up Soviet Latvia”: The Bureau for Latvia (Latburo), 1944–1947, Olaf Mertelsmann (ed.), The Sovietization of the Baltic States, 1940–1956 (Tartu, 2003), p. 64. Latvijas Valsts vēstures arhīvs (Latvian State Historical Archives, LVVA) R-132-29-2. RGASPI f. 600, o. 1, d. 2, l. 10

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organizations and to commissariats.65 The political staff of the Red Army and the heads of partisans units were especially chosen for Party work: twenty-three of them were appointed secretaries of districts and city party committees. They were trusted and received personal compliments from Kalnbērziņš.66 However, although the Soviet leaders planned to rely upon them during the war, they did not represent a great percentage of the state local staff in postwar Latvia. Even after the complete liberation of the republic, their percentage in local organizations never reached more than 15 percent: the recruitment of veterans for the Soviet and local staff was not as large as was planned during the war (see tab. 4):

Tab. 4: Local State Representatives Total number of Demobilized Number of Invalids of Total in representatives partisans the Great per cent (verified on 1 Patriotic January 1946) War Heads of rural soviets Secretaries of rural soviets Members of town committees

1,237

37

53

7.3

1,237

4

12

1.3

307

38

12.4

Source: LVA 270-2-6004, l. 14–23.

It can be said that veterans did not play the role they intended during the war. The Soviet staff of 1940–41 who served in the Red Army and partisan units suffered major losses.67 One hundred members of the Soviet and Party leadership and one third of the local members of the LaCP died.68 Other veterans, after their demobilization, were given a quiet job in the economic sphere. Therefore, the potential reserve quickly showed its own limits. Despite attempts during the war and on the eve of the reestablishment of Soviet order to use veterans to reinforce administration, Latvian authorities faced reality in 1945. Most of the local representatives had to be chosen from among the local population, though 65 66 67 68

Ibid., l. 35. Ibid., l. 55 Ibid., l. 52. Udris, Deiatel’nost’ evakuirovannogo naseleniia, p. 384.

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the simple fact that those citizens who had remained in occupied territories during war raised questions about their loyalty. As a result, there occurred many waves of verification and renewal of the local administration in post-war Latvia.

*

*

*

The war allowed for the sovietization of some categories of Latvians who spent three years in the Soviet rear. The postwar Latvian propaganda insisted that those Latvians who embodied the Soviet war effort were to be chosen for high positions in the Soviet and party executive. They could be considered as strong Soviet citizens who had supported the war effort and gained their Soviet identity through the war effort. The war enabled the training of some evacuated citizens and provided soldiers who had proved their loyalty toward the USSR by fighting against the Germans. Although the Soviet leaders still faced a lack of local Soviet staff at the end of 1945, they could rely upon a group of loyal and trained Latvians for the organization of the fight against the inner enemies.

Elena Zubkova

The Baltic Political Elite of the ‘Stalin Generation’: Background, Identity, and Practices of Governance Research on the Soviet political elite at different levels has its own tradition in historiography. Early in the development of Soviet historiography, the ruling class1 received one common designation – nomenklatura – following the publication of a famous book by Mikhail Voslenskii, and thus became the object of interest for historians and political scientists. The coverage of problems in the publications about the topic is quite large, this includes questions related to the formation and functioning of the political elite, the qualifications of members, and the numerical characteristics and the configuration of patron-client relationships. Among all age cohorts of the Soviet elite, the Stalin generation – the ‘new elite’ (Sheila Fitzpatrick)2 or the ‘new class’ (Milovan Djilas)3 – is located at the center of research interest. Only recently has the focus shifted from the traditionally popular 1920s and 1930s to the post-war period.4 Another current Translated from Russian by Olaf Mertelsmann. 1 M.S. Voslenskii, Nomenklatura: Gospodstvuiushchii klass Sovetskogo Soiuza [Nomenklatura: The Ruling Class of the Soviet Union] (Moscow, 1991, first print 1980). The understanding of nomenklatura in connection with the Soviet bureaucracy was used already earlier (for example: Bohdan Harasymiw, Nomenklatura: The Soviet Communist Party’s Leadership Recruitment System, Canadian Journal of Political Science 2 (1969), pp. 493–512). After the publication of Voslenskii’s monograph, it became very popular and established its value, because several other researchers adopted it. See: T.H. Rigby, Staffi ng USSR Incorporated: The Origins of the Nomenklatura System, Soviet Studies 40 (1988), pp. 523–37; Moshe Lewin, Rebuilding the Soviet Nomenklatura 1945–1948, Cahiers du Monde russe 44 (2003), pp. 219–52; T. Kozhikhina and Iu. Figatner, Sovetskaia nomenklatura: stanovlenie, mekhanizmy deistviia [Soviet Nomenklatura: the Making and the Mechanisms auf Activities], Voprosy istorii 1993, No. 7, pp. 35–8; M. Zelenov, Rozhdenie partiinoi nomenklatury [The Birth of the Party Nomenklatura], Voprosy istorii 2005, No. 2, pp. 3–8; and others. 2 Sheila Fitzpatrick, Stalin and the Making of a New Elite, 1928–1939, Slavic Review 38 (1979), pp. 377–402. 3 Milovan Djilas, The New Class: An Analysis of the Communist System (New York, 1959). 4 R.G. Pikhoia, Sovetskii Soiuz: istoriia vlasti, 1945–1991 [The Soviet Union: History of Power, 1945–1991], 2nd rev edition (Moscow, 2000); Evan Mawdsley and Stephen White, The Soviet Elite from Lenin to Gorbachev: The Central Committee and its Members, 1917–1991

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tendency is the intensive development of regional research – both national and regional elites and the system of communication between the center and the periphery.5 As a result of these works a more adequate and more encompassing understanding of the Soviet political system in its entirety, the personal networks and the role of regional elites in decision-making and restrictions on their room for maneuver has evolved. The historiography of the formation of a new, Soviet elite in the Baltic republics developed with a range of publications in the 1980s (Egil Levits, Romuald Misiunas, Rein Taagepera, and Adolfs Silde).6 Together with the changing political situation in the Baltic states and the opening of former Soviet archives new research evolved (David Feest, Olaf Mertelsmann, William Prigge, Gerhard Simon, Geoffrey Swain, and Tõnu Tannberg).7 The political elites of the Baltic

5

6

7

(New York-Oxford, 2000); Lewin, Rebuilding the Soviet Nomenklatura; Yoram Gorlizki and Oleg Khlevnuk, Cold Peace: Stalin and the Soviet Ruling Circle, 1945–1953 (Oxford, 2004); and others. T.H. Rigby, Political Elites in the USSR: Central Leaders and Local Cadres from Lenin to Gorbachev (Aldershot, 1990); James R. Harris, The Great Urals: Regionalism and the Evolution of the Soviet System (Ithaca-New York, 1999); Kees Boterbloem, Life and Death under Stalin: Kalinin Province, 1945–1953 (Montreal-London, 1999); O. Khlevniuk, Sistema tsentr-regiony v 1930-1950-e gody: Predposylki politizatsii «nomenklatury» [The Center/Regions System between the 1930s and 1950s: The Events that conditioned the Politicization of the “Nomenklatura”], Cahiers du Monde russe 44 (2003), pp. 253–68; V. Mokhov, Regional’naia politicheskaia elita Rossii (1945–1991) [The Regional Political Elite of Russia (1945–1991)] (Perm’, 2003); O. Khlevniuk, Regional’naia vlast’ v SSSR v 1953 – kontse 1950-kh gg.: Ustoichivnost’ i konflikty [Regional Power in the USSR from 1953 till the End of the 1950s: Stability and Conflicts], Otechestvennaia istoriia 14 (2001), No. 3, pp. 31–49; and others. A ‘regional’ direction in the research of elites and the relation between the center and the regions led also to the publication of document volumes. For example: V.V. Denisov et al. (comps.), TsK VKP(b) i regional’nye partiinye komitety, 1945–1953 (Moscow, 2005); O.V. Khlevniuk et al. (comps.), Regional’naia politika N.S. Khrushcheva: TsK KPSS i mestnye partiinye komitety 1953–1964 gg. (Moscow, 2009); V.Iu. Vasil’ev et al. (comps.), Politicheskoe rukovodstvo Ukrainy, 1938–1989 gg. (Moscow, 2006). Romuald Misiunas and Rein Taagepera, The Baltic States: Years of Dependence, 1940– 1980 (London, 1983); Egil Levits, National Elites and Their Political Function within the Soviet System: The Latvian Elite, Journal of Baltic Studies XVIII (1987), pp. 176–90; Adolfs Silde, The Role of Russian-Latvians in the Sovietization of Latvia, ibid., pp. 191–208. Geoffrey Swain, “Cleaning up Soviet Latvia”: The Bureau for Latvia (Latburo), 1944–1947, Olaf Mertelsmann (ed.), The Sovietization of the Baltic States, 1940–1956 (Tartu, 2003), pp. 63–84; William Prigge, The Latvian Purges of 1959: A Revision Study, Journal of Baltic Studies 35 (2004), pp. 211–30; Gerhard Simon, Entkolonialisierung in der Sowjetunion: Die neuen nationalen Eliten in den sowjetischen Unionsrepubliken seit den 1950er Jahren, Florian Anton and Leonid Luks (eds.), Deutschland, Russland und das Baltikum: Beiträge zur Geschichte wechselvoller Beziehungen (Cologne, 2005); David Feest, Neo-korenizacija in den baltischen Sowjetrepubliken? Die Kommunistische Partei Estlands

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republics were a special case. The construction of new national elites in Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania became an important element in the process of Sovietization, a construction that went hand-in-hand with the incorporation of those republics into the Soviet system. Assessment of these people, who presided in the Sovietization process that took place, differs up to the present because of a polarity of judgments, not only in public opinion or the media, but also among historians. One group sees them as collaborators making use of the situation for their personal advantage. Others interpret the Baltic leadership as carriers and practitioners of the idea of national communism intending to soften the process of Sovietization for their republics. When speaking about political elites, among them national political elites, precise definitions are always needed. The understanding of ‘political elite’ has no apparent boundaries, especially in the Soviet case.8 Egil Levits analyzes the ‘national elite’ from a sociological perspective – investigating the share of representatives of non-Russian ethnicity, whose privileged situation was related, after all, with the developing framework in which they received major material and immaterial advantages – power, influence, privileges and prestige.9 In this paper, I use the concept of ‘national political elite’ for a circle of persons belonging to the titular nationality (Estonians, Latvians, and Lithuanians) that held key positions in the power structures and administration. First of all, they were leading figures in the Soviet political hierarchy of the republic – the first secretaries of the Central Committee (CC) of the republican communist party (CP) and the chairmen of the governments of the republic (Sovmin, Sovnarkom), and then party and government leaders of ‘second rank’ like the chairmen of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet, ministers and CC secretaries, who because of their status or authority could influence political decisions. In this manner the national political elite represented the top of the party-state nomenklatura. There is a difference between ‘national’ and ‘regional’ political elites. The latter consists of the leading cadres of the republics and regions and includes not only representatives of the titular ethnic group but

8 9

nach dem Zweiten Weltkrieg, Zeitschrift für Geschichtswissenschaft 54 (2006), pp. 263– 80; idem, Zwangskollektivierung im Baltikum: Die Sowjetisierung des estnischen Dorfes 1944–1953 (Cologne-Weimar-Vienna, 2007); Olaf Mertelsmann, Der stalinistische Umbau in Estland: Von der Markt- zur Kommandowirtschaft (Hamburg, 2006); Tynu (Tõnu) Tannberg, Politika Moskvy v respublikahk Baltii v poslevoennye gody: Issledovanniia i dokumenty [The Politics of Moscow in the Baltic Republics in the Postwar Years: Research and Documents] (Tartu, 2008). This peculiarity is recognized by most of the authors dealing with the subject, for example: Mawdsley, White, The Soviet Elite from Lenin to Gorbachev, p. vi. Levits, National Elites, p. 176.

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also others (Russians, Jews, Poles etc). In this context a regional elite covers a broader understanding than a national elite. The place and role of national elites in the Soviet political hierarchy is defined by their double function in the configuration of the relation between center and periphery. According to Egil Levits, the special functions of national elites of non-Russian peoples include the enforcement of the politics of the center in the non-Russian periphery and the presentation and defense of the particular national interests.10 In respect to this, one has to remark that belonging to the titular ethnos did not guarantee that the person in power acts and leads first of all in the national interest. In addition, representatives of a non-titular ethnos cannot be seen only as enforcers of the interests of the center and the center’s agent of influence. The national awareness is often to a higher degree related to historical roots then to a formal provenience from a concrete ethnos. In the framework of this paper, I discuss as national political elite the representatives of the titular ethnos in the power structures. A great deal has been written about the mechanisms of the formation and make-up of the Soviet elite of the Baltic republics. My aims include the attempt to draw a collective portrait of the national political elite of the ‘first generation’ or the ‘first admission’. They belonged to the ‘Stalin generation’.11 The national elite of the Baltic republics represented not only a political, but also a sociocultural phenomenon – it is with this in mind that the elite is analyzed in this paper. The representatives possessed a number of qualities and admitted identities, which made these elites different from the ‘titular’ elites of a Soviet type. Exploring the identities of the national elites of the Baltic republics is related to enormous problems with sources. First of all, there are not enough ego-documents, and then the majority of preserved sources of this type, like memoirs or letters, suffered from censoring and do not contain enough reliable information. We only have sufficient sources to help us imagine the process of formation of new elites and their qualities. The first elite generation in the Baltic republics has received a critical assessment by experts: they acted mainly in accordance with Moscow’s direction 10 11

Ibid., p. 177. There are different approaches of classification of the Soviet elites. Evan Mawdsley and Stephen White, for example, use two indicators of classification – the historical period and the year of birth. In relation to historical periods they speak about ‘revolutionary elite’, ‘early Stalinist elite’, ‘late Stalinist elite’, and ‘post-Stalin elite’, for the years of 1917–23, 1923– 39, 1939–56, and 1956–81. The term ‘generation’ or ‘age cohort’ fits according to both authors for persons being born until 1901 (‘first generation’ of elite), 1901–20 (‘second generation’) and 1920–40 (‘third generation’). Mawdsley, White, The Soviet Elite from Lenin to Gorbachev, p. 92.

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and were more the enforcers of the center’s policy in the periphery than leaders with a national orientation.12 Several historians date the formation of national elites who were orientated towards national interests with the period of the ‘thaw’ after the death of Stalin. Representatives of this generation of the nonRussian elites, argues Gerhard Simon, were the first to have an impact on the de-stabilization of the Soviet system by establishing protectionist policies in their republics.13 Many well-known experts agree, but they ignore one problem: the ‘Stalin generation’ and the ‘Khrushchev generation’ of the Baltic elites are with some exceptions the same people. They were the same persons acting in a different setting. Because of this, the same Johannes Käbin, who immediately after coming to power as a result of the purge in 1950 asked Moscow to send ‘more Russian cadres’ to Estonia and obviously trusted ‘Russian experience’, would explain a decade later – of course carefully – that the national peculiarity of Estonia meant that certain ‘Russian’ experiments were not suited to Estonian soil. National protectionism existed in different often hidden forms in the policy of Baltic leaders already before 1953. Only the death of Stalin allowed them more room for maneuver as a result of the Kremlin’s ‘new course’ in relation to the national republics. The ability to tack and adapt to the environment is an essential quality for a politician. The Baltic leaders of the ‘Stalin enlistment’ possessed those abilities. The formation of an elite within the ‘first wave’ in Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania appeared in 1940 and 1944. In 1944, the cadres from 1940 returned to power with the exception of Estonia, where the leadership changed. Instead of Karl Säre as first party secretary, Nikolai Karotamm was appointed and Johannes Lauristin, who died during evacuation in 1941, was replaced by Arnold Veimer. The principles for choosing the new elite remained in 1944 the same as in 1940. This meant both groups of appointees were members of the ‘first enlistment’. The enlistment was special. Among them were ‘long-living’ politicians like Antanas Sniečkus and Johannes Käbin, or a ‘mayfly’ like Karl Säre, who’s final fate remains unclear.14 From their background and political experience 12 13 14

Levits, National Elites, p. 177; Simon, Entkolonialisierung in der Sowjetunion, p. 277. Simon, Entkolonialisierung in der Sowjetunion, p. 277. In 1941, Karl Säre stayed in Estonia to conduct underground activities and was arrested by the Germans. His name appeared for the last time in a trial in Copenhagen in 1943, where Soviet special services were accused of the preparation of terrorist acts against Estonian communists. Säre appeared as a witness. In the last years of his life he was a prisoner – first in Charlottenburg in Berlin and then in the concentration camp Sachsenhausen. Obviously, he was executed by the end of war, Toomas Hiio, Meelis Maripuu and Indrek Paavle (eds.), Estonia 1940 – 1945: Reports of the Estonian International Commission for the Investigation of Crimes Against Humanity (Tallinn, 2006), p. 1173. In the Soviet Union,

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this might have been the most interesting and ‘colorful’ generation of leaders in the Baltic republics. Regardless of internal differences, the representatives of this group shared a common fate that allows us to speak about a ‘Stalinist cohort’ of Baltic leaders in a socio-cultural understanding of one generation. They were similar according to demographic criteria. The majority came to power at a comparatively young age for a politician – in 1940 they were aged 37–38 or a bit older, meaning that they were born between 1899 and 1903. A ‘patriarch’ like Augusts Kirhenšteins was an exception and fulfilled mainly a representative function. They were all born in the Russian Empire and spoke Russian fluently. In comparison with the Soviet elites of the old republics, the Baltic leaders were more educated. The majority had finished secondary education and even entered university. There was one more peculiarity of the ‘Stalin generation’; it was in comparison with the other republics a most ‘incorrect’ elite generation because of a lack of ‘correct’ cadres in the Baltic republics from Moscow’s perspective. The Kremlin had to choose among those available. When did the Kremlin begin considering the ‘project’ of forming a new Baltic elite? Obviously, this was not on Moscow’s agenda as late as 1939. This task could not have appeared before the project of a Sovietization of the Baltic states, i.e. in the year 1939. Real preparations began only in 1940 when the annexation of the Baltic states became fact. The new elite were to fill in the leading positions and foster Sovietization. The governments in the three Baltic states that were formed after the posing of the ultimata in June 1940, the ‘June governments’, possessed a transitional character, i.e. they were pro-Soviet but not yet Soviet. Members of government were selected by Moscow so as not to appear too ‘red’. The elites turned ‘red’, i.e. communist, only when the decision to incorporate the Baltic states into the USSR had been made. From this moment onward, one might speak about the formation of new political elites. The order to form new ruling circles in the Baltic republics came directly from the Kremlin. The result of the process of elite construction became a compromise between the desired and the possible. If the choice of candidates had been according to the ‘ideal model’, they would have had to fulfill the following criteria: first, possess the trust of the Kremlin, i.e. as promising agents of influence; second, they could not lead to an alienation of the population; third, they had to have strong enough character to hold the situation in the region under control while knowing the boundaries between their own competences and the prerogatives of the center. Relying on the Communist Party Säre was seen as a ‘traitor to the motherland’, Rossiiskii Gosudarstvennyi arkhiv sotsial’nopoliticheskoi istorii (Russian State Archive of Socio-Political History, RGASPI) f. 17, o. 131, d. 256, l. 117.

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was a precondition for the formation of national elites, especially the higher ranks. Concerning trust, this means the persons had to have in the past a connection to Moscow or Russia.15 In this case, we can speak about the survivors of the purges of Comintern (Communist International) cadres or so called representatives of the titular ethnos – Estonians, Latvians and Lithuanians living in Russia. Identifying such persons was not a huge problem – especially when initially ‘Russian’ Estonians, Latvians and Lithuanians were stressed. The problem was how should the new elite ‘blend into’ its environment, i.e. to what extent did they receive acceptance or loyalty from the local establishment. First, the chance of acceptance by the real ‘our’ people, that is those from the titular ethnos who lived in the Baltic states prior to the Soviet invasion; second, by those people possessing some standing in their country; third, any connection to Moscow should not be too obvious so as not to be seen as ‘agents’. In actuality, not only did the demands of the Kremlin ruling elite and the national establishment not coincide on major issues, but in fact they contradicted one another. The center could not ignore the attitude of society towards the new leaders. The new leaders needed to become the ‘face’ of Soviet power. Because of this, the ‘faces’ needed to be acceptable. The image of the power needed to secure their prestige in the eyes of the establishment. Examining the attitude and mentality of the Baltic population, the necessary image might be characterized as one of cultured Soviet power (kul’turnaia sovetskaia vlast’). The governing elite for the Baltic republics was created from a compromise approach between Moscow’s political interest in controlling the region and the need to create a positive image of the new Soviet power among the population. Normally for the characterization and classification of the new leaders, two criteria were used: ethnicity and having lived in the Baltic states until 1940. But if we draw up a collective portrait of the Baltic elites, these criteria seem to be insufficient. When examining those who gained these powerful positions, it is necessary to use other criteria, more adequate and complex, concerning their origins, political pasts and experiences of social adaptation. We might identify three groups among the first wave of Baltic elites: ‘underground communists’, ‘intellectuals’ and ‘Russian Balts’. The underground communists were not homogenous, but might be divided into two categories: employees of Comintern and political prisoners, i.e. people spending a certain time in prison in their native country and thus having as a 15

David Feest in his analysis of the power base in the Estonian leadership writes that Moscow’s trust was extended to only those functionaries, who had been in the sphere of influence of the Kremlin (Feest, Zwangskollektivierung im Baltikum, p. 59).

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result no strong connection with Moscow. They and others had experience in underground work in their native country and a prison background – a catalog of revolutionary merits usually deemed necessary to the creation of a myth of Soviet communist power. Usually, a shared ethnic origin and state citizenship worked to develop a loyal relationship between the population and the ‘illegals’. In addition, the former political prisoners could count on the sympathy of those parts of society who had been critical of the previous authoritarian regimes, as compassion for their imprisonment forms part of human nature. During the establishment of the new organs of power in August and September 1940, for obvious reasons, Moscow preferred people with a Comintern background. The Comintern was a genuine forge for national communist cadres; however, activity in the Comintern until 1939 did not prepare them for the tasks related to the formation of new governing communist elites. The international cadres of the Comintern formed more of a counter-elite, training for illegal activities in their countries. Besides that, recent and former employees of the Comintern did not automatically have the trust of the Kremlin. In 1936, the Comintern, her special schools and other institutions had to live through a purge of ‘spies and saboteurs’. On the ‘black list’ of the Communist Party, ‘disorderly in provocation’ (according to the characteristic by Dmitrii Manuil’skii), we find among others the Estonian, Latvian and Lithuanian CP(b).16 In addition, Baltic political émigrés became victims of the Great Terror of 1937–38. The Kremlin viewed the surviving cadres from the ranks of political émigrés and the Comintern as purge survivors, passing a test of reliability and becoming in 1940 the main resource to establish the national elites in the Baltic republics. The leading positions of first secretary were given to people with Comintern backgrounds – Karl Säre in Estonia, Jānis Kalnbērziņš in Latvia and Antanas Sniečkus in Lithuania. The work experience in Comintern organizations became without a doubt an important factor in preparing the new Baltic communist leaders to the Soviet system of governance. First, the familiarity with communication in the circles of the Soviet party elite, especially the central groups, was helpful in acquiring acquaintances and contacts useful in the future. Second, the experience served to provide a source of information on the correct behavior and manners of the Soviet party establishment – important knowledge on how to successfully understand the rules of the game on how to maneuver between the interests of the center and the republic. 16

Politburo TsK RKP(b) – VKP(b) i Komintern, 1919–1943: Dokumenty (Moscow, 2004), p. 728.

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The second group of communists with party membership before 1940 were members of the underground and political prisoners, who had never been to the USSR before 1940. They learned their political lessons not in the schools of the Comintern, but mostly in prison. Because of this, they had neither the Comintern experience nor the connections. For Moscow, they were a ‘special case’. What counted on their side was that in the eyes of the Baltic population, they held a certain political authority as former prisoners and to a degree, past independence from patrons in Moscow. In Latvia they were called ‘former members of the underground’, in Estonia ‘former political prisoners’. In Soviet Latvia, the ‘former underground’ came to power, but not to leading positions. The former secretary of the illegal Latvian CP, Fricis Deglavs, headed the republican Gosplan and Ivans Trinklers received the position of Deputy Chairman of Sovmin. A special situation developed in Estonia where the ‘former political prisoners’ held key positions in the party and state structures in 1940, especially in 1944. To this group belonged the head of government, Arnold Veimer, his deputy Hendrik Allik, the ministers Georg Abels, Boris Kumm, Aleksander Resev and other figures one rank below. The unity of the ‘old political prisoners’ was formed by their special experience of arrest and long period together in prison. By early 1924 many communists in Estonia, practically all the active members, had been arrested and brought to trial in November 1924 in the ‘trial of the 149’, when long-term prison sentences were passed and thirty nine persons received lifelong forced labor. Most of them served fourteen years in the central prison in Tallinn, Patarei. These sentences served in one place created a certain social cohesion among the political prisoners, uniting their social views. The experience of community in a special social setting and the familiarization with each other during those extreme conditions became a social glue. This friendship bound from within and closed to ‘strangers’ turned into one reason for conflicts in the Estonian leadership. Hendrik Allik possessed the greatest authority among the political prisoners after an amnesty for the illegal Estonian CP. Everything indicated that he should lead the republic after the events of 1940 like Sniečkus in Lithuania. However, something else happened. Instead of appointing Allik, a figure popular in leftist Estonian circles but unknown in Moscow, Karl Säre was given the position – as ‘one of us’ for the Kremlin, from the ranks of the ‘vetted’ Comintern veterans. Allik became People’s Commissar of Trade, a responsible position in the new government. In replacing Säre, Nikolai Karotamm was appointed first secretary in September 1944 and had to accept the dominating role of the ‘old political prisoners’ in the Estonian leadership and of being

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under their influence. Nevertheless, from time to time he complained about his subordinated position in Moscow at the CC VKP(b).17 The independent position of the ‘old underground’ in relation to the other leaders of the republic and especially towards the ‘arrivals’, was mentioned also by Moscow’s controllers in Latvia.18 The ‘underground’ in Latvia and the ‘former political prisoners’ in Estonia attempted not only to distance themselves from Moscow’s messengers, but tried to execute a policy in the interests of their republic and not of the center – as far as this was possible under the circumstances. Possessing less experience in working for their Kremlin patrons, they cared less for political correctness. Because of that, they did not shy away from criticizing policies of the central powers and tried to communicate with them as equals – a manner not used by former Comintern employees. When in 1944 the decision was made to unite some Estonian territory in the east with the Pskov oblast’ of the Russian SFSR, Allik wrote a letter to Karotamm in which he called the reunification “an annexation contradicting the Atlantic Charter”. When he was reprimanded afterwards for his use of words at the Plenum of the Central Committee of the ECP, Allik responded that this was a “misplaced and stupid joke”.19 Allik, endowed by nature with an ironic and sharp tongue, would make additional remarks on one or another directive from the Kremlin. Following his initial experience with collectivization in Estonia, he said: “When traveling, you immediately see who is a peasant and who a kolkhoznik. The one sitting around and smoking is the kolkhoznik, the one working, the independent peasant.”20 17

18

19

20

In one letter addressed to the secretary of the Central Committee of the VKP(b), Georgii Malenkov, Nikolai Karotamm wrote about the attitude of the ‘old political prisoners’: “One might say that from this group nobody establishes private contacts with me. In the nine years of work as secretary of the CC of the ECP, those old political prisoners never did invite me once to their home, to their meetings or parties. ... They never saw me as ‘one of them’, but as a ‘new arrival’ sent to work to the Estonian SSR by the Central Committee of the VKP” (RGASPI f. 17, o. 131, d. 81, l. 244). The Head of the Bureau for Latvia of the CC VKP(b) V. Riazanov wrote to Moscow: “They all are in a kind of opposition towards the party leadership of the republic, gossiping about the old days of underground work when Deglavs was secretary of the CC.” Further on he recommends a solution: “This group represents a certain danger and if we do not neutralize them, they might negatively influence the readiness of combat of the party and her authority among the population” (RGASPI f. 600, o. 1, d. 23, l. 18). Dokladnaia zapiska otvetstvennogo kontora KPK pri TsK VKP(b) V. Ushchentseva G.M. Malenkovu, March 1951, RGASPI f. 17, o. 131, d. 256, l. 203. Remark by the translator: Estonia received the territories under question from Soviet Russia according to the Tartu Peace Treaty of 1920; they were mainly inhabited by Russians. Ibid., l. 204.

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Among the Estonian ‘former political prisoners’, some dared to ask Moscow ‘unpleasant’ questions, such as why the leadership of the ECP who were living in the USSR during the Great Terror was purged.21 Or why did state security arrest former inmates of the Tallinn prison, accusing them of anti-Soviet activities? The letter containing the question, addressed to Karotamm, was signed by Veimer, Allik, Abels and other ‘old political prisoners’ and requested that those imprisoned be allowed to petition the CC VKP(b). The petition had already been declined by Soviet state security.22 Obviously among the Baltic political elites, it was the ‘former underground’ and the ‘old political prisoners’ who espoused the idea of national communism. The Kremlin tolerated their existence in the republican leadership for the time being, like national communists were tolerated in positions of power in Eastern Europe. In Eastern Europe, they were replaced by the late 1940s and early 1950s. In the Baltic republics, the purge of the Estonian leadership in 1950, the ‘Estonian affair’, echos this general process. The second group in the national political elites might be characterized as intellectuals. They arrived into positions of power from science, literature, or journalism and originated from educated circles of society: Augusts Kirhenšteins and Vilis Lācis in Latvia, Justas Paleckis and Mečys Gedvilas in Lithuania, Johannes Vares-Barbarus and Hans Kruus in Estonia. Their cooption into the power structures offered the new regime the support and gloss that only the authority of an influential cultural figure can bring, and provided necessary support for the policy of Sovietization in the Baltic republics. Apart from that, the ‘intellectuals’ being transferred from the ‘June governments’ to the Soviet administrative structure demonstrated a visual continuity of power. They were representatives of the national intelligentsia, born and possessing a career in the homeland, and without any noteworthy contact (or sufficiently hidden) to the USSR until 1940. The ‘intellectuals’ of 1940 were of the first generation with a peasant or worker origin – thus adhering to the Soviet models of a ‘people’s intelligentsia’, practical for the construction of official legends. The ‘intellectuals’ had a leftist worldview, not necessarily communist – most of them joined the party only after the Soviet takeover, having been already appointed to new positions – hence the term ‘June communists’. Vares, Kruus and Kirhenšteins became party members, the latter only in 1941. When Paleckis received his party card, he already belonged for a long time to ‘like-minded’ people and had worked, in fact, since the early 1930s for the underground 21 22

N.G. Karotamm to G.M. Malenkov, 31 October 1950, ibid. d. 81, l. 232. Dokladnaia zapiska otvetstvennogo kontrolera KPK pri TsK VKP(b) V. Ushchentseva G.M. Malenkovu, March 1950, ibid. d. 256. l. 204.

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Communist Party. Lācis became a party member formally in 1928, but started political activities only in the Soviet period. The motives for some of the leading representatives of the national intelligentsia to join the party were diverse. Until 1940, such membership was not good for their career so people acted according to their personal conviction. The ‘German factor’ played a role, too. In the opinion of Alexander Shtromas, “after 1933 a number of ‘progressive intellectuals’ noting the increase of Nazi danger started to think about the possibility of incorporation of their country into the ‘internationalist’ Soviet Union and preferred this to the absorption into the Third Reich.”23 The new regime needed persons with a good reputation, at least during the stage of erecting the Soviet order. This explains why ‘intellectuals’, who according to tradition going back to Lenin were not loved by the Bolsheviks and could not really be trusted, received responsible positions in the new governments. In this case, ignoring principles and closing one’s eyes to problems in the biographies of potential candidates became a solution. Preferred were persons from the circles of ‘friends of the USSR’ and communists, but they were few. The ‘intellectuals’ found themselves under such close observation by Moscow’s controllers that they could not say or do anything out of the ordinary. Looking at the documents, the behavior of Augusts Kirhenšteins often appeared negative even to his colleagues, as he criticized the Soviet order more than once. The Head of the Bureau of CC VKP(b) for Latvia, V. Riazanov, complained about the ‘non party’ behavior of the professor: “Comrade Kirhenšteins … chatters a lot that comrades Kalnbērziņš, Lācis and Novik were turning the Latvian nation into a prison, executing a policy of destruction of Latvia.”24 The Baltic ‘intellectuals’ in comparison with their colleagues from the old republics had not yet adapted totally to the Soviet way and, regardless of the party card, only slowly appropriated the correct behavior, which could be characterized as following the party line. Maybe because of that, only a few remained long in the corridors of power. Hans Kruus and the other Estonians were driven out of political life in 1950, even before Johannes Vares-Barbarus died – he obviously shot himself in November 1946. In Latvia, Augusts Kirhenšteins left his post because of his age – in 1952 he became 80 years old. In 1956, Mečys Gedvilas resigned from the post of Chairman of Sovmin and served in the more humble position as Minister of Education of Lithuania. For nearly twenty years Vilis Lācis served as Chairman of Sovmin Latvia, resigning 23 24

Alexander Shtromas, Pribaltiiskie gosudarstva [The Baltic States], Problemy natsional’nyi otnoshenii v SSSR (po materialam zapadnoi pechati) (Moscow, 1989), p. 97. Otchet o rabote Biuro TsK VKP(b) po Latvii za 1946 g., RGASPI f. 600, o. 1, d. 23, l. 17–8.

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in 1959. Among those with more than twenty years tenure, only Justas Paleckis is the exception, as he ended his career as Chairman of the Council of Nationalities of the Supreme Soviet of the USSR. On the list of trusted persons, the Kremlin let representatives of the third group of Baltic leaders – Russian Balts – reach the top. Their rise to the higher ranks of power was especially remarkable in Estonia and Latvia. Concerning birthplace, ‘Russian’ Estonians and Latvians might be divided into two groups, born and growing up in Russia and born in Estonia or Latvia and emigrating to Russia at young age.25 Thus their socialization already took place in a different cultural environment and other political conditions. These people were more adapted to Russia than their fellow Estonians and Latvians living in the home country. They spoke little, if at all, in Estonian or Latvian terms, regarded themselves as more Russian than the usual Estonians or Latvians. At the same time, they could not always manage to become accepted as ‘one of us’ by Russians – we might speak about an ethnic marginal,26 a social category, which more than once became an object of political manipulation. A marginal does not have stable relations with the new surroundings, among which is a relation to the past; thus, the marginal can be quickly used for a political transformation and might be interested in it, because transformation means an increasing possibility for them to improve their social status. For the implementation of Sovietization in the Baltic republics ‘Russian’ Estonians and Latvians were the most suitable ‘human material’. First, because of their origin from the titular ethnos they could be formally seen as ‘ours’ and not as ‘arrivals’. Second, the fact that they already had been socialized into the Soviet order meant they could be more readily transformed into ‘Soviet people’, better adapted to Soviet reality. Third, several among them were party and economic functionaries who already knew the manner of communication with the power structures. They already possessed instrumental preparedness to fulfill their functions. Finally, the majority of ‘Russian Balts’ returned to their ‘historic motherland’ with improved status, which they owed to Moscow and in that sense they depended on Moscow. Actually, ‘Russian’ Estonian or Latvian functionaries were never accepted as ‘one of us’ or ‘locals’ among the population. Often they were seen as ‘traitors’

25 26

This kind of classification is offered, for example, by Adolfs Silde using ‘Russian Latvians’: Silde, The Role of Russian-Latvians, p. 192 Egil Levits writes in relation to this topic about ‘Russifying marginal groups’ having, for example, a certain dominating position among the national political elite in Latvia, Levits, National Elites, p. 178.

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to the national interests and worse than ‘real’ Russians.27 In order to not stir up the public sentiment, ‘Russian Balts’ received initially second or third ranking positions. The positions of first party secretary and head of government were usually held by ‘one of us’ – members of the titular nation who had lived in their country before 1940. The first exchange of ‘local’ for ‘Russian Balts’ happened in Estonia in 1950, when Nikolai Karotamm was replaced by Johannes Käbin and Arnold Veimer by Aleksei Müürisepp. As we see, the governing Baltic elite of the ‘first generation’ was not a homogenous group. Many of them did not even match the standard desired by Moscow. They had to pass the phase of transforming themselves into a Soviet style elite and building a common image related to Soviet models. This meant construction of, or ‘ascribing’, to a new Soviet identity (in analogy to the process identified by Sheila Fitzpatrick as ascribing class).28 For this, it was necessary to construct for everybody a personal legend, a biography fitting for a Soviet politician. The construction of personal legends – the base of image building – does not mean automatically the faking of a biography, but this happened, too. Often it represented normal manipulation of facts, episodes of life not fitting were ignored and some special incident was identified as leading to a ‘historical choice’. The personal legend was the official biography of a person to be distributed. This portrait of a hero was exposed for the general view. This kind of portrait was written with the help of official biographic information, election posters, authorized descriptions of life and, last but not least, personal testimonies in a kind of ‘memoirs’. Using those sources one can name some common features in the personal legends of the Baltic political elites: 1. worker or peasant origin; 2. belonging to the titular nation; 3. ‘difficult childhood’ and beginning to work early in life; 4. revolutionary merits; 5. joining the party at one of the key moments in life; 6. active participation in the events 1940; 7. service during the war; 8. leading position after the war. A well-fitting legend served as a ‘business card’ and allowed entrance into the ranks of the Soviet governing elite. The main differences in the personal legends of Baltic leaders in comparison to the standard Soviet version were the fixed national identity and participation in 1940. 27

28

When Johannes Käbin arrived in Sweden in 1956 as a member of a delegation of the Supreme Soviet of the USSR, the democratic press under influence of Estonian émigrés called him a ‘red traitor’, Aleksander Kaelas, Das sowjetisch besetzte Estland (Stockholm, 1958), p. 124. Sheila Fitzpatrick, Ascribing Class: The Construction of Social Identity in Soviet Russia, Journal of Modern History 65 (1993), pp. 745–70.

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Among all the members of the ‘first class’, only one person fulfilled all the ‘classical’ criteria – Jānis Kalnbērziņš. The others presumably did not have a ‘model’ career. Some of the Baltic leaders had problems with their social origin and the property owned by their parents, like Antanas Sniečkus29 and Arnold Veimer30, some possessed only a dubious revolutionary record, like Nikolai Karotamm31 or were lacking one totally (Johannes Käbin and Aleksei Müürisepp). Vilis Lācis was ‘excused’ for his Trotskyite sympathies and his criticism of Stalin in an earlier period. The Baltic leaders spent the war usually in the Soviet hinterland and did not receive decorations at the front. Because of this, the biographies of nearly all Baltic politicians needed improvement in one way or another to adapt them to the necessary standard. The most ‘Soviet’ careers was made by Käbin and Müürisepp whose political life followed more the ‘calm’ career track of the nomenklatura if we ignore the career jump in 1940–41. The construction of personal legends and fitting them to the standard did not guarantee the absolute trust of the Kremlin in the regional leaders, which could have led to careers in the highest ranks of Soviet nomenklatura. Only select members of the Baltic political elite left the regional level and entered the governing elite of the USSR. A formal criterion of belonging to the central 29

30

31

In the official biographical information on the Lithuanian leader Antanas Sniečkus for a long time no special attention was given to his social origin. Nothing was said at all or only the imprecise notion of ‘from employee background’ was mentioned. In fact, Sniečkus was born in a better-off peasant family and his father served for nearly thirty years as village elder. The mother did not accept Soviet power and immigrated to the US, where she died in 1948. Only later in his life time did he write in biographies ‘from better-off peasants’. In the official biography of Arnold Veimer his origin is given as “born in a family of rural farmhands”. In reality, his father rented a mill. In Veimer’s memoirs published in the USSR he explains his background in the following way: “In many ways my brother, a student from Petrograd, helped me with learning. … Martin spoke at length with us. … I was only interested in how we are situated. If we have a mill, are we masters or toilers? Martin replied: The mill is not owned by father, but by the landowner. We are not masters but tenants.” A.T. Veimer, Mechty i sversheniia [Daydream and Fulfilment] (Moscow, 1974), pp. 34–5. Among the communist elite in the Baltic republics with a Comintern background, Nikolai Karotamm represents an interesting phenomenon. In the communist movement and in politics in general his quick career occurred more by accident. He entered the field by coincidence and participated because of personal adventurism. Until 1926, no special social activities by Karotamm appeared. He served in the Estonian army, after this he lived with his wife in the countryside and then left searching for an occupation in the Netherlands. When he entered the VKP(b), Estonian communists recommending him wrote that he had actively participated in the uprising of workers in Tallinn on 1 December 1924. In his own autobiography Karotamm stressed the opposite: “I did not participate in the revolutionary movement, in workers’ organizations or the uprising of 1 December.” This did not hinder his receiving a party ticket.

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elite was membership in the CC CPSU and other leading structures of power at the center.32 The first secretaries entered the Union CC, but Kalnbērziņš was the only one from the ‘first wave’ to become a candidate for membership in the Presidium of CC CPSU. For a characterization of administrative practices in the Soviet system, it is crucial to understand the relation between the center and the periphery. Regarding this, we should ask whether the representatives of the national political elites were ‘masters’ or simply ‘administrators’ of their republics? The Baltic national elites, as in other national regions of the USSR, were in a dubious situation. This difficulty lay in the conflict between the demands of the center and the expectations of the local population. The leaders of national republics had to balance between the necessity of following the course of Moscow, i.e. transmitting the center’s policy in the region, and attempting to preserve their face and the interest of the republic. This balance was related not only to how much the proposed change did not threaten the center’s interests, but also to how the proposed change could increase career opportunities. If the priority only took into account the interests of the republic, one could easily end up in the ranks of ‘bourgeois nationalists’ and lose one’s privileged status. The rules of the game in both cases were constructed and changed by the Kremlin as the boundary of expressing ‘national interests’. The leaders of the old republics knew this fact well. The Baltic politicians stumbled into the Soviet political elite relatively late and had to work out their own experience in communication with Moscow. They were forced to learn the difference between the state’s rhetoric and its real aims, maneuvering in a system of permission and prohibition. The Baltic leaders, as other regional politicians, were included in the Soviet system of patron-client relationships, having their own unofficial ‘bosses’ in Moscow who they used as informal contacts. At the same time, contacts with the leading person in the country, Stalin, were reduced to a minimum. Understandably, meetings that took place occurred on the initiative of Stalin, who obviously did not see the necessity for steady contacts. According to the notes in the journal of visitors to Stalin’s office in the Kremlin, the Soviet leader met with the new communist Baltic leaders only three times and, characteristically, he convened them all together at the same time, indicating protocol rather than a confidential nature to the meeting. This first happened in August 1940 after the incorporation of the Baltic states; the second occurred in August 1944 in preparation for the liberation of the Baltic republics from the Germans and the 32

See for example Mawdsley, White, The Soviet Elite from Lenin to Gorbachev.

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third, in January 1949 in preparation for mass deportations and the collectivization of agriculture.33 The Baltic leaders had no other meetings with Stalin in his office according to the journal of visitors.34 Stalin delegated communication with them to his lieutenants, the other secretaries of the Central Committee: Zhdanov, Malenkov, and Suslov. Stalin’s relationship to the Baltic leaders was in sharp contrast to his activities and the attention he paid to the ‘Baltic question’ in 1939 and 1940. In person, he did ‘work’ with the stubborn Baltic leaders of that time and did not regret the time spent meeting with them. Obviously, receiving what he wanted in the summer of 1940, Stalin saw affairs at his level as settled allowing him to keep a distance to the Baltic region afterwards. At present, it is difficult to judge with the help of the available documents how intensive the relationship was between the Baltic leaders and their patrons in the Kremlin. According to the official correspondence, Baltic politicians were not regular visitors to the Kremlin’s offices, and showed up, as a rule, for required events, such as dealing with questions of their republic in the Central Committee, participation in a CC Plenum, conferences etc or in case of emergency (for example during the ‘Estonian affair’). This means, the initiative behind such contacts lay with Moscow. The documents demonstrate that Baltic politicians more than once turned to the Central Committee or to Stalin requesting a meeting. They did not receive an answer.35 Similar behavior by the Moscow patron can be related to the distinct tradition of communication between the center and periphery. Moscow more than once linked her special relation towards the Baltic republics to the once existing ‘special status’ of the region or adapted the policy in the region to the difficult post-war situation, when armed resistance to the Soviets existed. Such an approach by the Kremlin put the Baltic leaders in a special situation, which they attempted to exploit. The specific behavior of the Baltic politicians might be seen in conflict situations. Those conflicts appeared on two levels: with the center and inside the republic. The first conflicts between the republican leadership and structures representing the center occurred already in the last period of the war, when large units of the Red Army were stationed in the Baltic republics. Together with them, Soviet power returned from the hinterland. The conflict stemmed from 33 34

35

Posetiteli Kremlevskogo kabineta Stalina, Istoricheskii arkhiv 1996, No. 5–6. It only stresses the fact that the leaders of the Baltic republics were rare guests in Stalin’s office in the Kremlin. In the journal of guests their names were written not seldom with mistakes and often in a different manner. Up to now, I have been unable to find in the archives of the CC VKP(b) documents confirming that initiatives from the Baltic side were taken to establish personal contacts.

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the attitude of soldiers who saw the Baltic republics as foreign, occupied territory and not a part of the USSR. In this context, for example, a disagreement developed between army commanders and the Lithuanian leadership. In Lithuania, the behavior of Soviet soldiers, in addition to their usual duties, included the robbing of the local population that lead to rightful indignation on the part of the republican leadership, Sniečkus and Gedvilas. They turned to the commander of the 3rd Belarusian Front with their complaints. In July 1944, the War Council of the front met the Lithuanian officials. Ivan Serov, Soviet Deputy People’s Commissar of the Interior, being at that moment in Lithuania participated in the meeting.36 Serov then informed his superior, Lavrentii Beriia, about the contents of the talks. Beriia thought the report to be important enough to notify Stalin about it.37 According to Serov, Sniečkus ‘raised his voice’ and said: “At the moment, Red Army soldiers and the War Council of the front regard us in the same way as fascist Germany and steal; we will have claims and that relation will not change.” He continued, “if such theft and disorder will persist in Kaunas, too, then our last sympathies for the Red Army will end.” After the representative of the commanders replied that one cannot judge an entire army according to the conduct of single soldiers, Sniečkus said that he was ready to confirm all the facts in the CC VKP(b) where he was a candidate member and intended to appeal it as first secretary of the LiCP.38 Sniečkus’ position in the above quotations is clear, he speaks in the name of Lithuania as the Lithuanian national leader – we, at us, our. He does not differentiate between himself, as the representative of power, and the Lithuanian nation. Because of this, ‘we’ have ‘pretensions’ and not the ‘population’: “we will have pretensions”; “our last sympathies for the Red Army will end.” In the opposition ‘we – them’, the Red Army appears as an external, foreign, ‘nonLithuanian’ factor with whom ‘relations are established’, whereas the equality of sides in the establishment of relations was an important feature in preserving ‘sympathy’. Sniečkus positions himself (and the Lithuanian power structures) as the supreme power in the region and demands the acceptance of this status and that his views be taken into account.

36

37 38

Serov headed the operation to destroy units of the Polish Armia Krajowa active on Lithuanian territory. Nikita Petrov, Pervyi predsedatel’ KGB Ivan Serov [The First Head of the KGB Ivan Serov] (Moscow, 2005), pp. 35–7. Dokladnaia zapiska L.P. Beriia I.V. Stalinu, 24 June 1944, Gosudarstvennyi arkhiv Rossiiskoi Federatsii (State Archives of the Russian Federation, GARF) f. 9401, o. 2, d. 66, l. 27. Ibid.

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Another reason for conflicts between region and center were differences on economic questions. Apart from the army, many ‘observers,’ appeared in the Baltic republics – plenipotentiaries of diverse central institutions like Sovnarkom, Gosplan or people’s commissariats. Problems between the plenipotentiaries and regional powers were not uncommon. The cause of conflict lay, in fact, in the position and behavior of the ‘observers’. Formally, their assignment included ‘giving help’ and offering necessary consultations to the republican powers concerning questions of reconstruction after the war. At times the ‘consultants’ and ‘helpers’ behaved like ‘controllers’, regardless of rules against interfering in local affairs and or using a commanding tone without the possibility of appeal in communication. Such behavior might have worked in the ‘old republics’, where an ‘official from Moscow’ received respect because of his status. But in the Baltic republics, Moscow’s emissaries had to deal with a different setting, with an undefined culture of relations between the center and periphery, between ‘superior’ and ‘subordinate’. In official speak, this was called ‘national peculiarity’. Baltic politicians reacted allergically to the ‘import’ of workforce and specialists from other regions of the USSR. More than once, this led to a conflict between the center and the region.39 The fact that officials of different ranks from the Baltic republics allowed themselves certain liberties in communication with Moscow and her representatives was not accidental. Among the ruling circles of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania – especially in the post-war years – there still existed the illusion of independence or, at least, sufficient room for maneuver. According to the correspondence of the Estonian party leadership with the Central Committee of the VKP(b), for example, the Estonian politicians thought seriously that “Moscow waits for their initiatives, proposal and recommendations”.40 An analogous attitude can be seen by reading the documents sent from Vilnius or Riga to Moscow. One has to add that the Kremlin’s rhetoric worked in such a way as to fortify and develop this illusion. From the center came the message of how necessary it is to learn about national peculiarities and how important local initiatives are. 39

40

One example of such a conflict was the behavior of the Deputy Chairman of the Estonian Sovnarkom, Arnold Kress. In 1944 after the liberation of Estonia from German forces, Kress received an order from Lazar Kaganovich, Soviet People’s Commissar of Transport, on the ‘strengthening’ of the Estonian railways with new leading cadres. The list of persons accompanying the order made it clear that those cadres were not of Estonian origin. After every name Kress put a question mark and commented on the end of the document: “Unheard-of!” To himself he said: “The Estonian railways functioned perfectly without Russians.” Feest, Neo-korenizacija, p. 272. Ibid.

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In that situation, success went to the person who could differentiate between words and intentions and knew the permissible boundaries. To understand the details of the relationship between Baltic politicians and the center, the conflict between the Lithuanian Sovmin and the Soviet Ministry of Finances in 1949 serves as a good example.41 This ‘financial story’ was interesting not only because of the result in favor of the republic, but also because of the personality of the Chairman of Sovmin, Mečys Gedvilas, on the Lithuanian side. Arguing for the correctness of his position, he appealed to the norm of Soviet legislation, translating the conflict into the legal sphere and only loosely relating it to Soviet administrative culture. At the same time, this 41

In August 1949, the Lithuanian government decided to allocate another 315,000 rubles from the republican budget for ‘the improvement of everyday services’ for leading cadres. This was meant to cover expenses for health resorts and to pay a premium. According to the general Soviet practice, all changes in the republican government budget had to be approved by the Soviet Minister of Finances and the Union government. The Chairman of the Lithuanian Council of Ministers, Mečys Gedvilas, did not apply for approval and cited the document “Amendment to the Rights of the USSR and Soviet Republics Concerning the Budget” from 25 May 1927, points 34 and 36, which gave republics such a right. Nevertheless, in the Soviet Ministry of Finances the behavior of the Lithuanians was seen as an ‘unauthorized act’. On 4 October 1949, the Soviet Minister of Finances, Аrsenii G. Zverev, sent a protest note to the Presidium of the Council of Ministers, in which he accused the Lithuanian government of ‘illegal use of financial resources’ and asked the Soviet government to instruct the Lithuanians to change their budget. Zverev’s note was directed to the Group for the Ministry of Finances and Banking of Soviet Sovmin and also to Gedvilas to ‘present an explanation’. In his reply, Gedvilas argued in the following way: First, the financial resources were used only for those persons, who really needed a stay in a sanatorium ‘by decision of a medical commission’ (in principle he could provide detailed information). Second, among those persons were ministers and deputy ministers, heads of central institutions of the republic, chairmen of executive committees and simple functionaries, i.e. the ‘backbone’ of the new regime he represented and served. Finally, Gedvilas reminded the minister of the 1927 Amendment and of the fact that the Lithuanian government used their own financial reserves without harming the interest of the Soviet budget. The Lithuanian Sovmin asked the Soviet government to solve the problem by ‘denying the proposal of the Soviet Minister of Finances’. The Group for the Ministry of Finances and Banking replied negatively. The Head of the Group, L. Karpov, remained on the side of his ‘subordinate’ and summed up the issue: “I think without a decision of the Council of Ministers of the USSR such expenses for the improvement of everyday services for cadres may not be increased, because the sum of those expenses is determined by the Soviet Sovmin for each ministry and institution of the USSR and each Soviet republic.” In the archival file the final decision on this question is lacking, and it is indicated that this decision was not made. This means, the conflict between Gedvilas and Zverev ended in favor of Lithuania and the decision of the Lithuanian government remained in force. On 31 December a note was added to the file that “comrade Zverev dropped the question”. GARF f. 5446, o. 51а, d. 4652, l. 113–5.

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was not surprising because many Baltic leaders really were people from a foreign culture – be it legal or administrative. They knew Soviet laws and, as illustrated by the outcome of the conflict between Gedvilas and Soviet minister Zverev, knew how to use them in case of need, not relying only on the ‘law of officials’ and traditional Soviet practices. A second group of conflicts happened on the republican level. In this case, the rival factions often used Moscow and leading officials in the Kremlin as a ‘third instance’. The relations inside the Baltic political elite of the ‘first enlistment’ possessed their own peculiarities, which were different from the hierarchical configuration accepted in the USSR. Formally, the division of roles inside the ruling elites was not different from the general Soviet model, being definitely oriented towards the leadership of the first party secretary. Meanwhile in the real configuration of power, only the Lithuanian case fit into this model, where party boss Antanas Sniečkus was the uncontested master of the republic for three decades. In Latvia and Estonia the position of first secretary was not unconstested to an extent until 1950 in Estonia and until 1959 in Latvia. Nikolai Karotamm and Jānis Kalnbērziņš acted in tandem with other leaders or even played ‘second fiddle’ (a situation characteristic especially for Estonia). In a certain sense, the heads of government in those republics – Arnold Veimer and Vilis Lācis – played a key role in decision making. The interdependence of the ‘first wave’ Baltic elite was related to a definite degree not only to their formal status, but also to their authority and personal qualities in leadership. Sniečkus was able to establish himself as the uncontested leader and – more important – received Moscow’s acceptance for the positive image of a strong person keeping ‘control’ in an unruly region like Lithuania. This does not mean that Lithuania escaped from conflicts inside the governing circles. The longest disagreement existed between the Chairman of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the republic, Justas Paleckis, and first secretary Sniečkus.42 42

One of the conflicts between Justas Paleckis and Antanas Sniečkus developed in 1946. In November 1946, Paleckis criticized the politics of the republican powers at the Plenum of the CC LiCP. At that moment, a ‘cleansing’ campaign of the state apparatus from so called hostile elements intensified. According to Paleckis’ opinion, this campaign was conducted regardless of the ‘peculiarities’ of Lithuania. “The recent development of cleansing led to a certain ‘De-Lithuanization’ of the apparatus, i.e. declining numbers of Lithuanian employees.” This was the main reason behind his intervention. The reaction of the other republic leaders, most important of Sniečkus, was quite sharp. Paleckis had to apologize in public and as a ‘penance’ had to write a letter to the CC LiCP(b) with the confession of having used ‘unfortunate wording’. Sniečkus’ reaction is understandable, he was no less Lithuanian than Paleckis – in this regard the Lithuanian party leader attempted with his policies, including his cadres’ policy, to put ‘Lithuanian interests’ first and when possible not allow an undue intrusion of other ethnic

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Conflicts inside the corridors of power were characteristic of all three Baltic republics. In the situation of ‘internal split’, the decisive part was often taken by Moscow’s position. The central powers either distanced themselves from the conflicts or interfered, keeping the situation in both cases under control. Internal disagreements did not always end in such a successful manner as between Paleckis and Sniečkus – the fight of different forces and personal antagonisms could lead to a rise or decline in the status of one of the opponents, like Käbin’s role in the ‘Estonian affair’ in 1950.43 The result of this fight really did not have the same tragic outcome as other conflicts among the political elite in the postwar years, such as the ‘Leningrad affair’. And one cannot compare the impact of purging cadres in the Baltic republics with the period of the Great Terror. Several functionaries who fell from grace would return after Stalin’s death into politics, others continued successful careers in economics or science. In the first post-war years, Moscow and her ‘observers’ in the Baltic republics, first of all the CC Bureaus of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania, understood the fragility of the cadre situation from the lowest to the highest ranks and avoided new cadre shakeups. ‘Cleansing’ for the most part was confined to socalled ‘former nationalists’. Concerning the leading circles, until the Estonian events of 1950, purges had an episodic character (for example the resignation of LaCP secretary Jānis Jurgens in 1946). Finally, we have to ask the question whether we can identify the Baltic political elite as ‘Soviet’ or ‘national’? All the leaders of the Baltic republics from the ‘first enlistment’ joined or were mobilized into power because the Soviet Union annexed the three Baltic states. Not only communists, but also leftist intellectuals could not have reached the political Olympus under the previous

43

groups into the corridors of power and administration. But on the question of old cadres – the so called bourgeois specialists – the communist Sniečkus followed the party line: here occurred the disagreement between him and Paleckis. Apart from this, Sniečkus, like any other authoritarian leader, did not like critique from subordinates (as he understood Paleckis in this situation) or an assault on his prerogatives in the republic. Th is was obviously the background of the conflict. The scandal became comparatively large – information about it reached the Kremlin via the secretary of the CC VKP(b), Andrei A. Zhdanov, whom Paleckis asked to intervene. However, an ‘organized way out’ from Moscow concerning the relationship between the two Lithuanian leaders did not follow. RGASPI f. 17, o. 121, d. 588, l. 1–22. Documents indicate clearly that Käbin took an active part in the development of the ‘Estonian affair’, which continued on his initiative in 1951–52. Elena Iu. Zubkova, Fenomen «mestnogo natsionalizma»: «Estonskoe delo» 1949–1952 godov v kontekste sovetizatsiii Baltii [The Phenomenon of “Local Nationalism”: “The Estonian Affair” 1949–1952 in the Context of the Sovietization of the Baltic States], Otechestvennaia istoriia 8 (2001), No. 3, pp. 89–102.

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regimes. In addition, Käbin and the other ‘Russian Balts’ might be called even more the ‘people of 1940’ than other members of the elite generation. Without the Soviet annexation, the majority of them would have remained in the ranks of teachers of Marxism-Leninism, like Käbin, or of engineers, like Müürisepp. Their collective biography reveals another common element: many ‘Russian Balts’ reached the tip of their career by replacing national communists in power whether in Estonia in 1950 or in Latvia in 1959. The Baltic leaders possessed more room for maneuver than the leaders of other Soviet republics. They were better able to conceive and to articulate national interests than the elites in the Ukraine or the Caucasus, as they objected to the inflow of ‘strangers’ into their republics and protected ‘our’ – ‘kulaks’ or ‘nationalists’. At the same time, we find their signatures on the mass deportation documents, and their resistance to the politics of Sovietization posed a greater threat to other republic politicians than to the center. The power that was received from the hands of Moscow could be preserved only by looking to the Kremlin – in this sense the political elite of the Baltic republics was Soviet and communist. The room to support national interests in this period was fairly limited; meanwhile, the Baltic elite of the ‘first enlistment’ was national not only because of their ethnic background. The Baltic elites attempted to build upon the Soviet system of power relations, including into the traditional configuration of power, an algorithm of interaction between center and national regions. In addition, the majority of Baltic elite members of this generation were, due to historical traditions, bearer of a different culture of governance – a reality Moscow had to take into account. Because of this, the ideology and practices of national communism gained ground in the Soviet Baltic republics.

William D. Prigge

Sovietization, Russification, and Nationalism in Post-War Latvia Lebedev and Titov: Russian nationalists Ivan Lebedev and Fedor Titov were typical of the cadres sent to Latvia after the Second World War. They were Russian products of Stalinism and the victorious Great Patriotic War, occupying a transient position. Before the war, they probably knew little of the tiny republic, and their tenure in Latvia lasted less than a decade.1 First Lebedev, then Titov, held the post of Latvian second secretary. While the first secretary was theoretically a higher position and held by a Latvian, the second secretary wielded the real power in the republic. This post was crucial to the Soviet occupation. The Soviets viewed Latvians as Nazi collaborators and partisan terrorists who were not to be trusted. Indigenous communists could hold various posts in the Party, but a non-Latvian was always appointed second secretary with the purpose of monitoring the republic and its party.2 Soviet leaders had reason to worry about Latvian loyalty. While Latvians despised the Germans, who for centuries had dominated the region’s economy, the horrors of the first Soviet occupation managed to push the majority of Latvians into the arms of the Germans. Because the USSR forcibly occupied Latvia, many of the first Soviet leaders, such as Lebedev and Titov, arrived with a conqueror’s mentality. Likewise, most Latvians felt conquered. The Russian nationalism that Stalin tapped to 1

2

Titov’s record provides an example of the fluid nature of republic second secretaries. Moving from elsewhere, he stayed for seven years in Latvia and moved on to become the first secretary of Ivanova Oblast. Valentin Ershov served only several months in late 1952 to mid-1953. Filipp Kashnikov (second secretary, 1956–58), was a secretary in the Moldavian CP as late as 1949, then served in insignificant posts, after which he came to Latvia for two years. After serving as second secretary, he returned to relative obscurity. Biographic Directory of the USSR, compiled by the Institute for the Study of the USSR (New York, 1958), pp. 253, 662. Eduards Berklavs, interview by author, tape recording, Riga Latvia, 1 October 2003; Eduards Berklavs, Zināt un neaizmirst [To Know and not to Forget] (Riga, 1998), p. 97.

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generate support for the Great Patriotic War further intensified this feeling of superiority. Most of the cadres arriving in Latvia had served in the victorious Red Army, thereby heightening their sense of Russian patriotism. For example, as part of the celebration of Riga’s 750th anniversary, the Party leadership presented an official history of the city. It is notable not only for its gross distortions, but also for its positive description of Tsarist Russian influence.3 The Soviet interpretation of Latvian history was a secularized version of the tsarist myth that Russians are the ‘God-bearing people’.4 In another display of Russian patriotic fervor, the Latvian Communist Party (LaCP) sought to erect or restore a series of monuments. These were to commemorate only Imperial Russian historical figures and victories, including: 1. A memorial to the four hundred Russian soldiers who fell to the Swedes in ‘defense’ of Riga in 1701; 2. A granite memorial in honor of the victory of Russian troops in the 1812 Patriotic War over Napoleon; 3. A memorial and sculpture to Peter the Great’s arrival in Riga and the 1712 incorporation into Russia.5

Pelše and Suslov: Marxist internationalists Often, historians of Latvia do not distinguish between various types of Russophiles, but a closer examination of Arvīds Pelše’s political philosophy suggests that not all Russophiles were the same. Having escaped to Russia after the defeat of Soviet Latvia, Pelše climbed the ranks. He taught in the Soviet army and navy. In the late twenties and early thirties, he studied at the Moscow Institute of Red Professors,6 did graduate work in history until 1933, and then headed the political departments of several state farms. Eventually he rose to become deputy director for the VKP(b) State Farm Political Administration.7 3 4 5 6

7

Latvijas Valsts arhīvs (Latvian State Archives, LVA) PA-101-14-71, l. 32–3. V.M. Zubok and Konstantin Pleshakov, Inside the Kremlin’s Cold War: From Stalin to Khrushchev (Cambridge, MA, 1996), p. 124. LVA PA-101-14-71, l. 70. Serge Petroff explains the Red Professoriat as follows: “The Institute of the Red Professoriat was organized in 1921 as a research institute for Marxist specialists in the social sciences. It included a variety of different departments, but its primary function was to prepare a cadre of dedicated future professors and specialists in the social sciences.” He believes the term “research fellow” is more suitable than the more often used term “graduate student.” Serge Petroff, The Red Eminence: A Biography of Mikhail A. Suslov (Clifton, N.J., 1988), pp. 27, 229, endnote 23. Bol’shaia Sovetskaia Entsiklopediia, ‘Pel’she’; A Biographic Directory of 100 Leading Soviet Officials (1981), pp. 158–61.

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It was probably during his time at the Institute that Pelše began what would become a highly advantageous friendship with a fellow researcher, Mikhail Suslov, and in 1931 they became brothers-in-law.8 Their friendship was more than familial – they were kindred spirits. Both men were creatures of the party apparatus rather than the state.9 As with Pelše, Suslov rose quickly. After he left the Institute, Suslov entered the Party Control Commission, which Lenin formed in 1920 to monitor the quality of cadres.10 Decades later, in 1966, he would bring Pelše to Moscow to head this same department. While Suslov was several years younger than Pelše, he climbed the Party ranks faster and by February 1940, became a member of the VKP(b) Central Committee. In 1947, Stalin summoned him to Moscow to direct Agitprop, responsible for propaganda and ideological purity, and gave him a seat on the VKP(b) Secretariat largely because of his success in brutally suppressing nationalistic uprisings in Lithuania (1944–46).11 Because Suslov rose without the aid of Stalin’s lieutenants, he was never beholden to Nikita Khrushchev, Lavrentii Beriia, Georgii Malenkov, or Andrei Zhdanov, and gradually developed his own power base. In fact, Suslov rapidly replaced Zhdanov as the keeper of party ideology. Largely dissatisfied with Zhdanov’s work, Stalin felt that ideology had become lax during the frantic war years and was now in need of renewal. Agitprop, which only a few years earlier had been a shadow of a department, took on key significance as the Cold War tightened its grip on the continent. 12 During the brief interval before the Great Patriotic War, Pelše served as head of Latvia’s Agitprop and as a secretary on the LaCP Bureau. While he never held the leading secretarial position in Latvia until 1959, his stature as head of Latvia’s Agitprop made him more prominent than his title might suggest. It is likely that Suslov was Pelše’s patron in Moscow. Both men are frequently labeled Stalinists, although the term is not entirely correct; a better description would be strict, conservative, Marxist purists. While Pelše and Suslov were complicit to one degree or another in Stalin’s crimes, they disapproved of the excesses.13 Later, they would consider the relative lib8

9 10 11 12 13

The wives of Pelše and Suslov were sisters. Suslov married in 1931. Petroff, The Red Eminence, p. 152; 100 Leading Soviet Officials, pp. 158–61; A Biographic Directory of 100 Leading Soviet Officials (Munich, 1982), p. 209. The Soviet Union divided its governing structure between the party and state. While the party usually dominated, there were occasional struggles for dominance between the two. Petroff, The Red Eminence, p. 33. Ibid., pp. 48–9. Ibid., pp. 54–5. Ibid., pp. 79–80.

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eralism of the 1950s, Khrushchev’s departure from collective leadership, and the nationalism of the Eduards Berklavs’ faction in Latvia as perversions of Marxist ideology. Understanding Pelše’s and Suslov’s view of Russian nationalism is more complicated, rooted as it was in Marxist ideology. As Suslov eclipsed Zhdanov in the field of ideology, he moved away from the harsh Russian chauvinism that characterized the immediate post-war years. Whereas Zhdanov made no secret of his disdain for all things non-Russian, Suslov was more moderate. He replaced Zhdanov’s ideal of the ‘Russkii narod’ (Russian people) with the ‘Sovetskii narod’ (Soviet people) in his 1948 Lenin Day speech: Socialism was built in our country by the Soviet people under the supervision of Bolshevism. It is the embodiment of the all victorious idea of Lenin. … An integral characteristic of Soviet culture is socialist patriotism. Lenin taught that the interest of national pride coincides with the socialist interest of workers. This idea of Lenin lies at the foundation of Soviet culture.14

Yet Pelše and Suslov did not see the culture of small republics as the equal of Russia. Pelše, a Latvian, completely rejected that nation’s heritage in favor of a Soviet future in which Russia was the guiding culture. Lenin once remarked about Russified non-Russians: “It is common knowledge that people of other nationalities who have become Russified overdo this frame of mind.”15 Nevertheless, Pelše was more introspective than the brash Russian ultra-patriots, such as Lebedev and Titov. Berklavs himself conceded that Pelše was cultured and intelligent, and if Pelše did not know something about Latvia, he educated himself.16 While urbane, Pelše was a Russophile. Except for the Latvian writers Rainis and Andrejs Upītis, he believed no real culture existed in Latvia before 1940. Although he spoke fluent Russian and Latvian, his wife did not 14

15 16

Ibid., p. 62; compare the above speech by Suslov with several speeches by Zhdanov, who used the terms Russian and Soviet interchangeably. For example, in his 1946 ideological purification campaign, Zhdanov asked, “Is the role of worshipers or pupils of bourgeois culture becoming to us, Soviet patriots and representatives of the most advanced Soviet culture? . . . Already we are not the same Russians we were before 1917, our Russia is different, our character is not the same.” Documentary History of Communism in Russia: From Lenin to Gorbachev, ed. with intro., notes, and trans. Robert V. Daniels (Hanover-London, 1993), p. 237. Gavriel Ra’anan asserts that Zhdanov was not only a Russian nationalist, but also a Pan-Slavist, citing Zhdanov’s frequent reference to ‘fraternal Slavic countries’. Latvians, along with numerous other Soviet minorities, are not Slavic. Gavriel D. Ra’anan, International Policy Formation in the USSR (Hamden, CT, 1983), pp. 39–40. V.I. Lenin, Lenin’s Final Fight: Speeches and Writings, 1922–23, ed. George Fyson (New York, 1995), pp. 194–5. Eduards Berklavs, interview by author, tape recording, Riga Latvia, 10 October 2003.

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bother with the local language.17 At best, Pelše regarded Latvian culture as a quaint curiosity, but more likely he considered it a dangerous focal point for separatist tendencies. For Pelše, the Party was hallowed, and its doctrine sacred – not to be bent for political expediency or temporary gain. Instead, it was the means with which to purify the Soviet system of all the unorthodox distortions, such as nationalism. In many ways Marxism became Pelše’s religion. Since Pelše’s view of Marxist ideology was dogmatic rather than of an evolving philosophy, he had to justify the sweeping and frequent changes in Soviet policy since the Russian Revolution. While conceding that the Party might alter its policy positions, citing the NEP as an example,18 its fundamental tenets always remained the same: The basic Leninist-Stalinist organizational principles of the building of our party always remained and remain unshakable: strict centralism in the activities of the party organization; inner conscious discipline; a singleness of will and a singleness of action; the impermissibility of fragmenting and grouping; the careful selection of those who join the party; the protection of the party from opportunists and petty bourgeoisie elements; continual care about raising active members of the party; and the development of internal democracy, criticism and self-criticism.19

More than just superficial praising of the party, this statement is a glimpse into his guiding political philosophy and helps explain much of his seemingly contradictory opinions in future years. His attempt to preserve the image of a single-willed party forced him to accept decisions that, on their own merits, he would have otherwise rejected.

Linguistic Russification Perhaps the most important cultural task facing the new Soviet government in Latvia centered on language, which served not only as the basic means of communication, but also as a tool for assimilation. The problem lay with the question of who should learn which language. For personal and practical reasons, most Soviet leaders believed that Russian was of greater importance. For example, Stalin dismissed the idea of Soviet linguist Nikolai Marr that a new socialist language would one day appear, stating that the language of socialism

17 18 19

Ibid. The New Economic Policy, begun by Lenin, was a departure from strict Marxist interpretation and introduced some minor free market liberties. LVA PA-101-15-2, l. 52–3.

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should be the dominant language, Russian.20 Khrushchev, coming from the predominately-Russian region of the Ukrainian Donbass, shared a similar proRussian view on language. In a 1938 article in Pravda, he stated: All people will now study Russian, because Russian workers … raised the banner of revolt in October 1917. Russian workers set an example for the workers and peasants of the whole world as to how to struggle, how to deal with their enemies and how to win freedom. ... The enemies of the people and bourgeois nationalists knew the strength and influence of the Russian tongue and Russian culture. ... Therefore, they threw Russian out of the schools.21

For practical reasons, Soviet leaders needed a single lingua franca so that the Union’s numerous national minorities could function in a common language. Because Russians comprised the largest percentage of the Soviet population, their mother tongue was the obvious choice. Further, Moscow was aware that language served as an effective tool of assimilation. To lose one’s national language is to lose one’s national identity. In all probability, Soviet leaders hoped that as the Russian language came to dominate out of logistical necessity, other national languages, together with national differences, would fade. This is not to say that the leadership wanted Party members to learn only Russian. The following speech by Latvian First Secretary Jānis Kalnbērziņš is a good indicator of the emphasis given to each language: So it is among the workers and peasants, as among the student youth and intelligentsia of Soviet Latvia, that nationalistic feelings are fading in our republic thanks to correct national policies. ... Not only is the Latvian language, the language of our people in Soviet Latvia, respected, but also Russian, which our youth and older generation study with great interest because it is the language of the Great Russian people, the language of Lenin and Stalin, and the world language of Socialism. (Applause) Today, no one may consider oneself educated in the full sense of this word if he does not know Russian. ... The one who masters Russian has the possibility of drawing from a rich treasure house of Soviet spiritual culture, grows more quickly, and is ideologically enriched. But the Central Committee likewise requires from comrades who do not know Latvian that it be studied in order to better work among the masses, find a close connection with the Latvian people and intelligentsia, and better hand down to the Latvian people their experience in socialistic construction.22

20 21 22

Stephen Carter, Russian Nationalism: Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow (New York, 1990), pp. 51, 53. Pravda, 16 June 1938, as cited in William J. Tompson, Khrushchev: A Political Life (London, 1995), p. 67. LVA PA-101-12-2, l. 13.

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This speech’s dominate theme was the need to learn Russian, but the question of knowing Latvian was not trivial. The problem facing many Russian apparatchiki when they first arrived in Latvia was their inability to communicate with a local populace largely ignorant of Russian. This was an acute predicament for those conducting agitation and propaganda. One newspaper article complained: It is no secret that in the republic lectures on anti-religious themes, even if in the Latvian language, are attended unwillingly by Catholic believers, and if nine of ten lectures are given in a language not adequately comprehended by the believers, as is done for example in the Kraslav raion, then it should be no surprise that such lectures have little effectiveness.23

One cannot assume that the overwhelming use of Russian by the incoming population was a conscious attempt to Russify. An alternative possibility was the simple unwillingness of recent arrivals to learn a new language. Occasionally, Moscow actually insisted that party members in Latvia learn the local language. First, Soviet leaders were keenly aware that a failure to respect the local language could generate a dangerous nationalistic backlash. To avoid this, the Kremlin went to extraordinary lengths to placate the republics.24 Second, because the incorporation of Latvia into the Union required more than just brute occupation of the territory, the success of Soviet propaganda was crucial. The local population needed to understand the Kremlin’s message; this necessitated some mastery of the local tongue. A letter from Moscow to the LaCP CC regarding their choice of propagandists reflects this practicality: USSR Board Of The All-Union Association On The Dissemination Of Political And Scientific Knowledge Moscow, Kitaiskii Way 3 Secret Secretary of Latvian CP CC Comrade Pel’she A.Ia.

Ex No. ¹

The Board of the All-Union Association on the Dissemination of Political and Scientific Knowledge requests the Latvian CP CC to help the Board of the Republican Association to staff its apparatus (seminar leaders, editors) with qualified cadres. The Board of the All-Union Association considers that the deputy chair or the executive secretary of the Board of the Republican Association should master Latvian in 23

24

Iu. Sprukt, Zametki o nauchno-ateisticheskoi propagande v Latgalii [Notes on ScientificAtheist Propaganda in Latgale], Kommunist Sovetskoi Latvii (January 1958), p. 53, as cited in Michael Widmer, Nationalism and Communism in Latvia: The Latvian Communist Party under Soviet rule (PhD-thesis, Harvard, 1969), p. 534. This was especially the case during the ascendancy of Khrushchev.

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order to be able to control the quality of the given lectures and the published pamphlets in the local language. We support the recommendation of Latvian CP CC candidate Comrade Chuklinoi, P.Ia. in the capacity of deputy chair of the Board. In connection with this request, Comrade Gusarov M.V. is recalled from the position of executive secretary of the Board of the Republican Association and recommend placing in that position a qualified worker – a Latvian. Deputy Chairman Of The Board Of The All-Union Association On The Dissemination Of Political And Scientific Knowledge (O.A. Khvalebnov) “21” February 1953 No. 7c25

Often, transplanted Soviet leaders such as Lebedev and Titov were unmistakably pro-Russian. However, Pelše’s outlook was more complex. Because both imperialist Russification and internationalist Marxism sought larger multinational unions instead of individual nation-states, they both required Latvia to surrender at least some of its cultural sovereignty for the greater Union. Therefore, it is easy to mistake Pelše’s Marxist Internationalism for Russification. Further confusing this matter was his preference for Russian culture. While Lebedev’s and Titov’s Russian patriotism resulted in the same threat to Latvian culture as Pelše’s Marxism, their rationales were different. Regarding language, it is perhaps most surprising that even under Stalin, Moscow was at times an advocate of local languages – at least in the short term. Proper administration dictated the need to know the language of a region’s inhabitants, but Moscow, like the Russian patriots and conservative Marxists, was waiting for the day when the Latvian language and nationalism would wither in favor of a larger Russian-dominated union.

Latvian National Communists While much of Latvian historiography since the Second World War asserts that Latvians experienced widespread discrimination in the LaCP,26 an examination 25 26

LVA PA-101-16-92, l. 53. See Elmārs Pelkans, Inese Skrīvele and Andrejs Veisbergs (ed.), Policy of Occupation Powers in Latvia, 1939–1991: A Collection of Documents (Riga, 1999), pp. 368–9; and Eduards Berklavs protest letter in ‘Against Russification’, George Saunders (ed.), Samizdat: Voices of the Soviet Opposition (New York, 1974), pp. 430–1. Both works reference Pelše and Kalnbērziņš admitting to the discrimination against Latvians. However, given the context of the June 1953 LaCP CC Plenum, from which these statements were taken, it is clear they were made under duress.

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of the Stalin years seems to contradict this. It is indisputable that Latvians, particularly in the early years of occupation were a minority in the LaCP; however, the reasons for this have yet to be completely examined. First, Soviet concerns over Latvian loyalty and reliability were not unwarranted; in fact, the Soviet selection process was hardly foolproof, and many potentially problematic cadres, such as Berklavs, managed to rise to the very heights of power in the LaCP. Second, the reason for low Latvian membership was not so much Soviet discrimination as an unwillingness by the Latvians to join the Party. Indeed, by 1959, the small number of Latvians who did join occupied a disproportionately large number of seats in the highest organ, the LaCP Bureau.27 Because the Soviet occupation had not been freely accepted and was brutal, Communism quickly lost favor among the local population, even those with Leftist proclivities. Many fought against the Soviets during the Second World War and in the subsequent guerrilla movement. Others quietly supported the guerrillas. Even among the few native Latvian communists, many, if not most, had relatives who were ‘bourgeois’ or ‘nationalists’, including Berklavs and Pelše.28 For some, these affiliations with nationalists had little impact; for others, they were decisive. Berklavs provides an ideal case in point. Soviet authorities twice sent his sister-in-law to the GULAG for nationalistic activities, the first time at age 17. When Party officials questioned Berklavs about this early on, he responded that the actions were hers alone.29 Although this ended the matter with the authorities, the sister-in-law may have influenced Berklavs through his wife, Marga. A chemist at the Academy of Sciences, she never joined the Party, believing it was harmful. Berklavs credits Marga with “helping me to see what I did not see myself.”30 In the climate of post-war Latvia, the risk of using such politically unreliable candidates as Berklavs was high and Soviet authorities often missed important clues. From a security perspective, the flourishing of cronyism in the party was reckless; Moscow’s background check of candidates was superficial. Despite numerous signs of potential disloyalty among the national communists, monitors in Latvia did not alert Moscow, or their warnings were ignored. Instead, Vilis Krūmiņš and Pauls Dzērve, both handpicked by Berklavs, rose quickly in

27 28 29 30

See William Prigge, The Bearslayers: Power Politics in Latvia, 1945–1960 (PhD-thesis, Marquette University, 2005), pp. 93–126. Berklavs’s sister-in-law was a convicted nationalist, and Pelše’s background was bourgeois. Berklavs interview, 10 October 2003. Berklavs interview, 10 October 2003; Berklavs, Zināt un neaizmirst, pp. 105–6. Berklavs interview, 10 October 2003.

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the leadership. When Krūmiņš was promoted to Komsomol secretary of cadres in Latvia, Moscow’s questioning of him was short and trivial: A grey-haired man apparently had already familiarized himself with my documents, because he said immediately – you fought well in the war, I know, but let’s discuss something else – culture. What do you have in Riga that is brand new? What is Andrei Upit working on? What performances are at the opera theater? Etc ... I apparently passed successfully the ‘Exam’.

The interviewer then reminded Krūmiņš of his duties as Komsomol secretary of cadres: “Currently, many worker leaders are being sent to Latvia from other republics, but this is temporary. You must prepare your cadres, and moreover it is essential [that you remove] from the people [their] radical national character.”31 Ironically, Krūmiņš became a ‘bourgeois nationalist’.32 As for Berklavs, he made no secret of his misgivings about Communism when he returned from the Higher Party School. When Vilis Lācis asked Berklavs to become his deputy chairman of the council of ministers, the young functionary resisted, stating that he was no longer enthusiastic about party work. Despite this frank admission, Lācis promoted him.33 Moreover, Berklavs had a stormy history with Lebedev, both accusing the other of nationalism.34 While Moscow still had to approve the move, the central leaders raised no objection because, according to Berklavs, they held such a high opinion of Lācis.35 Moscow approved all of Berklavs’s promotions. In reexamining the question of discrimination against Latvians, one should remember that the primary function of the Komsomol was to recruit young local cadres into the Communist Party; thus, both Berklavs and Krūmiņš, one following the other as first secretary of the Komsomol, bear some responsibility for the low number of Latvian recruits. Central authorities wanted greater membership in the local parties and were dissatisfied with the low numbers of recruits the Latvian Komsomol produced. Berklavs recollected how he received a call from Moscow asking why he was enlisting so few members. He replied that the Komsomol charter stated that only the best should be taken. “If you 31 32 33

34 35

V. Kruminsh, Kommunist Sovetskoi Latvii, no. 3 (1990), p. 87. The quotation marks are Krūmiņš’s. Ibid. Berklavs, Zināt un neaizmirst, pp. 148–53. We only have Berklavs’s word that he was hesitant to continue in the party. The paradoxical fact that he attempted to recruit Latvians as late as 1959 obscures his true beliefs further. It is conceivable that this picture of a reluctant functionary was a later re-imaging. However, chapter three of the author’s dissertation offers a second possible explanation. Berklavs, Zināt un neaizmirst, p. 96. Berklavs Interview, 10 October 2003.

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need only numbers, we can take in as many as a hundred every day, but we are selecting people according to the Komsomol rules.”36 Either because of Berklavs’s reluctance to encourage Latvians to join the organization, or because the Latvians were reluctant to join it, the Komsomol was not getting many recruits. During both Berklavs’s and Krūmiņš’s tenure as Komsomol first secretary, low enlistment persisted as the major topic of complaint against the organization.37 Regardless of his post-war misgivings about Party membership, during the 1950s Berklavs came to see collaboration as the only way to secure greater rights for Latvia. To obtain these rights, Latvians required a greater presence in the party, necessitating more local recruits. Berklavs later recalled in his memoirs that on the one hand, the fact that Latvians did not join the Party was gratifying, but on the other hand, it limited their influence.38 The politician in Berklavs who needed the local population to enlist grew disheartened by their indifference. Most Latvians, at least for the first fifteen years after the war, saw their incorporation into the Soviet Union as an illegitimate occupation and chose not to legitimize it with their participation. This apathy was still evident as late as 1959 in which he expressed his exasperation in a surprisingly candid article, entitled “Conversation from the Heart.” 39 While few Latvians volunteered for the Party, those who did encountered rapid promotion rather than discrimination; upward mobility existed under both Stalin and Khrushchev. The biographies of Berklavs and Krūmiņš support this fact, as does the high number of Latvian national communists who occupied the Bureau by 1959. In 1948, when Berklavs left his post as Komsomol first secretary to attend the Higher Party School, he appointed Krūmiņš to succeed him. The protégé soon surpassed the mentor. The LaCP asked Krūmiņš in 1951 to replace Aleksandr Nikonov as the LaCP CC third secretary and take his seat on the Bureau.40 Berklavs encouraged Krūmiņš to follow him to the Higher Party School: “If they hold such a high opinion of you, then first go and get your degree.”41 However, Krūmiņš was ambitious and took the secretarial position instead.42 The young age at which many national communists came to prominence is telling. Berklavs was only 26 when he was appointed first secretary of the Proletariat District of Riga and 31 when he became first secretary of the Komsomol. 36 37 38 39 40 41 42

Ibid. LVA PA-101-12-2, l. 34; PA-101-12-277, l. 20; PA-101-22-26, l. 58–9; 201-1-556, l. 7–9. Berklavs, Zināt un neaizmirst, p. 161. E. Berklav, Razgovor po dusham [Talking about the Soul], Rigas Balss, 25 February 1959. Kruminsh, Kommunist Sovetskoi Latvii, no. 3 (1990), p. 88. Berklavs interview, 1 October 2003. Kruminsh, Kommunist Sovetskoi Latvii, no. 3 (1990), p. 88.

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Krūmiņš was 29 when he took over as Komsomol first secretary and was appointed third secretary at 32.43 This post was higher than Pelše’s and the third highest in Latvia. Despite dismal Latvian membership (the LaCP was scarcely 30 percent Latvian in 1956),44 by 1958, nine of the fourteen members of the Bureau, the LaCP’s highest organ, were national Communists or tacit supporters.45 Thus, the picture that emerges is far from discriminatory; instead, Latvians climbed the ranks in numbers disproportionately larger than their share of overall party membership.

Cultural wars of 1952–53 Although Latvian socialists had played a central role in the formation of the Soviet Union, they always retained a strong current of independence mixed with nationalistic inclinations.46 They continually placed the needs of their nation over those of the larger Union. Before the August 1917 German capture of Riga, one strelnieks (Latvian riffleman) emphasized, Do not confuse the Bolsheviks in Petrograd with those in Latvia. There is a huge difference. If German imperialist forces flow over the present zone then they will get to Riga only over the bones of Latvians. (Prolonged, noisy applause).47

In the years following the Second World War, the question of nationalism versus internationalism only sharpened in the LaCP, erupting into a war of cultures after the Nineteenth CPSU Congress in September 1952. Culture became the key battle in Latvia because of what it represented. For Pelše, culture was a question of primary allegiance: either to the Latvian nation or the Soviet Union. It also raised the question of ideological purity versus 43

44 45 46 47

Krūmiņš was born in 1919. Vilis Krūmiņš, Tas drūmais piecdesmit devītais, sarunu ar rakstnieku Jāni Lapsu [This Gloomy Fifty-Ninth, a Conversation with the Writer Jānis Lapsa], Karogs, no. 9 (1988), p. 130. LVA PA-101-18-136, l. 36. See Prigge, The Bearslayers, appendix. For a detailed analysis of the Latvian socialism prior to the First World War, see Widmer, Nationalism and Communism, pp. 9–78. Andrew Ezergailis, The Latvian Impact on the Bolshevik Revolution: The First Phase: September 1917 to April 1918 (Boulder-New York, 1983), p. 208. Deeply opposed to Lenin’s 1918 peace with Germany because it meant that Latvia would once again be occupied, the strelnieki vowed to continue the fight against the Kaiser’s army. Eventually Lenin himself had to intervene: “Comrade Strelki! I was told yesterday that you are against the conclusion of the peace with Germany. You alone want to fight the Germans, while the rest of Russia wants peace. ... Regardless what kind of peace we conclude, it still will be better than war, because Soviet power will be preserved.” Ibid., p. 293.

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careless disregard for doctrine. For the national communists, culture meant legitimacy or illegitimacy of the Soviet government in the eyes of the Latvian population. Whereas the national communists believed that local culture was something worthy of preservation, Pelše viewed it as a dangerous relic of a bygone age. Both sides turned to Karl Marx, who saw the establishment of socialism in two distinct revolutionary stages: first, the overthrow of the feudal aristocracy by the revolutionary bourgeoisie, followed by the overthrow of the bourgeoisie by the proletariat. Marx believed that each new stage was part of a natural and necessary evolution, improving upon its predecessor. While Pelše and Agitprop had a rich tradition of Latvian Marxism and revolutionary Latvian heroes upon whom to draw, a nineteenth-century nationalist group known as the “Young Latvians” presented a difficult gray area for ideology. Many of the Young Latvians demonstrated revolutionary qualities by advocating the abolition of feudalism in Latvia with its German barons and the Russian tsar. Despite this common grounding in Marxist philosophy, the Young Latvians ultimately wanted a single revolution followed by the establishment of a bourgeois Latvian nation-state, without a subsequent worker’s revolution. The national communists defined the conflict as follows: praise certain aspects of the Young Latvians’ revolutionary past while downplaying their bourgeois character. Pelše wanted to condemn the Young Latvians completely as bourgeois nationalists with no place in Soviet culture.48 The issue first surfaced during the LaCP Twelfth Party Congress in September 1952 when the editor of Bolsheviks of Soviet Latvia, Jānis Bumbiers, railed against any type of support for what the Young Latvians advocated.49 Remarking that discussion of this question was long overdue, Bumbiers warned that the political ramifications were very serious.50 Under the guise of studying local conditions, Bumbiers accused certain leaders of engaging in what was actually 48

49

50

Five years later when the question resurfaced, the national communists reminded Pelše of the hypocrisy of publishing the popular ‘bourgeois’ Russian poet, Alexander Pushkin, and not the Young Latvians. Pelše acknowledged the existence of Russian chauvinism, stating that the occasional unequal treatment of the Russian language over the Latvian only ‘heated up national differences’, which allowed Latvians to ‘cry Russification’ and ‘great-power chauvinism’. His defense was couched in a typically Marxist framework: if some Russian chauvinism lingered, it was the product of Russia’s past reactionary bourgeois nationalism. As socialism and the spirit of internationalism continued to ripen, Russian nationalism would become a relic of the past. LVA PA-101-20-5, l. 17, 52. The LaCP Twelfth Party Congress followed the CPSU Nineteenth-Party Congress. See chapter two of this author’s dissertation for the significance of this Congress; for other analysis of Latvian culture, see Rolfs Ekmanis, Latvian Literature under the Soviets, 1940–1975 (Belmont, MA, 1978). LVA PA-101-15-2, l. 200.

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a “crude flouting of the Bolshevik principle of appraising the heritage of the past”. He went on to say that not only was the progressive aspect of the Young Latvians tiny in the 1860s, but that after, together with the Latvian bourgeoisie, they evolved “directly into enemies of the people”. Bumbiers’s speech criticized several Latvian officials for embracing such figures as Krišjānis Valdemārs, Krišjānis Barons, Atis Kronvalds, and others. If Bumbiers’s speech was the opening salvo in the first Latvian cultural war, the simmering pot boiled over during the June 1953 LaCP Plenum ordered by Lavrentii Beriia (who appealed to national communists for support), when there arose the question of why Latvians were not joining the Party in large numbers. The national communists laid responsibility at the doorstep of Agitprop and Pelše, whose role was not only to maintain doctrinal purity, but also to entice the local population through propaganda. They argued that liberalizing Agitprop’s view of pre-Soviet Latvian literature would help popularize the LaCP. Thus, Pelše had to decide whether doctrinal purity and LaCP popularity were mutually compatible. If not, which priority should take precedence? It was Jānis Avotinš who first brought up the Young Latvians at the Plenum. He suggested that by completely dismissing both the progressive and reactionary legacies of the nineteenth-century nationalist movement, the LaCP was in fact conceding defeat to bourgeois nationalism and strengthening its camp against communism. Instead, the LaCP should “use their [the Young Latvians’] popularity with the people to raise the people in the spirit of progressive ideas.” He went on to say that the Young Latvians’ legacy still needed to be worked out, but as of yet, no one had provided any authoritative decision on this question, and clarity was needed for practical propaganda work. Avotinš clearly aimed his words at Agitprop and Pelše. Party members now called on Pelše to officially sanction the progressive role of the Young Latvians in order to generate popularity among the local population, which up to that point the LaCP had failed to do. Avotinš went on to argue that because Bumbiers’s statements at the Twelfth Congress the previous September were not careful in distinguishing between the two legacies of the Young Latvians, he only confused the matter.51 Pelše recognized that the national communists were using the issue of the Young Latvians to either have him removed, or, at the very least, force him to officially accept nineteenth-century Latvian writers. While he acknowledged that the Party’s greatest mistake was that it “does little to strengthen its connection with the masses,” he prepared for a fight over the legacy of the Young Latvians. “In his speech, Comrade Avotinš touched on the matter of ideological 51

LVA PA-101-16-10, l. 38–9.

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heritage and did not have an altogether clear position. ... If one isn’t clear, then it is certainly better to keep quiet. That’s my advice.” Pelše sensed real danger from the national communists. He likely considered them a cancer that threatened to undermine Soviet rule in Latvia and feared that they, either intentionally or unintentionally, were serving as the Latvian émigrés’ fifth column. National culture was a lever that could pry open the Soviet door. As long as Latvian recruitment into the Party remained slow, Pelše was vulnerable. Calls for a cultural interpretation to which Latvians could better relate seemed reasonable as long as Pelše’s doctrinal propaganda continued to fail. Fortunately for Pelše, Beriia’s arrest temporarily deferred the question of the Young Latvians and national minority rights. However, the persistent issue of national culture came to a head once again later in the decade. Forged in the crucible of the nineteenth-century national awakening, Latvian socialism contained more than a hint of ‘bourgeois nationalism’. The seeds of particularism were sown deeply and any attempt at tampering with local culture met with fierce opposition. The Latvian Socialists’ acute awareness of their own national identity coupled with their cultural sensitivity meant that the term national communism would remain oxymoronic. Eventually, the question of Russian nationalism, Latvian nationalism, and Marxist internationalism would resurface, erupting into another war of cultures in 1957 and eventually the purge of national communists in Latvia.

Dariusz Rogut

Estonians in Soviet Filtration Camps after World War II The assault of Hitler’s Germany against Poland on 1 September 1939 started the most tragic war in European history. The malicious attack of 17 September 1939 by a second aggressor and ally of Germany, the Soviet Union, sealed the occupation of Poland. As a result of the secret protocols of the German-Soviet Treaty of Non-Aggression signed on 23 August 1939, the Baltic states became victims of imperialist Soviet policy. Estonia was taken first. After a threatening ultimatum, the country was soon forced to accept by late September garrisons of the Red Army and had to hand over sea and air bases. Despite the acceptance of a second ultimatum in June 1940, the Soviet Union in fact seized control of Estonia. After mock elections, the USSR annexed the country in early August and formed the Estonian Soviet Socialist Republic. Meanwhile, the persecution of Estonian independence fighters and the national elite began.1 During the first Soviet occupation, until June 1941, approximately 18,000 Estonian citizens (‘anti-Soviet elements’) were arrested, deported or killed.2 The Germans occupied Estonia from summer 1941 until autumn 1944 and refused to accept autonomy or the re-establishment of Estonian independence. The Estonian Self-Administration (Eesti Omavalitsus) existed under the control of German officials. Nevertheless, despite the German policy of opposing independence, the majority of the Estonian population saw the Soviets as the greater threat, not the Germans. Estonians served in police battalions, as Translated from Russian by Olaf Mertelsmann. 1 Among the victims were Jaan Teemant, several times prime minister, President Konstantin Päts, Ado Birk, prime minister in 1920 and General Johan Laidoner, commander of the Estonian forces during the War of Independence. Jan Lewandowski, Estonia (Warsaw, 2002). 2 According to Soviet sources in 1941 between 3,668 and 6,700 people were deported. V. N. Zemskov, Spetsposelentsi v SSSR 1930–1960 [Special Settlers in the USSR 1930–1960] (Moscow, 2003), p. 91. In fact, approximately 10,000 persons were deported to the East. Males were sent to GULAG camps, women, children and the elderly to special settlements in Siberia and Central Asia. In addition, 8,000 political arrests took place during the first year of Soviet rule. Olaf Mertelsmann and Aigi Rahi-Tamm, Soviet mass violence in Estonia revisited, Journal of Genocide Research 11 (2009), p. 310.

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guards in concentration camps and in different other formations on the German side. In 1944, the 20th Waffen Grenadier Divison of the SS (1st Estonian) was formed. Most Estonian politicians, even those opposing military cooperation with the Germans, agreed that Estonia had to be defended from Soviet rule by any means, even in cooperation with the Germans. In September 1944, Soviet troops of the 3rd Belarusian Front took Tallinn. The republic had suffered heavy material and human losses from the war including victims of different kinds of terror. The re-establishment of Soviet rule was accompanied by political repression. The first mass arrests were organized by the NKVD (People’s Commissariat of the Interior) and by the military counterintelligence, SMERSH (‘Death to Spies’, smert’ shpionam), and targeted people who had cooperated with the Germans or posed a threat to the new order. Immediately, an Estonian anti-Soviet underground was formed with thousands of members. Units of ‘forest brothers’, supported by the population, fought the Soviets. Tens of thousands of Estonians were persecuted, according to Soviet data.3 Arrests were targeted at educated people who were seen as ‘dangerous elements’, ‘hostile’, and a threat to the new power. Depending on the ‘crime’, Estonians were sent to different NKVD or later MVD (Ministry of the Interior) camps. Several thousand Estonian veterans of the German army were held initially in POW camps.4 Those being accused of crimes against the Soviet government – Estonians were seen as Soviet citizens – were convicted by military tribunals at the front or by special councils (OSO – osoboe soveshchanie) of the NKVD and sent to corrective labor camps (ITL – ispravitel’no-trudovye lageria). Those being suspected of anti-Soviet behavior but not convicted because of a lack of evidence, repatriates, officials being suspected of cooperation with the Germans or members of military units fighting on the German side were confined to a different category of camps – the so called special camps (spetslageria).5 3 4

5

On 1 January 1955 16,769 Estonians were located in special settlements; in 1958 there were still more than 5,000. Zemskov, Spetsposelentsi v SSSR, pp. 155, 239. According to official statistics by the Central Administration for Prisoners of War and Internees Affairs (GUPVI – Glavnoe Upravlenie po delam voennoplennykh i internirovannykh) of the NKVD USSR, 6,398 Estonians fell into Soviet captivity. The majority, 4,286, were sent to GULAG camps, 734 were released and sent to the place of residence, several dozen fell under the authority of repatriation organs, more than ten were sent into internee camps, another dozen were convicted by War Tribunals, and a couple ended up in prisons; 1,292 or one fifth died in the camps. On 1 January 1949 only two Estonians remained in POW camps, M.M. Zagorul’ko (ed.), Voennoplennye v SSSR 1939–1956: Dokumenty i materialy [POWs in the USSR 1939–1956: Documents and Materials] (Moscow, 2000), p. 332. 16,000 Poles from annexed East-Poland or post-Yalta Poland were in similar camps in early 1945. See: Dariusz Rogut, Polacy z Wileńszczyzny w obozach sowieckich “saratowskiego

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The special camps were established by decision of the State Defense Committee (GKO – Gosudarstvennyi komitet oborony) of the USSR in late December 1941. They were aimed at former members of the Red Army who became POWs or were encircled by the enemy, ‘traitors of the fatherland’, spies and deserters. The inmates had to face gosproverke (state verification) – filtration. If, as a result of investigation, treason was proved, the guilty were punished. However, persons, for whom ‘compromising’ material could not be found, were transferred to the corresponding commandant’s office (voennaia komendatura) at the place of residence or directly to reserve units of the Red Army. The position of commander of a special camp was held by experienced operational employees of the NKVD. The camps and convoys were guarded by NKVD personnel.6 NKVD USSR Order No. 0100 of 20 February 1945 transformed the Department for Special Camps into an independent Department for Examination-Filtration Camps (OPFL – Otdel Proverochno-filtratsionnykh Lagerei). The special camps turned into examination-filtration camps (PFL – proverechno-filtratsionnye lageria).7 During the first seven month of 1945, 346,487 people passed through 36 filtration camps and two branch camps. On 10 January 1946, the 29 filtration and 11 GULAG camps contained a total of 227,266 members of the ‘special contingent’ (spetskontingent).8

6

7

8

szlaku” [Poles from Vilnius in Soviet Camps of the “Saratovsk Trail”] (Toruń, 2003); idem, Polacy i obywatele polscy w obozach NKWD-MWD ZSRR 1944–1956 [Poles and Polish Citizens in the Camps of NKVD-MVD of the USSR], Dariusz Rogut and Arkadiusz Adamczyk (eds.), Represje sowieckie wobec narodów Europy 1944–1956 [Soviet Repressions against the Peoples of Europe 1944–1956] (Zelów, 2005), pp. 69–97. Reshenie GKO No. 1069 ss, 27 December 1941, Gosudarstvennyi arkhiv Rossiiskoi Federatsii (State Archives of the Russian Federation, GARF) f. 9408, o. 1, d. 1, l. 49. Special camps were subordinated to the GUPVI of the NKVD USSR. In June 1944, they were included in the GULAG system. This subordination did not last long and the Department for Special Camps of the GULAG (until 28 August 1944) became the Department for Special Camps of the NKVD USSR. The head of the department became state security Colonel Nikita Shitikov. Restructuring continued in 1946. OPFL was included in the GULAG structure according to prikaz No. 0075 by the NKVD USSR from 22 January 1946. The division of the Department began on 1 February and was related to the assignation of members of the Vlasov Army and of other units fighting on the German side, ‘legionnaires’ and policemen to the rank of special settlers. Obviously this led to a decline in the numbers of inmates in filtration camps. Despite the restructuring, several camps did run a separate bookkeeping on the ‘special contingent’ until early 1947. According to Soviet documentation we know that from 1941 till 1 January 1945 more then 527,000 persons passed through the filtration camps. Among them were 443,747 former soldiers of the Red Army (84 per cent), 51,831 village elders, policemen and other ‘helpers of the occupiers’ (9.8 per cent) and 31,664 civilians (6 per cent), who had stayed on German occupied territory. The composition of the ‘special contingent’ changed and the numbers

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A directive of 18 June 1945 provided for the unification of the bookkeeping of the ‘special contingent’ and offered a categorization of filtration camp inmates. To the ‘first group’ belonged “soldiers of the Red Army, who became POWs or were encircled by the enemy, without taking into consideration their further activities during imprisonment or encirclement.” The ‘second group’ consisted of “citizens staying on occupied territory and working for the German authorities in the position of village elder, ordinary policeman, member of ‘National Guards’, ‘Self Defense’ and other organizations established by the German-Fascist occupier.”9 Several NKVD directives concerned the Estonians. One of those, a directive of OPFL NKVD from March 1945, ordered the arrest of Latvians, Lithuanians, Poles and others who were being held in repatriation stations and who had fled in 1939 to the Germans and against whom material on anti-Soviet activities existed. All the others from this group were to be interrogated in the filtration camps, women only in PFL No. 0324 in Shatur. Paragraph 6 of the directive spoke about those refugees who were former soldiers of the Red Army and had became German citizens. As ‘traitors to the fatherland’ they were to be arrested if they actively fought against the Soviets; the others were to be transferred to a filtration camp.10 Another directive of October 1945 spoke about Soviet citizens being located in the Baltic republics during the German occupation and returning to their place of residence. They had to be registered and filtrated as repatriated persons according to prikaz NKVD-NKGB No. 00706/00268 of 16 June 1945.11 This order articulated the need for operational work among repatriates. The operational department recruited informers, who were to be especially on the lookout for the following categories: persons having worked openly or secretly for German intelligence, counterintelligence or police or having participated in pacification measures; German agents trained to fulfill special tasks in the

9 10

11

declined systematically with the release of inmates. According to a decision by GOKO in May 1945, Soviet citizens with the exception of former Soviet soldiers were to be transferred to their place of residence after their registration at collection points and repatriation camps. Territorial organs of state security were held responsible for ‘filtration’ and formed special commissions to fulfill the task. For each repatriated person a separate ‘filtration’ file was kept. GARF f. 9414, o. 1, d. 1265, l. 9–45. Direktiva NKVD No. 97. The directive did not consider the evolution of the understanding of ‘contingent of the GUPVI’. Direktiva OPFL NKVD No. 53/2388, 24 March 1945, GARF f. 9408, o. 1, d. 7, l. 41–2. This was replaced by Direktiva OPFL NKVD No. 53/6809, 11 August 1945, which I could not yet locate. Direktiva NKGB-NKVD No. 191/117, 26 October 1945. NKGB – People’s Commissariat of State Security.

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Soviet rear; agents recruited by the Germans for work among Soviet POWs in POW camps and agents hired for spying against the USSR after the end of the war; agents recruited by other intelligence services especially among repatriates handed over by the Western allies; traitors to the fatherland, ‘supernumeraries’ (figuranti), ‘helpers of the occupier’ and other ‘anti-Soviet elements’. Of special interest for the security organs were also members of armed units consisting of Soviet citizens and formed by the Germans (‘Vlasovtsi’, ‘national legions’, Cossack formations and others). All detected enemies were to be sent for further interrogation by the NKGB and NKVD. Agents of foreign intelligence services, saboteurs, terrorists and members of anti-Soviet organizations were dealt with by organs of the regional administration of the NGKB (UNKGB). ‘Traitors to the fatherland’, figuranti, ‘helpers of the occupier’ and ‘anti-Soviet elements’ fell into the competence of the regional administration of the NKVD (UNKVD). The demand for labor to fulfill war industry tasks led to the relocation of the ‘special contingent’. Its creation was related to determined procedures and resources of the Department of PFL. One of its many work assignments was at the building sites of the ‘Baltvoenmorstroi NKVD’ (Baltic Naval Construction of NKVD). Sometimes this ‘special contingent’ would consist of only one ethnic group such as Estonians or Latvians. They were sent to filtration camps of a ‘national’ character in the Baltic republics, for example to fi ltration camp No. 0316 in Tallinn that was specifically for Estonians. Already by late 1944, the ‘special contingent’ was transferred to Tallinn’s port. Trains were unloaded there by Soviet citizens, former POWs of the Germans including those repatriated by ship from the UK. The management of the work site did not fulfill its duties in a proper manner. The registration of prisoners was not done in a correct manner and was not done on time. The head of special camps, Shitikov, reacted to such inadequacy in January 1945. In a decision made jointly with Deputy People’s Commissar of the Interior, Colonel-General Vasilii Chernyshev, Captain N. Zubrelov, deputy head of the registration department, was sent to Tallinn and Riga for the proper organization of registration.12 Shitikov’s problems, however, did not end, and one month later he wrote a second letter. According to an order by the People’s Commissar of the Interior, Lavrentii Beriia, given in early 1945, all Soviet citizens including those of Baltic ethnicity were to be transferred from POW camps to special camps.13 12 13

GARF f. 9408, o. 1, d. 20, l. 51. Sometimes the decision of the leadership concerning relocation of prisoners was not implemented for various reasons. This happened with Baltic veterans of the German army imprisoned in

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The problem was that the first arrivals in the camps in Tallinn and Kalinin urgently needed medical help. The majority was unable to work and had to stay in bed because of sickness. Because of this, Shitikov asked, with the mediation of Chernyshev, that the leadership of GUPVI NKVD should send only healthy inmates to special camps. Filtration camp No. 0316 in Tallinn was established on 2 December 1944 and possessed several branches. Throughout 1945, Lieutenant-Colonel of State Security Sanchuk was the commander. According to statistics on 1 January 1945, the camp held 14,900 inmates from the ‘special contingent’ of the first group (former German POWs, among them 320 officers of the Red Army). They were mostly used for the repair of the port and its infrastructure. After one month their number declined by 10,000 as inmates were transferred to Baltvoenmorstroi (see table 1). On 10 May 1945, 3,197 prisoners were classified as belonging to the second group. They included, according to Soviet categories, 47 policemen, 29 ‘vlasovtsi’, 651 legionnaires, 2,421 soldiers serving in the German army or with her allies, and 49 members of punishment units or the German administration.14 Tab. 1: Turnover of the ‘Special Contingent’ in Camp No. 0316 in Tallinn in 1945 Date 1 January 1 February 1 March 20 April 1 May 1 June* 1 July 1 August 20 September 1 October 1 November 1 December

First Group 14,900 1,071 2,227

Second Group 3,226 2,105

1,971 1,691 1,303

3,184 3,216 1,910

811 651 642

2,360 2,199 2,235

Third Group Imprisoned Total 14,900 410 4,707 0 4,332 5,255 0 5,155 0 4,907 0 3,213 2,845 2,998 0 3,171 0 2,850 0 2,877

* On 1 June 1,098 persons belonged to the contingent of GUPVI, one month later nine remained. Source: GARF f. 9408, o. 1, d. 23.

14

Kohtla-Järve west of Narva. The approximately 1,100 inmates should have been transferred to a special camp in Tallinn but by orders of Chernyshev this was stopped and Shitikov proposed to use them in coal mining in Kizel (Molotovskaia, formerly Permskaia oblast’). Letter by Shitikov, 2 January 1945. The author has been unable to locate the final decision. GARF f. 9408, o. 1, d. 20.

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The reports by the sanitary service of the Department for PFL revealed that in the first two quarters of 1945 there were no water pipes and not enough firewood for the kitchen. The prisoners not only suffered from the lack of drinking water but also from water of poor quality. The barracks were overcrowded; on average each prisoner had only one square meter of space. The recovery of health also depended on the quality of food, which consisted of only 2,500 calories.15 The inmates suffered from different diseases, the most deadly being tuberculosis. According to statistical data by the head of the registration department of OPFL, Major Tkachev, from 1 January till 1 August 1945 6,515 prisoners arrived in the camp, 32 fled and 122 died (or 1.9 per cent). Considering the ongoing war, the low mortality in the camp might be questioned.16 Apart from dirty water and crowdedness, the appalling hygienic conditions led to sickness of the digestive system and infectious diseases like typhus. The camp administration sent the prisoners to work according to contracts with institutions. For example on 20 June 1945, the camp had 3,678 inmates of whom 2,598 worked in different places: 1,008 on building site No. 33 of the Baltic Fleet (People’s Commissariat of the Navy), 997 in a phosphorite factory (People’s Commissariat of Chemical Industry) and almost 500 for the People’s Commissariat of Construction of the Estonian SSR. More than 800 prisoners (obviously the weakest, who could work only internally) were employed inside the camp.17 The majority of the Estonians in the camp worked for the Baltic Fleet. On 1 October 1945, 5,320 Estonians were in different filtration camps working for various industries. 1,240 Estonians were in coal mining, 1,747 in camps of a mixed type, 1,023 in construction camps of the NKVD and 1,310 in camps subordinated to diverse people’s commissariats. In October 1945, the decision was made to collect all Estonians onto the building sites of Baltvoenmorstroi. As we see from a list by Lieutenant-Colonel Maiorov, Deputy Head of Department of PFL, this was not an easy task due 15

16

17

GARF f. 9414, o. 1, d. 2800, l. 59, 122. According to the author of the source the total number of calories was raised. Concerning the food rations in Soviet camps in this period, the nutrition value was in reality often lower than indicated in the official sources because of low quality, and because the inmates had to usually perform physical labor and had often to recover from malnutrition. This meant they needed more and better food than they received. GARF f. 9408, o. 1/23, l. 23. During my research I found several cases of falsification of mortality statistics, for example in filtration camps No. 283 in Stalinogorsk and No. 0322 in Kolomna. See: Dariusz Rogut, Sowieckie obozy kontrolno-filtracyjne dla Polaków i obywateli polskich w latach 1945–1947 [Soviet Filtration Camps for Poles and Polish Citizens in the Years of 1945–1947], Dzieje Najnowsze 2004, No. 4, pp. 85–108. GARF f. 9408, o. 1, d. 54, l. 97. Because of sickness and exhaustion, 269 prisoners (7.3 per cent) did not work.

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to objective reasons. 1,415 Estonians had to be transferred, among them 124 from camp No. 174 in Podpol’sk, 402 from No. 140 in Kalinin, 363 from No. 303 in Podlipkinskii, 323 from No. 317 in Dubrovskii and 203 from No. 328 in Tarussk. Meanwhile 323 Estonians imprisoned in camp No. 316 (hydroelectric power plant in Dubrovskii) were located somewhere else. Because of this, 1,923 prisoners could be transferred to Baltvoenmorstroi from two filtration camps, 854 from No. 0313 (BBK) and 1,069 from No. 0314 in Kemerovo. It was proposed to relocate a total of 3,328 prisoners to Tallinn. GOKO decided to form a labor battalion from these Estonians. The management of the building site had to take care of provisioning, but filtration had to be dealt with by state security.18 The report by the head of administration of filtration camps, LieutenantColonel Sanchuk, and the Deputy Head of Administration of Production, Engineer-Major Mel’nikov, revealed that on 1 January 1946 2,411 prisoners were held in the Tallinn camp. Of those 1,481 could be used for hard physical labor, 714 for ‘labor with average difficulty’ and 30 for work of ‘modest character’. 96 persons were in quarantine, 70 in a ‘recovery group’ and 20 could not fulfill any work duties.19 The majority of the inmates, more than 1,600, worked on construction site No. 33 in the town of Paldiski, the remainder were employed in the building of a workshop in Tallinn, in consumer industry, in a railway workshop, in timber transport in Pärnu and on different building sites administered by the NKVD in Tallinn. On 1 February the camp had 2,330 inmates and one month later 2,246.20 According to planning, the department of filtration camps proposed in 1946 to transform the ‘special contingent’ in Tallinn into a labor battalion, which was to be employed on construction site No. 33. Because of this, camp No. 0316 was to be transferred to Riga to building sites administered by the people’s commissariat for construction of the Latvian SSR. Estonians were not only located in the above mentioned camps but also in filtration camp No. 0331 in Kutaisi in the Georgian SSR. On 1 January 1946 this camp possessed six branches with a total number of 7,553 prisoners from all over the USSR. A Polish eye-witness counted 42 different ethnicities. The largest camp branch housed 4,776 persons. Many of the Russians were Red 18 19 20

Filtration should take place according to orders No. 0010027, 00381, and 00169cch by NKVD, NKGB and SMERSH or following the organs of SMERSH at Baltvoenmorstroi. GARF f. 9414, o. 1, d. 1264, l. 15. On 22 February 1946, 433 Estonians were transferred to filtration camp No. 0316 from POW camps and internment camp No. 270 in Borovich near Velikii Novgorod. In 1944– 45, the latter camp had one of the highest mortality rates. In the first ten months 9.2 per cent of the inmates died, 9.5 per cent were seriously ill and thousands were devitalized.

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Army soldiers captured by the Germans, others served in the Vlasov Army. Poles from the Vilnius region were detained because of their contacts with the Polish underground, the Armia Krajowa, during the German occupation. We know from Polish survivors about the fate of Estonians. The inmates were divided into companies and battalions. After passing quarantine they worked on the construction of the Kutaiski car factory Colchis and its auxiliary supply industries. Its machine park consisted of the production equipment of the Opel works, being dismantled in Germany. From memoirs we know that food provisions in the above camp that was located opposite to the factory was of low quality and quantity. Every inmate received 650 grams of bread (300 grams in the morning and 350 grams in the evening), three-quarters of a liter of soup twice a day and boiled water at sunset. The food was to be ‘many sided’ and because of this the ‘soup’ contained dried apples, sorrel and Baltic herring – small dried fish. In such a situation the norms of human behavior and principles of human cohabitation were destroyed. “With famine and dirt, misery and educated persons losing interest in life – judges, attorneys and engineers sometimes turned into human hyenas who did not think twice about stealing from cohorts a few grams of bread or taking a piece of potato from the soup or acquiring a spoon of oatmeal. People ate pieces of rotten potato and leaves to fill their stomach. At times, people collected uncooked peas from human excrement, washed and ate them.”21 The circumstances of the camp led to such a condition where principles and rules ceased. Many, however, were able to adapt and to fight for their lives while simultaneously preserving their dignity. The process of liberation from the filtration camps started with decision No. 843-342ss of 13 April 1946 by the Council of Ministers of the USSR. Six days later the Minister of the Interior, Colonel-General Sergei Kruglov, introduced order No. 00336 on the return of Estonians, Latvians and Lithuanians from MVD camps, special hospitals and labor battalions. The process is described in letters and memoirs of prisoners, too. We know that already in June 1946 serious changes appeared in the camps. Letters state that by August, Latvians and Lithuanians were to soon travel home and many had already departed. Moldavians left the work battalion and Lithuanians went to work without an escort but slept in the camp. According to the sources, the procedure ended by October 1946. For the departing inmates food rations were increased, they received new clothing and some money.

21

Cited after: Rogut, Polacy z Wileńszczyzny, p. 139.

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The documentation of the Ministry of the Interior also stressed an uprising by the Poles. Kruglov’s order was preceded by statistical information compiled in May 1946 by the head of the department for registration and placement of the GULAG, Lieutenant-Colonel Aleshinskii. On 10 May 1946 there were 38,512 ‘repatriated’ Balts in filtration and corrective labor camps, 29,705 Latvians (77.1 per cent), 4,815 Lithuanians and 3,992 Estonians. 20,106 were imprisoned in filtration camps and 18,406 in corrective labor camps. 24,659 were minors to be freed and sent back to their place of residence and 13,853 of the prisoners were of mobilization age to be transferred to building sites in the Baltic republics. Among the latter, the largest share was Latvians (10,324), followed by 1,810 Estonians and 1,701 Lithuanians. Among the more than 38,000 Balts the sick, invalids and other persons unable to work comprised 5,089 persons or 13.2 per cent. The order liberating and relocating the Balts understandably caused some economic problems. The MVD lost their workforce for projects that had been started. Because of this, the ministry demanded the transfer of more than 17,000 prisoners to continue the work and over 3,000 for other objects administered by the MVD including the construction of Laboratory No. 2. Lieutenant-Colonel Aleshinskii argued that the approval of planning for construction work on two objects in 1946, the Belomor-Baltic canal and the gas pipeline Saratov-Moscow, did not allow for the liberation of the Balts. He suggested making several decisions for the implementation of decision No. 843-342ss by the Sovmin USSR of 13 April 1946. First, all sick, invalids and other persons unable to work were to be immediately freed from the camps. Second, minors and grown-ups working on building sites of the MVD should be released after passing filtration and be transferred as free laborers to enterprises managed by the MVD by sending them home or relocating them immediately in the period June–October to construction sites in the Baltic republics. Third, Balts working in factories under the jurisdiction of other ministries should be released after filtration, too, but stay at their place of work without determining the moment they were to be sent home. Aleshinskii proposed to inform all imprisoned Balts about the decision made by the Sovmin and about liberation. He added a draft of a directive by the MVD on the question of the return of Balts. The imprisonment of Estonians in filtration camps and their treatment as Soviet citizens was a violation of international law. Thousands of civilians, in most cases only suspected of anti-Soviet activities, were arrested by the NKVD and NKGB. People of different ages, from various social backgrounds and all kind of professions found themselves in the camps. Mass arrests and deportations

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in the USSR served the purpose of ‘cleansing’ the country and transferring power into the hands of communist collaborators. One of the main aims of keeping Estonians in filtration camps was to identify ‘enemies’ of the Soviet Union. To fulfill the task not only official investigation took place in the camps but informers were used, too. A second aim was to utilize the prisoners as an unpaid workforce for the building sites of the communist empire. The living conditions in the camps were harsh, mocking human dignity. The small food rations, unhealthy hygienic conditions, the spread of parasites, the lack of medical treatment and break-necked pace of work led to widespread sickness and sometimes to death. For the majority, their stay in Soviet camps was detrimental for their future physical and psychological condition. The diseases caught while still in the camp did not let people forget their experiences even long after the return home. The true hell that people survived in the camps remained in the memories of the former prisoners. For a long time, memory of Soviet repressions was not part of official historiography. Today’s state of research makes it difficult to imagine the fate of Estonians and others in Soviet camps. The Estonian nation paid a high price in its struggle for independence. Not only the German occupation, but even more, the Soviet rule led to an uncorrectable change in the country’s post-war history. The loss of independence, the enforced communist totalitarian regime, and the general Sovietization influenced heavily the development of the Estonian nation. Only political change in the late 1980s and early 1990s, similar to what occurred in all the ‘people’s democracies’, led to the return of Estonian independence and sovereignty.

Irēna Saleniece

Impact of the Deportation of 25 March, 1949, on the Population of Eastern Latvia: Archival Documents and Oral History Sources The deportations of Latvians during Stalinist rule1 including the deportation of March, 25, 1949,2 are an essential part of 20th century Latvian history. They are mentioned and indeed thoroughly discussed in historiography.3 Most gen1

2

3

Deportations as a form of the USSR repression policy took place in Latvia in 1941 and 1944–1953. At this time more than 60,000 people were deported from the Latvian SSR to distant regions of the USSR. Large deportations that assumed mass character took place on 14 June, 1941, and 25 March, 1949. According to Daina Bleiere and Jānis Riekstiņš, The Second Mass Deportation of the Inhabitants: 25 March, 1949 (Riga, 2008), pp. 4–45, it was the largest deportation from Latvia. More than 13,000 families – a total of 42,125 people (2.2 % of the population) were directly affected by this deportation, 211 children were born en route or in exile that same year, 513 people were deported later because they had not been at home or had been in hiding on 25 March, and 1,422 were sent from labour camps to join their deported families in settlements in Siberia. The majority of the deportees were farmers. The campaign had several goals: 1) to achieve mass collectivization, 2) to eliminate armed resistance, and 3) to break all forms of resistance to the Sovietization of the Baltic republics. So, the campaign’s task was not only to isolate and destroy actual political enemies, but also to intimidate the ‘silent majority’ and to prevent even the slightest criticism from supporters of the regime regarding the rate and methods of Sovietization. The deportation campaign was named ‘Coastal Surf’ (Russian: Priboi) and its implementation was developed by the Soviet Ministries of State Security and of the Interior. The campaign took place simultaneously in all three Baltic republics. Cf. Andra Āboliņa et al. (eds.), Aizvestie: 1949. gada 25. marts [The Deported: 25 March 1949], Vols. 2, 3 (Riga, 2007); Daina Bleiere et al., Latvijas vēsture: 20. gadsimts [Latvia’s History in the 20th Century] (Riga, 2005), pp. 294–329; Daina Bleiere, Repressions against Farmers in Latvia in 1944–1953, Andris Caune et al. (eds.), The Hidden and Forbidden History of Latvia Under Soviet and Nazi Occupations 1940–1991 (Riga, 2005), pp. 242–56; Sindija Dimanta and Indulis Zālīte, Structural Analysis of the Deportations of the 1940s, Tadeušs Puisāns (ed.), Unpunished Crimes: Latvia Under Three Occupations (Stockholm-Toronto, 2003), pp. 97–104; Jānis Riekstiņš (ed.), Represijas Latvijas laukos: Dokumenti un materiāli (1944–1949) [Repressive Measures in Latvia’s Countryside: Documents and Materials (1944–1949)] (Riga, 2000); idem, 1949.gada 25. marta deportācija Latvijā [The Deportation of 25 March 1949 in Latvia], Iveta Šķiņke (ed.), Padomju okupācijas režīms Baltijā 1944.–1959. gadā: politika un tās sekas: Starptautiskās konferences materiāli, 2002. gada 13. – 14. jūnijs, Rīga [The Soviet Occupation Regime

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erally historians’ analyses are based on sources created by the representatives of power – those who fabricated the ideology of deportations, organized and carried them out. While this provides the possibility of deciphering the smallest nuances of those in positions of power, the situation of the objects of power – the deportees – is revealed indirectly, mediated by the perspective of the ones in power. This often creates stereotypical notions of the deportees as victims of external conditions, whose actions were wholly determined by power. In mass consciousness, these characteristics create a rather primitive conception of history, in which the past life of people is colored either in black or white, without any space for free and willful self-expression. However, one cannot deny the diversity of life. Even in total captivity, there is a choice between accepting one’s condition, or opposing it, at least through one’s attitude. Yet it is often difficult to perceive and describe this attitude because it requires the use of sources of private origin that are mostly kept in families instead of the archives. A researcher needs to turn to people by studying photographs, letters, diaries, etc. Sometimes there is a possibility to directly address the participants of the historical events. Oral history sources reveal both the picture of the past as recalled by the narrator as well as features of his or her identity. Latgale – the eastern part of Latvia bordering with Lithuania (Poland), Belarus, and Russia – has developed a polyethnic and multiconfessional environment that influenced the formation of a specific local identity. The local population of Latgale, with its specific ethnic and religious identity features, often had a distinct awareness of belonging to this place. During the years of independent Latvia, due to a national policy and, most important, a policy of compulsory free basic education, the population of Latvia started to form a national identity4 that denotes the relation between the individual and the state. People of different ethnic origins living in the eastern part of Latvia, who grew up in the 1920s and 1930s, have characteristic features in their national identity. Loss of the independence of Latvia, World War II, and Sovietization (that in its initial stage entailed deportations as part of its repressive policy) made a strong impact on the local population. The degree of the people’s identity transformation must still be investigated. Yet it is evident that in the course of the implementation of the Sovietization policy, the community of Latgale underwent significant transformations. The deportation of March 25, 1949, that was initiated and organized by the institutions of repression of the USSR and the Latvian SSR, also came to include the population of Latgale.

4

in the Baltic States 1944–1959: Policies and Their Consequences: Materials of an International Conference, 13–14 June 2002, Riga] (Riga, 2003), pp. 162–70. Entonijs D. Smits, Nacionālā identitāte [National Identity] (Riga, 1997), p. 19.

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More than 8,500 people (1.7 percent of the total population) were deported from Eastern Latvia (Daugavpils, Ilūkste, Krāslava, Ludza, Rēzekne, Viļaka, Viļāni districts) to Siberia.5 Some Latgale citizens were used by the repressive organs as assistants, making them in effect co-participants of the deportation. Yet generally the local inhabitants were left to watch this drama from the sidelines in anxiety and fear. In the USSR, deportation was not widely discussed in the public arena, yet it made a major impact on the life of the Latgale community, as well as in the rest of Latvia. Turning to the studies of deportations of the population of the Latvian SSR on March 25, 1949, the first sources we need to consider are supplied by the Latvian State Archives. In the course of preparing the top secret operation ‘Coastal Surf’6 by the Soviet Ministries of State Security and of Internal Affairs, documents were compiled for each family that was listed for deportation and later deported. Documentary coverage continued for the journey to Siberia, the stay at the place of special settlement, as well as the rehabilitation period in the 1980s. Archival materials provide insight into the actions of the Soviet repressive institutions7 that is characterized by a well-developed bureaucracy. According to administrative procedures, any dispatch of peoples to special settlements by state institutions came to be reflected in a growing body of official papers in the course of time. This paperwork also involved the relatives, neighbors, and local administrative representatives in Latvia who were questioned to find out or specify the facts concerning the deported. Occasionally those who remained at home officially expressed concern regarding their relatives or neighbors who were deported to Siberia. As a result, an impressive corpus of documents was built, containing 13,358 family cases that are kept in the series (fonds) No. 1894 of the Latvian State Archives. Still, this huge corpus of documents and the amount of information it contains is insufficient, even for reconstructing the very event of deportation and the lives of the deported in special settlements, to say nothing of projecting a deeper understanding of the event. As already mentioned, this is because archival documents reveal the past from the position of those in authority, almost totally ignoring the individual experience of the humans related to this event. Archival documents also provide fragmentary 5 6

7

Āboliņa et al. (eds.), Aizvestie, pp. 179–82. Heinrihs Strods, PSRS valsts drošības ministrijas pilnīgi slepenā Baltijas valstu iedzīvotāju izsūtīšanas operācija „Krasta Banga” (Priboj) [The Top Secret Operation by the USSR Ministry of State Security for the Deportation of the Residents of the Baltic States ‘Coastal Surf’ (Priboi)], Latvijas Vēsture: Jaunie un Jaunākie laiki 2 (1998), pp. 39–48. Sergei Zhuravlev, Sudebno-sledstvennaia i tiurmeno-lagernaia dokumentatsia [Documentation of Investigations, Courts, Prisons and Camps], Andrei Sokolov (ed.), Istochnikovedenie noveishei istorii Rossii: teoria, metodologia, praktika (Moscow, 2004), pp. 153–210.

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information about the Latgale community in the 1950s. In fact, this information is mostly indirect and has to be interpreted by historians. Information about the community of Latgale at the time of deportations is presented differently in the life-stories of people residing in Eastern Latvia. Narrators reveal their own vision of the past that very often includes detailed characteristics of behavior and mood of diverse social groups. The present article is based on oral history sources from the collection of the Oral History Centre of Daugavpils University8 (henceforth – OHC). These are life-stories of people residing in Eastern Latvia who were born in the 1920s and 1930s revealing, among other subjects, information on the deportation of 1949. The former landowners who were destined for deportation by the Soviet authorities have died long ago. The conditions of their deportation, life in Siberia, and return home have been rather well documented and are currently being investigated. However, their personal experience has been lost along with their death, and the next generations may only guess what their feelings, pains, and dreams were like. The OHC collection comprises the life-stories of those people who, at the time of deportation, were still young or even children. Some of them were deported with their families; others became witnesses of those events. The impressions and emotions experienced then, return when they recall March 25, 1949. The OHC archives contain life-stories of the deported including information about deportation, life at the place of settlement, and return to Latvia entailing facts of everyday life, personal relations, emotions and reflections in the narratives of the deported. Only the people themselves know what they felt and thought at the moment of detention, deportation and the years of special settlement. Only they can recall how they learned to adjust to the unfamiliar natural and human environment of Siberia and how they managed to adapt to new living conditions. OHC researchers have also registered the memories of relatives about the arrest and deportation of their family members, fellow students, colleagues and neighbors, and the narrators’ feelings, attitude, and understanding of those events at that time and today. There is a rich collection of evidence that makes it possible to recreate the socio-psychological atmosphere of Latvia in 1949, as it was perceived by the ‘common people’ of that time. 8

The Oral History Centre of Daugavpils University was founded on 2 December, 2003. The aim of the OHC is to promote the theoretical research and practical use of oral history, building up archives with oral evidence and founding a research institution. The main activities of OHC are the recording of life-stories of the inhabitants in Eastern Latvia and putting them into archives as well as using oral history sources in the research of 20th century Latvian history. By the end of 2014, the number of oral history sources of the OHC collection reached 1,000 records.

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The first attempt at bringing together the archival documents and oral history sources was made in Latvia in 2005. Employees of the Latvian State Archives initiated cooperation with the OHC. The comparison of the information from the archival documents and oral history sources revealed that a combination of different information sources makes the reconstruction of the events much more profound and complete, sometimes even providing answers that cannot be found by working with just one type of source material. This investigation became the basis of the book ‘The Voices of the Deported, March 25, 1949: The fate of some deported families from Daugavpils and Ilūkste districts in oral history sources and archival documents’.9 The collection, produced at the OHC, is the first joint publication of oral history sources and archival documents in Latvia bearing evidence on the deportations in 1949. The collection focuses on four families that were deported from the Daugavpils and Ilūkste districts of the Latvian SSR to Siberia for special settlement in the Omsk district, Russian SFSR. The purpose of the collection was to introduce into wider research sources that contribute to extending and enriching the source base for investigating the topic of deportations. The majority of the published texts comprise sources from the archives of the OHC – life-stories of the deported people and their family members recorded during field research expeditions to the Vabole and Saliena parishes of the Daugavpils region in 2003 and 2004. Selecting families instead of individual people was determined both by the peculiarities of the world-view of the narrators, in which the family occupies the central place, and the logic of the top secret operation ‘Coastal Surf’, during which the families of ‘kulaks’ or ‘convicted nationalists’ were assigned for deportation. Concerning the latter, this logic is especially obvious since the ‘nationalists’ were sentenced and in confinement long before the beginning of the operation but their family members, in the opinion of the authorities, could be of serious danger to the stability of the society and therefore had to be deported, irrespective of their individual opinions and degree of loyalty towards the regime. The information from the oral history sources supplements, clarifies, and sometimes contests the archival documents. Including the oral histories in the above mentioned volume facilitates a clearer vision of the contrast between the official and the individual perception of the same facts. As an example of the official paperwork concerning the deported families, the case materials of the 9

Irēna Saleniece (ed.), 1949. gada 25. martā izvesto balsis: Dažu Daugavpils un Ilūkstes apriņķa deportēto ģimeņu likteņi mutvārdu vēstures avotos un arhīva dokumentos [The Voices of the Deported, 25 March, 1949: The Fate of Deported Families from Daugavpils and Ilūkste Districts in Oral History and Archival Documents] (Daugavpils, 2008).

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Grigorievs family are reproduced in the volume, including a set of official documents reflecting the life of the specially settled, as well as all the documents submitted by family members and those circulating within the bureaucracy. The content of the book concerns a number of families from the south-eastern part of Latvia; however the unique and individual character of their stories evokes the common situation of each family deported from Latvia (as well as from other places of the Soviet Union). It concerns the necessity for human beings, under the condition of the loss of external freedom, to make a constant choice ‘for’ or ‘against’ sustaining values that have been formed in the course of several generations of the family’s life. Joint publication of archival documents and oral history sources arouses a number of peculiarities. First, the legal aspect must be taken into account. Addressing the deportation of March 25, 1949, we touch upon the private life events of our contemporaries. Both archival documents and oral history sources contain information that is rather personal, the exposure of which may hurt the people’s feelings. People as subjects of study have the right to be protected from undesired meddling in their personal life space. According to the Physical Person Data Protection Act of the Republic of Latvia,10 permission must be granted by the person before using or making public his/her personal information (e.g. information from the person’s file in the archives). Oral history sources that are created as a result of cooperation between the interviewer and the narrator are also related to the copyright issue. The narrator and interviewer are the co-authors of the oral history source, thus their rights over the information given during the interviews must be safeguarded according to the Copyright Act of the Republic of Latvia.11 This issue is basically solved by an agreement between the narrator and interviewer (the latter usually representing an oral history institution) concerning the storage of the record and the right of using the information for research goals.12 There are three kinds of relations defined by the law: between the narrator and the interviewer, between the oral source donor and the oral history archives, and between the archives and their users. For the legal maintenance of these relations, corresponding documents must be drawn up.13 The major legal responsibility lies on the archives that administer oral history sources in perpetuity.14 The archives are concerned 10 11 12 13 14

Latvijas Republikas Fizisko personu datu aizsardzības likums (23 March 2000). Latvijas Republikas Autortiesību likums (6 April 2000). Willa K. Baum, Transcribing and Editing Oral History (Walnut Creek etc, 1991), p. 10. Nancy MacKay, Curating Oral Histories: From Interview to Archive (Walnut Creek, 2007), pp. 33–4. Baum, Transcribing and Editing Oral History, p. 74.

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that the documents not be used to harm either narrators or interviewers, or the people mentioned in the interviews (e.g. by revealing erroneous, compromising, disreputable information or incorrect characteristics and evaluations).15 It is important to respect the differences of the people (ethnic, religious, those concerning age, sex, etc) and not to hurt their sensitivities.16 Hence, responsibility is demanded both from the interviewer and the narrator, as well as the person using the oral history source for his/her purposes. Even an official permit does not free the researcher from the moral responsibility before the above mentioned people and their relatives. The above consideration makes the ethical aspect very significant and often complicated. Practice shows that the use of oral history sources in a publication demands careful consideration of publicizing each fact or detail confirmed by the documents. There is a possibility that before agreeing to the publication of archival documents, people are not fully informed as to its content. Discrepancies can occur between the information provided by the narrator and the actual content of archival documents. The researcher must carefully consider each particular case to determine which documents should be included in the publication. . Hence, during the following interview the narrator denies the possibility of her family members’ service in the German army during World War II as a reason for the family deportation: – But, say, was somebody in ‘aizsargi’17 or the German army? – No. – No one? – Not in the German army. – [...] In Latvian times maybe someone was an activist in the parish? [...] – That probably Mum can say better [more precisely]. [...] She knows more.18

However, the archival documents from the registered case for the family of kulak Fedor Martynovich Grigoriev testify that both the narrator’s father and her paternal uncle served in the German army and her grandfather was accused of collaborating with the Nazis because he participated in an agriculturist congress in

15 16 17 18

Barbara W. Sommer and Mary Kay Quinlan, The Oral History Manual (Walnut Creek etc, 2002), p. 19. MacKay, Curating Oral Histories, p. 37. Latvian paramilitary organization. Interview with Glikeria Mukāne, Lielie Vaideri, Vabole parish, 1 July 2003, Daugavpils Universitāte Mutvārdu vēstures centrs (Oral History Centre at Daugavpils University, DU MV) 72.

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Germany during the war.19 It may seem that joint publication of both sources of information – the life-story and the archival document – would introduce ambiguity and confusion. Yet this is not the case because the discrepancies can be logically explained. The narrator was born after the war, therefore she does not know personally the facts of the war period. Taking into account the deportation of her family and having lived long years labeled as the ‘people’s enemy’, one may presume that the senior family members refrained from mentioning, in their children’s presence, facts that were compromising in the eyes of Soviet power. The narrator herself is aware of her insufficient knowledge and refers to her mother who ‘knows more’. The mother in her life-story mentions that her husband served in the German army.20 Thus, there is no reason to doubt the ethicality of publishing the aforementioned documents. In another case the situation is different. The narrator was born in 1927 and was an adult during the investigated period. It is difficult to determine how knowledgeable she was at that time, but one may not exclude an intentional silence as to the reasons for her father’s arrest. She said: – So it was, eh, in the German times ... Had to go along the road to watch ... so that there were no robberies or something. They gave a gun. – To your father? – Yes. Well, eh, that’s it. ... nothing more. – It was then probably that he was a kind of a policeman or giving voluntary assistance ... Well, yes, eh, went here. You must go to the road to watch so that there were no robberies.21

In the registred case for the family of convicted nationalist Krišjānis Kalvāns, the ‘crimes’ against the narrator’s father are more thoroughly described: participation in the ‘aizsargi’ organization, taking part in the arrest of Soviet citizens and patrolling the roads in order to detain Soviet partisans.22 In such a case, before publishing archival documents, it is necessary to familiarize the narrator with the content of the documents and clarify the causes of disparities, as well as the narrator’s attitude towards publishing the information. 19

20 21 22

Summary [of information] signed by the head of the Daugavpils department of the Ministry of State Security of the LaSSR concerning the family of kulak F. Grigoriev, 17 February 1949, Latvijas Valsts arhīvs (Latvian State Archives, LVA) 1894-1-7639, l. 1c. Interview with Irina Grigorieva, Lielie Vaideri, Vabole parish, 1 July 2003, DU MV 73. Interview with Zelma Redzoba, Līdumnieki, Saliena parish, 1 July 2004, DU MV 195. Summary [of information] signed by the head of the Ilūkste district department of the Ministry of State Security of the LaSSR about K. Kalvāns’ family, 16 February 1949, LVA 18941-2647, l. 1a.

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Our experience shows that when preparing the archival documents and oral history sources for publication, a number of complications arise. Yet, the resulting possibilities for research compensate for these difficulties. Hence, the registred case for the family of kulak Elisei Mikhailovich Skladov contains two top secret summaries of information about the deportation of the family from Saliena parish of Ilūkste district for special settlement. In the first summary, the family is named a ‘kulak’ family headed by Agafia Skladova, born in 1890. On March, 25 1949, at the Grīva railway station this family (consisting of one person) was placed on echelon No. 97342 and deported to the Liubino station of the Omsk district.23 Another summary refers to the deportation of the ‘convicted nationalist’ Elisei Skladov’s (born in 1884) family (also consisting of one person) on 29 March from Eglaine railway station to the Omsk district by echelon No. 97343.24 It is certainly the same family (testified to by a single common file in the archives), yet how to account for the disparities? No explanations are provided by the case materials, just Elisei Skladov in his application of June 6, 1949, indicated that during the change of the residence, he and his wife had separated (pri pereselenii my raz’’ekhalis’) and asked for permission to reunite – take his wife with him or at least visit her.25 Taking into consideration the procedure of deportation, one may suppose that Elisei and Agafia Skladovs had been deported separately (testified to by the different place and time of departure and the echelon number), first the wife, then the husband. Afterwards they reunited in Siberia, stayed together and returned to their native land after rehabilitation. Yet why were they deported separately? Where and how did Elisei Skladov spend four days before deportation? How did he come to the echelon? How did they meet? Apart from the evidence of the contemporaries, answers to these questions depend on the researcher’s imagination and intuition. Possibly, the head of the family had been hiding (why alone, without his wife?), then was caught and deported or maybe he volunteered (but what was his motivation?). 23

24

25

Summary [of information] about evicting A. Skladova from her place of residence to a special settlement with the signature of the commander of operations of the Ministry of State Security, Senior Lieutenant Alekseev, about delivery, and the signature of echelon No. 9742 warden, Lieutenant Ermolaev, about acceptance to the echelon, 25 March 1949, LVA 18941-8112, l. 8. Summary [of information] about evicting E. Skladov from his place of residence to a special settlement with the signature of the senior commander of operations of Ilūkste region office of the Ministry of State Security of the LaSSR, Lieutenant Shvedov, about delivery and the signature of echelon No. 97343 warden, Captain Troianov, about acceptance to the echelon, 29 March 1949, ibid., l. 10. E. Skladovs’ application to the special settlement administration requesting a permit for his wife to settle with him, 10 May 1949, ibid., l. 63.

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The answer is provided by the grand-daughter Efrosinia, who as an eight year old girl watched the deportation of her grandparents: − [The day before deportation] granddad rode a horse to the town, but granny [...] stayed home alone. This means, she was kept to watch over. She had tied bundles at home. [...] They kept watch and waited for granddad till the evening. Granddad didn’t return and granny was sent alone. So ... and granddad came maybe after a day – granny’s not there. Mum ... they were somewhere ... preparing fi rewood with dad in the forest, but ... but granddad came in ... came in and asked, “Give me a needle and thread – black and white...” [starts crying] So. [...] I gave him [the needle and thread] (I was the eldest in the family) and he left ... left, went to Tartak. There was a [collection] point there and this means he followed granny. So. And they came to Siberia, Omsk district…. (He) couldn’t meet there with granny for three months or more (I just know this from stories). Couldn’t find each other. − So, he didn’t meet her in Tartak? − No, she had already been sent away. − He just went and himself … − He … he went … by another route. Alone. And there they met. [...] Yes. And then in 1955 they returned – granddad and granny. [...] − What do you think, why did he follow granny? [...] − No, we never discussed it. Well, he ... as human loyalty. Had been living together for so many years, grown-up children, lots of grandchildren.26

Hence, one may conclude that Elisei Skladov voluntarily went to the collection point and submitted himself to the repressive organs to follow his wife. Officially this action is not recognized as voluntary because the old man had been enlisted among the deportees, yet it was his own individual decision. Unfortunately we cannot discover Elisei Skladov’s motivation for his decision; nor can we find answers to many other questions in relation to the feelings, motivation, and values of the deportees as the majority of these people have passed away. Therefore, it is necessary to address those who are still among us, and the information they supply must be used in the historical research. The written and oral history sources about the deportation of 1949 differ not only in the type of information (direct – indirect), but also in their content. Under the conditions of a totalitarian regime, the documents produced by the authorities were mostly passed along to be kept in the archives27, therefore they usually express the official position and show the situation from the perspective of those in power. In these sources, a great role is attributed to propaganda, 26 27

Interview with Efrosinia Silchonok, Selikāni, Saliena parish, 30 June 2004, DU MV 180. Andrei Sokolov, Vvedenie [Introduction], idem (ed.), Istochnikovedenie noveishei istorii Rossii, p. 65.

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‘undesirable’ facts are ignored and sometimes even falsifications occur. Oral history sources reveal a human’s perspective on events demonstrating his or her individual experience and his/her essential values. Life-stories often provide insight on feelings, emotions, and other psychological manifestations that are almost impossible to find in archival documents. However, unique and original oral history sources that allow one to glimpse into the past through the eyes of individual people are far from ideal. Firstly, memory loss inevitably gives rise to faulty source information. One must also take into consideration that people wish to ‘look decent’ in the the eyes of others. This demands that historians have a critical attitude toward oral history sources. Secondly, the scope of a life-story is limited to the individual person, who appears as a member of various groups (family, work staff, ethnic or religious group, etc), yet represents only himself or herself. Historians should extend this scope at least to the boundaries of these groups. The imperfections of oral history sources may be overcome by creating sets of sources28 and comparing the information from diverse kinds of sources. Studies of archival documents and oral history sources allow the reconstruction of the situation in the spring of 1949. In February 1949, the LaSSR state security minister A. Novik signed orders on the deportation of more than 13 thousand families from Latvia. Together with thousands of Estonian and Lithuanian families they were supposed to be taken away from their native places in the next few days without notice. From the point of view of the authorities this decision was rather logical: to facilitate the creation of kolkhozes in the former Baltic states, it was necessary to isolate (even by way of deporting) the opponents of this process – the well-to-do peasants. On the other hand, the inflow of Baltic ‘kulaks’ to Siberia gave this region skilled and industrious workers that provided an economic gain. Besides, after this action it was expected that the Baltic people, paralyzed by fear, would submit to the demands of the regime in the future without reserve. Oral history sources reveal the past not from those in positions of power, but from the standpoint of an ‘ordinary’ person who is often involved in the course of events against his free will. In this case, it is impossible to justify the cynicism of power based on the considerations mentioned above. Besides, these considerations were not usually publicly revealed, thus millions of people, whose fates were being decided without their participation, were forced 28

Aleksandrs Ivanovs, Dokumentu kompleksa apzināšana, rekonstrukcija un izpēte: arheogrāfiskie un avotpētnieciskie aspekti [Detection, Reconstruction and Study of a Set of Documents: Aspects of Archeography and Source Study], Humanitaro Zinātņu Vēstnesis 2006, No. 10, pp. 76–88.

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to make do with rumors and live under excessive strain. Notwithstanding the most severe secrecy of the operation ‘Coastal Surf’, fragmentary, vague, frightening rumors were spread around. Contemporaries as onlookers convey the sense of fear and insecurity that had overtaken Latvia at that time: “... there was premonition, as all the time, say, people knew, felt that deportation would take place. As soon as deportation was mentioned, there was trembling inside.”29 Fear in the face of threatening danger made people seek refuge in the forests, leave their homes, bribe the local functionaries, or try to escape the vague, but horrifying fate in any way possible. Why were the people scared? First, the lack of information made them imagine mortal danger, because the unknown has threatened people since the time human beings gained self-awareness. Second, people in Latvia had experienced mass terror acts before, and even those who had not been directly affected by them, were informed both about the deportation of 1941 and the tragic fates of the deportees as well as the Holocaust and other manifestations of mass terror. That is why the country-side of Latvia in the spring of 1949 was frozen in fear that reached its peak on March 25. ... the deportation started [...] I recall clearly: we were standing in the veranda and looking through the window at the cars going by. It was early in the morning and there was fog, but snow had almost melted away, rather muddy, but it passed by. We thought that it would turn into our drive but it passed by ...30

The narrators consider it symbolic that the unfair, unjustified deportation took place on the eve of a great catholic festival – the Annunciation Day (Māra day). Instead of going to the church to worship Our Lady, people were taken by force to so-called ‘collection points’ and railway stations leaving both the church benches and homes empty. Those who remained sought refuge for themselves and the deported only with God: The train departed with terrible effort [from Eglaine station]. We ran in front of it and put Oblation wafers beneath the rail, like mother had told us to do. […] We were terribly afraid. I was eleven, my brother – seven years old. And then we made the sign of a cross over each wagon. Well, we tried hard to cross all of them. Then I heard: people did not cry but in one wagon there was singing, in another somebody played. Someone played the guitar in one wagon. That was the way those Latvians left.31

The memories of the relatives of the deported are as emotional, though much more concrete, as they witnessed the procedure of deportation and recall the 29 30 31

Interview with Voiceks Juhņevičs, Špoģi, Višķu parish, 23 June 2004, DU MV 157. Interview with Lidija Skrinda, Zabaltiški, Vabole parish, 2 May 2004, DU MV 150. Interview with Ērika Medika, Birznieki, Šedere parish, 16 April 2003, DU MV 24.

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actual behavior of the people. Struck by fear, the detainees in most cases obeyed the demands of the officials. Their despair was echoed by their family members who mostly acted on impulse, trying to alleviate the suffering of their beloved, showing them compassion, love and giving some material goods: ... there was deportation, that March 25. We did not understand: militia entered our school ... two boys were called from our class; one girl was called as well ... that Baika Valentīna who was in our class. We knew nothing, understood nothing, knew nothing; those children left, our pupils, left and never came back [...] there was this Morozovs, he was a Russian boy but he was a Latvian patriot. [...] he said, “You know where your friends were taken, where?” But we ... we knew nothing. He told us where they were taken and where we should run. [...] we grabbed loaves of bread ... ran to the wagons. We ran there and saw a girl shedding tears, she said, “No Dad or Mum.” […] She said, “I don’t know where [they will be taken] but I am not let out any more.” I had a knitted cardigan, I quickly took it off, threw her the bread I had. We started crying by that wagon [crying]. And saw: more and more people were taken there, more ... We were pushed away from the wagon ... later we found out where our friends were taken, yes.32

However, in that situation of no escape, people did not lose their ability to consider the circumstances and make a decision on how to act by making their own choice. The reasons for the decision made by the Saliena parish peasant Elisei Skladov to follow his wife is impossible to verify any more by asking him questions. We can just make a guess that his choice was based on caring for his deported wife and his devotion to her. He luckily escaped from the officials and could have stayed in his house, but he chose to leave for the unknown. Documents show that in Siberia he did find his wife and in May 1949, wrote an application to the special settlement administration diplomatically stating that “during the change of the place of residence” he had parted with his wife and asked for permission to reunite with her by taking his wife to his place of residence or at least be allowed to visit her.33 An unusual incident was recalled by a ‘kulak’ family member who had been listed for deportation, Grigorii Lavretskii, who lived in the Saliena parish of Ilūkste district: − In 1949 I studied at Saliena school, form (grade) 7, and on March 25, [19]49, they came to me at school (I stayed then at the school dormitory) ... And they said, “You must go to the parish!” I saw that something was wrong. And we had that Domna Dominikovna Kravchenok, our teacher, I noticed her crying. She already knew about the deportation. And I was taken from the school desk – and to the parish 32 33

Interview with Leonora Daģe, Dzelmes, Dviete parish, 27 June 2005, DU MV 244. E. Skladovs’ application to the special settlement administration, LVA 1894-1-8112, l. 63.

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[...] My father had already been brought there but my brother studied at the institute in Daugavpils, and he had already been taken and was sitting at Grīva [railway station] in the wagon. What saved us? This is what saved us. In [19]44 my father who was retired and disabled was invited to work, they were building Krustpils airport in [19]44. [...] and he was awarded ... he was given this medal “For labour courage” [...] he attached this medal to his fur-coat ... − Hanged this medal! [laughing] − [...] and he dashed there, into those headquarters, where [this man] was sitting who was responsible for this deportation from Saliena parish. [...] got interested in what this medal was for. [The responsible one] said, “We will not take this old man!” And he was allowed to go home – this old man. − How old was he? − 65! He was already 65.34

In the general atmosphere of fear, the head of the family was courageous and smart enough not to succumb to fear and escape. The relatives of the deported could just hope and wait to hear from them. It is likely that news from Siberia first came to Latvia after a month. It is hard to imagine the strain those at home experienced day and night. For a time period there was total lack of contact that later turned into a separation in space. After establishing postal and other communication between the deported and those who remained in Latvia, the bond between them was renewed and manifested itself both in practical help and moral support. Values such as industriousness, respect for property, family ties, and faith in God that formed the basis of this community remained and thus the sense of belonging was not lost either. The deported finally reached Siberia and were forced to sign a statement that they would stay there “for good, without the right to return to the former places of residence”.35 Yet, they soon regained their senses and started acting. Hence, E. Skladov already in May 1949 pointed out that he was well-settled in the new place of living, working, and had planted a vegetable garden. Oral history sources provide information about the ways the deported people organized their everyday life: they built or bought houses for living, purchased cows and pigs for food, established contacts with the local residents, and sustained contact with those remaining in Latvia. In the eyes of the authorities, both the deported and those who communicated with them were suspect persons, even dangerous and hostile. Suspicion 34 35

Interview with Grigorii Lavretskii, Saliena, Daugavpils region, 2 July 2004, DU MV 214. Signature of E. Grigoriev on being notified of his deportation to distant regions of the USSR for life without the right of return to his former residence, 11 April 1949, LVA 1894-1-7639, l. 80.

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was aroused by disagreement about values, as the highest value proclaimed by Soviet ideology was communism that automatically excluded private property, religion, etc. In turn, the people who were born and raised in independent Latvia had always considered land as property that brought the greatest benefit for humans, a source of material well-being and respect from others. Under the new conditions, upholding this value could bring misfortune to its owners. From 1944 to 1949 they first had to reconcile themselves to the loss of their land in the process of nationalization, and then wound up being persecuted because of their former well-being. Hence, the changed situation was unclear and unacceptable for the narrators. Their whole world had been destroyed in one moment: the usual norms and values had been rejected, the integrity of their families and even life as such were endangered. Besides, all this happened by the will of those in power who were supposed to safeguard security and sustain order, instead of causing chaos. The officials treated the people like criminals, but for what reason? This question has yet to be answered. Each family was in a different situation. The heads of the families of the ‘convicted nationalists’ had been sentenced and deported earlier, but as the term of their conviction was coming to an end in March 1949, the rest of their family members was taken away from their homes. For some time the fragile bond between them was broken; however the deported managed to restore the bond and reunite their families, if not in the homeland then at least in Siberia. According to documents, the reunification was not easy: the ‘convicted nationalists,’ following the end of their confinement in camps, were subjected to exile to special settlements, but their family members were already in other special settlements. In order to reunite, the deported had to request permission from the authorities. For example, Saliena peasant Kārlis Redzobs’ wife Minna wrote an appeal stating her commitment to become her husband’s custodian.36 However, K. Redzobs had previously signed the obligation to not leave his place of residence without a preliminary permit from the Ministry of State Security and to appear in person for registration at the appointed place and time.37 Zelma, from Saliena parish of Ilūkste district and the daughter of peasant Krišjānis Kalvāns appealed to the Chair of the Council of Ministers of the USSR, Georgii Malenkov, with a complaint about the obstacles for the reunification of his 36 37

M. Redzoba’s obligation to act as custodian for K. Redzobs, 20 September 1952, LVA 18941-1617, l. 153. K. Redzobs’ obligation not to leave without a preliminary permit from the organs of the Ministry of Internal Affairs and to appear in person for registration at a time and place appointed by the organs of the Ministry of Internal Affairs, 27 August 1951, ibid., l. 142.

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family.38 Most likely the reason was not only the usual sternness of the repressive organs but also the fact that the deported kept active contacts with their relatives and neighbors in the homeland who were suspected of cooperating with national guerillas. Hence, there are several pages in the deported Redzobs family case with excerpts from the minutes of the interrogation of arrested national partisans. The records state that one of the nationalist guerrillas had spent some time at the Redzobs’ place during his illegal action.39 Kārlis Redzobs, after graphological examination, was incriminated by a letter he wrote that contained ‘anti-soviet nationalistic content’.40 Yet, there is no mention of punishing the author of the letter in the archival documents. The concern of the security agencies of the USSR about the situation in Latvia and particularly in Latgale is obvious in the request from the head of the Kaganovich region department of the Ministry of State Security of the RSFSR to the head of Grīva region department of the Daugavpils district of the Ministry of State Security of the LaSSR about Feoktist Skladov’s visits from Latvia to Omsk district in 1952 and 1953. The son’s care for his aged parents did not seem to the security representative a sufficient reason for visits and he questioned whether F. Skladov was a member of an underground nationalist organization (the existence of which is thus not denied), who had gone to Siberia to organize contacts with the special settlement exiles.41 In contrast to the representatives of security agencies who were always focusing on political issues, the people of Latgale – both the deported and those who remained home – were concerned mostly with purely human issues and they contacted one another to solve personal problems. Hence, peasants Evtikhii and Irina Grigorievs at the moment of deportation decided to leave their eleven month old daughter in Latvia. At the moment of detention and deportation, as well as on their way to Siberia, people were completely in the dark about their further destiny: Oh, you know, it was terrifying [cries]. For two weeks we were taken in stock-cars ... And when we reached the station, they said: “Get ready, at the next station you will get off.” We shed tears, lamented – all our echelon, not exactly echelon – our 38 39

40

41

Z. Redzoba’s (Kalvāne) complaint to the Chair of the Council of Ministers of the USSR with the request that her family be reunited, 31 August 1954, LVA 1894-1-2647, l. 104. Minutes of interrogation of A. Linkun written by the senior commander of operations of the Ministry of State Security of the LaSSR, Lieutenant Meshchanov, 26 August 1946, LVA 1894-1-1617, l. 180. Summary [of information] signed by the commander of operations of the 5th department of the Omsk district office of the Ministry of State Security, Sub-Lieutenant Litvinov, concerning a letter of ‘anti-Soviet nationalist content’, 28 August 1951, ibid., l. 174. Request concerning F. Skladov, 3 March 1953, LVA 1894-1-8112, l. 74.

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wagon. Shedding tears that we will be taken to a bog and shot dead. [...] Then we noticed light: the train started slowing down. Then we were told which wagons were getting off and others were taken further. We were placed in a club and told: “Wait while they come with horses, oxen, and tractors to take you away.” One old man died, a girl who was next to us – also died (two years old she was). Unjust it was ...42

As soon as it became obvious that the worst premonitions would not come true (the possibility of mortal danger turned out to be just a fantasy), the activity of Irina and Evtikhii was unremitting. They corresponded with their relative who took care of their daughter; searched for money to pay for the girl’s and grandmother’s trip to Siberia and the grandmother’s return travel; at the same time they wrote a complaint to the chair of the Supreme Soviet of the USSR about their unjust deportation.43 Although the complaint was rejected,44 due to their pragmatic and insistant action, Evtikhii and Irina managed to reunite with their daughter. However, from the large Grigorievs family, the head of the family, Fedor Grigoriev (who died in a special settlement in Omsk district in 1953) and his disabled daughter Anna were also deported. Fedor’s wife who had remained in Latvia, the mother of Anna and Evtikhii, together with other relatives tried to get Anna back to the homeland. It became possible only in 1956. The Skladovs also had to solve complicated issues including the unification of a wife and a husband who had been deported separately and applying for their release from special settlement. Both their family members45 and neighbors in the homeland participated in this process. Six of their neighbors wrote a letter describing Skladov as an ‘honest working peasant’, thus showing their sympathy. It is possible they envisaged the negative consequences for having supported a ‘people’s enemy’, yet they signed the letter anyway. The text of this letter shows that propaganda was rather active in Saliena and Silene till the spring of 1952. Therefore the local peasants, in the best traditions of the Soviet propaganda, emphasized that E. Skladov had never exploited anyone and was ‘like an enemy to Germans’.46 42 43 44

45

46

Interview with Irina Grigorieva, DU MV 73. I. Grigorieva’s application to the Chairman of the Presidium of the USSR Supreme Soviet about her unjust deportation, 13 December 1949, LVA 1894-1-7639, l. 12. Letter from the ‘A’ division of the Ministry of State Security of the LaSSR to the head of the Special Settlement Department of the Ministry of Internal Affairs of the USSR, Omsk district, with a request to inform I. Grigorieva about the refusal to release her from special settlement and to obtain from her a signature of notification, 6 April 1950, ibid., l. 202. F. Skladov’s application to the Administration of the Council of Ministers of the LaSSR requesting permission to take custody of his parents living in a special settlement, 18 November 1954, LVA 1894-1-8112, l. 39. Pledge from Saliena and Silene inhabitants of E. Skladov’s bona fide as a working peasant, ibid., l. 32.

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Although initially, the authorities did not grant the possibility for the return of the deported to the homeland, the deported continued to apply for release from special settlement and complained about their unjust deportation. The replies were mostly negative, but people contined to write letters hoping for a possibility of liberation. After the death of Stalin, the regime became less severe and the special settlement exiles started to return to their homeland, where quite a few chose to settle in other regions of Latvia. Some remained in Siberia. Those who returned home found there close and friendly people, but also those who were intolerant toward the ‘people’s enemies’: Those who had wanted us to be deported, wailed that we would come back. Artemiikha, she wept that we would return because she had taken from there … [...] So, they did not want us to return. They didn’t. Well, those who were wicked, they of course did not want, but those who were good ... Well, Vonogs, our neighbour, an honest man, he gave us a sheep in spring, a good man, always came to visit us ... a Latvian ... he was good, all around us were Latvians, only four Russian [families] ... 47

After returning to the homeland, the deported had to face those who organized the deportations – the local people, who had assisted the repressive organs in March 1949: When we returned from the Siberia, we met [with the person who took part in carrying out the deportation]. I worked at the storehouse … and he was so uncomfortable… [...] “Well, I’m sorry that, you see … it was such a time then …” I said, “What happened, happened, no need to remember.” [...] Everything forgotten, past …48

Are the narrator’s words supposed to be taken literally? Her own story reveals that what happened is still alive in her memory and the fear, pain, and injury have not disappeared. She has probably forgiven those who hurt her, but in society and especially in historiography there has been no serious evaluation of the collaborators’ action. The source base is not so rich either: the cases of the deported families provide the names of the security staff members, yet they almost totally lack those of the local collaborators, some of whom became involved in the process of deportation voluntarily. They were often more strict and more cruel to the detained people than the representatives of the security structures. The memory of the deported is the only source of information about the actions of these people and must be registered as soon as possible. The issue of the property of the deported is also open to investigation. There is abundant evidence regarding the readiness of the surrounding peasants to 47 48

Interview with Irina Grigorieva, DU MV 73. Interview with Zelma Redzoba, DU MV 195.

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misappropriate what belonged to the deported. Grigorii Lavretskii bitterly recalls the surprise that awaited the family upon their return home: − The father, then, was taken [for deportation] in the morning, but already by two o’clock he had been released, and hardly had he arrived when I … went home at once and already saw – the house was open, our neighbors and others sitting there, walking around the house. But they had not managed to take out anything yet from there. [...] − You had not yet been taken away, but they had already arrived to take away [the property]! − Already walking about, everything, yet they had not managed yet to take anything away, but then in [19]49 collectivization started.49

In the above case the act of plundering did not take place, but that was unusual. Usually when families were deported, their property was lost. The real property was confiscated; often the related documents testifying to this have been preserved. Household buildings, equipment, etc were passed over to the kolkhoz. After the return of the deported, the problems of their housing were solved in different ways. In some cases the previous owners were allowed to live in their houses,50 in other cases not.51 A considerable role was played by the local community in making this decision. Information concerning personal belongings is much scarcer, yet it seems that the belongings could not have just disappeared. The narrators very seldom mention that after their return they regained their belongings. The Grigorievs had trusted their icons to their relatives, so they got them back.52 But, though very valuable, icons are not just property like gold rings that the Redzobs family lost along with other belongings.53 Who, apart from the local people, could have misappropriated them? Did it do them any good? The conditions during the founding of the kolkhozes are still remembered in the Latvian countryside as a time of exceptional poverty. The following idea sounds paradoxical: You know, there [in Omsk district] all that had already been organized. Kolkhozes had existed there for a long time; it was easier for us there. But those who were not deported, faced great hardship here. They also suffered from something like famine, even more than we did …54 49 50 51 52 53 54

Interview with Grigorii Lavretskii, DU MV 214. Interviews with Glikeria Mukāne, Irina Grigorieva and Zelma Redzoba. Interview with Mirdza Staltmane, Baltiņi, Saliena parish, 2 July 2004, DU MV 216. Interview with Glikeria Mukāne, DU MV 72. Interview with Mirdza Staltmane, DU MV 216. Ibid.

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Of course, nobody is going to compare whose suffering was greater – that of the deported or those who stayed in Latvia, and with tears in their eyes, gave away their cattle and other belongings to the kolkhozes that were established and worked hard there almost without pay. The consequences of deportations as well as other historical events of the 20th century need further profound study.

Vsevolod Bashkuev

The Post-War Deportation of Lithuanians to Buriat-Mongolia (1948–58) as an Example of Repressive Population Transfer Policy of the Stalinist Regime In the long history of forced migrations the twentieth century stands out as the period when all earlier expulsion practices crystallized into a complex and continuous phenomenon. It is in the twentieth century that repressive population transfers became an ordinary practice to accompany wars, revolutions, and collapse of empires and multinational states. The motivational side of forced migrations in the twentieth century displayed much more diversity than ever before. The Gordian Knot of ideological dogmas, geopolitics, national security doctrines, socio-economic transitions and modernization processes provided fertile soil for the blossoming of this brutal phenomenon. The after effects of repressive resettlements in the first half of the twentieth century echo nowadays in ethnic and religious cleansings in the republics of the former USSR and Yugoslavia. In this sense, forced migrations and their consequences form a vicious circle, the fruit of which are still to be harvested by future generations. They were practiced by the Imperial and, especially, Soviet governments on a colossal territory from the Baltic Sea to the Pacific Ocean. Whole nationalities such as the Koreans, the Volga Germans, the Crimean Tatars, the Chechens, the Ingush, and others were uprooted and totally resettled. Forty-eight other nationalities were partially deported and millions of people lost their homeland.1 In scrutinizing each particular example of a large-scale deportation operation conducted in Russia or the USSR from 1915 to 1953 from the motivational viewpoint, one will inevitably observe a combination of ideological, geopolitical, economic and other factors that influenced the decision-making. At the same time, surprisingly often those factors were self-excluding. What at first sight seems to be a rigidly devised policy of the government reveals systemic controversies and deficiencies in practice in the course of deeper analysis. Starting with the outright 1

Viktor Berdinskikh, Spetsposelentsy: politicheskaia ssylka narodov Sovetskoi Rossii [Special Settlers: Political Exile of Peoples of Soviet Russia] (Moscow, 2005), p. 15.

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violation of human and civil rights in the very fact of forced resettlement, the deportation policy combined gigantism in the planning and chronic inefficiency in the execution, rendering the final goal of mass resettlements unachievable. Unfortunately, this is a characteristic trait of Russian, and especially Soviet, forced migrations. That tragic disparity cost millions of people their lives and health, planted the seeds of future inter-ethnic conflicts, and forever undermined the legitimacy of power in the eyes of those who survived mass deportations. In this paper I will carry out a detailed analysis of one concrete deportation of the Stalinist period. It is the deportation of Lithuanian peasants on 22 – 23 May 1948 and their ten-year exile in Buriat-Mongolia, a national autonomy in East Siberia near Lake Baikal. We will consider it a case study in an attempt to answer the question of whether that particular forced resettlement represented a typical example of the Soviet deportation policy with all its inherent disparities and malignant consequences. After the annexation of the Baltic states in the summer of 1940, the Soviet government took radical measures to get rid of the former Baltic elites by arresting or deporting them to remote regions of Siberia, Central Asia and the Arctic North. In June 1941, the first wave of large-scale deportations swept across Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia. Between 14 and 16 June 1941, the first mass deportation sent tens of thousands to Central Asia and Siberia.2 In the collective memory of the Baltic nations these dates are still marked as ‘black days’.3 It is relatively easy to single out reasons for the deportations of 1941. Territories just annexed by the USSR were in close proximity to the friend turned foe – Nazi Germany. There was no solid layer of loyal communists and their supporters in the Baltic republics and the former elites were still respected, reminders of the independent years. Conquerors at all times repressed the elites of the conquered states first, liquidating all possible challenges to the legitimacy of their power and securing themselves from rebellions. From this standpoint the

2 3

Ibid., p. 516. There is a rich layer of literature on the deportations of 1941 in all three of the Baltic States. For example, see: Romuald Misiuanas and Rein Taagepera, The Baltic States: Years of Dependence, 1940–1980 (Berkeley, 1983); Albert Kalme, Total Terror: An Expose of Genocide in the Baltics (New York, 1951); Joseph Pajaujis-Javis, Soviet Genocide in Lithuania (New York, 1980); Arvydas Anušauskas, Soviet Genocide and its Consequences, Lithuanian Historical Studies 4 (1999), pp. 116–37; Vanda Kašauskiene, Deportations from Lithuania under Stalin, 1940–1953, Lithuanian Historical Studies 3 (1998), pp. 73–82; Dalia Grinkevičiutė, Lithuanians by the Laptev Sea: The Siberian Memoirs of Dalia Grinkevičiutė, Lituanus 36 (1990), No. 4, pp. 37–67.

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decision to deport the former politicians, business people, policemen, military officers and so on at least seems logical.4 However, it is the deportation of June 1941 that first exposed the controversial character of decisions made by the Soviet leadership. The deportations alienated the local population and triggered armed resistance that started immediately after the German attack on the USSR. Violence committed during the deportations of June 1941 created not only strong anti-Soviet sentiments in the population, but also a persistent fear of new atrocities if communist rule was restored. These were clear prerequisites for the long and bloody armed antiSoviet resistance in Lithuania in 1944–52. The deportation of 1948, the focus of our study, was the direct consequence of armed resistance waged by the Lithuanians since 1944. Therefore, it also was a distant echo of the 1941 deportations. When the Red Army reoccupied the territory of Lithuania in 1944, thousands of men and women fled into the forests seeking refuge from anticipated repressions. While some ran away out of fear, many were determined to fight against the communists.5 An impressive, albeit single-sided, eyewitness account of the partisan struggle against the Soviets was written by Juozas Daumantas, who managed to fight his way to the West and published a book of memoirs in France in the early 1950s.6 Both Daumantas’ account and other sources convincingly showed that independent farmers and peasants formed the backbone of the post-war anti-Soviet resistance in Lithuania and other Baltic republics. They supplied the ‘forest brothers’ with food, shelter, information, and manpower. It is this backbone that was to be broken during the deportation operation code-named ‘Vesna’, carried out by the Ministries of the Interior and of State Security (MVD and MGB) of the Lithuanian SSR on 22 – 23 May 1948. This was the largest deportation in the history of Soviet Lithuania in which 49,331 people were uprooted and transported eastward, to the Krasnoyarsk and Irkutsk regions, as well as Buriat-Mongolia.7 4

5 6 7

The argument that the Soviet leadership carried out the deportations as a preventive security measure under a threat of the looming war against Germany is conveniently used by some Russian historians advocating the Soviet policies in the Baltic region. For example see: Aleksandr Diukov, Mif o genotside: repressii Sovetskikh vlastei v Estonii (1940–1953) [The Genocide Myth: Repressions by Soviet Power in Estonia (1940–1953)] (Moscow, 2007), pp. 56–63. Elena Zubkova, Pribaltika i Kreml’1940–1953 [The Baltics and the Kremlin 1940–1953] (Moscow, 2008), pp. 196–8. See: Juozas Daumantas, Fighters for Freedom: Lithuanian Partisans versus the USSR, 1944–1947 (New York, 1975). Numbers are given in: Berdinskikh, Spetsposelentsy, p. 525; Kašauskiene, Deportations from Lithuania, pp. 78–9 and Viktor Zemskov, Prinuditel’nye migratsii iz Pribaltiki

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At this point, we will directly turn to the facts from the history of the Lithuanian exile in Buriat-Mongolia. Lithuanians started to arrive in that remote national autonomy on 8 – 10 June 1948 from Panevežys, Šiauliai, Plungė and Pasvale districts of Lithuania in three trains Nos. 97908, 97912 and 97913. A total of 4,109 deportees were unloaded at Novoil’insk, Onokhoi, Il’ka, and Chelutai railway stations in the Zaigraevskii aimak (district) of Buriat-Mongolia.8 It should also be noted that in May 1948 whole families with children and old people had been uprooted. Right before the actual deportation, the people were allowed one hour to gather their most valuable belongings, money, and some food, totaling no more than 100 kg per person. Therefore upon arrival, large numbers of trucks were required to transport them from the railway stations to the settlements located in remote taiga areas, sometimes at a distance from 20 to 120 km from the nearest railway station. In general, the archival sources indicate that this stage of the deportation was carried out without troubles.9 In analyzing the phenomenon of mass deportations in the USSR, most authors outline such common features as their administrative (extra-judicial) character, scale and indiscriminate nature. People were exiled en masse by the list rather than by individual criminal sentences made in the court of law.10 Despite the fact that the deportation of 1948 was a well-planned and thoroughly proficient operation (the repressive authorities had already gained experience in the total deportations of 1943–44), the arbitrariness of deportation decisions was in certain cases so obvious that it stunned even the mature MGB officers who guarded the deportee trains. For instance, when the head of train No. 97912, Lt. Col. Skobochkin, found among his deportees ‘heads of families’ aged thirteen and fifteen, he had to hand them over to the commandant of a border

8

9 10

v 1940-kh – 1950-kh godakh [Forced Migration from the Baltics in the 1940s and 1950s], Otechestvennye arkhivy 1 (1993), p. 5. The gender and age composition of the arriving Lithuanian deportees looked as follows: in total 1,175 Lithuanian families were registered as special settlers in Buriat-Mongolia. There were 1,246 men, 1,650 women and 1,218 children, i.e. 4,114 persons in total. The difference between those who actually arrived in June 1948 and the numbers shown in the deportee lists can be explained by the fact that due to illnesses several deportees were removed from the trains and placed into hospitals on the way. They later joined their relatives in Buriat-Mongolia. See: Act on the reception of Lithuanian special settlers arriving with echelon No. 97913 according to the attached list, 8 June 1948, Gruppa spetsfondov Informatsionnogo tsentra MVD Respubliki Buriatia (Group of Special Fondi of the Information Center of the Ministry of the Interior of the Republic of Buriatia, GSF ITs MVD RB) f. 58l, o. 1, d. 199, l. 58; Report on the activities during convoy of special deportee echelon No. 97912, 16 June 1948, ibid., l. 218. Ibid., l. 133, 137. Pavel Polian, Ne po svoei vole: istoriia i geografiia prinuditel’nykh migratsii v SSSR [Not by their own Will: History and Geography of Forced Migration in the USSR] (Moscow, 2001), p. 12; Berdinskikh, Spetsposelentsy, pp. 23–5.

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station in Lithuania since they by no means qualified as ‘bandit and nationalist supporters’.11 After the arrival in Buriat-Mongolia, more than ten orphaned children were discovered and they had to be either sent back to Lithuania or be placed into state orphanages.12 The arbitrariness alienated thousands of Lithuanians who, by any social criteria, would not have qualified as ‘kulaks’ under ordinary circumstances. In the course of the ‘Vesna’ deportation operation, 2,388 exiled families were listed as ‘middle class peasants’ and 256 families were from the ‘poor’ category.13 Moreover, during the deportation many families went through excessively harsh treatment as if they in fact were armed ‘forest brothers’. In his interview Petras Svilis, a former deportee, remembered when the MGB people came to his home armed with machine guns. His brothers were forced to face the wall with machine guns aimed at them, while the women ran around trying to quickly pack their belongings and food.14 There was no worse variant that could make, even from ‘socially friendly’ families, more bitter opponents of communism than the ‘Vesna’ deportation scenario. Major problems, however, awaited the Lithuanian deportees in the places of exile. Analysis of official correspondence between the Council of Ministers of the Buriat-Mongolian Republic, or the MVD and MGB of the republic, and the party officials in Moscow shows that the entire operation was planned well ahead and the destination of the new deportee contingents had been determined long before the actual deportation was carried out. From March to May 1948 the Minister of Forestry of the USSR, G.M. Orlov, issued three orders to responsible officials in the regions to prepare for the reception of large numbers of laborers from the western parts of the USSR.15 By the end of April, three special commissions were formed by the MVD of the Buriat-Mongolian ASSR and the administration of the ‘Burmongolles’ trust, the largest timber enterprise in the republic and the main recipient of the incoming labor force.16 Yet, 11 12

13 14 15 16

Report on the activities, 16 June 1948, GSF ITs MVD RB f. 58l, o. 1, d. 199, l. 219. Instruction of deputy chief of the Administration of workers’ cadres and payroll of ‘Glavvostsibles’ Varennikov to managing director of the ‘Burmongolles’ trust Afanasenko, 15 July 1948, Natsional’nyi arkhiv Respubliki Buriatia (National Archives of the Republic of Buriatia, NARB) f. 767sch, o. 2, d. 16, l. 13–4. Berdinskikh, Spetsposelentsy, pp. 525–6. Interview with Petras Svilis, Ulan-Ude, 16 March 2005, tape and transcript in possession of the author. Order of the Minister of Timber Industry of the USSR No. 46ps, 6 May 1948, NARB f. 767sch, o. 2, d. 16, l. 63–4. Directive of the Minister of the Interior of the Buriat-Mongolian ASSR and managing director of the ‘Burmongolles’ trust, May 1948, GSF ITs MVD RB f. 58l, o. 1, d. 199, l. 3.

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despite the work of those commissions, very few facilities were, in fact, ready to accommodate the deportees at the time of their arrival in Buriat-Mongolia. Upon their arrival, the deportees were divided into groups and transported to the special settlements of the Handagatai, Handagai, Eriiski, and Chelutai timber plants, all situated in the taiga of the Zaigraevo region in the east of Buriat-Mongolia. There the deportees were accommodated in wooden barracks or temporary huts and dugouts, absolutely unsuited for the severe Siberian winter. Often the shelters lacked elementary building details, such as window frames, doors, floors, etc. Of course, not all deportees were so unlucky, but even those who settled in relatively safe barracks complained of the absence of sanitary facilities, window glass or stoves. Often, several families were packed in one room, disordered and overcrowded, so that lice and other parasites spread quickly among them causing infection. Such facts can be found in the MVD reports as late as 1951 three years after the Lithuanians arrived in Buriat-Mongolia. It should be noted, however, that the MVD officials themselves raised the alarm, having been stunned, for example, by the fact that in one place nine families (or 27 people in total) were squeezed into one barrack room.17 Another acute problem was the absence of basic medical care in many special settlements. There were cases when local doctors and nurses refused to provide medical services to the deportees. Sometimes, drugstores did not sell them necessary medicine even with proper prescriptions. Infectious diseases, such as dysentery, malaria, typhoid fever, etc quickly spread among the weakened deportees killing dozens of them in the first year of exile.18 All of these drawbacks did not constitute some cunning Soviet policy aimed at the extermination of Lithuanian deportees. The described cases were scrupulously listed in the ministerial reports and perhaps the culprits were even reprimanded. However, what such incidents revealed was the total unpreparedness of the local authorities for the reception of such a large contingent of deportees, the unwillingness of the authorities to respond to the ensuing problems and, as a result, lower productivity, lack of motivation and growing indignation on the part of the deportees. Meanwhile, a solution to the most acute problem of housing was literally lying at the feet of the local administrators. The issue was clearly formulated in the circulars and orders of the Ministry of Forestry and sent to all branches and enterprises quarterly. The local administration was supposed to encourage construction 17 18

Report ‘On the state of accommodation and everyday needs of exiles-special settlers in the Zaigraevskii region’, 30 January 1950, ibid., d. 91, l. 26–7. Information on epidemic diseases in the Buriat-Mongolian ASSR for seven months of 1948, NARB f. 248ts, o. 3, d. 238, l. 120; information of Deputy Minister of Public Health of the Buriat-Mongolian ASSR, Reznitskii, ibid., l. 56–7.

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of private housing by the deportees, allocating necessary materials and tools.19 There was no shortage of timber: ‘Burmongolles’ produced a surplus of timber (170–190 per cent of the plan was fulfilled in the second half of 1948), which it systematically failed to transport from its warehouses.20 That meant that a large amount of extra timber was stored in the warehouses, a small part of which could have been allocated as construction materials to all deportees who wanted to build their own houses. Apparently, however, the local ‘taiga bosses’ preferred to see the timber rot rather than give it to ‘socially alien’ deportees. What we observe here is a clear case of ignoring orders which, if the workforce had been free of the deportee label, might have ended up in severe party or administrative reprimands. Yet, the deportees, labeled ‘bandit and nationalist collaborators’, clearly did not deserve the immediate attention of the local bureaucrats. Even at the end of 1949, one and a half years since the arrival of Lithuanians, only ten deportee families owned private houses and plots of land.21 At this point it is necessary to turn to the legal status of the deportees. The Lithuanians deported in May of 1948 were administratively resettled and therefore retained basic rights of Soviet citizens. Their term of exile was never fully determined. Paradoxically, in the final analysis this circumstance turned out to be luck rather than misfortune. The legal basis of Stalin’s deportations had always been rather obscure. It only began to be clarified in 1948 after the MVD took full responsibility over the mass of deportees, special settlers, exile settlers, labor settlers and other ‘labeled’ categories of forcibly resettled people. The ‘reform’ reached its apogee with the ‘draconic’ decree, passed by the Presidium of the Supreme Council of the USSR on 26 November 1948. The decree declared that the deportees were resettled forever, without the right to ever return to their native lands. All those caught trying to escape were sentenced to twenty years of hard labor in the camps, whereas earlier they could receive a maximum of ten years in prison. By such drastic measures, the MVD tried to pin the deportees down at the places of exile and prevent a possible outflow of workforce from the remote areas of the USSR.22 19 20

21

22

Order of the Deputy Minister of Timber and Paper Industry of the USSR, I.I. Radchuk, 27 May 1950, ibid., f. 767sch, o. 2, d. 38, l. 49. Data of the Statistical Office of the Buriat-Mongolian ASSR on fulfillment of the production plan in the third quarter of 1948 and nine months of the current year, 20 October 1948, ibid., f. 248ts, o. 3, d. 238, l. 136–7, 144–5. Statistical data on the accommodation and everyday life of Lithuanian special settlers in the Buriat-Mongolian ASSR in the fourth quarter of 1949, 1949, GSF ITs MVD RB f. 58l, o.1, d. 5, l. 235–8. A.A. Schadt, Etnicheskaia ssylka kak instrument Sovetskoi natsional’noi politiki (1940– 1950-e gg.) [Ethnic Exile as an Instrument of Soviet Nationalities Policy (1940s and 1950s)],

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The Lithuanian deportees in Buriat-Mongolia received the status of ‘special deportees’, which restricted their mobility, but allowed them to form their own work brigades, kolkhozes, and other collective forms of labor, and to retain basic civil rights, such as the right to elect and be elected. This status, of course, implied ‘political unreliability’, but it was far better than the status of ‘exile settlers’, whose civil rights were suspended. Moreover, the Lithuanian special settlers were not subject to the decree of 26 November 1948. They formed a valuable workforce pool for the Ministry of Forestry and, normally, they should have been well taken care of. Yet in reality, both the MVD and the Ministry of Forestry were aware of the virtual inexhaustibility of the supply of labor, because they had been informed in advance of other planned deportations and could remain certain that new contingents were on the way. For their part, the special settlers did not bother to increase the productivity of their labor more than was required to stay alive and live a relatively safe life. During the first months Lithuanian deportees, who were mostly peasants unskilled in the timber business, strove hard to earn enough money to survive. Our informants, only children at the time, remember that they had to go to the forest to help their parents or relatives. Later, when Lithuanians got used to forest labor, they quickly surpassed other workers in productivity. However, surviving under harsh conditions required not only good health and physical strength, but brains and adaptability. Soon the special settlers learned how to become ‘Stakhanovites’ without toiling day and night. They used vodka to bribe the brigade leader or a key person in the administration; Western-style clothing and goods also came in handy as bribes and presents to wives of the local nomenklatura.23 Some expressions of irritation and dislike of the Soviet labor conditions that can be found in the observation files of the MVD vividly depict the depressed moods of the Lithuanians. For example, Stasys Mykaites, a special settler who worked at Eriiskii timber enterprise, stated: Yes, they always speak about the improvement of the living standards of workers and salary increases, but in reality the payment always goes down and norms of production go up …24

23

24

S. Papkov and K. Terayama (eds.), Ural i Sibir’ v stalinskoi politike (Novosibirsk, 2002), pp. 237–8. Report ‘On the work of the special settlements department of the MVD of the Buriat-Mongolian ASSR in the fourth quarter of 1949’, 1950, GSF ITs MVD RB f. 58l, o. 1, d. 130, l. 350–1. Report of the Head of the Zaigraevskii district department of the MGB of the Buriat-Mongolian ASSR, Major Privalov, about results of the work among the exiles-special settlers in the Zaigraevskii district in May-June 1951, June 1951, ibid., d. 91, l. 258.

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Some deportees openly expressed their unwillingness to work for a Soviet enterprise, stating that no matter how hard they worked, it would not change their salary or living conditions. Juozas Balčikonis, a worker at one of the ‘Burmongolles’ enterprises, made some interesting comments on the new norms of payment in the timber industry: Why should we work hard? Anyway we work for the intelligentsia, and I think that backbreaking work for such a miserable salary is stupid. Let those who invented these new pay norms work for them, but we should just sit and spend our days. When the administration learns how the plan is fulfilled it will start thinking about it … If we start working for these new norms they will cut them, too.25

Angry with the appalling working conditions and low salaries, the Lithuanian workers were much surprised by the absence of any protest on the part of their local co-workers. Of course, strikes in the Soviet economic system were ruled out, but for the Lithuanian deportees who, for the most part, had been independent farmers back in Lithuania such submissiveness seemed unusual. A worker named Kazys Latakas commented on this situation in the following way:, When we load logs on a train we are paid 13 kopecks a log which makes 13 rubles a day. Why don’t we go on strike? If all workers went on strike they would surely increase the payment, but here the workers are afraid to do that for some reason …26

Yet in most cases, the industriousness and persistence of Lithuanian farmers won out over hardship and despair. Despite administrative obstacles and being labeled as punished ‘nationalists’ and ‘bandit collaborators’, by the mid-1950s many Lithuanians had better jobs than during the first years of exile. Groups of Lithuanian youth were sent to drivers’ schools, some deportees worked as postmen, salespersons, mechanics, etc.27 A few Lithuanian young men got permission to leave the special settlements and go to Ulan-Ude and Irkutsk to receive higher education. Children, who went to local schools, learned Russian and started to get ahead in their studies. Petras Svilis said that he came to Buriat-Mongolia after finishing four grades of school in Lithuania, but because his Russian was bad he had to start with the third grade. He remembered that in his first school year in exile all his dictations were riddled with red marks for mistakes. Yet in other subjects, such as mathematics, he was quite good. Due to their discipline and industriousness, Lithuanian children quickly got 25 26

27

Ibid. Report of the Zaigraevskii district department of MGB about work among the exiles-special settlers through the 9th department in the first and second quarters of 1952, 1952, ibid., d. 93, l. 118. Ibid., l. 37–9, 43.

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used to a new school curriculum and in just one year became the best pupils at school. Petras Svilis finished the fourth grade with the Stalin honorary certificate which he still keeps as a memento of those days.28 The expressions of anger, criticism, and confusion cited above bring us to another important part of our paper: the failure of the Soviet authorities to change the Lithuanian deportees by means of ‘brainwashing’ propaganda, communist solidarity campaigns and slogans, and Soviet administrative practices. Of course some Lithuanians did indeed submit to ideological pressure, the influence of which was intensified by physical suffering and hardships. But in general, the Lithuanian deportees demonstrated a surprising resilience to Soviet propaganda, often counterbalancing it with home meetings, prayers, and listening to Western radio broadcasts. Russian historian A.A. Schadt views mass deportations as one of the indirect methods of Soviet nationalities’ policy aimed at melting different peoples together into a kind of ‘supra-national’ Soviet ethnicity. In his opinion, this was to be attained through forced assimilation, which was facilitated by numerous limitations of freedom, embedded in the special settler status. For example, strict rules of special settlements, such as weekly reporting at the local spetskomendaturi (MVD supervision offices), limitations of free movement and routine discrimination on the basis of ethnicity (e.g. Soviet Germans) forced people to seek change of their ethnicity by any means, such as intermarriage, change of passport ethnicity, listing children as belonging to other nationalities, etc.29 Soviet ‘brainwashing’ coupled with actual violations of human and civil rights would also force special settlers into seeking to change their national identity, at least formally. However, this assumption proved to be faulty in the case of Baltic deportees, who stubbornly clung to their distinct national identity, language and religion, despite all efforts to ideologically reform them. Born and raised in relatively propaganda-free independent Lithuania, the deportees clearly saw the deep contradictions between the communist slogans and the reality of life in the far-off Soviet province. Year by year, they built up a protective shield in an attempt to secure their children from the lies poured on them by the Soviet propaganda machine. Religion, language, traditions and culture, to which they stubbornly adhered, were important elements of their resistance to the Soviet regime. Not surprisingly, deported Balts were considered the least loyal of the deportees by the MVD-MGB and the Soviet government.

28 29

Interview with Petras Svilis. Schadt, Etnicheskaia ssylka, p. 244–5.

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The best examples of how the Lithuanian special settlers reacted to Soviet propaganda campaigns were reported during the first years of exile. Remarks and judgments by women were most uncompromising. It is Lithuanian women who had to carefully preserve the traditional way of life by providing their children with a proper upbringing and guarding them from heavy ideological pressure at Soviet schools. Stark contrasts between official statements and what the deportees experienced in real life intensified their discontent. Receiving word that a local school teacher was going to adopt an orphan from war-torn Korea one Lithuanian woman angrily stated, Why is she doing this? While the war continues in Korea all food is sent there, we get nothing. In the newspapers they write that we have everything, why don’t they bring us anything? We don’t even have enough bread!30

Another woman, commenting on Soviet literature said, What good can they now write about? Some rubbish about construction and kolkhozes? Today all writers are reformed and no longer write anything worth reading …31

There were cases when Lithuanian women did not allow their children to enter the Young Pioneers’ organization, saying that the pioneers could teach them only bad things. But most irritating to Lithuanians were frequent state loan campaigns. The local administration’s approach to those campaigns was to establish special ‘assistance committees’ which were composed of local communist activists. Members of these committees agitated everywhere: at work, in the streets, even at home. Lithuanians were unwilling to give their hard earned money for nothing, as the so-called ‘voluntary loans’ in reality were not paid back, but the committees used administrative pressure to force them into submission. The pages of the MVD observation files are full of angry statements from Lithuanian special settlers regarding these campaigns. For instance, after a Lithuanian woman named Anizeta Vaičiulitė had to subscribe to a state loan of fifty rubles, she then was forced to give another seven hundred rubles for an additional loan. Feeling offended and deceived she said,

30

31

Report of Head of the Zaigraevskii district department of the MVD, Lt.-Cl. Khatkheev, to the Minister of State Security of the Buriat-Mongolian ASSR, Colonel Smirnov, 18 September 1951, GSF ITs MVD RB f. 58l, o. 1, d. 91, t. 2, l. 139. Report ‘On the moods of exiles-special settlers living in the Zaigraevskii district in connection with carrying out of the elections to the local Soviets on 17 December 1950’, 1950, ibid., d. 91, t. 1, l. 257.

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In Lithuania, beggars who wander about with a sack do the same thing. If you give them an egg, they will beg for meat. The Soviet activists here come and beg like the beggars do in Lithuania.32

Some Lithuanians were irritated by the fact that the agitators asked the elderly to subscribe to a loan. Special settler, Kazys Tubutis expressed his indignation, Why aren’t they ashamed? They came to a barrack of an old woman and asked her to subscribe to a 25 ruble loan. They are not the Communist party but simple swindlers!33

Lithuanian women often regretted subscribing to a Soviet loan. Antanina Kuzmaite told friends who came to visit her, The Soviet Union feels that soon the war will start, that is why they increased the loan sum this year. I did not want to subscribe to a loan but they told me to come to the office of the timber plant where they kept me till 3 o’clock in the morning and finally made me subscribe for a three-week pay. And if it turns out that Americans beat the Soviet Union in the war, I will not be guilty that I subscribed to it; they made me do it, and I am not afraid that Americans will be offended …34

Such statements were rather common among the Lithuanian deportees. Americans were seen as the only possible saviors of Lithuanians from the Soviets, and all over the USSR millions of multi-ethnic deportees waited for a war.35 Lithuanians in Buriat-Mongolia often gathered together to listen to the radio and tune in a foreign radio broadcast. Those underground meetings gave them some hope, without which it would have been very hard to survive in exile. Election campaigns were another source of irritation for the deportees. Pompous electoral slogans and portraits of candidates coupled with waves of propaganda rhetoric produced a grim impression on the deportees. Lithuanians knew that whoever was elected, their fate would not improve. Yet, they still retained a right to vote and even a right to be elected. While the latter was possible only in theory, the local authorities carefully observed if indeed all Lithuanians cast their ballots during numerous elections to local, republican, all-Russian and other Soviets. Absence of Lithuanian names on the ballots and lies about a radiant future under Communism caused discontent among the deportees. During one election campaign a Lithuanian woman angrily said, Why should we vote for these candidates? Will they make our work easier or let us return to Lithuania? All candidates are Russians, no Lithuanians among them. If 32 33 34 35

Ibid., l. 256. Ibid. Ibid. On the topic of war rumors see also the paper by Hiljar Tammela in this volume.

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all of us refused to vote they would do nothing to us, but if I alone did not vote, it would cause unnecessary suspicions.36

Other special settlers remembered that it was Soviet power that moved them from Lithuania to Siberia and refused to vote for its representatives. Katrya Žukene was reported to have said the following words, What kind of life is it, even though you don’t want to vote you have to. If you don’t go to vote they will come to your place with their ballot box, but how should I vote for those who deported us from Lithuania? In essence, they are our enemies!37

These and many other expressions of discontent confirm that the attitude towards Soviet propaganda was quite negative. Many Lithuanian deportees did not believe a single word of it and gave their own evaluations of the efforts of communist agitators to ideologically brainwash them. In the MVD observation files there are numerous examples of how the Lithuanian deportees saw life in the USSR; these expressions are invariably labeled ‘lies about the Soviet reality’, ‘hostile statements’ and the like. What surprised Lithuanians most were the extreme poverty against the background of massive propaganda of a happy life in the USSR, the cruelty and greed of the Communist leadership, and the weird twists of Communist ideology. For example, during a break when all workers smoked their cigarettes, Lithuanian Pranas Vaitelis took out a pack of ‘Kazbek’ cigarettes and asked another worker to explain to him the meaning of a picture in front of the pack. Then he himself commented on the picture in the following way, There is a beggar with a sack on this pack. In this way, Soviet power proves that here the people live like beggars.38

Another special settler, Jonas Judeikis made the following characterization of the country: Russia as a state could be strong and mighty, but it is ruled by fools. There is a party in Russia and it is ruled by a man who knows nothing. He can only write his name.39

36

37 38 39

Report of Head of the Zaigraevskii district department of the MGB of the Buriat-Mongolian ASSR, Major Privalov, about results of the work among the exiles-special settlers in the Zaigraevskii district in January and February 1951, 2 March 1951, GSF ITs MVD RB f. 58l, o. 1, d. 91, t. 1, l. 106. Ibid. Report on the work of the spetsial komendaturi of the Zaigraevskii region, 1951, ibid., d. 91, t. 2, l. 209. Report on the work among special settlers through the 9th department in 1952, 1952, ibid., d. 93, l. 250.

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To many Lithuanians, Communism and its ideals seemed weird and alien. Some of them openly expressed their hatred for all that was associated with Communism. Vera Duliavičene, an ethnic Russian, once said to her interlocutor (who happened to be a stool-pigeon), I am here for my son Leon, and you? Soon you will answer for your red motherland and your brother who works in the MVD. It only takes [for me] to return to Lithuania, but there will be no place for you …40

Another woman, with two sons as ‘forest brothers’ and the third in the GULAG once said, I am so happy that I have not a single Communist in my family! I will not be judged for this, but those who have will soon cry with blood …41

It seems that the very prospect of living under Communism was unbearable for some deportees. In a conversation with an undercover MVD agent about the future triumph of Communism, Paulina Poplauskaite dropped such a phrase, You are spoiling my mood with these words! If Communism happens, I will not live, I’d better commit suicide. It is better to die than live under Communism.42

Of course, not all critical remarks remained unpunished. Stool-pigeons of the MVD always reported such expressions and some of the culprits went to the labor camps. Yet even this did not prevent Lithuanians from showing their discontent and protest. Several cases were reported when intoxicated Lithuanian men started quarrels and even fights over sensitive political matters. But generally resistance to the Soviet propaganda was covert and passive. Lithuanians stubbornly adhered to their rituals, observed religious holidays, and gathered together for prayers, funerals, and weddings. Until the mid-1950s, they did not have a Catholic priest and all religious ceremonies were performed by the elders. In 1955 father Petras Jasas came to Buriat-Mongolia and the religious life of Lithuanians improved. He consolidated the Lithuanians and strengthened their spirits. According to Kazys Zaliauskas, Catholic masses held in Halsan attracted several hundred Lithuanians from the neighboring settlements. While such religious gatherings seemed suspicious, the MVD officers did not attempt to prohibit them. Such prohibition would only spark more discontent among the Lithuanian deportees and the authorities did not need that. Instead, 40 41 42

Report of the Zaigraevskii district department of the MVD, 1949, ibid., d. 10, l. 28. Report ‘On the results of the study of behavior, liaisons and moods of exiles-special settlers living in Buriat-Mongolia’, 1952, ibid., d. 93, t. 1, l. 78. Report on the work of the spetsial komendaturi, 1951, ibid., d. 91. t. 2, l. 207.

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they chose to officially register father Jasas and allowed him to perform religious ceremonies openly, warning the local authorities against placing obstacles.43 According to our informants, there were no cases of misunderstanding over religious matters during the entire exile of Lithuanians in Buriat-Mongolia. Lithuanians who moved to Ulan-Ude, the capital city of Buriat-Mongolia, attended services at the Orthodox church, performing christenings and other religious rituals.44 Most likely among the predominantly Catholic Lithuanians there were some Orthodox Christians, ethnic Russians or Belarusians, but taking into account the fact that the Catholic cathedral in Ulan-Ude was only rebuilt around the year 2004, it is easy to believe that Catholic Lithuanians attended the Orthodox church as well, because no other options were available. Of course, as in any other situation, there were cases of aggression, quarrels, and even fights; however these never had an explicit inter-ethnic character. As Petras Svilis recalled, sometimes the local hooligans would throw stones at them, or drunken World War II veterans would drop offensive words, like ‘fascists’, but this was extremely seldom. Others would tell the bullies to stop and helped the Lithuanians. One local informant remembered when he was a young boy he had Lithuanian classmates whose Russian was poor and they were frequently laughed at. When his mother learned about it she taught him a lesson with a belt and then explained that those people were forcibly driven from their land and they need help. Then she gathered some food and sent him to bring it to the Lithuanians. Since that time he never again mocked or bullied his Lithuanian classmates. In short, the attitude toward the local peoples was formulated by our informants in the following way, “If they believe in God, this means that they are good people.” In return, Lithuanian deportees received respectable treatment and assistance when needed, especially during the first severe years of exile. In the memoirs of Lithuanians who survived the exile in Buriat-Mongolia there are such words, “But for the Buriats, we would have all died of starvation there.”

Conclusions If the Soviet government really wished to transform Lithuanian deportees from nationalistically inclined, disloyal ‘elements’ into loyal and obedient Soviet citizens, its leaders made a grave mistake in their methods. What they received in return was latent, non-forgetting and bitter feelings of anger toward the state, 43 44

Report of Member of the Council on Religious Cults at the Council of Ministers of the BuriatMongolian ASSR, D.B. Ochirzhapov, 15 March 1958, NARB f. R-248, o. 4. d. 164, l. 41–7. Ibid.

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whose leaders sent tens of thousands of innocent people to death. Deportees of all nationalities, at the first possible occasion, demanded restoration of justice. In fact, there were only two such occasions – in 1956, when the entire system of GULAG labor camps and special settlements started crumbling, and in 1989 when the giant colossus of the USSR began disintegrating. The apex of the solidarity movement was the restoration of the independence of Lithuania in 1991. We have reached several conclusions. First of all, the deportation of Lithuanians to Buriat-Mongolia in 1948 can be compared to the deportations of other nationalities only according to some very general criteria. It is true that the ethnic composition of the deportees from the Baltics was quite homogeneous and that the Soviet government carried out experiments by changing the ethnic composition of the Baltic republics. In doing so Stalin and his lieutenants were driven by geopolitical, strategic, and security imperatives: removing a potentially disloyal part of the population and substituting for it Russian ‘padding’ seemed a priority at the time when the situation in Eastern Europe was unclear and unstable. The resettlement of independent peasants and constant repressions against the remaining population finally broke the supply lines of the resistance and forced the ‘forest brothers’ to lay down arms by 1953. However, other more pronounced features of a repressive policy based on ethnicity are hardly seen in this particular case. In the places of exile the Lithuanians were not exposed to institutionalized forms of ethnic discrimination, but were viewed as cheap labor force and were not reprimanded for speaking their language or adhering to their traditional culture and even religion. This, for example, substantially differentiates them from the Soviet Germans, whose repression was based on ethnicity and who risked their lives if they spoke their native language in public. Moreover, the Lithuanians willingly erected a certain ‘protective wall’ around their culture, religion, language, and traditions to shield their children’s identity and religious and moral foundations from the ideological influence of the regime. The ‘punished peoples’, like the Soviet Germans had to use other, less obtrusive, forms of protest, for example, binge drinking which sabotaged certain political events without exposing the ideological reasons for the protest and which did not reflect on the national identity of the protester. Yet, we cannot fully deny the possibilities of grass root ethnic discrimination. For some Soviet people, especially those who went through hardships of World War II, the deported Germans, Lithuanians, Finns, or Estonians were all the same, enemies to be punished. However, the scale and consequences of such grass root discrimination were much smaller than in the case of the ‘punished peoples’.

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Secondly, the 1948 deportation was justified by a set of state security reasons. Taken separately, each of these reasons can be quite easily explained. For instance, the mass resettlement of the Balts had clear geopolitical implications. By removing the disloyal population and settling the Baltic region by loyal settlers from other parts of the USSR (mostly Russians), the Soviet government tried to secure its ‘porous’, penetrable, and not entirely legitimate new western borders. National and internal security concerns could explain an attempt to liquidate independent farmers, who formed the economic and, to a great extent, moral ‘backbone’ of armed anti-Soviet resistance, by deporting them to Siberia. After the large-scale deportations of 1948–51, the ‘forest brothers’ finally decided to lay down their arms and stop active resistance to save the nation from total displacement and destruction. Economic factors also can explain the intensity of deportations. The Soviet Union was in dire need of a workforce to restore its economy after a devastating war. Skilled, sturdy, and persistent Lithuanian farmers could help develop the agricultural sector of the economy in places like Buriat-Mongolia, where agriculture was, and still is, chronically inefficient. In many ways Lithuanians were more qualified than the local specialists, whose ranks were reduced by mass repressions and war. Under normal conditions the influx of new qualified cadres could play a modernizing role. The fact that the local people actively borrowed many agricultural and cattle-breeding techniques from Lithuanians testifies to the positive influence of Lithuanian deportees in their places of exile. Finally, it is impossible to deny a powerful ideological reason for the deportation. In line with Stalinist ideology, all those who displayed disloyalty or deviated from the general party line were subject to re-education. Often the means of re-education were assigned to punitive authorities, like the MVD and MGB. The deported Lithuanians were exposed to massive doses of Communist propaganda coupled with extra measures of ‘labor therapy’ in the Siberian forests. The fact that the term of their deportation was never specified can be regarded as an additional component of ideological pressure, denying the people any hope of returning to their home land. The deportation could be regarded as the beginning of a process of a long, perhaps spanning several generations, transformation of Lithuanians from ‘nationalists and bandit collaborators’ into loyal Soviet citizens. However, many components of the complex mechanism of Stalin’s deportations worked against each other, making any positive results from the Soviet viewpoint virtually impossible. For example, the geopolitical imperative of securing the vulnerable western borders was from the very beginning discredited by the mass deportations of June 1941. Contrary to the security goals,

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they alienated the masses of the Baltic population and gravely undermined the image of Communist power in the region. Geopolitical designs in which large masses of potentially disloyal populations are resettled from the vicinity of one troubled border to another ‘porous’ and vulnerable frontier zone, largely populated by non-Russians also look strange. In the context of a possible clash between the USSR and USA, which the deported Lithuanians prayed for, such a geopolitical move appears close to absurdity. The economic value of forced labor, always dubious from the viewpoint of economists, seems very low in this context as well. Coercion applied to labor cannot stimulate productivity. Placing the deportees into extremes of life in the Siberian taiga forced them to accentuate survival for themselves and their families as top priority. Therefore, often their labor was productive only to such extent as was necessary for survival. In the conditions of the Siberian exile most additional niceties and life incentives were obtained through ‘unofficial’ practices – bribery, forging, faking numbers, blat etc quite widespread in the Soviet Union during that epoch. The failure of the ideological imperative has already been demonstrated above, but in conclusion it is crucial to highlight one small, but very important detail. All interviewed former special settlers, including those who came to BuriatMongolia in childhood, unanimously agree that the very fact of deportation constituted a great injustice and discrimination. Knowing that the Soviet state discriminated against them in early childhood by deporting them from their native land and labeled them with a ‘special deportee’ status for crimes they had not committed, fueled bitter feeling among these people throughout their difficult lives. The refusal of today’s Russian government to acknowledge the facts of deportations and label them as crimes against humanity makes it difficult to normalize relations between Russia and the Baltic states. In my view, this persistence of the Russian government will put further obstacles on the way towards a solution of political problems. Moreover, it affects negatively relations between Russia and the EU. The deportations of Stalin’s era were abysmal failures from geopolitical, economic, and ideological points of view. In the final analysis they brought much harm to Russia by placing time bombs on its frontiers and in its regions, alienating many nationalities from Russian culture, language, and even citizenship. The worst after-effects, however, of the heavy legacy of forced migrations, the seeds of evil sown in the 1930s – 1950s, are still out there to be harvested by future generations.

Irēne Elksnis Geisler

The Annexation of Latvia: A Gendered Plight Both Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union successively occupied Latvia from 1939 to 1945 in three separate invasions, drawing Latvia into the events of World War II. By the end of this war, the country had lost close to a third of its inhabitants. This population decrease involved not just the deaths of soldiers in armed resistance to invading forces, but those of women and children, as well as civilian men. Their experiences included extradition, execution, flight to the West, deportation and direct war casualties. In anticipation of a Soviet reinvasion of Latvia in 1944–45 roughly 250,000 refugees fled by land and sea.1 As the majority of able men had been drafted into forced military service for Germany, a large proportion of the people who escaped by literally walking out of the country were women, children and elderly. In the 1949 deportation of Latvians to Siberia an estimated 73 percent of the deportees were women and children.2 This paper utilizes the lens of gender to explore the annexation and the aftermath of exile for thousands of Latvians. It examines the voices of mothers, wives, daughters and grandmothers of Soviet Latvia 1941–53 and looks at this period predominately through such sources as women’s memoirs, novels and short stories. I have chosen these genres in order to capture the memories of women survivors who lived through this period of Latvia’s history, many of whom are not around today to tell us their poignant stories. Not in the role of professional historians, these women chose different genres than men did in which to express their voices. In a survey of Latvian authors’ fictional literature printed in exile between 1950 and 1969, women’s works accounted for 1

2

Valdis Lumans, Latvia in World War II (New York, 2006), pp. 390–1; Andrejs Plakans, Experiencing Totalitarianism: The Invasion and Occupation of Latvia by the U.S.S.R. and Nazi Germany 1939–1991 (Bloomington, IN, 2007), p. 92. In 1945 an estimated 250,000 Latvians, more than a tenth of the country’s population, were displaced to facilities in Germany, Austria, and other countries. According to Lumans perhaps as many as 80,000 to 100,000 were recaptured by the Soviet Union or sent back by the West. Approximately 120,000 Latvians remained in Western zones and later settled primarily in: Germany, England, Sweden, Australia, Canada and the United States. Valters Nollendorfs and Uldis Neiburgs, Briefing Papers, Occupation Museum Foundation, http://www.occupationmuseum.lv.

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almost 30 percent of books published.3 Indeed, several of the sources utilized in this paper were published in the 1950s and 1960s before women’s history was widely recognized as an academic field of research. Although it is commonly believed that women’s history was invented in the 1970s, history has not been written solely by men or about male interests. Professional historical scholarship, founded on the purported scientific method, began to emerge predominantly in the eighteenth century. The seminar experience, available to men who could study at universities, and the use of archives were foundations of the new professional history. These factors contributed to the relegation of women’s writing, frequently in the form of memoirs and travel diaries, to amateurism. Whereas male historians made politics and the state the center of their narratives, women writers in Europe and America often wrote about culture, social life and travel. They surveyed lower-class women’s work situations and their subsistence in present and past times. Women wrote historical interpretations of queens’ lives, of women’s religious faith and the lives of salon women. The ‘amateur’ writing of women has characteristically been excursive and admittedly subjective as opposed to men’s which has a linear focus.4 For these very reasons, women’s non-traditional historical writing contains important perspectives that would be lost if they were ignored. Many of the Latvian women who recorded their memories share characteristics with the pre-professional women historians of the nineteenth century. My resources are predominately based on first-hand experiences of detention, deportation or flight. They reveal how survivors learned to orient themselves, adapt and cope in their alien surroundings, whether in refugee camps in Germany, exiled to the United States or deported to Siberia. By omitting women’s voices from the written history of this period, scholars omit a key aspect of Latvian modern history and contemporary society.

Terror, deportation and exile Latvia has historically been prey to larger, imperialist states partly because of its location on the Baltic Sea coast with a northern port that does not freeze over in winters. As Zenta Mauriņa poetically explains: “Beloved city [Riga], 3

4

Raimonds Briedis, Harijs Hiros and Anita Ropkalne, Latviešu romānu rādītājs (1997) [Latvian novel index], Juris Rozītis, Displaced Literature: Images of Time and Space in Latvian Novels Depicting the First Years of the Latvian Postwar Exile (Stockholm, 2005), appendix 2. Bonnie Smith, The Gender of History: Men, Women, and Historical Practice (Cambridge, MA, 1998), p. 156.

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German, Latvian, Swedish, Polish and Russian built, is perpetually ravaged. Ancient texts predict that Riga has an ever changing face, a fluid and promising image. She is endlessly built, and as soon as she is completed, she is dismantled to oblivion.”5 After a brief period of independence following World War I, Latvia fell victim to power struggles between Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union during the Second World War. In June 1940 the Soviet Union occupied Latvia. The time that followed has been termed the Latvian Baigais gads (Year of Terror) with arrests, brutal interrogations, imprisonment, deportation and execution of Latvian citizens, at the rate of about two to three hundred per month.6 This period culminated in the night of 13 to 14 June 1941, when approximately 15,424 civilians were banished. 7 Latvian author, art historian, and political activist Sandra Kalniete conveys her mother’s story, deported at the age of fourteen on this night along with the author’s grandfather and grandmother. Kalniete was born in the village of Togur, in the district of Kolpashevo, Siberia, on 22 December 1952. She illustrates in her personal narrative the way in which women and children were separated from their husbands, brothers, fathers and sons during the deportation never to be seen again. [T]he cattle car was opened and the women and children were told to get out. Protesting and screaming, the women did not comply. They refused to leave their husbands and sons, their brothers and fathers. Seeing that force would not accomplish anything, the [c]hekists tried cunning. They attempted to calm the deportees by saying that the families would be united at the final destination.8

Kalniete’s grandmother and mother left her grandfather in detention under the Soviet guards, not knowing that they were parting for life. Not until the spring of 1990 was her family able to find closure, receiving a notice from the State Security Committee of the Latvian SSR that her grandfather had died on December 31, 1941, six days before his 33rd birthday. The author refers to the Soviet guards as chekists. Indeed, Latvian women’s narratives are peppered with the use of this term describing the occupying authorities. Vladimir Lenin created the Cheka (Extraordinary Commission) organization in 1917. This organization was recurrently restructured and relabeled; some acronyms include NKVD, MGB and the KGB. However, many 5 6 7

8

Zenta Mauriņa, Dzelzs aizbīdņi lūst [Iron Gates Break] (Toronto, 1960), pp. 119–20. Plakans, Experiencing Totalitarianism, pp. 1–32. Jānis Riekstiņš, Colonization and Russification of Latvia 1940–1989, Andris Caune et al. (ed.), The Hidden and Forbidden History of Latvia under Soviet and Nazi Occupations 1940–1991 (Riga, 2005), p. 70. Sandra Kalniete, With Dance Shoes in Siberian Snows (Riga, 2006), p. 65.

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Latvians continue to use the original Cheka term when referring to the system. As elaborated by author and survivor Helēna Celmiņa , the chekists themselves change: they retire, are relocated, or are terminated from their posts but others again take their place. And perhaps their style changes but their function and purpose remains the same.9 Ruta U. describes her deportation and exile at the age of fourteen along with her family on 14 June 1941. Much like the diary of Anne Frank, a manuscript containing the memories of this Latvian girl was secretly smuggled out of Sovietdominated Latvia by American friends of the family in 1967 and first published in 1977 titled Dear God I Wanted to Live. Arrested as a family member of an alleged ‘enemy of the people’, along with her sisters, ages twelve and nine, and her mother and grandmother, Ruta suffered hunger, cold and hard labor for five years before being permitted to return to Latvia, only to be deported again a few years later. Eventually released with her health destroyed, Ruta died in 1957. Her memoirs relay her arrest: Women and children were sobbing and whimpering. … The truck proceeded slowly, deliberately; house numbers were checked. The men were looking for a certain address. ... Suddenly, the truck stopped, right at our front gate. ... Totally bewildered, I stood there, unable to move. I began to tremble, feeling hot and cold.10

Eight guards stormed Ruta’s home. They told Ruta, her mother, grandmother and two sisters to pack a few necessities and get ready to leave, but they did not tell them where they would be taken. The women filled suitcases and sacks with belongings and stuffed wicker baskets with food. Soviet guards herded the prisoners into cattle cars, in which they spent weeks. Ruta remembers that her railway car was furnished with four bunk beds, two at either end. However, there were more than thirty people in the car when they entered, and all day long new prisoners arrived. Food was not regularly provided. Markedly interspersed throughout Ruta’s account is the awareness of human kindness and mutual support of her fellow countrymen in this traumatic time. In these cattle cars, her family often lived from the generosity of the other prisoners, some of them strangers, who had thought to bring food along. One brief episode of the arrest is significant in Ruta’s story and remained with her as a glimmer of hope throughout her struggles. She believed her father had escaped. [B]efore our departure a chekist came running and stopped outside the car, calling my father’s name. So he had not been found! Our hearts grew easier, for now there 9 10

Helēna Celmiņa, Sievietes padomju cietumos [Women in Soviet Prisons.] (Riga, 2002), Introduction. Ruta U., Dear God I Wanted to Live (Brooklyn, NY, 1980), p. 10.

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was hope that perhaps he would be able to save himself and stay in Latvia – a situation which could very well hasten our return. Shortly after midnight on June 15 we left Riga, heading for an unknown destination, and an unknown future. The night was dark and full of terror. … Such grief and sorrow! It seemed as though tonight the whole Latvian land was trembling with pain and fear.11

Only a week later, on 22 June 1941, German troops started to drive the Soviet occupiers out and in turn occupied Latvia. Initially on a voluntary basis but later in a general conscription, German authorities sent men to battle against the Soviet forces. While men were drafted and sent to war, Latvian women were left to bid farewell to their husbands, brothers and sons going off to unknown locations, and to imagine their fates. Zenta Mauriņa elaborates that men had the ‘privilege’ of volunteering to serve against the Bolsheviks; the German authorities persecuted those who did not volunteer. According to this author, it should have been contrary to international law to draft citizens of occupied countries, but this did not deter the invading Nazi forces. Maurina’s poignant words mirror the general perceptions and recollections of Latvian women. While individual cases may have varied, women remember Latvians having little choice but to serve under the German insignia.12 Valentīne Lāsmane describes January of 1944: with German troops retreating from Leningrad and the threat of Soviet re-invasion of Latvia growing imminent, even sixteen-year-old Latvian boys, born in 1928, were drafted and sent to the battle front by the Nazis with almost no training, resulting in heavy losses of life.13 In 1944/45, when it became clear that a second occupation by the Soviet Union was inevitable, thousands of Latvians fled their country driven by the horrors of the Baigais gads (Year of Terror). The best known works communicating this tragic episode in Latvian history may be those of Zenta Mauriņa. At the end of the Second World War Mauriņa went into exile first to Uppsala, Sweden, then in 1966 to Germany, where she is now buried (in Bad Krozingen). Mauriņa published many memoirs and novels and dedicated her life to writing about the fate of Latvia between freedom and oppression in the twentieth century. She has been named a symbol for all those Latvian women writers who became refugees because of the Soviet occupation.14

11 12 13 14

Ibid., pp. 10–3. Mauriņa, Dzelz aizbīdņi lūst, p. 130. Valentīna Lāsmane, Pāri jūrai 1944./45. g. [Across the Sea in 1944/45] (Stockholm, 1993). Ausma Cimdiņš, The Origins of Feminism in Latvian Literature and Criticism (paper presented at the 4th European Feminist Research conference on Body, Gender, Subjectivity: Crossing borders of disciplines and institutions, Bologna, Italy, Sept. 28–Oct 1, 2000).

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In one of her memoirs Mauriņa indicates that her mother did not want to leave Latvia. If she had to die, she wanted to be buried next to her late husband. However, while the disabled author lay in a hospital bed in Germany, she received a letter from her older sister Magdalena, stating that the sister and mother had indeed fled and found refuge at a camp in Austria. Upon arrival, her mother nonetheless fell ill and died. Mauriņa’s sad words: “She sleeps now in a strange land,”15 reflect a social construction of Latvian identity for men and women separated from the territory of Latvia even in death. Latvian-American author Katrina Schwartz points out that this type of reference is a common expression among exiled Latvians as well as other communities in diaspora.16 Most Latvian refugees took one of two routes into exile, one to Germany and the other to Sweden. While the path to Germany was permitted by the German military, Sweden, with a policy of neutrality, was officially closed to most refugees. In Germany, former soldiers were considered prisoners of war by Allied forces and placed in designated camps according to their status; families took refuge in displaced persons’ camps. This resulted frequently in separating soldiers from their families. Women’s narratives yield a different picture from time-honored constructs of this period as they convey stories of flight, imprisonment and separation and reveal the complexity of multifaceted reality. In a war of men, ordinary German citizens were themselves frequently victims along with the Latvians who made it to Germany. Novelist Angelika Gailīte describes how the people of Germany, including children and elderly, at that time were being perpetually tortured by bombings and hunger.17 Mauriņa recounts the story of a Latvian man who had lost his wife and only daughter to an Allied bombing raid on Germany. Because of a great respect and admiration for the Anglo-Saxon culture, he had put his daughter in an English language high school in Riga. Having fled the Russians, the family had taken refuge in Dresden and was waiting to travel on to either America or Great Britain until they could again return home to Latvia. However, the night of 13 February 1945, he returned to the refugee camp from factory work to find his wife’s and daughter’s burned corpses. The man bitterly lamented the fate of his wife and daughter who had never hurt anyone. Why should they have to

15 16 17

Mauriņa, Dzelz aizbīdņi lūst, p. 364. Katrina Z. S. Schwartz, Nature and National Identity after Communism: Globalizing the Ethnoscape (Pittsburgh, 2006), p. 3. Angelika Gailīte, Ceļiniece: Pieredze un vērojumi [Wanderer: Experiences and Observations] (Stockholm, 1962), p. 232.

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die in such a manner? “It used to be that witches were burned, but now entire cities of inhabitants are burned. People are treated as if they were pine cones.”18 Few Latvians wanted to go to Germany; most would rather have fled to Sweden. However, this route required money and connections in order to access boats or ships that most did not have. Some talked about stowing away on fishing boats to Sweden. A journey to Sweden, illegal and secret, is depicted by novelist Ingrīda Vīksna.19 Mauriņa portrays her flight to Sweden from Germany in 1946 along with her husband Konstantīns Raudive and other Latvian refugees. She recalls that it was a sunny day when she was taken to the harbor. They departed to a strange country whose language they did not understand, and where no one was waiting to welcome them. In her closing chapter of Dzelzs aizbīdņi lūst (Iron gates break) she writes: “Our fatherland is dear, but freedom is dearer, and even dearer is truth. But without [brotherly] love we are all only strangers everywhere, like dried leaves in the wind.”20 Agate Nesaule describes her memories as a child of seven when the Russian front was advancing. The author remembers overhearing stories that people told and retold in Latvia during the Russian occupation – urban legends. One was as follows: A Russian soldier had stopped an old woman on the street and had made her give up the overcoat she was wearing. Soldiers did this all the time; we had all seen them point to boots, coats, shoes, anything they wanted, now that no one had any jewelry left. The old woman cried that she was cold; she would freeze to death without it. But the soldier was unmoved. The old woman got down on her knees and kissed the soldier’s hand, then his foot. She begged him to remember his mother and at least exchange coats. The soldier, drunk and impatient, took the old woman’s coat, but in a sentimental gesture he flung his stinking, tattered army jacket on the ground for the old woman. And guess what? The old woman was really very clever, she knew what she was doing. The sleeves and pockets of the filthy jacket were lined with hundreds of gold watches. The greedy soldier had been too drunk to remember his treasure. The watches would keep the old woman well fed and warmly clothed; she could trade them one by one.21

Significant in this scholar’s narrative is the use of a myth to illustrate war conditions and the atmosphere of fear and helplessness for individuals living under occupying forces, especially women. Two invading regimes replaced each other in Latvia, and the Russian soldier in this legend could easily be replaced with 18 19 20 21

Mauriņa, Dzelz aizbīdņi lūst, p. 297–8. Ingrīda Vīksna, Mums Jābrien Jūra [We Had to Wade into the Sea] (Copenhagen, 1951). Mauriņa, Dzelz aizbīdņi lūst, p. 373. Agate Nesaule, A Woman in Amber (New York, 1995), p. 90.

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a German. Also notable in this story is the assertion of agency on the part of the old woman. Though vulnerable, she was capable and resilient, securing food and warm clothing at the expense of the greedy, drunken enemy soldier. Nesaule recalls a time when, if her family did not leave their home soon, they could be killed or maimed in the crossfire between Nazis and Soviets. Remembering the Year of Terror in 1940/41, her family, including her grandmother, left Latvia. They walked guardedly for days from one deserted farm to another. The group slept huddled together in corners of rooms in the abandoned farmhouses furthest away from doors and windows. Nesaule describes how sleeping was difficult in these days and for months afterwards. She would try to close her eyes but could feel soldiers creeping towards her. As she felt herself drift off to sleep, she would jerk herself awake afraid that she would not hear the approaching soldiers. She illustrates camp life in postwar Germany from a child’s point of view as ‘endlessly waiting’. Three times a day her family stood in line for food which consisted of gray, tasteless pea soup served at every meal. The Latvian refugees nicknamed it the ‘green terror’. Their pale dry bread was made from corn. Before going to sleep, she and her sister would whisper together about thin, buttery crepes filled with veal and mushrooms or smeared with strawberry jam and cream, like they had eaten in Latvia. When immigration opportunities opened up in England, Canada, Australia and Venezuela, her family underwent the meticulous screening procedures in order to find a new home for themselves. Before being allowed to immigrate however, they needed to secure a sponsor who would guarantee a job. This was a problem for Omīte (Granny) as she was considered too elderly to work. But how could the family leave her behind now in Germany after having taken her from her home in Latvia? Political background checks followed one after another with repeated mental and physical inspections. Reading and math ability, teeth, eyes, ears, skin and bodily cavities were examined. A fellow refugee asserted: “We treated our horses with more dignity.”22 And, a dark spot on the lung or partial deafness in one ear condemned the person to the camps. In Nesaule’s family everyone got tested for tuberculosis, and she alone was called back for more tests. Even as a child, she worried during the day that it would be her fault that her family would not be allowed to leave, and at night she would have nightmares that she had been abandoned. In time Nesaule’s family did make it safely to the United States, where she began her new life by getting the education that her mother wished for her. She regrets that she has not been able to compare her recollections with those of anyone else in her family, as no 22

Ibid., p. 135.

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one wanted to talk about the war, and no matter how hard she tried, she could not conduct research. “I can only bear to read novels, as if they were safer, not factual accounts of the period.”23 Silvija Meija indicates that after the Year of Terror, the thought of the ‘banging black boot’ in the middle of the night sent chills through the Latvian population. During the year people would just disappear, either carted to Siberia or executed by the secret police. Meija passes on her mother’s story of Soviet tanks rolling into Latvia. Her family fled Latvia taking only what they could carry. They buried valuables, as did many Latvians, in large barrels in the ground because they planned to return when it was again safe. The author, herself, was born in an immigrant camp in Germany and eventually arrived in America as a small child.24 Meija describes the camps in Germany where displaced persons took shelter. Some were makeshift tent cities, others old prison camps or army buildings. Some refugees were placed in private homes, hotels or hostels. However, many of the local Germans resented and despised these immigrants seeking shelter and provisions. “The Germans were broken, disillusioned, starving and homeless. To add to their misery, thousands of people were now swarming to their country, using needed resources and often taking existing jobs.”25 The United Nations Relief and Rehabilitation Organization (UNRRA), formed to deal with displaced persons during the Second World War, was only considered a short-term solution. Its funding was exhausted by 1947, and its Articles of Agreement were not equipped to deal with people who refused to return to Communist occupied territory. Hereafter, the United Nations established the International Refugee Organization (IRO) which functioned much like a huge employment agency. Relief foundations in countries such as the United States, Canada, Great Britain and Australia, under the umbrella of IRO, offered to sponsor families locating jobs and housing for them. Forty percent of the available visas through IRO went to former residents of the Baltic states and Eastern Poland.26 The author retells the account of a seven-year-old Latvian boy upon his arrival in America. He remembered the great excitement of arriving at Ellis Island alongside his parents and grandparents. They had all gone through the intensive screening process before boarding the ship but were subjected to another examination upon arrival. Their grandfather in his late seventies, after being 23 24 25 26

Ibid., p. vii. Silvija Meija, Latvians in Michigan (Lansing, MI, 2005), pp. 12–3. Ibid., p. 24. Ibid., p. 13.

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physically inspected, was led to another room to be questioned by a translator, and U.S. authorities eventually denied him entrance. His mother and grandmother were devastated. The grandfather was returned to Germany and placed in a nursing home. The boy’s mother wrote many letters to officials trying to get information about her father’s condition and perhaps obtain permission to bring him to the United States. However, it was clear that people regarded as invalids and those with alleged medical conditions were unwelcome in America.27 The fears of those 250,000 who fled Latvia in 1944/45 were indeed well founded. Soviet forces entering Latvia in 1944 continued their policy of arrests and executions as in the first occupation, and implemented a second mass deportation on 25 March 1949. The communist command deported over 42,000 people, largely women and children.28 Vija Vasele recalls in verse her own deportation at the age of 8 in 1949, along with her three brothers aged 12, 9 and 3. In Vasele’s words: Es zinu kas ir Sibīrija, es zinu, kas ir bads Ja Tev vajag svešas zemes ej un meklē pats! Vectēvs godīgs zemnieks bija, mācīts agronoms, Miežus un rudzus sēja, dārzus stādija. Mans tēvs arī zemnieks bija, arī agronoms, Bietes un kviešus sēja, lopus audzēja. Dieva svētība tiem bija, druvas ziedēja.29 I know what is Siberia, I know what is starvation If you need a foreign land, go and find one yourself! Grandfather was a respectable farmer, an educated agriculturalist. He sowed barley and rye, planted gardens, My father too was a farmer, also an agriculturalist. He planted beets and wheat, and grew livestock, God’s grace was with them, their fields bloomed.

Vasele remembers the cruel smirks of the Russian guards as they slammed shut the door of her home and took her family, loaded them onto cattle cars to be transported to the far reaches of Siberia. Yet, her account illustrates the opposing themes common in women’s narratives, as she acknowledges that everyone was not so cruel and unfeeling. She recollects the kindness of a Russian woman, also exiled, who wiped the tears from the child’s face and gave 27 28 29

Ibid., p. 3. Heinrihs Strods, Sovietization of Latvia 1944–1991, Caune et al. (eds.), The Hidden and Forbidden History, p. 209; Nollendorfs, Neiburgs, Briefing Papers. Vija Vasele, Es zinu kas ir Sibīrija, es zinu kas ir bads [I know what is Siberia, I know what is Starvation] (Unpublished work, 1995).

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her a cup of milk. Written in 1995, this poem compares the fate of Latvia to Chechnya, calling them twin sisters. And while the poet’s heart reaches out to the mothers of Chechnya, her heart aches for the mothers of Russia as well. Latvija un Čečenija dvīņumāsas ir, …. Turies čečenu mātes, turies, čečenu tēvs! Lai mati jums ir sniegbalti, Lai mūžam džīvs ir jūsu dēls. Žel man čečenu mātes, krievu mātes man žēl, Tikai taisnībai jābut, taisnībai jādzīvo vēl.30 Latvia and Chechnya twin sister are … Stay strong Chechen mothers, stay strong Chechen fathers! Even when your hair is white, Let your sons always live. I commiserate with Chechen mothers, Russian mothers I commiserate with [as well] Only justice there must be, for justice we must still live.

Such are the stories that Latvian women tell of war and post-war trauma, where the Russian and German people, the people of the enemy, were themselves at times victims; where the kindness of the champions such as America and Great Britain frequently extended only to the healthy and able bodied; and where the moral and ethical neutrality of Sweden may have translated to turning their backs on their neighbors. And while truth was valued more dearly than the fatherland or even freedom, it was often too painful to bear.

A gendered perspective Women’s voices add a gendered viewpoint to the traumatic events of the Second World War and post-war periods in Latvian history. Their works present accounts of the social, cultural and physical consequences and transformations resulting from the war and enable scholars to move away from a military-centered historiography. Men who were part of the military experienced the war differently than civilians. And civilian men and women in Latvia experienced the war, the deportations, the flight and the repressions of every-day life in a variety of ways because of their gendered social roles and because of their own socialized gendered dispositions. When husbands, fathers, brothers and sons went to war, life did not stop for their families. And while Soviet guards executed men or sentenced them to hard labor, they exiled their relatives, including 30

Ibid.

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women, children and the elderly, without even the pretense of a trial, to be starved and tortured by the extreme conditions of Siberia. Women’s narratives such as those of Sandra Kalniete’s and Ruta U.’s describe the terror of their deportations and meticulously detail their exile experiences. Accounts such as Agate Nesaule’s convey the plight of the many Latvians who escaped in 1945 by hiding in abandoned buildings for fear of being killed or maimed in the crossfire between Germans and Soviets. Women’s stories are windows into the experiences of families and everyday life. They depict the daily routines of refugee and deportee camps and their resources: the clothing, appearance and character of the people, and the food, such as the tasteless pea soup described by Nesaule served at every meal and nicknamed the ‘green terror’. Women’s narratives describe methods of coping and survival in the reorganization and transformation of occupational roles. Ruta U. and her family, exiled to Siberia, took shelter in a former cattle shed when no other housing could be found. Since there were few men at the special settlement – only boys and some elderly men – Ruta recounts how the women built a dwelling for themselves, customarily the responsibility of men. They removed manure with their hands and built a roof out of birch bark, covered the ceiling beams with small branches and topped them with sod and sand. Then they spread clay on the walls using a small flat piece of wood to smooth it out. The most important task was the building of an oven. But where could we get bricks? There was no choice but to make bricks from scratch. We got hold of a big trough and mixed clay, white sand and horse manure with water. … After mixing the stuff, we pounded it with our feet, until the mess was smooth enough to use. It was poured into a mold, pressed and dumped out on some planks. In the sun the bricks dried and hardened. … Finally we had enough bricks for an oven.31

Similarly, Silvija Meija indicates that a microcosm of society was established in each emigrant site in Germany, in order to create a livable and organized habitat. She emphasizes efforts to preserve Latvian culture and customs, typically the responsibility of women in Latvian society as the preservers of tradition. Medical and dental facilities were established using their own nurses, dentists, and physicians. Schools were immediately established; there was an abundance of former teachers at all levels. Ministers held church services, self-governing legal entities were founded, and all forms of cultural activities blossomed. … [M]ost Latvian camps had their own choir, artists who exhibited their works, writers, and theater troupes who performed plays. Some films were even made. Also, newsreels were produced, ballet performances were held, folk dancing was taught and performed by various age groups, 31

Ruta U., Dear God I Wanted to Live, p. 29.

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newspapers and books were published, and various sports leagues were founded. The Latvian tradition is ingrained with song and dance, and song festivals were held where choirs from different camps would perform, followed by evening festivities.32

Women’s accounts disclose more than the actual details of everyday life. They tell the reader what the survivors believed they were doing and demonstrate how they later recalled their experiences and constructed meaning from them.33 Ruta U. attests to the meager food rations allotted in Siberian exile. The deportees plucked grass, chick-weed and nettles and made meals of them, but after a while there were no edible plants available. I’ll never forget a moment which manifested for me the deepest, saddest hunger. Whenever we received the monthly ration of fish, no one threw the bones away. They were saved, dried in a pan, and consumed. One day my little sister Maya was sitting by the fire alone. In the small frying pan that was placed on two bricks, were some fish bones. With great care she turned them from one side to the other, to quicken their drying. She sat there, with her small hands folded in her lap, ragged, dirty, and impatiently waiting for something to eat. Unable to wait any longer, she picked up the bones one by one and devoured them.34

Their testimonies help readers recognize the human element in an estimated 250,000 people who fled Latvia in 1945, the 15,424 deported in 1941 and the 42,133 deported in 1949.35 After Vija Vasele’s father died in the occupation of Latvia, her mother was left alone with four children. Vasele, deported to Siberia at the age of eight in 1949, with her mother and three brothers relays her capture and subsequent exile in prose: Māte bērnam galvu glāsta: “Klusu mazulīt! Čekists izdzirdēs aiz durvīm, ar šauteni mums iebelzīs.” Badā, salā, čekas varā pamesti tie bij’ Tālā Omskas apgabalā dzīvību ar nāvi mij.36 Mother pats the child’s head: “Quiet little one! The chekist will hear at the door, and hit us with his gun.” They were abandoned by Cheka authorities to starve and freeze In the distant region of Omsk, life was exchanged for death. 32 33

34 35 36

Meija, Latvians in Michigan, p. 25. A paradigm described by Allessandro Portelli, What Makes Oral History Different, Robert Perks and Alistair Thompson (eds.), The Oral History Reader (London, 1998), p. 36. In Portelli’s exact words, oral history reveals “not just what people did, but what they wanted to do, what they were doing, and what they think they did.” Ruta U., Dear God I Wanted to Live, p. 51. Nollendorfs, Neiburgs, Briefing Papers. Vasele, Es zinu kas ir Sibīrija.

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Many Latvian authors acknowledge their subjectivity, admitting that their memories may be influenced by trauma or lack of knowledge and others may view these events differently. Yet, through the examination of these different levels of interpretation and unique points of view we can begin to capture the complexity of these historic events. Nesaule explains that her sense of past is provisional because it depends on her memory. The author includes in her introductory notes: I have uncertainties about this story. I was only seven when some of the events took place, and there is so much that I have forgotten or I never knew or understood. … I know that memory itself is unreliable: it works by selecting, disguising, distorting. Others would recall these events differently. I cannot guarantee historical accuracy; I can only tell what I remember. I have had to speculate and guess, even to invent in order to give the story coherence and shape.37

Similarly, Mauriņa concludes her book Dzelzs aizbīdņi lūst (Iron gates break) by acknowledging the frailty of personal memories. That everything was exactly as I have presented, that I would not want to assure. But that it could have been so with our souls and their habitats, this notion I believe …38

Women’s narratives often embrace emotion and symbolism in their imaging. Mauriņa returns again and again to the feeling of a fallen leaf blown by the wind. Nesaule focuses on a single birch tree, an image of deep meaning rooted in Latvian folklore, as she departs from Latvia’s shore. Then, to our left, the outline of a tree rose out of the gloomy fog surrounding it. It was a white birch, a tree scared to ancient Latvians standing alone on a hillside. It was startling to see it like that, without any other trees nearby, leafless, and this made it look bereft and vulnerable. … I still dream of the tree sometimes and feel the same immense sudden sadness whenever I do, and I am reminded of it whenever I see a solitary birch, which happens more often than one would think.39

As scholars self-reflect and reevaluate the concepts of truth and objectivity, they gain new and innovative notions of how to approach their disciplines. The use of non-traditional methods and cross-disciplinary themes such as the blending of history and literature are becoming more common. Scholars such as Dipesh Chakrabarty have questioned whether there might be experiences of the past that cannot be captured by the customary methods of the discipline of history. He maintains that historians have been able to deny voices of 37 38 39

Nesaule, A Woman in Amber, p. vii. Mauriņa, Dzelz aizbīdņi lūst, p. 375. Nesaule, A Woman in Amber, p. 42.

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ambivalence, such as those of women, because the traditional constructions of the past require a sense of history where there are no contradictory trends or multifarious struggles.40 Similarly, historian Bonnie Smith argues that traditional histories, rooted in patriarchal thought, attempt to present the world in a ‘universal way’ rendering reality as it never was. Women’s narratives, she points out, depict the past as a series of constantly varied perspectives such as in a landscape, where ‘real’ history can be seen from varying points of view and in different lights.41

Conclusion I have attempted to illustrate the type of knowledge that can be achieved by examining the evidence gained by analyzing Second World War refugee and deportee works. I have specifically emphasized the unique experiences imparted by women because of the themes that were central to their gendered roles. Those who seek to understand the annexation and occupation of Latvia as a phenomenon in Latvia’s history must recognize that women were indeed the survivors; they made up a significant portion of the displaced and deported. The appropriation of Latvia, the war, the repressions, and every-day life cannot be fully understood without drawing upon the voices of women. Whether in the form of memoir, novel or prose, women’s narrative expressions are profound and meaningful. The prevalence of women’s works in popular literature attests to women’s abilities to capture the shared experiences and sentiments of a given population. The authors who recorded their wartime experiences serve as participant observers and expert witnesses. History itself seems to have much in common with Zenta Mauriņa’s vision of the beloved Latvian city Riga, an image that is perpetually changing as she is continually built and rebuilt.42 Similarly, history has proven to have a changing image over time as it is written and rewritten in search of ‘truth’. One can be sure that history, endlessly reworked, will continue to be constructed, and reconstructed yet again. Only time will reveal whether indeed women’s historical narratives will be merged with traditional constructs of the past as significant and profound components of the writing of history.

40 41 42

Dipesh Chakrabarty, Provincializing Europe (Princeton, 2000), p. 97. Bonnie Smith, The Gender of History: Men, Women, and Historical Practice (Cambridge, MA, 1998), p. 170. Mauriņa, Dzelz aizbīdņi lūst, pp. 119–20.

Silviu Miloiu

Forms of Anti-Communist Resistance in the Baltic States, Romania and Moldova under Stalin: a Comparative Analysis As a young chargé d’affaires in Riga and Tallinn during the Soviet takeover of 1939–40, Grigore Niculescu-Buzeşti was one of the few Romanians to witness the Soviet strategy of Sovietization along with all its drama. The mixture of real and phantasy, of fear and hope, of submission and resistance is clear from the diplomatic reports Buzeşti dispatched to Bucharest over the months until the formal annexation of the Baltic states took place.1 The end of his Baltic diplomatic mission, due to the Soviet incorporation, coincided with the Soviet annexation of Bessarabia and Northern Bukovina as a result of the Molotov-Ribbentrop agreement. Some four years after his diplomatic mission in the Baltic states ended, Buzeşti was appointed foreign minister of his country, which had just departed from the Nazi camp under Soviet pressure to join in the United Nations’ fight against the Axis. A few days later began the German bombardment. Although the aim of this government was to restore a democratic regime in Romania after six years of dictatorship, it soon became obvious that the presence of the Red Army in Romania would allow no progress on this path. When his government was forced to resign in order to allow the formation of a new, more pro-communist government, perhaps Buzeşti understood then the irony that he would witness again Soviet methods of Sovietization in his own country. This paper seeks to analyze in a comparative manner, forms of anti-communist resistance in the Baltic states, Romania and Moldova following the 1

Niculescu-Buzeşti’s dispatch no. 2656 to Grigore Gafencu, 11 October 1939, Arhivele Naţionale ale României (Romanian National Archives), folder Preşedinţia Consiliului de Miniştri, vol. 269/1939, l. 52–3; Niculescu-Buzeşti’s dispatch no. 303. 11 May 1940, Arhivele Ministerului Afacerilor Externe al României (Romanian Foreign Ministry Archives), folder 71/1920–1944, Latvia, vol. 9, l. 362–3; Florin Anghel, O încercare românească de politică baltică: România şi Letonia în perioada interbelică [A Romanian Attempt of Baltic Policy: Romania and Latvia during the Inter-war Period], Naţional şi universal în istoria românilor: Studii oferite prof. dr. Şerban Papacostea cu ocazia împlinirii a 70 de ani (Bucharest, 1998), pp. 447–8.

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Stalinist takeover of those entities and attempts to prove that the parallels between those nations’ reaction to Stalinism was more profound than many contemporaries realized, transcending the cultural, societal and geographical differences between them. As a comparative study, the aim is not necessarily to bring extensive new evidence to light, but rather to show how reaction to totalitarianism differed or resembled among these nations. This study will examine the period of ‘High Stalinism’ when ‘the fulcrum of communist rule in Eastern Europe’ existed whose main features were suppression and dissent.2 Writing back in 1920, the founder of the Bucharest sociological school, Dimitrie Gusti, denied the Bolshevik regime its claim to being in character a mass movement. Arguing against Bolshevik propaganda that it represented the real wishes of the majority of the people, Gusti, a democrat with left-wing leanings, wrote that “it is the dictatorship of the minority, yet not even of this minority in its entirety as a class, but of a party, namely of a fraction of this class; however, the party dictatorship leads to that of a group from inside the party and ends with the dictatorship of a few or one from inside this group.” Thus, to the Soviet emphasis on the impersonal nature of the regime, Gusti insisted that the Bolsheviks represented the most personality-less regime.3 Gusti’s analysis holds true throughout the entire history of communist totalitarianism, reaching its climax during High Stalinism. On the other hand, the major goal of Communist totalitarianism rested on its ambition to transform by any available means the human being, to remodel his ego and alter his beliefs. Reframing society in such a manner naturally encountered fierce resistance in Russia itself. A bloody civil war and brutal means had to be employed in order to crush the open or silenced revolt of its victims. As Russian citizens, the Bolsheviks could to some extent legitimate the Russian speaking majority of their country. Some may have even deemed the communists necessary to extricate the country from the war and work for its rapid modernization. It was, however, much more difficult for the Soviets to gain any legitimacy with the local population in countries they conquered at the end of World War II, especially since what their regime meant in practice was well-known to the Estonian, Latvian, Lithuanian, Romanian, and Moldavian 2

3

Kevin McDermott and Matthew Stibbe, Revolution and Resistance in Eastern Europe: An Overview, Kevin McDermott and Matthew Stibbe (eds.), Revolution and Resistance in Eastern Europe: Challenges to Communist Rule (Oxford-New York, 2006), p. 2. Dimitrie Gusti, Comunism, socialism, anarhism, sindicalism şi bolşevism: Clasificarea sistemelor privitoare la societatea viitoare [Communism, Socialism, Anarchism, Syndicalism and Bolshevism: The Classification of Systems regarding Future Society] (Bucharest, 1993), pp. 104–5.

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populations who had already experienced Soviet rule for one year in 1940–41.4 Especially the mass deportation in June 1941 and the mass killings after the outbreak of war had remained deeply imbedded in the memory of the survivors who had nothing good to expect from the Soviets.5 For instance, in Latvia in only one night, 13 to 14 June, some sixteen thousand Latvians were deported to remote eastern provinces of the USSR.6 In Lithuania thirty-one thousand became victims to Soviet terror, of which twenty thousand suffered in Gulag camps and under deportations, 5,157 deportees and prisoners died at deportation sites and camps, 595 were executed and the fate of 7,360 is unknown.7 This explains why wherever the withdrawing German occupiers did not manage to entirely crush the national partisan movement in a certain area, so-called Baltic ‘forest brothers’ instantly emerged to start the struggle against the Soviet invaders. In single cases the Germans initially supported the formation of antiSoviet partisans. In Lithuania, for example, a centralized and widespread partisan movement of many thousands erupted immediately when the Soviets started to penetrate into the country. Although the Lithuanian Central Command, the coordinator of the struggle, was destroyed by the Soviet authorities in 1945, the United Resistance Movement and the Lithuanian Freedom Fighters Movement continued the fight in the following years. In Latvia, the German repression of the partisans caused a delay while the situation in Estonia was somehow in between the two examples quoted above.8 In Bukovina, a province with a strong tradition of freedom and a special attachment to the idea of private land ownership and whose northern part had been subjected to Soviet occupation in 1940–41, the resistance started in earnest soon after the Red Army laid foot in the province. The first resistance groups were constituted in mid-May 1944 as a spontaneous 4

5

6

7 8

The large number of refugees, who fled from the Red Army in 1944–45 in Romania, Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia, proves this. In Romania there was a real exodus in front of the Red Army despite the Romanian government’s efforts to stop it, see Marcel-Dumitru Ciucă and Maria Ignat (eds.), Stenogramele şedinţelor Consiliului de Miniştri: Guvernarea Ion Antonescu (ianuarie – aprilie 1944) [Records of the Meetings of the Council of Ministers: The Ion Antonescu Government (January – April 1944)], Vol. X (Bucharest, 2007), pp. 312–3. Arvydas Anušauskas, Terror and Crimes against Humanity: The First Soviet Occupation (1940–1941) (Vilnius, 2006), pp. 99–103; Elena Şişcanu, Basarabia sub regim bolşevic (1940–1952) [Bessarabia under the Bolshevik Regime (1940-1952)] (Bucharest, 1998). Juris Ciganovs, The Resistance Movement against the Soviet Regime in Latvia between 1940 and 1941, Arvydas Anušauskas (ed.), The Anti-Soviet Resistance in the Baltic States (Vilnius, 1999), p. 127. Arvydas Anušauskas, ‘Introduction’, A. Šiušaite and V. Landsbergis (eds.), Forgotten Soviet War Crimes: Rainiai in Lithuania. 24–25th of June, 1941 (Vilnius, 2007), p. 9. Mart Laar, War in the Woods: Estonia’s Struggle for Survival, 1944–1956 (Washington, 1992), p. 23–37.

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reaction to the numerous abuses of the Soviet occupiers. At the beginning of June, these formations were subordinated to the Romanian Military Command of Câmpulung Muscel who helped in their training and supplied them with ammunition and food.9 In Bessarabia the situation was more complex because the province had been a Russian province for a century and a numerous local Russian-speaking population existed in the area. Besides, a large number of the Romanian Bessarabian elite found refuge in Romania, which contributed to a shortage of determined educated leaders capable of undertaking the creation of a strong resistance movement. Moreover, the Bureau of the Central Committee of the Soviet Communist Party for Moldova under the leadership of F.M. Butov was already created by 15 March 1945. This institution with sixteen members was designed to lead, survey, check and inform on all Moldovan developments. The decisions adopted by this bureau were compulsory for all Moldovan party and state institutions. This body was thus crucial in the imposition of a Soviet yoke over Bessarabia and in carrying out the policy of persecution and pillage against the real or imagined adversaries of the regime.10 The nature of the Soviet regime as described above and its goal of challenging human beliefs and values explain the mass flight and the resistance against Communism in these states. The image of a general partisan movement against the Soviet occupiers must nevertheless be rejected from the beginning. In most cases, resistance simply meant refusal to cooperate with the new authorities, offering food and shelter to freedom fighters, venerating old national symbols and preserving religious allegiance, or refusing to hand over land and goods to the regime. Opposition to Sovietization was also manifest with the spreading of illegal newspapers and leaflets, thus trying to keep alive the spirit of resistance. Describing non-violent resistance in Latvia, Heinrihs Strods distinguishes between four main forms. Of these, only two forms apply to the Stalinist period: resistance by associations and circles of like-minded persons and resistance by the church. The various resistance groups issued some 15 percent of all newspapers in Latvia; the young refused to join the pioneers and other 9

10

Adrian Brişcă and Radu Ciuceanu, Rezistenţa armată din Bucovina: 1944–1950 [The Armed Resistence in Bukovina], Vol. I (Bucharest, 1998); Adrian Brişcă, O zi din viaţa unui partizan: Documente privind viaţa cotidiană a partizanilor anticomunişti din Bucovina, 1944–1958 [A Day in the Life of a Partisan: Documents on the everyday live of antiCommunist Partisans of Bukovina, 1944–1958], Arhivele Totalitarismului 2 (1994) No. 1–2, pp. 258–76; idem, La résistance anticommuniste en Roumanie: Les partisans de Bucovine, Arhivele Totalitarismului 4 (1996), No. 1, p. 301. Anatol Petrencu, Exterminarea basarabenilor sub regimul ocupaţiei sovietice, 1944–1945 [The Extermination of Bessarabians under the Soviet Occupation Regime, 1944–1945], Arhivele Totalitarismului 6 (1998), pp. 36–8.

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youth communist organizations; and they listened to ‘Voice of America’ or other Western radio stations.11 Perhaps the most striking and innocent form of anti-Communist resistance was the flight from surrounding realities. Entire families left their houses and built hideouts deep in the forest or mountains. Otherwise, they found refuge in monasteries or sheep enclosures. They sheltered themselves in an attempt to preserve a modicum of continuity with the life before Sovietization. Laar quotes in his monograph numerous examples of such non-violent resistance in the forests: how life in bunkers and hideouts was difficult, especially during wintertime; how the residents spent their time reading the Bible or other books, singing national songs, and caring for provisions with no aim at harming in any way the authorities.12 In numerous instances, even this sort of passive resistance was severely punished. Hundreds of thousands of victims were arrested, beaten up and sent to political prison or labor camps, whether tried or not. The rate of mortality in such penitentiaries or labor camps was very high due to maladies, physical or moral extenuation, hunger, punishments, overpopulation, isolation, murder or a combination of the above. Even minor, prosaic ‘defections’ such as the spreading of rumors, inimical affirmations about the party, instigations against the creation of collective farms, and the listening of western broadcasts were considered crimes liable to be rewarded with a ticket to the labor camp.13 Abuses of the all powerful directors and guardians worsened the living conditions even more. In the year of Stalin’s death, when the leadership of the Romanian Baia Sprie mining ‘work colony’ (labor camp) came under the authority of Captain Zóltán Szabó, Lieutenant Cioară, Lieutenant Pintea and the political officer Lieutenant Guleran, the already inhuman living conditions actually worsened. Terror was fully employed against defenseless and innocent victims, whose daily working quotas were raised to an impossible seven tons of ore per individual while the food was being drastically reduced. The effects of such working conditions in the lead and copper mines were devastating.14 The death toll would 11

12 13

14

Heinrihs Strods, Resistance in Latvia 1944–1991, Valters Nollendorfs and Erwin Oberländer (eds.), The Hidden and Forbidden History of Latvia under Soviet and Nazi Occupations 1940–1991: Selected Research of the Commission of the Historians of Latvia (Riga, 2005), p. 292. Laar, War in the Woods. Florian Banu, Lagărele de muncă forţată – cea mai arbitrară formă a represiunii comuniste [Forced Labor Camps – the most Arbitrary Form of Communist Repression], Cosmin Budeancă and Florentin Olteanu (eds.), Forme de represiune în regimurile comuniste (Iaşi, 2008), pp. 71–3. Norbert Kondrát, Colonia de muncă Baia Sprie (1950–1955) [Baia Sprie Corrective Labor Colony (1950–1955)], ibid., p. 79.

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reach one quarter or even beyond, although this form of repression was only meant to reeducate the victims who could not otherwise be convinced, in the spirit of the new socialist realities. From the beginning of the Soviet occupation, groups of partisans were organized with the goal of engaging the Soviet troops and maintaining the spirit of resistance until the United States could rescue their countries. In Romania, the resistance against the communists started in the winter of 1944 under the head of the former Minister of the Interior, General Aurel Aldea. The organization, called the National Resistance Movement, was content at the beginning with distributing anti-Communist propaganda and taking revenge for the murder of Romanians by Hungarian policemen during the Horthy regime. Aldea’s arrest in spring 1946 was a heavy blow to the group.15 The remnants of this organization went to the mountains and engaged in armed resistance against the communist regime, one of their leaders being General Dragalina. The CIA sought to infiltrate and support these groups, assigning them the tasks of carrying out sabotage on railways and factories, monitoring troop movements that might be indicative of an attack on Yugoslavia or Western Europe, and preparing them to engage the Red Army should a war against the Soviet Union break out.16 In the Muscel sub-mountainous region around Nucşoara the armed resistance reached a climax. Two former officers, Gheorghe Arsenescu and Toma Arnăuţoiu, organized a group called ‘Haiducii Muscelului’ (The Outlaws of Muscel) against the communist authorities. Arsenescu envisaged a national insurrection led by former army officers to overthrow the government. Starting with spring 1949, armed resistance grew, becoming popular with the peasants of this area. In mid-June 1949 following clashes with the Securitate and Militia, the group decided to divide, one of them acting in the Doamnei River area under command of Arsenescu and the other acting in the Vâlsan Valley under Arnăuţoiu. The Securitate achieved a major success in neutralizing the former group, although Arsenescu himself managed to remain in hiding until 1960. The latter group was more successful, but in 1950 the Securitate hunting squads forced it to split. The Securitate killed several members of this group in armed clashes in 1952, but it was only well after Stalin’s death that this group was 15

16

The organization was in close contact with members of the Romanian political and military elite and envisaged a concrete action plan in case that the Western allies would turn eventually against the Soviets. This included the creation of strongholds in the hilly and mountain regions, the rescue of the king, and armed resistance, Cristian Troncotă, Procesul Mişcării Naţionale de Rezistenţă, 1946 (IV) [The Trial of the National Resistance Movement, 1946 (IV)], Arhivele Totalitarismului 4 (1997), pp. 117–32. Dennis Deletant, Communist Terror in Romania: Gheorghiu-Dej and the Police State 1948–1965 (New York. 1999), pp. 225–6.

159

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finally crushed in 1958–59. Arnăuţoiu and his brother were executed in 1959, while the Securitate eliminated Arsenescu in 1962.17 Their relatives, friends, and supporters all suffered dramatic consequences as a result of their deeds. Once Bessarabia was recaptured in the spring of 1944,18 its northern and southern areas were incorporated into Ukraine and males were conscripted into the Red Army. Of the 240,000 conscripted, at least sixty-five thousand fell in the war against Nazi Germany.19 The end of the war did not put an end to the suffering of Bessarabia’s Romanian population. They were investigated and arrested for collaboration with the Romanian authorities or for fighting in the Romanian Army against the Soviet Union. The famine of 1946–47 also heavily affected the province only to be followed in the summer of 1949 by mass deportations to Siberia. In 1953, 46,788 Bessarabians lived in Siberia, all surviving victims of deportation between summer 1940 and summer 1949. The long arm of the NKVD also reached Romania in search of Bessarabians, who had escaped to Romania in 1944 ahead of the advancing Red Army.20 Tab.1: Categories of Deported from Moldova in 1941–48

Categories 1. Kulaks (chiaburi) 2. Former landowners 3. Former traders 4. Accomplices of the German occupiers 5. Foreign secret services’ agents 17

18

19 20

Family heads 6,312 11 566 1,322 179

Family members Children Children Family under 10 under 17 members years years over 17 years 3,519 4,345 8,908 2 4 9 287 362 735 788 873 1,951 71

72

163

Total 23,084 26 1,950 4,934 485

Arhiva Consiliului Naţional de Cercetare a Fostei Securităţi (The Archives of the Romanian National Council for the Study of Former Securitate, ACNCFS), folder D 43/1959; see also the massive volume Ioana-Raluca Voicu-Arnautoiu (ed.), Toma Arnăuţoiu, Grupul de la Nucşoara: Documente ale anchetei, procesului, detenţiei [Toma Arnăuţoiu, Group of Nucşoara: Documents of the Investigation, Trial, and Detention] (Bucharest, 1997). Nikita Khrushchev describes the so called ‘liberation’ of Bessarabia in which he took an active part as a member of Kiev Special Military District. Marshal Timoshenko’s family came from a Russian speaking locality in Bessarabia, Memoirs of Nikita Khrushchev: Volume 1: Commissar, 1918–1945, eds. Nikita Sergeevich Khrushchev and others (University Park, 2004), pp. 262–3. Petrencu, Exterminarea basarabenilor, pp. 36–38. Gheorghe Boldur-lăţescu and Daniel Teodorescu, The Communist Genocide in Romania (New York, 2005), pp. 152–3.

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Categories 6. Participants in the anti-Soviet units during the German occupation 7. Leaders and members of political parties 8. Persons who had escaped from banishment 9. Clerks (active) of the former Romanian institutions 10. Former White Guards members 11. Leaders and preachers of illegal sects General total

Family members Children Children Family under 10 under 17 members years years over 17 years 122 95 60 166

Family heads

Total 443

558

313

427

332

2,130

48

12

11

43

114

15

5

4

22

46

12

1

5

15

33

114

64

69

148

395

9,259

5,157

6,232

12,992

33,640

Source: Address of 2 December 1948 from the Minister for State Security of the Moldavian SSR to the Deputy Chairman of the Central Committee Bureau of the Communist Party of the USSR with the ‘number of kulaks and other hostile elements’ from the Moldovan SSR, cited after Mircea Druc and Alexandru Chiriac, Deportările din Basarabia, 1940– 1941, 1944–1951 [Deportations from Bessarabia, 1940–1941, 1944 –1951], Arhivele Totalitarismului 3 (1995), p. 16.

Situated in a strategic position linking the Soviet Union to Eastern and Central Europe, yet still inside the Soviet sphere of influence, Bessarabians had little or no chance to organize larger partisan units. Nevertheless, groups of partisans, a few dozen members in size, did emerge, such as Filimon Bodiu’s partisan group, active between 1945 and 1950. Members of this group hoped that an anticipated war between the West and the USSR would restore Bessarabia to Romania. It sought to undermine the Soviet policy of collectivization, a fact that contributed to the widespread support they received over many years from local peasantry. In an ‘Apel către ţărani’ (appeal to the peasants), the group demanded that peasants should not apply for membership in communist organizations; they must sabotage the creation and activity of collective farms; and keep faith in the

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Romanian nation and the Romanian state. In mid-November 1950 the leadership of the group was annihilated in an exchange of fire with Soviet organs.21 It must be emphasized that resistance was not confined to the Romanian population of Bessarabia or to a particular social category. In many instances, Russian, Ukrainian and Romanian peasants of Transdnestria and Moldova proper, wealthy and poor alike, cooperated closely with the aim of freeing their country from the communist regime. Such was the case with the Democratic Union of Freedom (Demokraticheskii Soiuz Svobody) founded in February 1951 by A. Miliutin and N. Postol. The aim of the organization was to overthrow the communist regime by armed revolt that would coincide with the outbreak of an American – Soviet war, and thereby establish a democratic regime based on private property in Moldova. In an “Appeal to officers and soldiers, workers, peasants and intellectuals” of mid-October 1951, Miliutin detailed the goals of the resistance organization: the liquidation of kolkhozes and the distribution of land and farm equipment to the peasants; the freedom of speech, press, association, confession and beliefs; the freeing of the mind for creativity in science and the arts; the inviolability of persons; fair payment for work; the freedom of private initiative and the inviolability of any form of private property. The same day this manifesto was issued, the Soviet liquidation of the organization began as twenty-three of its members were arrested. Among them, ten members were Russians, seven Ukrainians, five Romanians and even one Croatian. Their social background proves once more the failure of the Soviet authorities to gain even the allegiance of the lower social strata: they were collective farmers, workers, carters, porters and even a kolkhoz brigadier. None of them were described in the documents as former kulaks or landowners, the stigmatized ‘enemies of the people’.22 This is similar to the cases of Romania 23 and the Baltic nations.24 The collectivization of this predominantly agricultural country and the deportation of its population ended for decades the anti-communist resistance 21

22

23

24

Ion Ţurcanu, Rezistenţa anticomunistă din Basarabia: Grupul Filimon Bodiu, 1946–1950 [The anti-Communist Resistance in Bessarabia: The Filimon Bodiu Group, 1946–1950], Arhivele Totalitarismului 2 (1995), pp. 61–77. Elena Postică, Grupuri de rezistenţă pe teritoriul Basarabiei, I, Uniunea Democratică a Libertăţii [Resistance Groups in Bessarabia, I, the Democratic Union of Freedom], Arhivele Totalitarismului 2-3 (1997), pp. 66–77. Consiliul Naţional pentru Studierea Arhivelor Securităţii and Florica Dobre (eds.), „Bande, bandiţi şi eroi”: Grupurile de rezistenţă şi Securitatea (1948–1968): Documente [“Gangs, Bandits and Heroes”: Resistance Groups and the Securitate (1948–1968): Documents] (Bucharest, 2003), p. 18. Zigmantas Kiaupa et al., The History of the Baltic Countries, 2nd rev. edition (Tallinn, 2000), pp. 181–2.

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in Bessarabia. The largest deportation named operation ‘South’ (Iug) was carried out on the night of 5 to 6 July 1949. Forty-seven thousand members of the party, KGB and Red Army were mandated to deport 35,796 persons, of which women and children constituted the majority (14,033 and 11,899), while males were only a third (9,864).25 The terror unleashed against the population contributed initially to more people joining the partisans or becoming outlaws before the will of resistance was curbed. Lithuania experienced a particularly fierce anti-Soviet resistance. Partisan units were active from the very beginning of the new Soviet occupation nurturing the hope that they would restore an independent Lithuanian state. As in Romania and Moldova, a confrontation between the Free World and the Soviet Union was expected time and again, the hopes only gradually vanished with the Soviet suppression of the Hungarian uprising. A centralized organization was created for the time of liberation with the aim of mobilizing men to defend the country, create a provisional government and hold democratic elections. Between July 1944 and May 1946 a general rebellion arose against the Soviet occupiers. In the subsequent period, the number of partisans declined to 4,500 in 1946 and 2,300 in 1948. As casualties among the resistance group diminished its military actions, the main priorities of the partisans were partially replaced by educating the populace. Between 22 and 27 May 1948 over forty thousand Lithuanians were deported, to be followed by the deportation of twenty-nine thousand in March 1949. By 1950, 90 percent of all farms were incorporated in the collective farms, thus a total of 300,000 farmsteads were destroyed. This drastically diminished the possibilities of partisans finding food and shelter in rural areas. As mentioned above, only some two thousand partisans remained active. They formed a new resistance organization in February 1949 called The Lithuanian Movement for the Fight for Freedom. This strong organization could not stop the decline of resistance membership, which dwindled to only five hundred fighters by the summer of 1952. A key heroic figure of the resistance, Captain Jonas Žemaitis, the head of the Lithuanian Movement and the underground president of Lithuania, active in central Lithuania, was arrested in May 1953, dispatched to Moscow to be interrogated by Lavrentii Beriia and executed in November 1954. The last Lithuanian partisan, Stasys Guiga, managed to escape arrest till the end of his life in 1986.26 The organization of the resistance movement in Lithuania was more efficient than in Romania, Moldova or the other Baltic republics. Starting in July 1944, 25 26

Druc and Chiriac, Deportările din Basarabia, pp. 20–1. Nijolė Gaškaitė-Žemaitienė, The Partisan War in Lithuania from 1944 to 1953, Anušauskas (ed.), The Anti-Soviet Resistance, pp. 27–44.

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smaller partisan units joined in larger structures called ‘apygarda’ (regions). In the first phase, seven such apygarda were created, each of them divided into three to eight rural districts or two to four parishes. The latter forms were further divided into companies, detachments, platoons and squads. These organizations paralleled army units with a chain of command, taking of oaths, wearing of military uniforms, training of recruits and awarding of medals. A wider structure called the ‘Organizational Sector Network’ provided partisans with food, medicine and other supplies. Other groups were subsequently formed to coordinate the activity of forest brothers, such as The United Movement for Democratic Resistance and its military arm The Supreme Committee for the Reconstruction of Lithuania.27 In neighboring Latvia, the social structures differed to some extent with a larger urban population, a higher number of workers and stronger ties between intellectuals and laborers than had existed in more rural Romania, Moldova and Lithuania. However, the Germans were more successful or willing to curb Latvian partisan activities. Thus, when the Red Army reoccupied the country, the Latvian partisans were less active than in Lithuania. Nevertheless by 1944– 45, four large unions of partisans were formed from divisions, regiments, companies, staff, suppliers and informers. The Latvian Homeland Guards Union emerged in eastern Latvia and the Latvian National Partisan Union remained active in the north. The Organization of Latvian National Partisans led the struggle in northern Curonia. Finally, the Hawks of the Fatherland was created in southern Curonia. In the struggle against the occupiers, Heinrihs Strods distinguishes three main stages. From July 1944 till July 1946, about twenty thousand partisans participated in the struggle in the above-mentioned major partisan unions, in which bunkers were built and military clashes took place. The Latvian Homeland Guards Union formed four divisions in Latgale, Vidzeme, Kurzeme and Zemgale, regiments in districts and companies in villages. From 1946 and ending in 1948, a new period started when the methods of struggle against partisans changed under the orders of the Commissar of State Security (2nd rank) Ivan Serov, Soviet Deputy Minister of the Interior since 1947. Besides approximately fifteen thousand soldiers, new military and intelligence structures were created to fight the partisans under the leadership of the communist party.28 Fake partisan units consisting of a hundred former partisans 27

28

Nijolė Gaškaitė-Žemaitienė, Lietuvos laisvės kovos sąjūdžio strategija [The Strategies of the Movement for the Liberation of Lithuania], http://www.genocid.lt/Leidyba/5/Nijole. htm (24 May 2012). Heinrihs Strods, The Latvian Partisan War between 1944 and 1956, Anušauskas (ed.), The Anti-Soviet Resistance, pp. 152–4.

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were formed according to a decision adopted on 28 May 1945 in order to trick the real partisans. The units were organized in the military section unit of the Bureau of the Central Committee of the Latvian Communist Party, were heavily armed and were required to help the Ministry of the Interior in ‘the struggle against banditism’.29 By the end of this period, the larger partisan groups were scattered, and the methods of partisan struggle changed from more positional warfare to partisan warfare. Finally, from 1949 to the year of Stalin’s death, the conditions of partisan warfare were dramatically altered. The deportation of forty-three thousand people to Siberia on 25 March 1949 and the collectivization of agriculture, which destroyed independent farmsteads, left the partisans with little possibility to replenish their resources and to find aid and shelter. The deportees had their possessions and livestock confiscated and handed over to kolkhozes or neighbors. Although several hundred people joined the resistance in order to avoid deportations, the trend was toward a decline in resistance activity and acceptance of legalization of former partisans. Partisans groups continued to operate between 1953 and 1956 with little or no links to each other. By 1956, the MVD had managed to win the battle. Only the most resolute partisans continued to resist.30 The German withdrawal from Estonia caused many Estonians to start guerilla warfare against the Soviet invaders. The forest brothers (metsavennad) also included German army veterans and Estonian Self Defense members afraid of being arrested by the NKVD. The total number of forest brothers reached thirty thousand, some six thousand of which undertook active guerilla fighting. The strongest resistance areas were constituted in the districts of Virumaa, Pärnumaa and Võrumaa. The average number of the larger groups was fifty to sixty fighters. The social affiliation of these groups shows that they encompassed, as in the other cases stated above, all social categories from wealthy farmers to poor peasants, from officers and non-commissioned officers to teachers. Numerous farmers helped the forest brothers with food and shelter. Soviet security forces, smaller army groups, party headquarters, destruction battalions, political prisons, railways and collective farms were often targeted by partisan attacks. 31 29

30 31

Andrejs Plakans, Experiencing Totalitarianism: The Invasion and Occupation of Latvia by the USSR and Nazi Germany 1939–1991: A Documentary History (Bloomington, IN, 2007), pp. 200–2. Strods, The Latvian Partisan War, pp. 154–5; Plakans, Experiencing Totalitarianism, pp. 178–9. Toivo U. Raun, Estonia and the Estonians (Stanford, 1991), 174–5; David J. Smith, Estonia: Independence and European Integration, David J. Smith et al., The Baltic States: Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania (London-New York, 2002), pp. 37–8.

Forms of Anti-Communist Resistance

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In contrast to Lithuania, at the beginning there was no national resistance organization in Estonia. Three different kinds of forest brothers can be discerned. The first group consisted of ‘lone wolves’, individuals or families who lacked weapons, did not engage in active resistance, had little or no connection with forest brothers’ networks and whose main purpose was to stay in hiding. The second group consisted of ‘freemen’ who belonged to no particular group and avoided major engagements with the oppressive apparatus. The third and smallest group included well-armed, organized groups with leaders, networks, bunkers and hideouts. The number of forest brothers in the latter category was between five and six thousand. Gradually, the forest brothers’ movement started to unite as it came to constitute a nationwide ‘Armed Resistance League’. The organization encouraged the population to continue passive resistance against the occupiers. It compiled ‘The Ideological Principles of the Forest Brothers Movement’, whose first part was written in 1945 and the second in 1948. This program described the League as a “voluntary, secret, armed organization of the national resistance movement to fight for the honor and independence of Estonia”. Maintaining faith in the restoration of independent Estonia, raising the national spirit, fighting the local authorities and their collaborators, and preventing a mass deportation were the other major goals of the organization. The Soviets did their best to dismantle this nationwide network and attained their goal in February 1949 when its central command was annihilated and the organization split into smaller units. Gradually, its leaders were killed or arrested.32 In 1948, the authorities began enforcing the collectivization of agriculture in order to fulfill ideological goals and curb the support for resistance. After the deportations, fear permeated the farmers, breaking their will to resist collectivization. In late March 1949 20,722 people, the majority of whom were women and children, were deported to Siberia. By the end of 1949 some 65 percent of the farms had joined the collective farms. To this must be added thirty thousand people arrested by the Soviet authorities after 1944 on various accusations.33 Under Stalin, terror was unleashed against entire groups of class enemies, particularly partisans. In Romania on 15 May 1948, a massive wave of arrests was undertaken against former legionnaires (radical right-wingers), whether they were guilty or innocent. Former Social Democrats followed soon. As a result, the terror in Romania affected more than a million people who were either

32 33

Laar, War in the Woods, pp. 99, 109–11, 124–6, 141–2. Mati Laur et al., History of Estonia (Tallinn, 2000), pp. 283, 286–7.

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imprisoned or sent to labor camps.34 Surrendering to the authorities, because of their promises, was not a relief from hardships but rather the beginning. In Lithuania, seven thousand partisans, who chose to trust the authorities in 1945 and left the forests, were immediately arrested and many were sent to the Gulag.35 To curb the Lithuanian resistance, the State Security, SMERSH (military counterintelligence) and the People’s Commissariat of the Interior were required to cooperate under the lead of General Sergei Kruglov. With all this input, the output was not satisfactory in the beginning. The Lithuanians were able to inform and get information from the local population, distribute newspapers, carry out trials of collaborators, target and assassinate officials actively involved in the punishment of the local population and attack party and state buildings.36 A common feature with the Romanian resistance was the fact that the middle and lower classes, especially peasants, students, army officers and teachers were all highly represented in the partisan units. A characteristic of Lithuania’s resistance was the strong tie between the resistance and the Catholic Church, who backed the struggle against the occupiers. By contrast, despite many cases of individual resistance by young clergymen, the Orthodox Church of Romania – like its Russian and Bulgarian counterparts and similar to the Catholic Church in Hungary – accommodated to the political situation and played the card of conciliation.37 The terror did not by-pass women, children or the aged. Likewise resistance was not gender-bound, since numerous women were the victims of terror. Women such as Elisabeta Rizea became symbols of this refusal to surrender to an inhumane regime supported by the Red Army. The map of anti-communist resistance in Romania consisted of numerous spots where groups were active that the Securitate hoped to neutralize. These bands, or gangs as the party called them, included a few from the upper classes as members, but the majority consisted of middle or lower classes – peasants, students, officers, workers, teachers and other young intellectuals. Their political background in the vast majority of cases was not radical right-wing as the communists claimed, but 34

35 36 37

Boldur-lăţescu, Teodorescu, The Communist Genocide in Romania, pp. 19–20. There is an ample literature concerning the conditions in Romanian penitentiaries. For recent English language literature, see Stanciu Stroia’s memoirs titled: My second University: Memories from Romanian Communist Prisons (Lincoln, NE, 2005), especially pp. 50–171. Gaškaitė-Žemaitienė, Lietuvos, p. 29. Roger D. Petersen, Resistance and Rebellion: Lessons from Eastern Europe (Cambridge, 2001), pp. 170–2. Pedro Ramet, The interplay of religious policy and nationalities policy in the Soviet Union and Eastern Europe, Pedro Ramet and Sabrina P. Ramet, Religion and Nationalism in Soviet and East European Politics (Durham, NC, 1989), pp. 6–7.

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democratic, with many former National Peasants, Liberal and Social-Democrat party members.38 A statistical overview drawn up in 1951 by the Securitate, quoted by Deletant, shows that of 804 members of the resistance groups and their helpers, only seventy-three were former right-wingers. This was less than former members of the left-wing Frontul Plugarilor (Ploughmen Front), the party led by Dr Petru Groza who helped the Communist takeover in 1945–47, in which forty–two were former communists in a classification where former National–Peasants ranked first.39 The situation was similar in the Baltic states and Moldova. During 1950–51 the Securitate was successful in disbanding over sixty percent of the Romanian resistance groups: 506 members were arrested, nineteen were isolated and two escaped abroad. Still, according to the official statistics, fifteen groups consisting of seventy three members were still active.40 The Communist Party was never satisfied with the pace and scale of purges. The inability of the Securitate to fully liquidate the ‘bandits’ and ‘enemies of the people’ was not satisfactory to the party organs. In June 1952, for instance, the Romanian party leader Gheorghe Gheorghiu-Dej insisted in the Political Bureau that “we are now at a stage of struggle when quality in the fight against the enemy is required. In the Ministry of the Interior, in its various organs and especially in the Securitate, from agents to various other kinds of posts, degrees, well-equipped and cultured people are needed, it is a delicate job.” Special schools were needed to educate and train these Securitate workers professionally, politically and morally in order to create “a good tool which is the best instrument of the dictatorship of the people.”41 Such complaints were expressed by communist parties elsewhere, i.e. in Latvia in 1946. The strengthening of revolutionary vigilance of the repression apparatus, the raising of the level of organization and its battle strength were the top priorities of the Latvian Communist Party.42 The social background of resistance across Eastern Europe, especially in the Baltic republics and Moldova were similar to the Romanian one. The majority of the population, landed peasants, beneficiaries of land reforms at the beginning of the 1920s, posed the strongest resistance to Communist policies and 38 39 40 41

42

ACNCSAS, Folder Documentar D 36/1948–1955. Dennis Deletant, Romania 1945–1989, Protest and Dissent, McDermott, Stibbe (eds.), Revolution and Resistance, p. 84. ACNSAS, Folder Documentar D 36, l. 240–2. Camelia Moraru et al. (eds.), Stenogramele şedinţelor Biroului Politic şi ale Secretariatului Comitetului Central al P.M.R., Vol. IV, (partea a II-a) 1952 [Records of Politburo and the Secretariat of the Central Committee of the RWP Meetings, Vol IV (Part II) 1952] (Bucharest, 2007), pp. 231–3. Plakans, Experiencing Totalitarianism, pp. 201–2.

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shed the largest toll of blood, alongside the petty bourgeoisie, intellectuals and army groups. In Latvia, the deportation of thirteen thousand families of socalled kulaks in 1949 proves that they “had no place in the Stalinist model of Soviet agriculture.” As a result of Soviet repression and agricultural policies, the most determined, educated, modern and entrepreneurial farmers in the country were destroyed economically, politically and then physically.43 The same applies to the other Baltic states, to Romania44 and Moldova. Consequently, the anti-Communist resistance in the Baltic states, Moldova and Romania shows many parallels, which are rooted in the common ideological features of High Stalinism, applied to these countries and to the similar reaction of these populations toward an ideology and foreign occupation, which changed their destiny and forced them into submission. The dominant social feature of these countries was the presence of a landed peasantry which had strengthened its social and political influence following World War I and was now faced with loosing all the benefits gained in years of struggle. The younger generations were born free and could not imagine their lives as slaves and marionettes of a foreign power. Except for Latvia, the left was relatively weak in these countries and therefore the Sovietization produced peculiar pain. However, the resistance encompassed all social strata, which gives it a national character. The landscape, the definition of nationality, and the tradition of outlaws also played an important role in the way the resistance was shaped, with many forest brothers or outlaws of the Carpathians playing the role of Robin Hood. The resistance was nationwide in most of these cases, with strongholds in the more forested regions or in the mountainous or hilly areas, or in regions where the tradition of liberty was more firmly rooted. The repression also has many common features, in Romania it was carried out by local militias and the Securitate with the support of the Red Army, while in the Baltic states and Moldova it was the Soviet State Security and the Ministry of the Interior which played the most important part in the process. Even the stages of resistance were similar in the sense that resistance started as a nationwide partisan 43 44

Daina Bleiere, Repressions against Farmers in Latvia in 1944–1953, Nollendorfs, Oberländer (eds.), The Hidden and Forbidden History, p. 245. The American press correspondent Reuben H. Markham eye-witnessed the effects of this policy on Romanian middle class peasantry and described them in a similar fashion as they are presented in the Baltic states and Moldova, see Reuben Markham, România sub jugul comunist [Romania under the Communist Yoke] (Bucharest, 1996), pp. 353–70; a recent book also analyses with the support of new archival documents the dramatic consequences of this policy in Romania, Dorin Dobrincu and Constantin Iordachi (eds.), Ţărănimea şi puterea: Procesul de colectivizare a agriculturii în România (1949–1962) [Peasantry and Power: The Collectivization of Agriculture in Romania (1949–1962)] (Iaşi, 2005).

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movement, to be eventually diminished due to communist social and police measures. Nevertheless, differences existed from country to country regarding the time when the partisans started their warfare and when they were entirely repressed. In Lithuania and in Bukovina the movement started instantly at the moment of the advent of the Red Army, while in Latvia, Romania and to some extent in Estonia, it took some time to begin. Generally speaking, it was in the mid-1950s that the hope pf Western military intervention vanished and the social and repressive measures of the authorities produced the desired results and the guerilla warfare ended.45 Differences among these nations also existed. Some of them are explainable by the situation of the countries at the end of the war. Romania was the only one among them to remain nominally independent after the war. Nevertheless, the strong Soviet presence in the country and Stalin’s control over the Romanian lackeys left the latter nation little room for maneuver. Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia had an exit to the sea where free nations like Sweden existed, as opposed to Moldova whose connection to the sea was cut. The strength of resistance also varied, with the Lithuanians showing more determination and abilities than the others to fight against the Soviets. The Lithuanians were also more capable of creating a nationwide organizations to keep them alive than the Estonians, Latvians and Romanians from Romania and Moldova. Regional differences also existed. The attitudes of institutions such as the church or of the diaspora also played a role. Nevertheless, with all these differences these peoples’ determination to oppose the dictatorship of a minority, totalitarianism, denationalization and depersonalization of humans underlines the similarities of the the resistance in Romania, Moldova and the Baltic states.

45

See also the paper by Hiljar Tammela in this volume.

Olaf Mertelsmann

The Objectives of the Different Waves of Stalinist Repression in the Baltic Republics Introduction Stalinist terror has been covered extensively in historiography that deals with the entire Soviet Union and as well as with former Union republics or regions. The ‘archival revolution’ of the 1990s has definitely increased both our level of knowledge and the amount of scholarship. Not only historians but also NGOs like Memorial in Russia are concerned with the topic and have provided highly valuable information. Our knowledge of the basic facts and figures has improved tremendously, but one might note a certain lack of new interpretation and analyses. Stalinist terror is an important issue in the Baltic states today and a central focus of research on memory, especially the mass deportations of 1941 and 1949. I would hazard a guess that a bibliography of Stalinist crimes conducted in the Baltic republics, including articles and memoirs of GULAG and deportation survivors, would come to more than 1,000 titles if such a bibliography were to be compiled. In other words, the field holds a central position in recent Baltic historiography.1 Because the archival situation is, to a certain extent, better This paper was written in the framework of the project ‘Estonia in the Era of the Cold War’ (SF0180050s09). 1 In all three Baltic states history commissions dealt with World War II and the crimes of Stalinism. The Commission of the Historians of Latvia produced an impressive 25 volumes of research, mainly the result of conferences. In Estonia, two remarkable and considerably extensive volumes were published: Toomas Hiio, Meelis Maripuu and Indrek Paavle (eds.), Estonia 1940–1945: Reports of the Estonian International Commission for the Investigation of Crimes Against Humanity (Tallinn, 2006); Toomas Hiio, Meelis Marippu and Indrek Paavle (eds.), Estonia since 1944: Reports of the Estonian International Commission for the Investigation of Crimes Against Humanity (Tallinn, 2009). The Lithuanian journal “Genocidas ir rezistencija” [Genocide and Resistance] appears since 1997 and in addition numerous books and volumes were published. Most of the research is done in one of the Baltic languages, but efforts were made for publications in English. Since then other smaller commissions and centers have worked on the topic. Without doubt, concerning publishing activities, Stalinism and World War II are the most popular topics among Baltic historians

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than in Russia or some other former Union republics, and the files, for example, from state security, the ministry of the interior and the KGB are available in the Baltic states, but not so easily obtained in Russia, some aspects of Stalinist repression might be even more thoroughly researched using archives in the Baltic states than in Moscow itself, where of course the most important archival holdings are kept. Recent research has increased our knowledge enormously and the fate of tens of thousands of people has been clarified by painstakingly working through the personal files of victims.2 Nevertheless, while we know more than ever the basic facts the question ‘why?’ has been addressed less often. What were the objectives of Stalinist terror? In this essay I attempt to provide a preliminary answer. Several older notions have been dismissed. The scale of Stalinist terror and the number of GULAG inmates, in fact, has turned out to be lower than expected as archives were opened and the size of the repressive apparatus was smaller. Stalin was no weak dictator nor was terror mainly an affair based on local dynamics and local initiative. The majority of the different instances of repression had been centrally orchestrated, while it is true that some regions even applied for an over-fulfillment of the quota of people to be arrested or executed. Today, it seems clear that Stalinist repression had no one single cause such as Stalin’s paranoia, but several aims were targeted in numerous campaigns. We might identify some overall concepts like ‘the utopia of cleansing’ (Gerd Koenen),3 ‘the gardening state’ (inspired by Zygmunt Baumann),4 or ‘the permanent purge’ (Zbigniew K. Brzezinski already in 1956),5 which could help our interpretation. Meanwhile, the European context (an influential paper by Peter Holquist),6 the

2

3 4 5 6

at the moment. See also Eva-Clarita Onken, The Politics of Finding Historical Truth: Reviewing Baltic History Commissions and their Work, Journal of Baltic Studies 38 (2007), pp. 109–16. In Estonia numerous lists of victims have been published, e.g.: Leo Õispuu (ed.), Political Arrests in Estonia 1940–1988, vol. 1 (Tallinn, 1996); idem (ed.), Political Arrests in Estonia under Soviet Occupation, vols. 2–3 (Tallinn, 1998–2005); idem (ed.), Deportation from Estonia to Russia, vols. 1–3 (Tallinn, 1999–2003); idem (ed.), Crimes of Soviet Occupation in Estonia: Deported, Arrested, Murdered 1940–1990: Converged Name Register R1-R6 (Tallinn, 2007); idem (ed.), Communist Crimes in Estonia: Additional Name List 1940–1990: Supplements for Books R1-R7 (Tallinn, 2010). Gerd Koenen, Utopie der Säuberung: Was war der Kommunismus? (Berlin, 1998). Jan Chozen Bays and Amir Weiner (eds.), Landscaping the Human Garden: TwentiethCentury Population Management in a Comparative Framework (Stanford, 2003). Zbigniew K. Brzezinski, The Permanent Purge: Politics in Soviet Totalitarianism (Cambridge, MA, 1956). Peter Holquist, ‘Information is the Alpha and Omega of Our Work’: Bolshevik Surveillance in its Pan-European Perspective, Journal of Modern History 69 (1997), pp. 415–50.

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‘culture of violence’ and the ‘strife for unambiguousness’ (Jörg Baberowski)7, the generally high level of disorder in the Stalinist state8 or the influence of police methods9 should not be forgotten. In this discussion, the author argues for the idea that different aims lay behind diverse waves of repression, meanwhile “cleansing to foster the integration of newly acquired territory into the USSR and to generate social change” might serve as the main headline as the Baltic states were incorporated into the Soviet Union in 1940 and society would be changed profoundly.10 The term ‘cleansing’ itself turns up in numerous Soviet documents and, in 1944–45 reports to Stalin, ‘cleansing’ was sometimes even presented as the main goal of Soviet policy in the Baltic republics.11 The vocabulary of ‘vermin’, ‘weeds’ etc. needing to be ‘uprooted’ is also often present in contemporary sources. Of course, there were other rationales, economic, the enforcement of obedience and the fight against resistance, involved. In this paper I will look at the different campaigns and search for the objectives lying behind them. Needless to say, not every campaign can be covered and that our knowledge today does not allow us to always identify the Kremlin’s rationale. Approximately 12–15 per cent of the Baltic population fell victim to Stalinist repression and roughly 4–5 per cent died, or were killed as a result.

The historical circumstances The Baltic states belonged to the vast stretch of territory, with approximately 23 million inhabitants, that was incorporated into the Soviet Union in 1939–40 and included Eastern Poland, Bessarabia and North Bukovina.12 For each territorial unit Moscow assigned three pleni-potentiaries to conduct the process of 7

8 9

10

11 12

Jörg Baberowski, Der rote Terror: Die Geschichte des Stalinismus (Stuttgart, 2003); idem, Der Feind ist überall: Stalinismus im Kaukasus (Stuttgart, 2003); idem and Anselm Doering-Manteuffel, Ordnung durch Terror: Gewaltexzesse und Vernichtung im nationalsozialistischen und im stalinistischen Imperium (Bonn, 2006); idem, Verbrannte Erde: Stalins Herrschaft der Gewalt (Munich, 2012). Nicolas Werth, La Terreur et le désarroi: Staline et son système (Paris, 2007). Paul Hagenloh, Stalin’s Police: Public Order and Mass Repression in the USSR, 1926– 1941 (Washington, DC, 2009); David R. Shearer, Policing Stalin’s Socialism: Repression and Social Order in the Soviet Union, 1924–1953 (New Haven, 2009); Amir Weiner and Aigi Rahi-Tamm, Getting to Know You: The Soviet Surveillance System, 1939–57, Kritika 13 (2012), pp. 5–45. Olaf Mertelsmann and Aigi Rahi-Tamm, Estland während des Stalinismus 1940–1953: Gewalt und Säuberungen im Namen der Umgestaltung einer Gesellschaft, Jahrbuch für Historische Kommunismusforschung 2012, pp. 99–112. Olaf Mertelsmann and Aigi Rahi-Tamm, Cleansing and Compromise: The Estonian SSR in 1944–1945, Cahiers du Monde russe 49 (2008), p. 331. Annexed Finnish territory is excluded from this discussion due to different conditions.

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Sovietization: first a politician in charge, the second the commanding officer of the Red Army troops occupying the territory, and the third a high state security officer.13 This indicates that the cleansing of newly acquired territories was really high on the Soviet agenda right from the start. All those countries had been under a ‘bourgeois’ regime before and many representatives of the old order, whether in state service, culture or business were singled out for arrest or deportation. In general, the need for ‘cleansing’ was greater in newly acquired territories than in ‘old’ Soviet republics. A major war in Europe had been ongoing since 1939 and due to the HitlerStalin pact, the USSR managed to stay out of the conflict but became nevertheless a main benefactor of Hitler’s aggression. Stalin and the Soviet leadership were, of course, aware that the Soviet Union would be involved sooner or later in the conflict. This does not mean that the danger of a ‘German fifth column’ loomed large in the preserved documents, but the anticipation of a forthcoming war 1939–41 intensified the need for cleansing. During the German-Soviet war on the Eastern front, the war itself offered the pretext for the necessity to cleanse society. The population of territories that fell under German occupation became especially suspicious in the eyes of the Soviet rulers. Before the liberation, preparations were made for the future cleansing of these societies by collecting information in card file systems. In essence, the population was ‘filtrated’. Those, who had left the Soviet Union during the war like refugees, POWs, forced laborers or concentration camp inmates when they returned were sent to filtration camps, while the population of occupied territories was thoroughly combed.14 Relatively quickly after the end of World War II, the Cold War started. The onset of the Cold War led to campaigns like the Zhdanovshchina and to renewed suspicion of the inhabitants of the newly acquired territories since their sympathies might be on the other side of the Iron Curtain. Additionally, Western propaganda and intelligence actions possibly instilled or increased a feeling of resistance against the Soviet order, even when foreign radio broadcasting might have been misinterpreted.15 The onset of the Cold War was partly responsible for the extent of Stalinist violence in the post-war Baltic republics.16 13

14 15 16

Tobias Privetelli, Irredentism, Expansion and the Liberation of the European Proletariat: Stalin’s Considerations on how to Bring Communism to the Western Neighbors of the Soviet Union, 1920–1941 (PhD-thesis, University of Berne, 2008), p. 320. See the paper by Dariusz Rogut in this volume and Cahiers du Monde russe 49 (2008), No. 2–3, Sortie de guerre: L’USSR au lendemain de la Grande Guerre patriotique. See the paper by Hiljar Tammela in this volume. Olaf Mertelsmann, The Social Costs of the Early Cold War: an Example from a Soviet Republic, idem and Kaarel Piirimäe (eds.), The Baltic Sea Region and the Cold War

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Finally, the Baltic states had enjoyed a certain prosperity in the inter-war years, even when all three came to be governed at the end by authoritarian rulers. From the perspective of the population living conditions under Stalin were much worse and for many people even inferior to the conditions under Nazi German occupation. The majority of the population idealized inter-war independence and developed a strong anti-Soviet attitude that was expressed, for example, by some armed resistance which was aided by countless un-armed supporters. This anti-Soviet activity led to the necessity for further repressive measures by the Stalinist state. But more repression increased a hardening of anti-Soviet attitudes.

Spontaneous and organized violence Before the ‘archival revolution’, historians stressed the arbitrariness of Stalinist terror as, in fact, not even leading communists had been spared and were executed after show trials. Research emphasized the fate of elites and intellectuals, because they often left memoirs when they survived, and sometimes historiography ignored the fact that most of the victims were ‘ordinary’ citizens who did not always fall under the ‘political paragraphs’. The latter were deported and ‘filtrated’ or arrested under criminal or political law, kept in special settlements, camps or labor battalions.17 The seeming arbitrariness of terror led to interpretations of terror being unorganized and sometimes spontaneous in character. In fact, in the Baltic republics only a small part of the terror was spontaneous, a larger share was reactive18 and most of it was organized and comparatively well-prepared. In fact, the Soviet state itself was not very efficient and not wellorganized, thus giving way to the image of a low level of organizational preparation for its violence. The totalitarian approach on the other hand sometimes vastly overestimated the possibilities of the state for action and persecution. Today, we also have evidence of a certain compromise policy, for instance, in the fight against resistance, where amnesties and legalization were offered by the state. In addition, when a campaign was over, people previously singled out as potential victims but had escaped arrest for some reason, by, for example, not being present at home at the time of deportation could remain untouched.

17 18

(Frankfurt, 2012), pp. 158–61. Golfo Alexopoulos, Amnesty 1945: The Revolving Door of Stalin’s Gulag, Slavic Review 64 (2005), pp. 274–306. I owe the notion of Stalin’s Soviet Union as being often more reactive than active to Donald Filtzer.

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Spontaneous violence: In the case of the Baltic republics we might identify several incidents of spontaneous and unauthorized violence with thousands of victims. Some violence occurred, during the Soviet take-over in the summer of 1940, on the streets.19 After the beginning of the German attack in 1941, according to an order by Soviet security certain categories of prisoners who could not be evacuated were to be shot before the arrival of German troops.20 Thus the mass killing was authorized by the center. But in many cases the victims were cruelly tortured before the shooting and persons who had been accidentally imprisoned as minor suspects were also murdered. In this case, obviously the prison guards, often communist activists, panicked and their outburst of fear and hate was directed at the prisoners. Soviet destruction battalions devastated part of the countryside and also killed innocent peasants.21 According to orders, they were to fight against local resistance and potential cooperation with the Germans, as well as destroy some crucial buildings and part of the infrastructure. Facing the German attack, those orders had a clear meaning and they could also have been issued to other forces located in a somewhat hostile territory. The excess violence of these units was again triggered by panic and the understanding that most members of the local population would greet the advancing Germans and their local auxiliaries as ‘liberators’. The advancing Red Army in autumn 1944, in the area of the Courland pocket in the spring of 1945, committed war crimes against the civil population. Up to the end of 1945, Red Army soldiers stationed in the area could be accused of raping local women, looting, robbing, stealing and murder on a large scale. Some commanders kept their soldiers under control, while others were obviously reluctant. In other words, many soldiers behaved as if on enemy territory and perpetrated, for a while, the majority of registered crimes.22 Rape went often unnoticed, because the victims were ashamed to go to the militsiia, the Soviet police, and the Soviet authorities hesitated to report such deeds. In part, Stalin was responsible for allowing an attitude of turning a blind eye to this behavior, but Soviet documents also speak of other reasons for this eruption of crime. Many Soviet soldiers originated from German occupied territories, or while advancing, had heard from locals about the fate of some regions, where Baltic police battalions had suppressed and often terrorized the local population. 19 20 21 22

See the paper by Björn Felder in this volume. Baberowski, Doering-Manteuffel, Ordnung durch Terror, p. 76. Indrek Paavle and Peeter Kaasik, Destruction Battalions in Estonia in 1941, Hiio, Maripuu, Paavle (eds.), Estonia 1940–1945, pp. 469–93. For example, in Estonia most registered crimes in the fourth quarter of 1944 were committed by Red Army servicemen, report on the work of the militsiia, 6 January 1945, Eesti Riigiarhiivi Filiaal (Branch of the Estonian State Archives, ERAF) 1-3-435, l. 1.

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Actually, Baltic police battalions were sometimes perceived as a second occupying force that was more evil than the Germans themselves. Thus some Soviet soldiers took revenge on the Balts whom they regarded as collaborators. Further more, the war had devastated the Baltic republics much less than occupied Russian, Ukrainian or Belarusian territory and the standard of living and wellbeing, expressed in better clothing and more food, was higher than in formerly occupied and unoccupied Soviet territories. Apart from envy for the ‘bourgeois’ Balts, the facts of less destruction and better living conditions indicated for an ‘ordinary’ Soviet soldier collaboration with the Germans. Additionally, many Balts expressed in private conversations their discontent with the Soviet order and Stalin in whose name the Soviet soldiers had risked their lives for in years of fierce battles. All this fostered spontaneous crimes.23 In the post-war years, in the Baltic countryside, anti-Soviet partisans, the ‘forest brethren’, fought the Soviet state and its representatives.24 The peasants were also usually fairly anti-Soviet. Soviet administration did not work efficiently and many Soviet officials even had to fear for their lives. This triggered many excesses and misbehavior by the local representatives of Soviet power including unauthorized arrests, beatings, torture, theft, and corruption etc., sometimes ending even with the death of the victim which was covered up as the deed of ‘bandits’. Additionally, real bandits and thieves, often Red Army deserters or gangs coming in from Russia, terrorized the rural population and contributed to the high murder rate. The misuse of power by officials that was called ‘breaking of Soviet legality’ and criminal acts were actually condemmed 23 24

See, for example, report of the political department of the 3rd Baltic front about the situation in Estonia and Latvia, Major General Lobachev, 7 September 1944, ERAF 1-1-885. Mart Laar, War in the Woods: Estonia’s Struggle for Survival, 1944–1956 (Washington, DC, 1992); Arvydas Anušauskas (ed.), The Anti-Soviet Resistance in the Baltic States (Vilnius, 1999); Tõnu Tannberg, Relvastatud vastupanuliikumine Eestis aastal 1944–1953 julgeolekuorganite statistika peeglis [The Armed Resistance in Estonia in 1944–1953 in the Mirror of the Statistics of Security], Tuna 2 (1999), No. 1, pp. 24–30; Tiit Noormets and Valdur Ohmann (eds.), Hävitajad: Nõukogude hävituspataljonid Eestis 1944–1954: Dokumentide kogumik [Destroyers: Soviet Destruction Battalions in Estonia 1944–1954: Volume of Documents] (Tallinn, 2006); Elena Zubkova, “Lesnye brat’ia” v Pribaltike: voina posle voiny [“Forest Brothers” in the Baltics: War after the War], Otechestvennaia istoriia 51 (2007), No. 2, pp. 74–90, No. 3, pp. 14–30; Pearu Kuusk, Nõukogude võimu lahingud Eesti vastupanuliikumisega: Banditismivastase Võitluse Osakond aastatel 1944–1947 [The Battles of Soviet Power with the Estonian Resistance Movement: The Department against Banditry in 1944–1947] (Tartu, 2007); Elena Zubkova, Pribaltika i Kreml’ 1940–1953 [The Baltics and the Kremlin 1940–1953] (Moscow, 2008), pp. 191–256; Alexander Statiev, The Soviet Counterinsurgency in the Western Borderlands (Cambridge, 2010); Olaf Mertelsmann, Everyday Life in Stalinist Estonia (Frankfurt, 2012), chapter: Resistance and Accommodation in Postwar Estonia, pp. 67–85.

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by the state, sometimes in an overly mild way. Nevertheless, spontaneous acts of violence by Soviet officials and criminals were part of the over-all picture of violence in this period. Reactive violence: The Soviet state responded to active and passive resistance and signs of opposition with arrests, deportation and even the death penalty. According to the rules of war, armed resistance in an occupied country by irregular troops might be put down with force and the ‘insurgents’ could be courtmartialed and executed. Actually, Soviet policy towards the ‘forest brethren’ was a mixture of sticks and carrots. Apart from violent repression that included the persecution of innocent family members, the infiltration of resistance groups by agents and informers, amnesties and the ‘legalization’ of former resistance members, helped to end armed resistance.25 In fact, the state used often a policy of de-escalation of violence. The measures taken against real or alleged opposition were an over-reaction to the unwillingness of the population to participate in the Soviet project. Nevertheless, these were responses to existing problems.26 Several campaigns targeted petty crime, speculation, tax evasion, slack workdiscipline and under-fulfilling of delivery quotas and were also a reaction to real problems at the Union or local level. Because the repression happened according to the (mis-)use of criminal law, we do not know just how many Balts were victims of those campaigns. It is clear that petty theft was widespread in 1946–47 due to famine in several western regions of the USSR. Baltic peasants tried to evade taxation on a massive scale especially after the tax increase in 1947. Work discipline was bad due to low real wages and the lack of workforce. Organized violence: Political arrests started soon after the communist takeover in June 1940 so we may assume that Soviet intelligence and the Soviet embassies had already compiled lists of potential opposition members among the old elite. In the process of Sovietization, three Soviet plenipotentiaries were crucial. One was responsible for politics and economics, one for military affairs and the third for security. The model was worked out in Eastern Poland in 1939 and shows how important security and cleansing were in Soviet politics. When the Soviets took over the Baltic archives, including the files of the political police, they combed through the material to establish long lists and a large card file systems like the files ‘on political coloring’ that included in the 1950s probably a quarter of the population.27 During evacuation the Bal25 26 27

See Statiev, The Soviet Counterinsurgency. In a paper we argue that there was a compromise policy existing parallel to cleansing: Mertelsmann, Rahi-Tamm, Cleansing and Compromise. Aigi Rahi-Tamm, Arhiivid Nõukogude repressiivaparaadi teenistuses: “Poliitvärvingute” kartoteek Eestis 1940–1956 [Archives in the Service of the Soviet Repressive Apparatus: The

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tic security organs were temporarily dissolved (1941–43) except for the unit dealing with archives and with reading published material from the German occupied Baltic states. German trophy documents were used in the same way since the aim was to compile long lists of ‘collaborators’ and ‘bourgeois nationalists’.28 When the Soviets re-entered the Baltic states in 1944, archives were again a major target. Continuously, new lists and card files were compiled like the kulak list, which would play a role in the mass deportation of 1949. We might assume that the majority of victims of Stalinism were picked from special lists or card files, ready to be singled out as ‘people’s enemies’ or some category during the next campaign. It was, and still is, common European practice even in democracies that the political police compile lists and files on potentially dangerous ‘extremists’. Police all over the continent had card files on petty criminals, Gypsies, or social outsiders to be used in the investigation of crimes. Only in the 1970s did many democracies stop compiling material based on someone being a Gypsy, or actually a Sinti or a Roma. The difference between the common European practice of the time and Stalinism was not the actual existence of card files and lists, but the enormous amount of material, ‘kompromat’ (compromising material), that was collected and kept until 1991 in the USSR. Looking at all those files and the number of bureaucrats involved, the notion of the ‘permanent purge’ seems somehow justified, even when one does not support the theoretical approach of totalitarianism. Many campaigns were well prepared in advance during months of bureaucratic work. The final list of those to be arrested or deported was compiled, logistical questions were resolved and then the campaign could start. Sometimes the number of people involved was as large as the number of potential victims as was the case in the mass deportations of 1949. Even the files of those spared repression remained in the archives until the sudden demise of the Soviet Union. In the view of the author, most campaigns were centrally initiated by the Kremlin or the respective Soviet ministry. They were well-prepared and highly organized by bureaucrats and other experts.

28

Card File System on “Polical Coloring” in Estonia 1940–1956], Ajalooline Ajakiri 2009, No. 1/2, pp. 123–53. Mertelsmann, Rahi-Tamm, Cleansing and Compromise, pp. 325–8.

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The agenda of diff erent waves of persecution Political arrests in 1940–41: The main target groups were members of the Baltic elite, politicians, administrators, military officers, policemen and businessmen.29 Apparently, potential centers of opposition were to be eliminated by pre-emptive arrests. The national elite needed to be weakened to ease the process of Sovietization. The idea of social engineering should not be underestimated, as arresting businessmen and wealthier members of society was a kind of social cleansing and it prevented former property owners, whose houses or factories had been ‘nationalized’, from raising their voice. Whether this campaign would strengthen the Soviet order in an upcoming war is debatable. This argument has been used by some historians and perhaps the Soviet leadership thought along these lines, but the political arrests and the mass deportation in 1941 actually weakened the Soviet order in the Baltic republics and led finally to armed resistance when the German army attacked. The resistance involved young males and not middle aged elite members. The mass deportation in 1941: This measure seems to be mainly aimed at social cleansing. Two thirds of the victims were women and children, one third men, to be sent to the GULAG. The categories of former officer, wealthy businessman, White émigré, or un-reformed criminal or prostitute indicate the idea of cleansing. Because the vast majority were family members, who were deported as ‘socially alien elements’, the danger of war obviously played only a minor role,30 even when in reality war started eight days later. The labor battalions: Soldiers from the western borderlands often did not fight effectively against the Germans and, in fact, many soldiers deserted. Because of this, Baltic soldiers were removed from the front and sent to special labor camps in 1941 and were released in early 1942 to become regular Red Army soldiers.31 Conditions in the camps were harsher than in the GULAG, and approximately one third of the Estonians, for example, died.32 The reason for the measure was the lack of reliability of Baltic military units. The death toll 29

30 31 32

See, for example: Peeter Kaasik and Toomas Hiio, Political Repression from June to August 1940, Hiio, Maripuu, Paavle (eds.), Estonia 1940–1945, pp. 309–18; Meelis Maripuu and Argo Kuusik, Political Arrests and Court Cases from August 1940 to September 1941, ibid., pp. 319–62. See Meelis Maripuu and Peeter Kaasik, The Deportations of 14 June 1941, ibid., pp. 363– 90. Peeter Kaasik, Formation of the Estonian Rifle Corps in 1941–1942, ibid., p. 886. Urmas Usai (ed.), Eestlased tööpataljonides 1941–1942: Mälestusi ja dokumente: Esimene raamat (Tallinn, 1993) [Estonians in Labor Battalions 1941–1942: Memories and Documents: First Volume], pp. 5–18.

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turned out to be so high because the camps were not properly prepared and in the overall chaos in autumn 1941 food provisioning was bad. The fact that the survivors were returned to Red Army service seems to confirm that the high mortality rate was not intended by the Stalinist leadership, but was the result of criminal neglect. The post-war cleansing in 1944–45: This was obviously the largest wave of political arrests in the Baltic republics. Initially the documents stressed ‘collaborators’ with the Germans as a target group, and this was in part justified by the extent of pragmatic cooperation and collaboration with the Germans.33 Later the campaign was directed more against ‘bourgeois nationalists’, in other words those who opposed, in reality or allegedly, the new order. This can be defined as cleansing society from ‘collaborators’ and ‘nationalists’. Some of the arrests had a pre-emptive character; others were based on extremely weak evidence. The strengthening of armed resistance in 1945 played a role in the redirection of the campaign. The author argues that the arrests of ‘collaborators’ had not much to do with justice due to the campaign nature of it. Confessions were obtained by torture and some people were convicted for being a member of a military unit without any proven personal guilt. Many cases of war crimes were actually not prosecuted when they took place outside the republic, for instance the misdeeds of Baltic police battalions in Ukraine, Russia, Belarus or Poland. The extraordinary commission for the investigation of occupation damage worked in haste and most of the material was not real evidence that could be used in court.34 Later the Soviet Union would organize some show trials of Baltic perpetrators in the early 1960s aimed mainly at discrediting the Baltic émigré community. The German trophy archives and the wartime Baltic archives remained basically closed to western justice, thus helping, in fact, war criminals living in the West. Again, the author would argue that cleansing was a more important motivation than justice.

33

34

On the German occupation see Seppo Myllyniemi, Die Neuordnung der baltischen Länder 1941–1944: Zum nationalsozialistischen Inhalt der deutschen Besatzungspolitik (Helsinki, 1973); Hiio, Maripuu, Paavle (eds.), Estonia 1940–1945; Ruth Bettina Birn, Die Sicherheitspolizei in Estland, 1941–1944: Eine Studie zur Kollaboration im Osten (Paderborn, 2006); Björn Felder, Lettland im Zweiten Weltkrieg: Zwischen sowjetischen und deutschen Besatzern 1940–1946 (Paderborn, 2009); Katrin Reichelt, Lettland unter deutscher Besatzung 1941–1944: Der lettische Anteil am Holocaust (Berlin, 2011); Christoph Dieckmann, Deutsche Besatzungspolitik in Litauen 1941–1944 (Göttingen, 2011). See Mertelsmann, Rahi-Tamm, Cleansing and Compromise; Juliette Denis, Identifier les “éléments ennemis” en Lettonie: Une priorité dans le processus de resoviétisation (1942– 1945), Cahiers du Monde russe 49 (2008), pp. 297–318.

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The post-war cleansing was not aimed at all men who had served in German uniform, deserted from the Red Army, or who had been draft dodgers. In fact, many German army veterans would ‘only’ be sent to labor battalions. Others became regular POWs or remained, after service in the Red Army, untouched. Of course, there would be a black spot in their ‘anketa’ (c.v.) forever. Filtration camps were one symbol of post-war cleansing,35 and one might argue that the entire Baltic population was ‘filtrated’ in one way or the other with the help of bureaucratic methods. Campaign justice: In using the term introduced by Yoram Gorlizki,36 I mean imposition of harsh punishment for minor offences. This started in the Baltic republics with laws against speculation in 1940. The draconian Soviet labor legislation was enforced at the end of the war.37 Tax evasion and shortfalls in fulfilling work obligations and procurement norms were prosecuted strictly since 1947. In the post-war crisis of 1946–47 one campaign aimed at petty crimes, but we do not have the exact number of people in the Baltic republics falling victim to campaign justice, yet if we look at the scale of the campaign at the state level, we can extrapolate several tens of thousands persecuted in this way. I argue that the regime tried to instill obedience with the help of repression. Following the idea of terreur, the use of harsh punishments could serve as an example for others and keep people in check. Additionally, the economic agenda of the regime should not be ignored because during the campaign, the Soviet state was able to raise taxation for peasants to an unbearable level and suppress real incomes. The acts that were strictly punished were actually human survival strategies in conditions of extreme economic austerity in order for the Stalinist state to use a larger share of GDP for its goals of defense and industrial investment. According to Abram Bergson, state consumption and investment during Stalinism made up half of national income, reaching nearly 70 per cent in war-time.38 Ethnic cleansing: The Stalinist state defined some groups as ‘enemy nations’ and treated many minorities badly from the mid-1930s onwards. Many victims of the Great Terror were actually killed in the ‘national campaigns’, including 35

36 37 38

Igor’ Govorov, Filtratsija sovetskikh repatriantov v 40-e gg. XX vv.: Tseli, metody i itogi [Screening Soviet Repatriates in the 1940s: Goals, Methods, and Results], Cahiers du Monde russe 49 (2008), pp. 365–82. Yoram Gorlizki, Rules, Incentives and Soviet Campaign Justice After World War II, Europe-Asia Studies 51 (1999), pp. 1245–65. On the labor legislation see Donald Filtzer, Soviet Workers and Late Stalinism: Labour and the Restoration of the Stalinist System after World War II (Cambridge, 2002). Abram Bergson, The Real National Income of Soviet Russia since 1928 (Cambridge, MA, 1961), p. 277.

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Latvian, Lithuanian and Estonian campaigns.39 The state not only persecuted ‘enemy nations’, but also wanted to reduce ethnic complexity. The first ‘ethnic cleansing’ in the Baltic states was the ‘voluntary’ resettlement of Baltic Germans in 1939–40 and the later resettlement in 1940–41, initiated by an agreement by both dictatorships – the Nazi and the Soviet one.40 Stalin thus got rid of one ethnic minority that was highly over-represented in the middle and upper classes. Thus, social engineering also played a role. Ethnic Estonians and Latvians were cleansed from border territory handed over to the Russian SFSR in 1945. An ‘organized’ population transfer of ethnic Poles took place after the war between Lithuania and Poland.41 The few remaining Baltic Germans were deported in 1945.42 Ingrian Finns who settled in Estonia after the war were mostly deported to North Russia in the late 1940s.43 While most Jewish victims of Stalinism were singled out because of their social background,44 most Jewish institutions were closed in 1940 and religious service was severely restricted leading to assimilation of the remaining Jewish communities. I argue that ethnic cleansing in the Baltic states had two major goals, reducing ethnic complexity and persecuting ‘enemy nations’ like Germans or Ingrian Finns. In addition, Balts were not allowed to live in some closed military towns leading to entirely Russian speaking communities such as in Sillamäe, Estonia. Whether the Soviets willingly Russified regions like northeast Estonia is a matter of debate.45 Social cleansing: Owners of larger farms, so called kulaks,46 and ‘former people’ like shop owners, priests, businessmen etc. became targets in several campaigns. The Soviet society was to be improved by the removal of ‘alien elements’. In addition, justice was to serve in ‘class war’. This meant punishment for minor offenses should be harsher in the case of ‘former people’ than in the 39 40 41 42 43 44 45

46

Victor Dönninghaus, Minderheiten in Bedrängnis: Sowjetische Politik gegenüber Deutschen, Polen und anderen Diaspora-Nationalitäten 1917–1938 (Munich, 2009). Dietrich A. Loeber, Diktierte Option: Die Umsiedlung der Deutsch-Balten aus Estland und Lettland 1939 – 1941: Dokumentation (Neumünster, 1974). Theodore R. Weeks, Population Policies in Vilnius 1944–1947: A Case Study of Socialist Sponsored Ethnic Cleansing, Post-Soviet Affairs 23 (2007), pp. 76–95. Aigi Rahi-Tamm, Deportation und Verfolgung in Estland, Olaf Mertelsmann (ed.), Vom Hitler-Stalin-Pakt bis zu Stalins Tod: Estland 1939–1953 (Hamburg, 2005), pp. 220–33. Riina Reinvelt, Ingeri elud ja lood: Kultuurianalüütiline eluloouurimus [The Lifes and Stories of Ingrians: Cultural Analytical Life Story Research] (Tartu, 2002). Jews were highly over-represented among the victims of Stalinist persecution in 1940–41. Olaf Mertelsmann, Ida-Virumaale sisserändamise põhjused pärast Teist maailmasõda [The Reasons for Immigration to Ida-Virumaa after World War II], Ajalooline Ajakiri 2007, No. 1, pp. 51–74. Anu Mai Kõll, Tender Wolves: Identification and Persecution of Kulaks in Viljandimaa, 1940–1949, Olaf Mertelsmann (ed.), The Sovietization of the Baltic States, 1940–1956 (Tartu, 2003), pp. 127–49.

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case of ‘ordinary citizens’. Several restrictions made receiving a good education for children of ‘class enemies’ more difficult. All this should be seen as part of social engineering by promoting people with a humbler origin and persecuting the old elites.47 Cleansing of border regions and of towns: Nearly the entire Baltic coastline became a border zone which was only accessible with special passports. The border region was severely cleansed of ‘unreliable elements’ and the same also happened, in essence, with the urban population. Restrictions were to keep ‘social alien elements’ out of the towns. I argue that security considerations and the vague possibility of flight over the Baltic Sea were behind those measures. Additionally, the town population was subject to special Soviet migration management.48 Smaller mass deportations: Apart from the two well-known mass deportations in 1941 and 1949, several ‘smaller’ deportations were organized targeted at ethnic groups like Baltic Germans in 1945, a religious group like Jehovah’s Witnesses in 1951 or at alleged or real supporters of resistance in Lithuania. However, in Lithuania, those ‘minor’ deportations possessed an epic scale.49 The main aim of these deportations seems to be cleansing and reduction of complexity, while weakening the resistance was the major goal of deportations in Lithuania. The mass deportation in 1949: The single largest deportation in the post-war years had three main reasons.50 The collectivization51 of agriculture was to be reached by the use of terreur and, in fact, many contemporaries remember that after the mass deportation at the initial meeting when the kolkhoz was established, a warning was given. “If you do not join the collective farm you would 47 48

49 50

51

See, for example, Mertelsmann, Rahi-Tamm, Estland während des Stalinismus 1940– 1953. See, for example, Enn Sarv, Genotsiid ja apartheid okupeeritud Eestis [Genocide and Apartheid in Occupied Estonia], Akadeemia 9 (1997), pp. 245–85, 573–96, 675–92; David Vseviov, Kirde-Eesti urbaanse anomaalia kujunemine ning struktuur pärast Teist maailmasõda [The Formation and Structure of the Urban Anomaly in Northeast-Estonia after World War II] (Tallinn, 2002). See the paper by Vsevolod Bashkuev in this volume. On the mass deportation see Heinrihs Strods and Matthew Kott, The File on Operation Priboi: A Re-Assessment of the Mass Deportations of 1949, Journal of Baltic Studies 33 (2002), pp. 1–36; Aigi Rahi-Tamm and Andres Kahar, Deportation Operation Priboy in 1949, Hiio, Maripuu, Paavle (eds.), Estonia since 1944, pp. 429–60. On collectivization of agriculture, see Rein Taageperaa, Soviet Collectivization of Estonian Agriculture: The Taxation Phase, Journal of Baltic Studies 10 (1979), pp. 263–82; idem, Soviet Collectivization of Estonian Agriculture: The Deportation Phase, Soviet Studies 32 (1980), pp. 379–97; David Feest, Zwangskollektivierung im Baltikum: Die Sowjetisierung des estnischen Dorfes 1944–1953 (Cologne, 2007); Zubkova, Pribaltika i Kreml’, pp. 165– 90.

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be the next to be deported.” Secondly, armed resistance would be weakened by deporting some of the alleged or real supporters and their family members. Thirdly, the countryside was to be cleansed of families of the arrested, ‘collaborators’ etc. Interestingly, most of the deportees received a conviction for ‘eternal times’. This was quite unique even in the Stalinist setting. ‘Baltic nationalists’ seemed to be so dangerous that entire families and their heirs were to stay for all time in special settlements. Apart from cleansing and weakening resistance, collectivization of agriculture also served economic purposes. The agricultural workforce would be reduced and a higher level of taxation would be reached. Since 1951 or 1952 the state did, in fact, receive more agricultural taxes than before, paid by a smaller number of peasants.52 Fighting resistance: The state used a complex policy of sticks and carrots. Families were collectively punished but some former ‘forest brethren’ remained free after their legalization. Apart from fierce persecution, the state aimed obviously at de-escalation. Still, many measures of repression can be related to the struggle against resistance and opposition. To be sure, occupying forces often have to struggle with resistance and for many of the Baltic people the Soviets were occupiers. The methods used were sometimes excessive and violent, but sometimes legalization or the amnesties proved adequate.53 Concerning the levels of violence a comparison with the conflicts in Vietnam or Algeria would be helpful. Forced labor: The vast majority of victims were used as forced laborers in the camps or special settlements. Thus it could be argued that Stalinist repressive policy produced a large labor force to be exploited for special purposes. Of course, several large projects of ‘building Socialism’ could only be conducted with the help of forced labor and POWs played a role in the post-war reconstruction. Deportations helped to increase the population in remote parts of the USSR and could sometimes serve in local development projects. Nevertheless, the GULAG received payment for forced labor and needed still large state subsidies. Forced labor is nearly always inefficient. As free workers the GULAG inmates would have been more productive and would have needed less supervision (approximately one tenth of the GULAG population). In other words, with few exceptions forced labor did not follow any economic rationality and the Stalinist leadership was aware of this fact since it subsidized the GULAG.

52

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Olaf Mertelsmann, Searching for Reasons of the Forced Collectivization in the Baltic Republics, Dzintars Ērglis (ed.), Occupation Regimes in the Baltic States, 1940–1991 (Riga, 2009), pp. 634–40. See Statiev, The Soviet Counterinsurgency.

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Forced labor was a form of punishment to possibly reform the inmate and not in the first instance an economic measure.54 A Soviet Genocide? The level of repressive measures in the newly acquired territories was higher than in the ‘old republics’ at this time. This may be seen already in the GULAG statistics as Balts were highly over-represented. During the Great Terror, the three Baltic nations were on the list of ‘enemy nations’. Was Stalin thus extremely anti-Baltic and did his measures qualify for genocide? I would argue not. The higher level of repression in the Baltic Soviet republics was related to the existence of resistance, pragmatic cooperation and collaboration with the Germans and the fact that the ‘old republics’ had been cleansed since 1917. Stalin, in fact, treated the Balts more leniently than the Crimean Tatars or the Chechens. In those two cases, collaboration with the Germans was less widespread than in the Baltic republics, but widespread enough for Stalin to deport both nations completely. Stalin wanted to destroy most of the Baltic elite, to cleanse and to remodel society. A tiny part of the former Baltic elite was even integrated into the Soviet project. He did not want to destroy the Baltic peoples as such. Otherwise, why should he allow the existence of three Soviet republics with their own education systems and own high culture in their respective languages? In fact, Soviet republics represented a sort of territorial cultural autonomy. Most of the persons, who perished in the camps or settlements, died because of hunger and malnutrition due to criminal neglect. Their death was not intended, but accepted by the regime and death penalties and killings account for less than one fifth of Baltic casualties under Stalinism. As cruel as Stalinism was, an ethnic erasure of the Balts was not on the agenda for the near future in contrast to Hitler’s post-war planning. I thus disagree with Rein Taagepera, who speaks about the ‘years of genocide’.55 Stalinism conducted additional campaigns in the Baltic republics against ‘bourgeois nationalists’. A party purge took place in Estonia, which also heavily touched upon culture and education.56 Obviously every campaign had its own agenda and “cleansing to foster the integration of newly acquired territory into the USSR and to generate social change” could serve in my opinion as a heading. But it was not cleansing alone, as economic aims, the enforcement of 54

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Galina M. Ivanova, Labor Camp Socialism: The Gulag in the Soviet Totalitarian System (Armonk, NY-London, 2000); Paul R. Gregory and Valery Lazarev, The Economics of Forced Labor: The Soviet Gulag (Stanford, 2003). Rein Taagepera, Estonia: Return to Independence (Boulder, CO, 1993). Olev Liivik, “The Estonian Affair” in 1949–1952 and the 8th Plenary Session of the Central Committee of the Estonian Communist (Bolshevist) Party, Hiio, Maripuu, Paavle (eds.), Estonia since 1944, pp. 131–49.

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obedience, the use of terreur to intimidate the population, the struggle with resistance and other factors played a role.

After Stalinism Most of the survivors were amnestied or simply released after serving their time and some were rehabilitated before the Gorbachev years. Few received their property back or any form of compensation, before the Soviet Union fell apart. The ‘excesses’ of Stalin could be criticized by Nikita Khrushchev, but by not rehabilitating the victims the Soviet Union’s leadership accepted the waves of cleansing and repression as somehow justified. The surviving Balts could return after the death of the dictator and the last ones were released from confinement by the early 1960s. They would face discrimination in finding work, education or the place of residence. Only since the 1990s, after large-scale rehabilitation, did property restoration take place in the Baltic states and compensation or additional pensions were paid.

Hiljar Tammela

Waiting for the White Ship: The Expectation of World War III among the Population of Soviet Estonia (1945–56) May 8th 1945, the unconditional surrender by the German High Command marked the end of World War II on European soil. For millions of people it was a sacred day that brought them long-awaited peace. It may seem strange that at the same time for many in Soviet-annexed Estonia and in other regions of Eastern Europe this day could have aroused such different feelings. The Estonian teacher and literary scholar, Jaan Roos, wrote in his diary on 9 May: “It was announced only today that peace has been made ... It is really a holiday. There’s no work done in a single office or shop. ... [But] there is no real and sincere enthusiasm for this peace anywhere. For us it is no peace at all.” He continues, “I am not crying for the Germans. They have never had my support. But I’m feeling sympathy for all the defeated and beaten, whoever that may be. One struggle has ended, but another one is just beginning.”1 A note from his diary from 1948 is even more significant: “People in Tartu are in a good mood everywhere. Nobody doubts that the war is soon to come.”2 It may seem strange to find lines like that in the diary of a patriotic intellectual from a small nation that had suffered some forty thousand casualties (the result of both repressions and fighting) in a world war that had just ended.3 Still, regrets were widespread that the initial war had already ended without a new war beginning. In this paper I try to search for the reasons for such a pheThis paper was written in the framework of the project ‘Estonia in the Era of the Cold War’ (SF0180050s09). 1 Jaan Roos, Läbi punase öö [Th rough the Red Night], vol. 1 (Tartu, 1997), p. 156. The reference here to ‘defeated and beaten’ is probably Estonia which had lost independence. Some sympathy is undoubtedly assigned to the Germans, too. 2 7 October 1948, Jaan Roos, Läbi punase öö, vol. 3 (Tartu, 2001), p. 138. 3 See for example Aigi Rahi-Tamm, Human Losses, Vello Salo (ed.), The White Book: Losses Inflicted on the Estonian Nation by Occupation Regimes 1940–1991 (Tallinn, 2005), pp. 25–46; Toomas Hiio, Meelis Maripuu and Indrek Paavle (eds.), Estonia 1940–1945: Reports of the Estonian International Commission for the Investigation of Crimes Against Humanity (Tallinn, 2006).

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nomenon, to describe how common the anticipation for a new war was, and what the impact of such belief was on everyday life.

Sources The sources used in this article are primarily the Estonian Communist Party (ECP) reports about the population’s sentiment. These secret reports (originally in Russian ‘informatsii’ – ‘information’) were presented periodically by the communist party district and county committees to the Central Committee of the Estonian Communist Party (ECP CC). Central Committee officials in Tallinn synthesized them into general reports on Estonia and forwarded them to Moscow. These documents are stored in the Branch of the Estonian State Archives today. The monitoring of popular sentiments was carried out the same way allover the Soviet Union but few researchers have dealt with such archival sources.4 Using these reports for studying popular opinion in Stalinist society is complicated. We do not know how outspoken and eager the regional communist officials were in reporting unpleasant cases of anti-Soviet moods; when we notice that the amount of recorded anti-Soviet pronouncements decreased year by year, starting from the 1950s, does it mean that the people were less ‘anti-Soviet’ or did they just censor themselves so that party officials would have nothing to record? There are even more questions like that, concerning the use of ‘information’. Nevertheless, I am certain that in discussing this topic within the limited scope of this paper – the spread of war rumors in one republic during a decade – ‘information’ can be used. Additionally, this study utilizes the broadcast content reports of the Estonian desk of radio station ‘Voice of America’ (VOA) as well as the replies to questionnaires sent out by the Estonian National Museum to its network of correspondents. There is also a unique coeval eyewitness document – the diary of Estonian pedagogue Jaan Roos,5 published now in five volumes and covering the period of 1944–54, titled ‘Through the Red Night’. 4

5

See for example: Sarah Davies, Popular Opinion in Stalin’s Russia: Terror, Propaganda and Dissent, 1934–1941 (Cambridge, 1998); Elena Zubkova, Poslevoennoe sovetskoe obshchestvo: politika i povsednevnost’, 1945–1953 [Postwar Soviet Society: Politics and Everyday Life, 1945–1953] (Мoscow, 2000). Some ‘information’ concerning Estonian SSR has been published in various source publications. For example: Evald Laasi (ed.), Vastupanuliikumine Eestis 1944–1949 [The Resistance Movement in Estonia 1944–1949] (Tallinn, 1992); Mart Arold (ed.), Märtsivapustused [The Shocks of March] (Tartu, 1995). Jaan Roos (1888–1965) was an Estonian pedagogue and literature scholar. Afraid of arrest and purge, he hid himself from 1944 till 1954. During these years he changed his location quite often, getting shelter from many relatives and friends. He met many people and

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Anti-Soviet resistance: independence through another war? When the Red Army re-captured Estonia in 1944 and the Soviet regime was reestablished, a new wave of Soviet repressions was to follow.6 Already in autumn and winter 1944 thousands of people were arrested in Estonia, accused of antiSoviet activities, mostly of collaboration with the Nazi regime. As in the other Baltic republics, an anti-Soviet armed resistance was formed, the ‘forest brothers’. According to the latest studies, a total of 15 to 20 thousand people hid themselves in the forests of Estonia in the post-war decade.7 About ten thousand of them were involved in active armed resistance. This was as not a large number compared to Lithuania or Western Ukraine, but still a notable figure taking into account the overall population of Estonia, which was less than one million at this time. Mart Laar, the author of the most comprehensive study about Estonian armed resistance so far, has described the situation as follows. During the peak period of the action of Forest Brothers from 1945 till 1949 “in many districts the new governors were in control of the situation only in daytime, but at night the Forest Brothers ruled the rural areas. In many villages, hidden between large forests and swamps, the Soviet power was [fully] instituted only after the mass deportation of 1949.”8 Fighting year after year against a superior enemy must be fuelled either by strong morale or utter desperation. My personal belief is that until the breaking point of 1949 the motivator was mainly morale and from that point on – desperation.9 When studying the memoirs of ‘forest brothers’ and their supporters, there is one absolutely remarkable fact that draws attention: their widespread belief that Soviet power in Estonia would only be temporary. The tactic for many resistance groups was to avoid major armed clashes with the authorities, to hide themselves in the forest and to collect arms and ammunition, in an effort to be ready when the right moment came. That is – when the new World War breaks out.

6 7

8 9

recorded hundreds of rumors in his diary, thus making it a unique source for researchers on the post-war mentality of many Estonians. See Olaf Mertelsmann and Aigi Rahi-Tamm, Cleansing and Compromise: The Estonian SSR in 1944–1945, Cahiers du Monde russe 49 (2008), pp. 319–40. Pearu Kuusk, Nõukogude võimu lahingud Eesti vastupanuliikumisega: Banditismivastase võitluse osakond aastatel 1944–1947 [The Battles of Soviet Power with the Estonian Resistance Movement: The Department against Banditry in 1944–1947] (Tartu, 2007), p. 7. Mart Laar, Metsavennad [Forest Brothers] (Tallinn, 1993), p. 88. In March 1949 more than 20,000 people were deported from Estonia, a significant number of them were accused of supporting the ‘bandits’. Th is deportation is considered to be the action that to a great extent brought the armed resistance to an end.

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The media situation in the Estonian SSR During unstable and history-changing periods, it is always important to be regularly informed of the latest news. In the post-war decade, people were afraid of new purges and coercive measures like new taxes etc. Many also hoped to find news affirming that the liberation of Estonia was near. The ‘forest brothers’ were anxious to receive the signal to begin their uprising. This explains the enormous popular attention paid to world news from the outbreak of war onwards until a decade after the war’s end; this is confirmed in many memoirs. Nevertheless, the official Soviet media did not offer much to satisfy such interest. Compared to the Estonian Republic’s press of the 1920s and 1930s (and even to the media during the Nazi occupation) the Soviet media was extremely crammed with ideology. It was not very informative and far less entertaining. As a result, local opinion held the Soviet media in low regard.10 Because of this, it seems clear that there was some room left for alternative information channels, such as Western radio broadcasting and an endless stream of rumors. Regarding media consumption, Olaf Mertelsmann has argued that the concept of the Cold War dividing the world into two hermetically sealed camps is false, at least during the early stage of the Cold War. He claims that in the post-war decade most of the Estonians in the Estonian SSR preferred the media of the ‘other side’ – Western media. Of all the Western media, only radio was accessible in the Estonian SSR.11 According to official figures, in 1948 there was a radio set in every fifth Estonian household, a number many times higher than the Soviet average. Moreover, knowledge of foreign languages was widespread. Already by the 1930s, listening to foreign radio stations seemed to be quite normal for radio owners and this practice continued through the years of Nazi occupation in 1941–44.12 Listening to enemy radio broadcasts was punishable under German rule, but it was practiced widely. For example, Jaan

10

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“The newspapers are as empty as can be. There’s nothing even on the fourth page anymore.” 27 April 1951, Jaan Roos, Läbi punase öö, vol. 4 (Tartu, 2004), p. 49. The fourth page was usually allocated to international news. Later Finnish TV became accessible in northern Estonia. This should not be seen solely as a form of looking for alternative information sources. The need for entertainment like dance music definitely played an important role, too. Olaf Mertelsmann, The Media Audience of a Soviet Republic in the Early Cold War: The Estonian SSR (paper presented at the conference ‘Propaganda and the Mass Media in the Making of Cold War Europe’ in Dublin, 11–13 January 2007, in possession of the author).

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Roos came to know about the Red Army’s capture of Tartu in August 1944 by listening to BBC.13 Hence, it was only normal that listening to foreign radio broadcasts should continue into the Soviet era. One radio set in every fifth household was still a relatively small number. In rural areas, largely without electric power lines, the lack of batteries was also an obstacle. Besides, even at the beginning of the Cold War, the Soviet’s massive jamming of foreign radio broadcasts began almost immediately. All of this fostered the oldest communicating system – word-ofmouth communication, or to put it more bluntly, – spreading of rumors.

The spreading of rumors There are hundreds of rumors in Jaan Roos’ diaries recorded year by year, which mainly concern the expected emancipation of Estonia. The same picture of public expectations of freedom may be found also in the reports on public opinion. Numerous examples of diverse rumors in post-war Estonia were also recorded in official reports. People were very hostile towards the Soviets and they did not hesitate demonstrating it. Even strangers who met incidentally came to find a common language quickly – through cursing the regime together. Jaan Roos wrote: “I was lucky and I got a lift from Pööraküla village to my destination [in Kursi village]. The coachman was an old farmer from Pööraküla. At first we felt a little distrust to each other, as is common these days. But we soon connected and began to talk freely.”14 Trusting an unfamiliar person like this could end up badly, if the interlocutor turned out to be a state security agent or just a person loyal to regime. In all some fifty thousand files on people arrested from 1944 till 1956 for ‘political reasons’ are stored in the Estonian State Archives. Several thousand had been accused according to article 58-10 of the Penal Code, which means ‘anti-Soviet agitation’. This charge was typically used to incriminate persons who had spread rumors about the decline of the Soviet regime in Estonia.15

13 14 15

Roos was staying near Põltsamaa this time, some 50 kilometers northwest of Tartu. 26 August 1944, Roos, Läbi punase öö, vol. 1, p. 62. 17 March 1947, Jaan Roos, Läbi punase öö, vol. 2 (Tartu, 2000), p. 45. Nevertheless, it is difficult to decide how many of these people had actually been involved in the active spreading of rumors, since this Penal Code paragraph had been cited often against various political ‘enemies’ like ‘bourgeois nationalists’ etc.

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The main types of rumors This study examines the ‘information’ from two county committees of the ECP in the post-war period: Lääne (Western) and Tartu county, located on the opposite sides of the Estonian mainland. In addition, some surveys were examined that were compiled for the leadership of the Estonian SSR, and these included samples of rumors from all counties. The rumors recorded from the two counties can be divided by their content into four major groups. All major rumors foretold a specific event, whether the currency reform, mass deportation, compulsory collectivization or the outbreak of a war. It is noteworthy that the first three of them were seen as repressive actions, while the fourth one was viewed as a positive event. The first three of these acts were in fact carried out by the state. In December 1947, with the abolition of rationing, the currency was simultaneously reformed, with ‘old’ money exchanged at the rate of 10:1. People considered this widely as a repressive act “which took 90 percent of their money”. In March 1949, in the mass deportation some twenty thousand Estonians were forcibly taken from their homes. This was followed by the large-scale founding of kolkhozes (collective farms) in the same spring, which according to many memoirs, was achieved by threats of new deportations. It seems possible that when these three major ‘horror stories’ came true, it only added credibility to the fourth story – the rumor about the coming war.

‘Waiting for the White Ship’ Estonians generally thought that a conflict between former war allies (the Soviet Union, Great Britain, and the US) was inevitable and as a result, Estonia would regain its independence. Rumors like this were called ‘White Ship stories’, or ‘waiting for the White Ship’. The origins of this expression go back almost a hundred years before. In the 1860s, a preacher named Juhan Leinberg, known as ‘prophet Maltsvet’, promised his peasant followers escape from their poverty in Estonia through resettling to the fertile lands of southern Russia. Maltsvet predicted that a white ship would come to Tallinn to pick up his followers and take them to the ‘promised land.’ About a hundred followers of the ‘prophet’ waited for the ship without results for a couple of weeks in Tallinn in May and June 1861 before the police forced them to disperse. Thanks to its literary usage, the term ‘waiting for the White Ship’ acquired a special meaning in the Estonian language already in the first decades of the

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twentieth century,16 implying the unlikely escape from something bad and the arrival of something good and bright. As of autumn 1944, the expression acquired a more precise meaning: Estonia’s deliverance from a Soviet occupation, to be realized primarily by military intervention from Britain and the US. It is not exactly known when and how this expression obtained its new meaning and how it spread so quickly over a wide area. Jaan Roos used this expression in his diary already in the spring of 1944.17 The term ‘waiting for the White Ship’ became the symbol of liberation from the Soviets very quickly, although at the beginning its meaning had a negative connotation – after all, the promised ship of the ‘prophet’ never arrived. Nevertheless, the expression spread rapidly, even among the ruling circles – it is known that party agitators knew the meaning of the term and tried to ridicule it at numerous public meetings – and among the Russian-speaking minority.18 Another interesting side of this expression is its ambivalence. ‘Waiting for the White Ship’ was generally an abstract term that marked the end of the Soviet regime in Estonia and the re-establishing of independence. It was commonly thought that since the Soviet Union would not withdraw voluntarily, this needed to be achieved through war. But there was also an opinion that ‘the White Ship’ meant literally a vessel, white in color that brought Allied troops to Estonia. However, some thought it would be a ship that – on the contrary – would take people who wanted to the West where they could meet their refugee relatives.19 A male peasant, born in 1927, remembers: “There was no consensus on the question of how this liberation would take place, whether by driving away the Russians by force or by using diplomatic ways, it didn’t matter in the people’s mind. The term ‘White Ship’ was just a popular code which would mark one way of liberation or another ...”20

16

17 18

19 20

Jette Arula-Jahe, Valge laev kui sakraalne ja kirjanduslik kujund Eesti kultuuri kontekstis [The White Ship as a Sacral and Literary Figure in the Context of Estonian Culture] (BAthesis, Estonian Institute of Humanities, Tallinn, 2005). 24 October 1944, Roos, Läbi punase öö, vol. 1, p. 110. Literature scholar Rutt Hinrikus has studied the memories of a Russian-speaking woman (born in 1949), who writes that in her childhood she was very afraid of the White Ship (in contrast to her Estonian playmates). Rutt Hinrikus, The Journey of the White Ship, Interlitteraria 13 (2008), No. 1, pp. 229–41. About seventy thousand Estonians had fled to Sweden, Finland and Germany in autumn 1944 in order to escape from the imminent Soviet reoccupation. Eesti Rahva Muuseum (Estonian National Museum, ERM) KV 904, l. 118.

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Former Allies of the Soviets, future Allies of Estonia As early as in November 1944, the Tartu County ECP Committee secretary Max Laosson reported: “Nobody is expecting the Germans, but our enemies are placing their ‘hope’ on the English and the Americans.”21 Earlier still, already during the final months of German occupation in spring 1944, Jaan Roos noted in his diary that there was some hope of a Western-Soviet conflict that could help Estonia regain its independence. It was primarily hoped that England would intervene; the reason being that the British fleet had been previously involved in Estonia’s War of Independence (1918–20), while US foreign policy had been isolationist in the 1930s. In general, it was thought that the UK was interested in what happened to Estonia and would not agree to Estonia’s incorporation into the USSR. Subsequently, Britain and the US were both seen as the enemies of the USSR in the next war.22 The US was viewed as the leading party in such an alliance. The reason for this may have been the view that it was the more powerful military power, which possessed the nuclear bomb and conducted an active foreign policy and the fact that the Soviet propaganda machine had turned its focus on the USA. In the post-war rumors an important aspect is the theme of British or American observers already being present in Estonia. Stories circulated about representatives of the Western allies moving into Estonia, studying the local people’s mood and their opinion of Estonia’s future. In several places there was talk about spies and paratroopers, who had already been sent here to gather information and to prepare for the arrival of troops,23 although a large-scale war between the Western allies and the Soviet Union had not yet started. It was also alleged that the ‘forest brothers’ “operated on the basis of instructions from England and America.” There are numerous such stories recorded in Roos’ diary – at least one note per month from spring till autumn 1945. The fact that foreign radio stations were well informed about the living conditions in Estonia – since 1951 the Estonian desk of Voice of America covered many problems even in detail – was seen as proof that Western spies were imbedded. 21

22 23

ECP Tartu County Committee secretary Laosson to ECP CC, ECP Tartu County Committee information 1–10, November 1944, Eesti Riigiarhiivi Filiaal (Branch of Estonian State Archives, ERAF) 1-1-665, l. 34. Some ‘hope was placed’ on other countries, too, which sometimes had tensions in their relations with the Soviet Union like Sweden and even Turkey. ECP Lääne County Committee secretary Minne and informer Turman, questions presented on political topics by the people in the districts of Lääne county, 6 April 1946, ERAF 15-5-23, l. 42–3.

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In a situation where the masses considered the arrival of the ‘White Ship’ – that is an invasion by Western powers – as only a question of time, and since it was thought that preparations in Estonia were already taking place via paratroopers; collaboration with the British and Americans was seen as important. In the first place, one’s own behavior could help. Thus, before the Supreme Soviet (of the USSR) elections in 1946, the people in Kohila district, Harju County, were heard saying: “If the election returns are good and people vote for the candidates running for office, England will not help Estonia in the restoration of bourgeois order.”24 It is worth noting that the people believed they would be rescued by Western powers and were convinced that the question of Estonia was an important issue in world politics. Strong confidence existed in Tartu County in March 1946 that “England would never abandon the Estonian people.”25 Assistance from the US was expected simply for the reason that President Harry S. Truman was thought to be of Estonian heritage.26

The outbreak of the war For a few years after World War II, it was thought that Estonia could also be liberated from the Soviet regime without war – some pressure from Western governments on the USSR was thought to be sufficient. In summer 1945, it was said that British-American intermediaries would organize a referendum in Estonia about the country’s future.27 At the beginning of the following year it was hoped that United Nation pressure would free Estonia. Both in Lääne and Tartu counties, rumors spread about Estonia becoming a colony of Sweden,

24

25 26

27

ECP CC organizing-instructional department head Olin, information division head Senkevich, summary no. 10 of questions presented by workers, peasants and service personnel in ESSR counties and cities, 28 December 1945, ERAF 1-3-115, l. 37. ECP Tartu County Committee secretary Zaitsev to ECP CC, ECP Tartu County Committee information, 24 February – 6 March 1946, 7 March 1946, ERAF 1-4-246, l. 46. Rumors about the Estonian roots of Harry Truman were widespread. There were even some specific stories about the ancestors of the US President originating from the island of Saaremaa. It is likely that such rumors started due to the surname ‘Truman’ (or similarly Truuman, Truumann) sounding Estonian and several Trumans or Truumanns lived in Estonia. In the nineteenth century, when Estonians were given permanent surnames, ‘Truman’ had been taken in several places all over the country. ECP CC organizing-instructional department head Kründel, information division head Senkevich, information no. 36 (compiled from information from county and city committees), 6 July 1945, ERAF 1-3-103, l. 91.

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and that the USSR would give Estonia to Great Britain as war reparation.28 However, such stories were not very common and not long-lasting. People were so convinced about the imminent outbreak of war that several times the actual date was even announced. For example, war was predicted to break out on 1 May 1947, 15 April 1948, 26 June 1949, etc. It appears that the selection of dates is often associated with the anniversary of some events. Thus, the commencement of war was given 9 May 1947, two years after Germany’s unconditional surrender, and 22 June 1948, seven years after Hitler’s attack on Soviet Union. The Soviet Army was expected to leave Estonia on 21 June 1947, six years after the communist coup in Estonia. The passing of these dates without any war did not put an end to such predictions. Stories spread about the war having already begun. For example in June 1947, it was rumored in Noarootsi parish in Lääne County that war was already raging on the Baltic Sea and that the wounded are being brought to Tallinn and British warplanes were flying over Estonian territory.29 Rumors about the outbreak of large-scale guerilla warfare, comparable to that in the summer of 1941, were also heard.

Signs of the commencement of war The conviction in an impending war may have originated from innumerable facts and even small details. It is obvious that tensions in international relations could form a basis for such beliefs; for example, Churchill’s famous 1946 ‘iron curtain’ speech in Fulton, Missouri. There were also other events with an impact on international relations that were thought to point to major change. The committee secretary for the Tartu CP, Brandt, announced in February 1948 that according to rumors the peasants of the county were refusing to join kolkhozes before the presidential elections in the USA: “... if Wallace is elected President, they’ll join a kolkhoz, but if Truman or Marshall are elected, there will be no kolkhozes – meaning that war will break out.”30 The frequent observance of Soviet Army military personnel and armaments, warplanes in the sky in training exercises, the drafting of young men into 28

29

30

ECP Lääne County Committee secretary Minne, ‘Communists’ and the unaffiliated bloc’s political victory at the elections: The fulfillment of ECP CC 9th plenum’s decisions’, undated (obviously spring 1946), ERAF 1-4-243, l. 26. Noarootsi partorg Meister, information about people’s opinions in the rural municipality, 13 June 1947, ERAF 15-5-80, l. 10. Roos has recorded the same rumor at the same time in central Estonia, 6 June 1947, Roos, Läbi punase öö, vol. 2, p. 91. Brandt to ECP CC information department on Tartu workers’ political views, 21 February 1948, ERAF 1-27-166, l. 13.

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military service and soldiers marching in columns or in training gave rise to rumors. Artillery maneuvers in Võru and Valga counties during the summer of 1948 precipitated stories about soldiers being sent to Germany where preparations were being made for war between the US and the USSR.31 The government agencies’ activities in stocking grain and timber were widely interpreted by the people as a sign of war. In the fall of 1947, it was believed in Asuküla district in Lääne County: “The haste in filling orders is caused by the fact that war will start soon and everything is being done so that stocks will last during the war.”32 Also, shortages of goods in the stores were interpreted as an indication that the government was storing all resources in preparation for war. Thus, it was believed in Tartu County that all sulfur was being used in the manufacture of ammunition and that was the reason why matches were not available in stores.33 It is noteworthy that letters from Estonian refugees from the West were seen as an evidence of the changes soon to come. Both communist party ‘information’ and Jaan Roos’ diary describes the enthusiasm that some lines in these letters caused, such as “I hope we will meet soon”. It was not simply taken as missing dear relatives and friends far away. It was widely thought that the refugees in the West possessed some specific information about the liberation of Estonia, but they just could not fully reveal this in letters. Hence, lines like “I’m sure we will meet soon” were taken literally even though they were written as words of hope and encouragement. Stories of war also derived from omens and dreams, taken unexpectedly seriously by the population and even the ECP officials checking public sentiments. For example, the ‘information’ lists even a number of dreams, recorded among the population. A peasant in Lääne County dreamt about three colored suns in the sky, whereby the red one fell down. A kolkhoz member of Türi district dreamt about a sauna that broke down. Both dreams were interpreted as omens of the decline of Soviet power; the stories spread among the population, were recorded by lower level party committees and eventually presented with other reports to Moscow. 31

32 33

ECP CC Party, trade unions, and Komsomol department’s information division head S. Rozenfeld to the ECP CC first secretary Karotamm, summary of materials on the opinions expressed by farmhands, heads of poor households and kulaks, 13 January 1949 (erroneously dated 13 January 1948), ERAF 1-28-168, l. 19. Information [Lääne County] on views held by the county peasants’ groups and the local intelligentsia on the storing of grain, 23 September 1947, ERAF 15-5-78, l. 113. ECP Tartu County Committee secretary Tiido’s information to the ECP CC on the people’s political opinions, 19 June 1948, ERAF 1-27-91, l. 20.

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Ilse, born in 1918, recalls that the women of her village in the post-war years would often go to the fortune-teller. “One of these women had seen a significant dream (the details of which I can’t remember anymore), and the fortune-teller said it means that the Russians will leave, whether in five weeks, five months or five years. Everybody from our village who heard that was unhappy, saying that they couldn’t even wait for five months, not to mention five years. But it was a wait of fifty years.”34 Irene, born in 1930, remembers about waiting for the ‘White Ship’: “Different stories were told, also cards were set on the table and it was hoped that some information would be forthcoming. One half or one third of all women knew the meaning of cards and could set them.”35 The 1949 calendar enclosed with the central daily newspaper Rahva Hääl (People’s Voice) was seen as a unique omen. Lääne County committee secretary Pruks reported: “There were eight flags on the pages of the calendar that diminished in size until they completely disappeared in May. From this it was concluded that war would break out in May, and the Soviet power would disappear in Estonia.”36 Jaan Roos registered various stories of miracles and supernatural phenomena, for example the story about an angel seen by train passengers in 1948.37 The Holy Bible also provided evidence to support expectations. It seems that this desperate ‘waiting for the White Ship’ affected the mental stability of people during this period. Roos noted in his diary: “I move along the path in a forest. There’s some constant rumble heard from the west. Suddenly I have an idea: maybe war has broken out, maybe the planes are coming from the west to save us? An idea too untimely. Upon emerging from the forest the reason for the rumble is explained. The western horizon is filled with a terrible black thundercloud. It’s flashing and thundering.”38 Maybe the phenomenon of waiting for the White Ship should also be studied in the context of public health and psychology?39

34 35 36 37 38 39

ERM KV 901, l. 268–9. ERM KV 906, l. 240. ECP Lääne County Committee secretary Pruks’ (and informant Masing’s) information on people’s political views, 18 March 1949, ERAF 15-5-367, l. 33. 26 April 1948, Roos, Läbi punase öö, vol. 2, p. 63. 14 September 1947, ibid., p. 147. Some studies using that approach have already been published, for example: Heino Noor, Permanent Health Damages, Salo (ed.), White Book, pp. 58–73.

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Practical preparations for war Rumors about the start of war were taken very seriously. The fact that some of the predictions did not come true did not prevent people from believing in the next one, even though the predictions became more elaborate. In some places the start of war was believed to be so imminent that ECP officials reported that the people were taking preparatory precautions for war. For example, in February 1948 the people of Tartu started to remove their radio receivers from the Radio Committee registry. The rumors of war had intensified and people were afraid of being cut off from information as in 1941, when the Soviets seized all radio receivers soon after the beginning of the Nazi invasion.40 The most conspicuous example of preparations for war discovered thus far in the Counties of Lääne and Tartu is the case of Lihula and the song festival in Tallinn. Prior to the 1947 song festival, rumors spread in Lihula, a small town in Lääne County, that war was imminent and the US Air Force was going to bomb Tallinn on the day of the festival. Thirty-six members of children’s choirs from Lihula schools did not show up at the railroad station for the trip to Tallinn because their parents did not allow them to go. A report to the Central Committee of the VKP(b) stated that “agitators were sent to farms; they countered the harmful rumors and convinced parents to allow their children to go to the song festival”.41 Stories of the White Ship and the outbreak of war were believed to such a degree that people hesitated to cooperate with Soviet authorities, fearing retribution that could take place with the change in the power. In the town of Haapsalu, a man refused to go as ordered to decorate an agitation centre before the elections, “I have no time to hang those red rags and if anyone were to see me, I will lose my head when the new government comes to power.”42 Rumors also influenced communists, Komsomol members and others who had become loyal to the new authorities. There were rumors spread in Tallinn in summer 1945 that a plebiscite deciding Estonia’s future was coming soon. The choice was between two alternatives: restoring independence or continuing 40

41

42

ECP Tartu Town Committee secretary Korotaev’s information to ECP CC information department on the political views of the population of Tartu, 29 March 1948, ERAF 1-27166, l. 21. Karotamm’s information to the VKP(b) CC party, trade unions, and Komsomol department head Pozdniak about the political views of the Estonian SSR city and county populations in connection with the observance of the XII Song Festival of the Republic, 4 July 1947, ERAF 1-26-177, l. 3. ECP Lääne County Committee secretary Minne, “Political victory …”, ERAF 1-4-243, l. 27.

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as a Soviet republic. The ‘information’ of that time states that some State Planning Commission employees “who had been active agitators and wished to join the party, had reduced their agitation work and had reservations about joining the party ... saying that there’s no need to hurry.”43 In addition to the examples mentioned, there are numerous notes from several places about local cases of panic buying.

The Voice of America as a war-monger? As mentioned above, very specific war rumors spread among the population. These stories mentioned the date that war would start, the causes of the war, and other details. At the same time there were rumors constantly circulating everywhere generally saying that “war will start soon.” Lääne County ECP committee secretary Pruks’ report from October 1948 is significant in stating that talk of war has “completely diminished” and is still heard in “only in a few districts”44 – and this was obviously considered an achievement. The reduction of rumors of war was only temporary, though. Jaan Roos’ diary is not a complete chronicle of 1944–54 (the years 1946 and 1948–50 are missing), but in the course of the years covered, the war rumors are noted at least every month, and during the prime times of war expectations, almost every day. It is a common belief in Estonia today that the spreading of such rumors was to a great extent a result of foreign radio programs. The Estonian National Museum has received some 150 replies from its correspondents to a questionnaire on the topic of the ‘post-war village’. It is interesting that the opinions of the correspondents towards foreign radio broadcasting after the war divides evenly half-and-half. Some people regard them positively (“they gave people the strength to oppose”), others gave a negative opinion. For example a male peasant from Lääne-Viru County recounts: “Foreign radios gave hope that Estonia could still become free again. Counting on that opinion many people delayed their [planned] joining of the kolkhoz and coming out of the woods. ... Only with passing years did they realize what deception it had been.”45 The Estonian program of the Voice of America (VOA) was probably the most popular of all foreign broadcasts during the post-war decade. The idea that the 43

44 45

ECP CC organizing-instructional department head Kründel, information division head Senkevich, information no. 36 (compiled from county and city committees’ information), 6 July 1945, ERAF 1-3-103, l. 92. ECP Lääne County Committee secretary Pruks’ (and informer M. Pärnpuu’s) information on people’s political views, 18 October 1948, ERAF 15-5-216, l. 165. ERM KV 899-I, l. 42.

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VOA agitated people to resist the Soviet regime and promised war between Western powers and the Soviets, lies deep and solid in the Estonian ‘collective memory’. The archival sources of the Communist Party seem to support that belief. According to the ‘information’, people declared at least in November 1949 in Tartu County and in June 1951 in Harju district that the VOA had broadcast that the war will start soon.46 Walter L. Hixson, studying the role of the VOA in the Cold War, states that the preliminary goal of the American broadcasts behind the Iron Curtain was to provoke instability. According to Hixson it was realized only from the mid1950s after the events Hungary that this approach does not work and a new ‘evolutionary approach’ was established with emphasis on straight news, culture programs, etc.47 The same view is shared by Michael Nelson. According to Nelson the US Congress wanted the VOA in 1948 “to discomfort local governments and encourage resistance of people in totalitarian and satellite countries by broadcasting suppressed news”.48 In the last decade, the ‘other side’ has spoken out. These are former Estonian refugees and VOA Estonian staff members, who have been accused of ‘making false promises’. Vello Ederma, a VOA veteran with decades of service in that radio station since 1955, has said: For some time now, there have been claims in Estonia by some people that the Voice of America, specifically its Estonian Service, supposedly said that the United States had promised to ‘help’ or liberate Estonia (and Latvia and Lithuania) from Soviet occupation during or after World War Two. ... Those claims are not true. The Voice of America never made such promises and neither did the United States Government. ... Desperate people cling to desperate hope. Listening to radio, it is natural to hear what they want to hear or think they hear. In the end, it is just as natural to blame someone.49

46

47 48 49

ECP Tartu County Committee secretary Keer’s (and the County Committee’s Party, trade unions, and Komsomol department’s head Rannik) information about people’s political sentiments in Tartu County, 15 October – 15 November 1949, 18 November 1949, ERAF 1-28-86, l. 121; ECP Harju District Committee secretary Davidenko to the ECP CC department of Party, trade unions and Komsomol, information about people’s political sentiments in Harju County by 15 July 1951, undated [July 1951], ERAF 1-87-222, l. 147. Walter Hixson, Parting the Curtain: Propaganda, Culture and the Cold War, 1945–1961 (New York, 1997), p. 115. Michael Nelson, War of the Black Heavens: The Battles of Western Broadcasting in the Cold War (Syracuse, NY, 1997), p. 36. Vello Ederma, The U.S., Baltics and VOA, Eesti Elu (Toronto), 20 April 2007, pp. 9–10.

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Accusations of ‘giving false hope’ have also been disclaimed by the long-time Estonian consul in the US, Ernst Jaakson.50

What did the Voice of America broadcast? There are VOA’s daily broadcast content reports and sample full texts of radio broadcasts from the years 1950–55 stored at the National Archives and Records Administration, Washington D.C. The texts of the VOA Estonian desk, which started in 1951, can also be found. These documents cover a short period and are somewhat incomplete, but still some conclusions can be drawn on the basis of studying them. The first radio broadcast of the VOA’s Estonian desk was aired on 3 June 1951. Its duration was 15 minutes and it was broadcast on various wavelengths on short and medium wave bands three times a day (at 6.30 pm, 3.15 and 6.45 am Estonian time). Starting from 6 October the same year two different 15-minutes broadcasts were prepared, both were aired twice, there were four broadcasts on various wavelengths a day. The reason for making two editions a day must have originating from the tense situation in international relations, a result, in particular, of the war in Korea. Using various wavelengths and repeating the program must have been practiced as a counter-measure to Soviet jamming. The Soviets started to jam the Estonian VOA as well as the other programs in the languages of Soviet and Eastern Bloc nations soon after its beginning. Jaan Roos mentions jamming quite often (“Couldn’t hear much, because it [the VOA Estonian broadcast] is being jammed terribly”; “The regime is jamming the hearing [of foreign radio broadcasts] widely” etc.).51 Typically a 15-minute edition of an Estonian broadcast during the period of the current study consisted of about ten short news stories and one longer feature item, for example a political commentary. About 10 minutes of each broadcast was allocated to news and 5 minutes to the feature story. The news covered the Western countries, the Eastern Bloc, the Soviet Union and also the Estonian SSR. The news was based on materials acquired from other branches of VOA, as well as from the press of Estonian refugees. The short news of VOA was rather objective and laconic. The desks of VOA had a chance to express their opinions and views through longer feature stories. Here the national units had greater leeway. The feature story could have been an answer to a specific statement the Soviet propaganda made and needed to be answered or 50 51

Ernst Jaakson, Eestile [For Estonia] (Tallinn, 1995), p. 232. 30 March, 7 May 1952, Roos, Läbi punase öö, vol. 4, pp. 170, 186.

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an overview of living conditions in the USSR. My preliminary study suggests that the VOA features aired to Western Europe introduced mainly the American way of life and culture. The features broadcast behind the Iron Curtain ridiculed the Soviet regime, its ideology and leaders. For example, the Polish unit broadcast regularly anecdotes that were surely officially regarded as ‘subversive’ in the target country. The following is an example of a feature story of this kind, broadcast to Soviet Estonia on 29 October 1952: The occupation Tallinn Radio recently carried a talk by Jakobson, a lecturer in the party school, about Soviet patriotism ... Jakobson stated at the opening of his speech that ‘patriotism is expressed in the readiness of men to defend their homeland against foreign intruders’. Quite true, little commie lecturer, you may be assured that there still are many patriotic men among the Estonians who are ready ... to throw the ‘foreign intruders’ across Lake Peipus.52 ... The patriotism of the Soviet and Estonian people is expressed in the defense of the nation as a whole, particularly against persecutions, and not in obedient service to the new clique of barons and their bloody chief.53

The problem of reception Still, the question remains of whether the VOA actually promised ‘the arrival of the White Ship’ and military support from the US Government to liberate Estonia? Based on the examined VOA materials, this study cannot draw any definitive conclusion. The theme that ‘Estonia will be free again’ was constantly used in VOA broadcasts and in various speeches of refugee leaders. But it was only expressed as a wish or a belief that some day it will happen. The VOA certainly did not make promises such as, ‘the US Army will liberate Estonia by the 1 May’. But how is it possible that so many people then and even today believe that the Voice of America promised Western military intervention? It is hard to answer this question more precisely because it was a problem of the audience. This means that the message sent out was interpreted differently by the audience than intended. The audience was heavily affected by the surrounding milieu: repressions, a myriad of wild rumors and the Soviet press dealing constantly 52 53

Written erroneously ‘Peipsi River’ in the script, Lake Peipus (Estonian: Peipsi) is the historical natural border between Estonia and Russia. United States National Archives and Records Administration (NARA) rg. 306, entry 1037 (Voice of America Daily Broadcast Content Reports and Script Translations, 1950–55), box 55, Estonian broadcast, 29 October 1952.

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with the ‘threat from Western war-mongers’. The extensive jamming also complicated the understanding of the content of the foreign broadcasts. One example of the misunderstandings and exaggerations that could be raised in such a context is presented below. It is an excerpt from the statement of the Estonian Consul General in the US, Johannes Kaiv, aired in the first broadcast of the VOA Estonian desk on 3 June 1951. As we can see, this message has been recorded in Jaan Roos’ diary in a somewhat different form. Kaiv’s original message: It is significant that the United States, as well as other countries of the Free World, has refused to recognize the forced incorporation of valiant Estonia into the Soviet Union ... The friendly world is well aware of the incredible suffering of the Estonian nation during these past eleven years ... The Estonian struggle for freedom is centuries old, and derives a quiet but great strength from the traditional belief that the goal of freedom ... will again be reached. We, who speak to you from afar, long for that day.54

The note from Roos’ diary states: An opening speech was made by the Estonian Consul in America, Kaiv. He said: ‘The United States has never recognized the annexation of Estonia by the Soviet Union, and it never will. Instead of this, the American Government has announced that the day is coming soon, when Estonia and its people will get rid of the brutal Russian yoke and will be free again.’ It was like a voice speaking from [another] beautiful world.55

As we can see, there were at least three ‘modifications’ in Roos’ notes compared to the original message: First, the USA will continue to not recognize the annexation in the future. Second, the hope that Estonia will regain its independence is presented as the official position of the US Government. Third, the addition of timing – “the day is coming soon”. As a result the tone of this message has changed notably. How extensive such wishful thinking could be, is revealed in the diary of Jaan Roos. Usually Roos expects the ‘White Ship’ in connection with tensions in international relations and upon listening to the more aggressive statements in foreign broadcasts. At least once he interpreted ‘the signs’ vice versa: “The

54 55

NARA rg. 306, entry 1066 (Subject Files, 1953–2000), box 71 (Radio, Broadcasting to USSR and Eastern Europe, 1949–51), untitled press release, 2 June 1951. 3 June 1951, Roos, Läbi punase öö, vol. 4, p. 67.

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foreign broadcasts have been strangely inexpressive. What does it mean? Probably it means that the war is to start. That’s why they speak so little.”56 A study of replies to questionnaires at the Estonian National Museum should also emphasize the role of reception. Most of the persons, who condemn VOA for ‘giving false hopes’, admit that they did not hear those radio broadcasts themselves. On the contrary, people, who have according to their memory listened to Voice of America personally are usually friendlier towards VOA and praise the program for maintaining ‘the spirit of opposition’. We cannot be absolutely certain that the explanation of listeners hearing what they wished can give us a comprehensive explanation for the White Ship phenomenon, but at the present stage of research there is nothing better to rely on.

Counter-measures The counter-measures undertaken by the Soviet regime consisted of disputing and ridiculing the war rumors in media channels and in public meetings, as well as repressing people caught spreading rumors. If we consider the rumors and the foreign radio broadcasts as linked, then also the jamming of the foreign radio stations could be regarded as a counter-measure to rumors. It is also claimed that the Soviet regime itself spread rumors through its State Security apparatus that were suitable to its policies – this could be viewed as a countermeasure, too. Taking into account the time wasted by the Soviets and the attention dedicated to those measures in that period, it could be argued that the war rumors were for the regime an unpleasant phenomenon that it considered important enough to combat. It seems likely that war expectations ended by the late 1950s, with general adaptation to the regime.57 It was obvious by that time that there would be no change of regime in the immediate future. At the same time, Soviet rule underwent some softening and the standard of living had improved. Hence, war rumors faded away as the result of the changing Estonian mindset, rather than the result of harsh repressions. In the next decade an absolutely different phenomenon began and spread widely. It was the fear of war. It must have been fuelled by the conflicts of the Cold War and the rapid growth of nuclear armament in both camps. The growing destructive potential of weapons of mass destruction and the uncertainty of the result of potential conflict made World War III no longer a desirable option. 56 57

1 May 1948, Roos, Läbi punase öö, vol. 3, p. 65. Mertelsmann, The Media Audience.

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Conclusion It might seem strange that 8 May 1945, which ended the war on European soil, was not celebrated as a holiday in many regions such as Estonia. However, the Nazi occupation had been replaced by the Soviet regime and Estonia did not regain its independence. Considering the vast Soviet repressions conducted in Estonia, it seems clear that the Estonian population was in general very hostile towards the Soviet regime. People hoped for the re-establishment of an independent Estonian Republic. The hopes were pinned mostly on Western powers – independence, whether by diplomatic pressure on the Soviets or by military intervention, was expected. Those hopes were called ‘waiting for the White Ship’, using an expression long used in Estonian culture to mark those who clung to pipe dreams. These ‘White Ship stories’ in the more recent usage meant mostly rumors that war between the Western powers and the Soviets was imminent and Estonia would regain independence as a result. Such rumors were spread throughout the post-war decade everywhere in Soviet Estonia. Confirmation for the rumors was sought and found from world news and from almost every possible aspect of everyday life. Foreign radio broadcasts to the Soviet Union and the Eastern Bloc in various languages had already begun in the first years of the Cold War. During this period the Estonian broadcasts of the Voice of America were most popular in the Estonian SSR. Even then it was claimed that these broadcasts provoked people to fight against the Soviet regime and promised war between the Western powers and the Soviets in the immediate future. An opinion of this sort is widely held in Estonia even today. Comparing the broadcast contents of VOA and some sources from Soviet Estonia, one cannot agree with that opinion. It seems more likely that the Soviet Estonian media audience, which was heavily influenced by the atmosphere of repressions and the topic of war cultivated in the official Soviet media, etc heard in the broadcasts only what they wanted to hear. The White Ship rumors faded away sometime in the late 1950s with an overall accommodation with the regime. It was obvious by that time that no change of regime was to occur in the immediate future. At the same time, Soviet power had undergone some softening and the standard of living began to improve. With the advancing nuclear arms race the result of potential major conflict proved uncertain. Hence, sometime in the 1950s or 1960s the expectation of war was replaced by fear of a disastrous nuclear conflict.

Irina Paert

Monasticism in the Soviet Borderlands: a Russian Orthodox Convent in Estonia, 1945–53 The incorporation of the Baltic states into the Soviet system in 1940 and then again after 1944/45 had a dramatic affect on all social actors and institutions in Baltic societies, including religious institutions, the clergy and ordinary believers. It was not a coincidence that territorial expansion of the Soviet Union after the war was accompanied by fundamental changes in Soviet religious policy, characterized by pragmatism and Machiavellianism rather than blunt repression. Various religious confessions experienced differently the impact of Soviet rule: some members of the clergy and lay believers had to emigrate (a number of clergymen from the Estonian Apostolic Orthodox Church and the Lutheran Church), others suffered repression (Pentecostals, Jehovah Witnesses), while others managed to successfully accommodate to the regime. This article will focus on the Orthodox Church in Estonia, particularly the Pühtitsa convent in north-east Estonia which was one of seventy-five monasteries and convents that functioned in the Soviet Union after the war.1 Scholarly understanding of the concrete political mechanisms behind the making and implementing of the religious policy in the post-war USSR is still in its infancy.2 There is a vacuum of studies discussing various agents of state policy, other than the Council of Religious Affairs and the Council for the Affairs of 1

2

Of these monastic institutions forty-six were located in the territories of Ukraine, the Baltic republics, Belorussia and Moldova and twenty-nine had re-opened during the German occupation. O. Vasil’eva, Russkaia pravoslavnaia tserkov’ v politike sovetskogo gosudarstva, 1943–48 [The Russian Orthodox Church in the Politics of the Soviet State, 1943–48] (Moscow, 1999). T.A. Chumachenko, Gosudarstvo, pravoslavnaia tserkov’, veruiushchie 1941–1961 [The State, the Orthodox Church, the Believers 1941–1961] (Moscow, 1999); M. Shkarovskii, Russkaia pravoslavnaia tserkov’ pri Staline i Khrushcheve [The Russian Orthodox Church under Stalin and Khrushchev](Moscow, 2000); Vasil’eva, Russkaia pravoslavnaia tserkov’. Several Western studies deal with particular aspects of Soviet church history, for instance Herbert Bodewig, Die russische Patriarchatskirche: Beitrage zur äußeren Bedrückung und inneren Lage 1958–1979 (Munich, 1988); John Anderson, Religion, State and Politics in the Soviet Union and Successor States (Cambridge, 1994); Richard H. Marshall et al. (eds.) Aspects of Religion in the Soviet Union, 1917–1967 (Chicago, 1971).

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the Russian Orthodox Church (such as KGB, the party’s Central Committee, and regional committees) as well as those focusing on the religious practices of the Soviet time.3 There is also a general lack of research regarding the position of the Russian Orthodox Church outside the Russian Federation.4 While Russian scholars, looking at the position of the Russian Orthodox Church (hereafter ROC) in post-war Soviet society emphasize the church’s vulnerability, the scholars in the Baltic republics stress a relatively comfortable position of the ROC under the post-war regime.5 This paper focuses on the Pühtitsa convent in north-east Estonia and discusses the interaction between Stalinist policy and Orthodox monasticism. Even though it was such a marginal phenomenon, the position of an Orthodox convent in the recently annexed territory of Estonia may help to highlight the complexities of Stalinism after the war, especially in the non-Russian territories of the Soviet Union. How could such an ‘un-Soviet’ phenomenon as monasticism co-exist with the totalitarian state? To what extent was the position of the Church in Estonia (and of the convent, in particular) different from its counterparts in the ‘old republics’? Was there more possibility for manoeuvre in the recently occupied republics concerning the relations between church and state? Why did Estonians and Russians in the post-war USSR find religious vocation attractive?

Background The Pühtitsa Uspenskii (Dormition of Mother of God) Convent in north-east Estonia (in Kuremäe, 25 km from Jõhvi) was founded in 1891 as a missionary convent, thanks to state promotion of the Orthodox Church in the Baltic provinces. The new wave of conversion of Estonian peasants to the Orthodox Church in the last decades of the nineteenth century was accompanied with the active involvement of authorities in the building of churches and financing of Orthodox parishes. The first Orthodox convent in Estonia carried out charitable activities: it sponsored a school, an orphanage for girls, a hospital and several workshops specializing in various crafts. The cloister owned two hundred desiatin of land, a church that was converted from a Lutheran church, 3

4 5

This is the point made by Mitrokhin. See N. Mitrokhin, Sovetskaia vlast’ i veruiushchie v poslevoennyi period [Soviet Power and Believers in the Post-war Years], Neprikoznovennyi zapas 3 (2008), http://magazines.russ.ru/nz/2008/3/mi10.html. Andrei Sõtsõv, Eesti õigeusu piiskopkond Stalini ajal aastal 1945–1953 [The Estonian Orthodox Diocese in the Period of Stalin 1945–1953] (Tallinn, 2004). Ibid., p. 225–7.

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and three chapels (in Pühtitsa, in the village Ovsoso and in Revel). Prince S.V. Shakhovskoi, the governor of Estland and enthusiastic proponent of Russification, took an active part in the foundation of the cloister, despite the resistance of the local Lutheran church.6 He mobilized the support of the Baltic Orthodox Brotherhood and initiated the local branch of the Brotherhood in Jõhvi. The governor’s attachment to the convent was evident from his desire to be buried in Pühtitsa and his widow’s decision to join the convent after Shakhovskoi’s death.7 Monasteries and convents played an important role in the cultural life of the Russian Diaspora during the interwar period. Monasteries hosted conferences of the Russian Student Christian Movement, attracting organized and spontaneous pilgrimages and visits by the émigré Russian intelligentsia from Europe.8 Although Pühtitsa was popular among the Russian pilgrims from the Baltic states and Europe, it in no way had as powerful a spiritual impact as the PskovPechery (Estonia) and Valaam (Finland) monasteries.9 This was not surprising: the above mentioned monasteries were founded around the fifteenth century and had a long tradition of spiritual life. The convent in Kuremäe appealed to pilgrims with its peaceful location in the secluded countryside and the nuns’ hospitality. It also served as a place for spiritual retreat or holidays for Orthodox families and clergy.

6

7 8

9

More on the Pühtitsa cloister see M. Kharuzin, Bogoroditskaia gora v Estliandii [Bogoroditskaia Hill in Estonia] (Moscow, 1889), Piukhtitsa – sviatoe mesto [Piukhtitsa – a Holy Place] (Revel, 1888); Estliandskaia sviatynia [Shrine of Estonia] (Revel, 1888); S. Rebrov, Ievvenskoe bratstvo i Piukhtitskii Uspenskii zhenskii monastyr [The Ievvenskoe Brotherhood and the Piukhtitsa Nun Cloister], Venok na mogily: Stat’i posviashchennye pamiati byvshego estliandskogo gubernatora kniazia S.V. Shakhovskogo (Revel, 1896); Patriarkh Aleksii II [Rediger], Pravoslavie v Estonii [Orthodox in Estonia] (Moscow, 1999), pp. 327–35. Aleksii II, Pravoslaviie v Estonii, p. 333. Valaam received a large number of pilgrims and tourists every year; Pskovo-Pechery hosted the conferences of the Russian Christian Student Movement. On pilgrimages to Valaam and Pühtitsa in the interwar period see A. Osipov, Putevaia tetrad’ (Na Valaam!) [Notebook for the Way (To Valaam!)] (Tallinn, 1940); I. Bogoiavlenskii, Valaamskie vpechatleniia [Impressions from Valaam], Pravoslavnyi sobesednik, no. 8 (1939); I. Kaigorodova, Valaamskii monastyr’ [The Valaam Monastery], Nov’: Pervyi sbornik molodezhi ko “Dniu russkoi kul’tury” 1 (1928), p. 3; K.E. Arenskii, Valaam, Vozrozhdenie, no. 225 (1970), pp. 113–21; V. Davidenkova, Palomnichestvo v Piukhtitskii zhenskii monastyr’ [Pilgrimages to the Nun Cloister of Piukhtitsa], Pravoslavnaia zhizn’, no. 1 (1968), pp. 15–8; E-v, Troitsa v Pecherakh, Vozrozhdenie, no. 1880 (1930), p. 1. Patriarch Aleksii II (Mikhail Rediger) believed that two visits to Valaam in his youth determined his choice of spiritual career. Aleksii II, Pravoslavie v Estonii, p. 379.

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In the midst of politics Although the convent played a passive role in church politics during the interwar Estonian republic and the Second World War, there is no doubt that it placed its loyalty with the Autocephalous Orthodox Church of Estonia, rather than with Moscow. It came under the jurisdiction of the Patriarch of Constantinople together with other Estonian Orthodox parishes in 1923.10 The question of the church calendar remained a disputed issue as the nuns continued to celebrate according to the Julian calendar.11 Following the occupation of the Baltic states by the Soviet army in 1940, the leader of the AOCE (Apostolic Orthodox Church of Estonia) Bishop Alexander (Paulus) was compelled to accept the jurisdiction of Moscow.12 However, in a few months when the German troops entered Estonia, he returned to the canonical see of the Ecumenical Patriarch of Constantinople. The situation among the Orthodox parishes was more complicated during the war when several Russian-speaking parishes and monasteries in the German-occupied Baltic territories declared loyalty to the local representative of the Moscow Patriarchate, Metropolitan Sergii (Voskresenskii) of Vilna and Lithuania.13 The Pühtitsa convent was an exception. In 1942 the head of the convent Mother Angelina (Pimenova) wrote to Bishop Alexander expressing the wish of the nuns to remain “under [his] control and spiritual authority” with the condition that the Old Calendar, the Slavonic language and the liturgical style of the Russian Orthodox Church would be preserved in the convent.14 The reason for this decision was perhaps an antipathy to Soviet anti-religious policies among nuns, as well as a pragmatic considera10

11 12

13 14

Following the turbulent years of World War I, revolution, and and the War of Independence, the Orthodox clergy in Estonia in 1919 declared its autonomous status from the Russian Orthodox Church yet continued to regard the Patriarch of Moscow as its canonical leader. However, during the crisis in the Russian Church (the schism, attacks on the church by the Bolshevik government, and the arrest of Patriarch Tikhon) the Estonian Apostolic Orthodox Church in 1923 came under the jurisdiction of the Patriarch of Constantinople, Meletios, together with the Orthodox Church of Finland. The Latvian Orthodox church received the same status in 1936. Although the Russian Church has never recognised the legitimacy of this decision, there was little it could do at the time. According to this calendar all church feasts fall thirteen days later than in the Gregorian calendar. Today the Julian calendar is still in use in the Russian Orthodox Church. See, for example, Bishop Alexander’s personal evaluation of these events: Tõde ülempiiskop Sergiusest NKVD agent eesti kirikuelu laostamas [The Truth about Bishop Sergius, an NKVD Agent Destroying Estonian Church Life], Vikerlane 9(26) 1950, pp. 9–11. For example, the Trinity-Sergious convent in Riga and the Pskov-Pechery monastery declared loyalty to Ekzarch Sergii. Grigorios Papthomas and Matthias H. Palli (eds.), The Autonomous Orthodox Church of Estonia (Athens, 2002), pp. 169–70.

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tion that in the case of the German victory – loyalty to the Patriarch of Moscow would be disadvantageous. Some nuns left Pühtitsa for other convents in disagreement with this decision.15

Under Soviet rule The Sovietization of Estonia had surely brought major changes to the convent’s life. It has been argued that under Stalin the Estonian Orthodox eparchy suffered a series of setbacks: according to Sõtšov, between 1945 and 1953 it lost about 42.5 percent of its clergy (due to old age and death, moving to different dioceses, repression, economic burdens and the loss of prestige of the clerical profession) and 11.6 percent of its parishes. Moreover, it carried the burden of a heavy taxation policy.16 Administration of the Estonian diocese was not very efficient, often being carried out at a distance in Leningrad.17 Compared to the situation in the ‘old republics’, where church life had been revitalized in the post-war period, the Estonian Church was losing ground. In apprehension that the Orthodox Church in Estonia was going to lose its flock to other confessions, not in the least to the Lutheran Church, the Soviet commissioners (the so-called upolnomochennye) carried out a much softer approach in their dealings with Orthodox clergy. The leaders of the Council criticized its commissioners in Estonia for their lenient attitude and patronage of religious organizations. For example, Moscow authorities criticized the commissioner N. Karsakov for disclosing secret information to the diocese clergy and for his intention to be a Synodal over-procurator rather than a representative of Soviet authority.18 Tarasov, who replaced Karsakov, also became a target of criticism. He intervened in the church’s inner politics, tried to encourage the members of the diocese council to visit parishes rather than administer their territory by memos (perhaps, for this purpose he helped the diocese to purchase the car ‘Pobeda’) and promoted an ethnically Estonian priest, Roman Tang, to the post of bishop.19 The stance of the commissioners in Estonia certainly had an effect on the Pühtitsa convent’s fortunes. During the setback, in the period starting with 1948, 15 16 17 18

19

Correspondence between the Council for the Affairs of the Russian Orthodox Church and Pühtitsa Convent, Eesti Riigiarhiiv (Estonian State Archives, ERA) R-1961-1-20, l. 23–4. Sõtsõv, Eesti õigeusu, pp. 229–32. As in 1951 when Bishop Roman resided in Leningrad. Information report on the Estonian SSR, Gosudarstvennyi arkhiv Rossiiskoi Federatsii (State Archives of the Russian Federation, GARF), f. 6991, op. 1, d. 717, l. 65. Before his appointment to the post of upolnomochennyi, N. Karsakov worked for 25 years in the state security organs (NKGB). Ibid., l. 66.

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and into the early fifties, the state put the opening of churches on hold, pushed active and independently thinking bishops to the margins, and arrested several teachers and students of theological seminaries.20 This crisis in the relationship between church and state, however did not affect the position of the convent. The correspondence between Colonel G.G. Karpov, the chair of the Council for the Affairs of the Russian Orthodox Church, and the local commissioner of the Council suggests that Moscow tried to find some pretext for launching an attack on the convent. For example, the secret memo from Karpov on 2 July 1948 criticized Karsakov for his failure to evaluate the social influence and economic activity of the convent. In particular, Karpov was interested in whether young people were involved in religious life and if the convent had leased some of its lands to the local population.21 In response to this letter, Karsakov replied with a thorough report that played down the social and religious roles of the convent, pointing out that the majority of nuns were of old age, that the attraction of the convent was receding every year and that economically the convent barely managed to make ends meet.22 In the early 1950s there were plans to close Pühtitsa, transferring the nuns to the Riga convent and using the monastic buildings for the establishment of a sanatorium for the workers of Jõhvi, Kohtla-Järve and Kiviõli.23 Yet, the convent managed to survive the crisis until a new attack during Khrushchev’s era.

Monasticism under Soviet control A series of specific instructions ruled the life of monasteries and convents in the post-war Soviet Union. A secret 1945 decree signed by Stalin prohibited authorities in the Ukrainian, Belorussian, Lithuanian, Latvian, Estonian and Moldavian SSR, Kursk and Pskov oblast’ to impede the activities of the convents and monasteries.24 The same decree ruled that monastic institutions retained their land, housing, ecclesiastical and economic buildings. This decree was perhaps a response to a widespread tendency among local authorities for commandeering monastic land and buildings. During the land redistribution in 1940–41, the land in possession of the Pühtitsa convent was divided among local farm20 21 22 23 24

Chumachenko, Gosudarstvo, pp. 125–51. Correspondence between the Council on Russian Orthodox Church Affairs and Estonian upolnomochennyi, ERA R-1961-2-12, l. 44. Ibid., l. 53–9. Correspondence with Pühtitsa convent, ERA, R-1961-1-44, l. 17. Directives of the Council of Russian Orthodox Church Affairs and the secret correspondence, ERA R-1961-2-3, l. 36.

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ers, so the nuns lost not only valuable arable land and meadows, but also a number of economic buildings (a smithy, a barn, etc).25 In 1945 the Kuremäe authorities established a police headquarters in the Pühtitsa priest’s house on the territory of the convent. The economic life of the convent had become a major issue in the discussions between the local upolnomochennye and the Council of Church Affairs. The reports reflect the absence of a clear image of a ‘Soviet monastery’. On the one hand, the upolnomochennye found ways to fit the monastic economy into the constraints of Soviet production. On the other hand, they constantly stumbled over the ‘non-Soviet’ strategies of survival that were specific only for a religious institution. The convent traditionally relied on agriculture for its survival. In 1947, the Estonian Ministry of Agriculture allocated 178.88 hectares of land to the convent which included only 29.43 hectares of arable land (the rest was meadows and woodland). According to the nuns, this land was insufficient to provide food for the entire convent. The convent had its own cattle, cows and horses. The communal catering was very basic (primarily vegetarian with some milk products whenever allowed by the Orthodox calendar), yet healthy and of ‘good quality’ (according to upolnomochennyi who probably had not once dined with the nuns during his visits). Soviet bureaucrats commented that the monastic agricultural economy lacked rational methods, planning and technological equipment. “Agriculture is managed spontaneously, without any planning or management, advice or aid from agronomy. It is very primitive and its output is lower than it could be. There is no unified economic leadership. The leaders of every branch, cultivation of crops (polevodstvo), managing the vegetable garden (ogorodnichestvo), cattle breeding (zhivotnovodstvo) carry on their business on the basis of old peasant knowledge, signs (primety) and according to their personal views.”26 In 1955, the arrival of a new novice who had experience at a Soviet MTS (Machine-Tractor Station) was welcomed by the Soviet bureaucrats.27 Fulfilling the modernity mission, Soviet power aimed at challenging the traditional methods of economy, replacing the primitive and spontaneous with the modern, rational and planned. It could not, however, transform the convent into a model Soviet collective farm without violating the Leninist principle of separation of religion and state. It seems that the Soviet local func25 26 27

Reports on the activities of the Russian Orthodox Church in Estonia, ERA R-1961-2-5, l. 20. Reports and statistical data concerning Pühtitsa Convent, ERA R-1961-2-23, l. 53. Information reports on Pühtitsa Convent, Eesti Riigiarhiivi Filiaal (Branch of the Estonian State Archives, ERAF) 1-163-12, l. 16.

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tionaries sincerely regretted that such obedient and industrious workers as the nuns from Pühtitsa, failed to achieve better economic results without the aid of the planned economy. Nevertheless, the monastery’s poverty helped it to avoid agricultural taxation that put such heavy burden on farmers.28 Agriculture, however, was not the main source of income for the convent; it derived money from the production and sales of candles, donations and from the monastic hostel. These specifically religious strategies of survival bothered authorities to some extent, yet nothing was done to prevent it. For example, the popular icon of Mother of God in possession of the convent helped to generate a substantial income. In another example, in 1951 the icon ‘toured’ around Tallinn churches, generating seven thousand roubles, the annual wage of an industrial worker. The annual celebrations of the Convent’s main feast (Dormition of the Mother of God) on 28 August also raised significant donations. Although Soviet authorities pointed to the drop in the number of pilgrims to the convent, there were still large crowds gathering for the festive procession (thirty-five hundred to four thousand in 1945, eight hundred to a thousand in 1949).29 The compound (podvor’e) of the convent in Tallinn (closed under Khrushchev) where six to seven nuns permanently lived, also generated a significant proportion of the convent’s income (in 1951 it transferred 15,378 roubles to the convent). The state did not hesitate to expropriate the lion’s portion of this income; the income tax consumed almost half of the income (in 1952 the state confiscated 53,571 and further imposed an obligatory state loan of 2,910 while the income was 110,367 roubles).30 The tax policy seemed to be reflecting, not the intention to suppress religion as in the 1920–30s, but rather corresponded with the actual economic needs of the state recovering from the damages of the Second World War. In addition to this tax, nuns had to provide the state with timber (50 cubic metres of timber per each nun).31 The economic policy made the convent in many ways similar to other exploited peasant and farming communities where mainly women labored long hours in order to supply the state with agricultural products and capital. The economic status of nuns was reduced to overexploited cheap workforce: some nuns worked all summer in a Kuremäe collective farm just to be paid 30 sacks of potatoes. 28 29 30

31

Mati Laur et al., History of Estonia (Tallinn, 2002), p. 288. Reports and statistical data, ERA R-1961-2-23, l. 9. Chumachenko, Gosudarstvo, p. 91. Monasteries and convents had been taxed in accordance with the regulation no. 2215 adopted on 29 August 1945. This regulation specified, for example, that monks and nuns should not pay a tax as unmarried persons. Correspondence with Pühtitsa Convent, ERA R-1961-1-9, l. 2.

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The communal kitchen could not provide all nuns with food: many of them cultivated small individual vegetable patches for their own consumption or picked mushrooms and berries for sale (only to purchase the most necessary items).

Social status of nuns Speaking of monasticism, one has to keep in mind that we deal with an institution, whose members, unlike ordinary Soviet churchgoers, were, so to say, ‘full time’ religious practitioners, leaving their professions in order to dedicate their lives to God. In this sense, they were quite visibly non-Soviet elements. The social status of nuns, therefore, was similar to that of the clergy. By the end of World War II, aged nuns dominated the convent: sixty-three out of seventy-six nuns and novices were born between 1861 and 1900 and thirteen between 1900 and 1919. The majority of nuns, born in the nineteenth century of peasant origins, had either little or no education, learning to read and write in the convent.32 The convent provided the women with basic literacy that allowed them to read prayers, Psalms and to follow the singing in church. There was a visible change in the recruitment of new novices after the war. The newcomers were evidently the beneficiaries of Soviet social and education policy. Even though the majority of the fourteen novices who joined the convent between 1945 and 1948 had peasant origins, all of them had received at least basic primary schooling, and eight had graduated a seventh grade Soviet school. The former peasant girls moved to towns, graduated from technical or medical schools, worked at factories, hospitals or theatres. For example, Tatiana Paziuk was born in 1925 to a rural family, studied theatre decoration in Rostov-on-Don and worked in Leningrad Drama Theatre prior to her joining the convent in 1948. Anna Serova, born in 1908, was trained as an accountant and then worked in Soviet trade organisations and hospitals in Leningrad. Sofia Gaitan was born in 1926 in Odessa oblast’ to a family of collective farmers; after the war she graduated secondary school (tenth grade), left her kolkhoz and enrolled in college to study statistics. She worked as an economist and statistician in various offices in the Ukraine before joining the convent in 1953.33 Why did these women, who had enjoyed the benefits of Soviet social mobility, choose the life of a cloistered nun? The Soviet sociologists who dwelt on the phenomenon of the predominantly female religiosity in Soviet society pointed out that the majority of female believers had little education and were often 32 33

Correspondence with Pühtitsa Convent, ERA R-1961-1-4, l. 1–3. Correspondence with Pühtitsa Convent, ERA R-1961-1-50, l. 27.

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unemployed.34 This was not the case for the novices at Pühtitsa, who finished at least a secondary school and had decent careers, according to Soviet standards. Religious life, according to other commentators, was a compensation for the trauma of bereavement or loneliness. Some nuns, like Gaitan, indeed were widows who lost their husbands before or during the war. Yet, human losses brought by the war and the consequent lack of men should be treated not as the reason for the rise of religiosity but as its background. As I have argued elsewhere, the attraction of religious vocation, in particular, for women in post-war Soviet society, could be explained by at least three factors. First, the anomic situation produced by post-war reconstruction; second, resistance to the Soviet regime and ideology; and third, leadership roles that women could take in religious communities.35 Historians have attributed the popularity of religious educational institutions in post-war Russia to loss of faith in communist promises.36 A similar explanation could be applied to the women who sought religious vocation. What they found in the convent was what the Soviet ideology promised but failed to deliver: equality, fraternity and mutual support. To some of them, the convent represented a model of an ideal community in which the members shared everything and supported each other. In the words of one nun: “We worked, of course, very hard. But we did not think that one needs to be better off. We all grew up under difficult circumstances, during the war when everyone starved. But people were very simple, open and easygoing. There were special relations among the nuns in the convent: love, peace and harmony. We had no quarrels among us and helped each other in our hard work.”37 The above explanations should not eclipse the fact that the majority of women joined the convent because of their religious beliefs. This disturbed the authorities who examined the application forms of the novices, in which ‘religious convictions’ (po religioznomu ubezhdeniiu) figured as a standard explanation of their intention. Some novices claimed they were guided directly by divine inspiration. One twenty-year-old novice, for example, wrote that she joined the convent because of a dream in which a heavenly voice summoned her to 34

35

36 37

John Anderson, Out of the Kitchen, out of the Temple: Religion, Atheism and Women in the Soviet Union, Sabrina P. Ramet (ed.), Religious Policy in the Soviet Union (Cambridge, 1993), pp. 209–11. Irina Paert, Demystifying the Heavens: Women, Religion and Khrushchev’s anti-Religious Campaign, 1954–64, Melanie Ilič, Susan Reid and Lynn Attwood (eds.), Women in the Khrushchev Era (New York, 2004), pp. 206–7. Chumachenko, Gosudarstvo. Piukhtitsa – sviataia gora [Piukhtitsa – Holy Hill] (Moscow, 2006).

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dedicate her life to God.38 The commissioner and his superiors were alarmed by this expression of religious enthusiasm among the younger novices. “All new members, especially the youth, claim that they joined the convent because of their calling for religious life. And this is the essence of worldviews of these people who are being pulled back to the swamp of [religious] abomination, to the withering holdovers from the past!”39 The presence of the young nuns who were brought up in Soviet society challenged the official wisdom that religion was a throwback from the past that was going to shrivel away with the approaching communism.

A Russian convent in Estonia As mentioned in the beginning of the paper, Pühtitsa was established as a missionary convent, the aim of which was to promote the Orthodox faith among the Estonian converts. Before 1917 the convent tried to carry out this mission (liturgy and sermon were performed in two languages, Estonian and Church Slavonic); however, following Estonian independence the missionary work faded while the number of Estonians visiting Pühtitsa dropped dramatically. Among eighty-six nuns who dwelled in the convent in 1945, there was not a single Estonian. (In contrast, today, Pühtitsa has a small number of Estonian nuns). The new recruits in the 1940s came primarily from the Russian SFSR or Ukraine; the younger nuns could not speak Estonian. The absence of the convent’s religious influence on the local Estonian population was noticeable, even to the Soviet bureaucrats.40 Perhaps, the diminished position of the convent vis-à-vis local population performed a good service: it made the convent appear as a kind of almshouse that had no social influence. Occasional clashes between members of the Orthodox Church (Russian and Estonian alike) and the local Lutheran population took place in post-war Estonia. Membership in the Orthodox Church, especially for ethnic Estonians, was interpreted as a lack of patriotism to the Estonian nation.41 The Orthodox clergy tried to emphasize the loyalty and patriotism of the Orthodox Church in contrast

38 39 40 41

Reports and statistical data, ERA R-1961-2-23, l. 4. Correspondence, ERA R-1961-2-12, l. 59. Ibid., l. 56. Directives of the Council, ERA R-1961-2-3, l. 7; reports on the activities of the Russian Orthodox Church, ERA R-1961-2-5, l. 2.

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to Estonian Lutheranism, whose reputation in the eyes of the Stalinist regime was damaged by the real and imaginary connections with the Nazi regime.42 In other areas of the Soviet Union the local party and state organs often treated the existence of religious institutions as an aberration, a position which was a source of many conflicts.43 Was that the case for Kuremäe district? Indeed, annexing land and buildings from the convent in the early stages of Sovietization appear as an attempt to curtail the convent’s economic assets. Summoning young novices to a local parish council in 1947 too could be interpreted as an attempt to intimidate the convent.44 Between the 1950s and 1970s, the local authorities made several attempts to cut back the convent’s land and possessions. These were, however, occasional instances of local authorities flexing their muscle and showing who was boss in the area. The convent, however, did everything possible to keep good relations with the local community, sending ten nuns to regularly help the kolkhoz and by generally keeping a low profile. Some Estonians came to the convent for big feasts, especially for Epiphany and Dormition of Mother of God (15 August), the convent’s feast.45 Priest Alexander Männik argued that the good reputation of the Russian convent among the local population promoted loyalty to Soviet power among Estonians.46 Protection of the convent’s interests by the representatives of the Council vis-à-vis the encroachments by local authorities was in line with the policy of upolnomochennye in other areas of the Soviet Union, yet in Estonia, perhaps, the patronage of the Orthodox convent had a tint of selective religious policy, especially in comparison with the Lutheran church.

Compliance or protest? The attitudes of the nuns to the regime Attitudes to the Soviet regime by Baltic Orthodox believers in general, and the nuns in particular, were largely determined by the policies towards religion. In 42 43

44 45 46

Riho Altnurme, “Religious Cults”, particularly Lutheranism in the Soviet Union in 1944– 49, Trames 6 (2002); directives of the Council, ERA R-1961-2-3, l. 7. Zh. Kormina, Ispolkomy i prikhody: religioznaia zhizn’ Pskovskoi oblasti v pervuiu poslevoennuiu piatiletku [Executive Committees and the Congregation: The Religious Life in Pskov Oblast during the First Five Years after the War], Neprikosnovennyi zapas 3 (2008), http://magazines.russ.ru/nz/2008/3/ko11.html. Reports and statistical data, ERA R-1961-2-23, l. 5. Reports and statistical data concerning the Russian Orthodox Church in the Estonian SSR, ERA R-1961-2-40, l. 45. Correspondence with Pühtitsa Convent, ERA R-1961-1-20, l. 46.

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1940–41 the Soviet authorities used purges among the clergy of various confessions in the same way as among other social groups (political elites, intelligentsia and the middle classes). The NKVD made several arrests of Orthodox clergymen in Estonia (sixteen were arrested in 1940–41 and four in 1944–49).47 We do not have information regarding the intentions of the Soviet authorities towards Orthodox monasticism in the area. Perhaps there were plans to bring religious life of the newly-occupied areas in line with the rest of the USSR, where churches had already lost most of their material possessions and personnel, together with a dramatically diminished social standing and prestige. Nevertheless, the dramatic about-face in 1943 in Stalin’s policy towards the Russian Orthodox Church signified that the post-war religious policy in the Baltics would be different from what it was in 1940. The experience of the war and ‘the new religious course’ pursued by the Soviet state made it possible for nuns to accept the new regime. One could speak about the new opportunities opening for the convent’s development. First, with new nuns’ arriving from the Russian territories, membership expanded. Second, we should mention the nationalist factor. On the one hand, the convent could safely carry out its liturgical life using the Russian language and keep the old calendar. On the other hand, the war with its restoration of Russian links stimulated patriotic feelings among the Russian-speaking Orthodox. What was the attitude of the Pühtitsa nuns towards the new regime? Surely, like other members of the Russian clergy many nuns welcomed the restoration of links with Russia: this was from where novices and pilgrims came; the allegiance to the Patriarch of Moscow meant the convent could keep the Church Slavonic and the old calendar.48 Surely the heavy taxation and seizure of monastic properties, as well as the policing of convent affairs by the state, created many grievances among the nuns. Nevertheless, the Mother Superior Rafaila (Migacheva), one of the older generation nuns, tried to tread carefully and avoid clashes with the local authorities.49 It was inevitable that, like other social institutions, the convent would assimilate some patterns of Soviet culture. The younger nuns who were born and educated under the Soviet regime, despite their religious commitment, adopted the Soviet way of thinking, and, to use the expression of Stephen Kotkin, learned ‘to speak Bolshevik’. One of the younger novices complained to upolnomochennyi about the lack of democracy in the convent, since it was administered in a 47 48 49

Aleksii II, Pravoslavie v Estonii, p. 430. For example, see the patriotic sermons and appeals to Russian émigrés by Bishop Isidor of Tallinn, correspondence with Pühtitsa Convent, ERA R-1961-1-4, l. 48. Reports and statistical data, ERA R-1961-2-23, l. 2.

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traditional way by the Mother Superior: “the convent is ruled singlehandedly … We need to settle things collectively because we [novices and nuns] are not just a workforce, as the convent’s authorities treat us, but also human beings. One has to listen to the voice of the people (nado prislushivat’sia k narodu) because we live under Soviet Power.”50 The nuns had to show loyalty by performing the Soviet rituals: voting in local elections, sending donations to various official campaigns and Soviet funds, and subscribing to Soviet newspapers.

Discussion and Conclusion Monasticism was, strictly speaking, not a Soviet thing. It remains an important question, how and why could such islands of ‘un-Soviet’ life, such as monastic institutions, co-exist with the totalitarian state. The convent in Pühtitsa, however, was one of the few monastic institutions on the territory of the Soviet Union that had not stopped its activity during the Soviet time, withstanding even Khrushchev’s attack on churches in the 1960s. We have to assess the survival of the convent as part and parcel of Stalinist policy towards the Russian Orthodox Church, which played a substantial role in Stalin’s post-war plans in Eastern Europe. The monastic institutions of ROC benefited from the patriotic position of the church’s leadership which served the ends of the regime that otherwise encountered active and passive resistance in the occupied territories. Perhaps Stalin’s decree of 1945, which protected the existence of monastic institutions in the new republics and territories restored to the Russian SSR, strengthened the loyalty of the Orthodox clergy to the regime. However, the more the Soviet state became integrated in the territories of the new republics, the more difficult it became for church institutions to justify their usefulness to the state. In the 1960–70s the participation of the ROC in the international ecumenical organizations and the support of the officially sponsored peace movement did in fact provide the church with such a political and ideological purpose. In the late 1960s the Pühtitsa convent turned into a showcase for foreign delegations, which could partly explain its survival. The relationship between the local authorities and the structures of the Russian Orthodox Church in these regions has became the subject of historical research in recent years, providing additional insights into the workings of Soviet policy on the ground and the strategies of religious institutions.51 One 50 51

Ibid., l. 7. I.B. Krasil’nikov, Politika gosudarstva po otnosheniiu k tserkvi v pervye poslevoennye gody: po materialam Smolenskoi oblasti [The Politics of the State Concerning the Relationship

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of the persistent lines of tension was between the local authorities (party and state organs) and the religious organizations. Local communists, who were accustomed to regarding religion as class enemy, usually rejected any liberal tendencies towards religion. The conflicts that arose over church buildings, which changed hands and functioned as various economic and cultural institutions; the attacks made on the believers by power structures and by the press, – all signified that post-1943 religious policies encountered much resistance in local areas.52 The mediatory role of the upolnomochennye was regarded with suspicion by the local functionaries. In Estonia, the relationship between the local authorities and the Orthodox Church depended on the prejudices of the Estonians towards Russian Orthodoxy rather than on their hostility towards religion. However, even though there were cases of discrimination against the Orthodox clergy and believers in post-war Estonia, the position of Pühtitsa convent was more or less stable in the Kuremäe parish. Unlike the massive influx of workers from Russia and other parts of the Soviet Union in the post-war years, the convent had a historical legacy that predated the Soviet occupation. The low profile of the convent, its hardworking nuns and their religious commitment (that clearly distinguished them from the homo sovieticus) had earned sympathies among the local population which was an additional factor that helped it survive. The revival of ascetic religion in the Soviet Union after the war remains a largely unexplored topic in Soviet history. The case-study of Pühtitsa convent highlights the contradictions and ambiguities within the post-war religious policies of Stalin, which served the purpose of political and social control in the occupied territories. Due to the lack of evidence of the convent’s internal life and politics, we can only speculate about the attitudes of nuns to the regime. Even though joining a convent could be a form of a protest for some women, on the whole, the convent managed to adopt a loyal and patriotic position that ensured its survival.

52

with the Church in the First Post-war Years: Based on Materials from Smolensk Oblast], Idei khristianskoi kul’tury v istorii slavianskoi pis’mennosti (Smolensk, 2001); Kormina, Ispolkomy i prikhody; A.I. Perelygin, Polozheniie Russkoi Pravolavnoi tserkvi na Orlovshchine v 1948–53 gg. [The Position of the Russian-Orthodox Church towards the Orlovshchina in 1948–53], Tserkov’ v istorii Rossii (Moscow, 1999); Iu. Sergeev and N. Abdulov, Ufimskaia eparkhiia v 1943–64 gg.: Ocherki istorii gosudarstvenno-tserkovnykh otnoshenii [The Diocese of Ufa in 1943–64: A Study on the History of the Relation of State and Church] (Ufa, 2000). Chumachenko, Gosudarstvo, pp. 125–49; Kormina, Ispolkomy i prikhody.

K aja Kumer-Hauk anõmm

The Yalta Agreement and the Repatriation of Estonians in 1945–52 Introduction The repatriation of Estonians in 1945–52 is a comparatively new and wide field in Estonian contemporary history. In researching the subject of Estonian refugees and displaced persons (DPs), we need to take into account the Yalta agreement of February 1945, where the subject of repatriation was discussed for the first time during the war. Research on the topic of repatriation expanded in the West and the East after the beginning of glasnost’ in the Soviet Union.1 Treatment of this question varies widely in Western and Eastern literature. The repatriation of Estonians has remained largely unexplored until today. Only a few authors have written single articles or book chapters about the repatriation of Estonians or Balts;2 until now there has been no comprehensive This article was prepared with support of the Compatriot Program and the Estonian Science Foundation (grant no. 7335). 1 For a bibliography see: Ulrike Goeken-Haidl, Der Weg zurück: Die Repatriierung sowjetischer Zwangsarbeiter und Kriegsgefangener wähernd und nach dem Zweiten Weltkrieg (Essen, 2007), pp. 23–9. 2 Indrek Jürjo, Pagulus ja Nõukogude Eesti: Vaateid KGB, EKP ja VEKSA arhiividokumentide põhjal [The Exile and Soviet Estonia: Perspectives on the Basis of KGB, EKP and VEKSA Archival Documents] (Tallinn, 1996); Ferdinand Kool, DP Kroonika: Eesti pagulased Saksamaal 1944–1951 [DP Chronicle: Estonian Refugees in Germany 1944–1951] (Lakewood, NJ, 1999); David Vseviov, Kodumaa kutsub: Repatrieerumisest ENSV-s [The Motherland calls: On Repatriation in the Estonian SSR], Looming 12 (2002), pp. 1855– 69; Peter Kyhn, Unwelcome Guests – Estonian and other Baltic Refugees in Denmark after World War II, Enn Küng and Helina Tamman (eds.), Festschrift für Vello Helk zum 75. Geburtstag (Tartu, 1998), pp. 369–408; Jussi Pekkarinen and Juha Pohjonen, Läbi Soome kadalipu: Inimeste väljaandmised Nõukogude Liidule 1944–1981 [Through the Finnish Gauntlet: Deportations to the Soviet Union 1944–1981] (Tallinn, 2008); Kārlis Kangeris, Die baltischen Völker und die deutschen Pläne für die Räumung des Baltikums 1944, Baltisches Jahrbuch (1988), pp. 177–97; idem, Die organisierte Flucht aus dem Baltikum nach Schweden 1944 – eine von Amerikanern finanzierte Aktionen, Eighth Conference on Baltic Studies in Scandinavia, June 7–11, pp. 1–10 (Stockholm, 1985); see also the

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research. In fact it is unclear how many Estonians were repatriated in total: there are major differences between Soviet and Western figures. There is a widespread opinion among the Estonians who stayed in the West that the repatriated Estonians were Soviet-minded. My research has been motivated by many unanswered questions with regard to the topic. In my paper I will attempt to find the answers to the following questions: Approximately how many Estonians repatriated? Why is there such a huge difference in numbers between Soviet and Western sources? What has caused this difference? What was the background of the Yalta agreement? Did the Yalta agreement influence the repatriations of Estonians and if so, how? While the main task of this paper is to give an analytic overview about Estonians’ repatriation in 1945–52 and the Yalta agreement, it is not my purpose to concentrate on the descriptions of the repatriations and talk about the numbers. It also is not my priority to concentrate on the question of the Estonians in German uniforms, as this is a very delicate and problematic field that needs additional research. In my paper, I will give a short overview of Estonian migration to the West during the war since among the reasons for leaving Estonia we may discover some kind of ‘key’ which could explain the reasons and the results of repatriation. Discussing the reasons for repatriation prompts another question: Were most of the Estonians forced to repatriate or would they have done it voluntarily? Forced or voluntarily repatriations relate to the Yalta agreement and the different interpretations of it. In addition to the Yalta conference, I will also briefly discuss the Halle conference and the results of both meetings. This paper presents new evidence that is based mostly on archival documents as well as literature. The overview of the Estonians leaving to the West and the part of the repatriation data are based on archival work in the US National Archives and Records Administration, the Estonian State Archives, the Hoover Institution, and Baltiska Arkivet in the National Archives of Sweden (BARA). The analysis part of my paper is based on documents and literature mainly by Ulrike Goeken-Haidl, Nikolai Tolstoy,3 Mark R. Elliot,4 Iuri Arzamaskin,5 Pavel

3 4 5

articles (mostly memories) from different authors in: Eesti saatusaastad 1945–1960 [Estonia’s Years of Fate], vol. I–IV (Stockholm, 1963–66). Nikolai Tolstoy, Die Verratenen von Jalta: Englands Schuld vor der Geschichte (MunichVienna, 1978). Marc R. Elliot, Pawns of Yalta: Soviet Refugees and America’s Role in Their Reparation (Urbana, 1982). Iuri Arzamaskin, Zalozhniki vtoroi mirovoi voiny: Repatriatsiia sovetskikh grazhdan v 1944–1953 gg. [Hostages of World War II: Repatriation of Soviet Citizens in the Years 1944–1953] (Мoscow, 2001).

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Polian,6 Indrek Jürjo, David Vseviov, Ferdinand Kool and Eesti saatusaastad 1945–1960 (‘The Estonian Years of Fate’).

The emigration to the West Approximately eighty thousand Estonians reached the West during the Second World War due to various reasons. Emigration from Estonia to the West started with the resettlement of the Baltic Germans in 1939–41, when around four thousand Estonians left together with them. About seven to eight thousand people left Estonia during the first Soviet year 1940–41 as part of a second wave of Baltic German repatriations.7 However, the major emigration took place at the time of the German occupation 1941–44. Emigration increased towards the end of the German occupation. We can point to six groups in the movement to the West: about ten thousand Estonians located to Germany during the war years mainly as Ostarbeiter.8 The so called ‘Finnish boys’ or Soomepoisid consisted of approximately five thousand young Estonians, who should have been mobilized to the German army, but escaped to Finland and served there.9 The escape of some to Sweden was organized by the US and Swedish governments. In January 1944, Franklin D. Roosevelt formed the War Refugee Board (WRB).10 The goal of the newly-formed organization was to rescue and liberate Europeans in mortal danger due to persecutions for racial, religious or political reasons.11 One of the WRB representatives worked in the US embassy in Stockholm. Baltic people were among those needing to be rescued and for ten thousand dollars donated by the US, 275 Estonians, 740 Latvians 6

7

8 9 10

11

Pavel Polian, Zhertvy dvukh diktatur: Zhizn’, trud, unistozhenie i smert’ sovetskikh voennoplennyh i оstarbaiterov na chuzhbine i na rodine [Victims of two Dictatorships: Life, Work, Annihilation and Death of Soviet POWs and Ostarbeiters Abroad and at Home] (Мoscow, 2002). Kaja Kumer-Haukanõmm, Eestlaste Teisest maailmasõjast tingitud põgenemine läände [The Flight of Estonians to the West caused by World War II], idem, Tiit Rosenberg and Tiit Tammaru (eds.), Suur põgenemine 1944: Eestlaste lahkumine läände ning selle mõjud (Tartu, 2006), p. 5. Kangeris, Die baltischen Völker, pp. 181–2, 188. Eevald Uustalu and Rein Moora, Soomepoisid [The Finnish Boys] (Tallinn, 1993), p. 7; Raimo Raag, Eestlane väljaspool Eestit (Tartu, 1999), p. 61. F.D. Roosevelt Executive order no. 9417 ‘Establishing a War Refugee Board’, 22 January 1944, The U.S. National Archives and Records Administration (NARA) rg. 59, General Records of the Department of State M 1284 Refugees WW II, roll 49. Ibid., concerning the WRB see: Kaja Kumer-Haukanõmm, USA välispoliitika Balti küsimuses 1945–1952 läbi Balti põgenike problemaatika [The Foreign Policy of the USA concerning the Baltic Question 1945–1952 through the Prism of the Problem of the Baltic Refugees] (MA-thesis, University of Tartu, 2005), pp. 84–5.

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and 135 Lithuanians were retrieved in 1944.12 The WRB operated until the 30 June 1946.13 The Swedish government helped to organize the resettlement of the Swedish minority in Estonia (seven thousand) and about two thousand Estonians used this opportunity to move to Sweden as well.14 This makes all together ca 2,275 Estonians. Towards the end of the German occupation, the Germans evacuated civilians from Estonia to Germany. The best known case is the forced evacuation of around three thousand people from Saaremaa, Sõrve, when the Germans retreated.15 To this day we do not know how many Estonians were evacuated. Kārlis Kangeris has researched different German evacuation plans for the Baltic peoples. Various plans were drawn up for the case of retreat, but we do not know if and how the plans were carried out or whether the exodus happened in a more improvised fashion.16 Research in BARA gives evidence that in September 1944 the evacuation was more occasional.17 Emigration peaked in the summer of 1944 and lasted until the end of OctoberNovember as the Soviet troops were overrunning Estonia, and the country was finally reoccupied. This was the period of the great exodus. It included Estonian soldiers serving in the German army. It is difficult to arrive at an exact figure of the total number of those who left during the war. Furthermore, we do not know the number of deaths on the journey, nor the number of births, nor can we discount the possibility of the manipulation of personal data. Figures on deaths due to major bombings and the sinking of larger ships are known, but many people left in small boats over the stormy Baltic Sea in autumn 1944. It is also unclear how many Estonian soldiers belonging to different armies were in Europe in May 1945. A gross estimate can be provided of the number of refugees – about seventy to eighty thousand people left towards Western countries during the war, and as many

12

13 14 15

16 17

It has been claimed that from all three countries mainly intellectuals were chosen for rescue. Who exactly was saved and what purpose the whole operation had is still unclear, but there is reason to believe that the Americans were looking for sources, which could yield information about the situation at the front. It was also necessary to seek future contacts in order to obtain information about the new situation. Johnson, US Embassy in Stockholm to Secretary of State, 6 September 1944, NARA rg. 59, M 1284, roll 49–50. Executive order, termination of the WRB, H.S. Truman, 14 September 1945, ibid., roll 59. Raag, Eestlane, p. 61. Erich Ernits, Põgenikud sõjaaegsel Saksamaal [Refugees in Wartime Germany], Eesti saatusaastad 1945–1960, vol. IV (Stockholm, 1966) p. 8; Kangeris, Die baltischen Völker, pp. 181–2. Kangeris, Die baltischen Völker, pp. 177–97. Memories of Julius Laas, November 1945, Baltiska Arkivet in the Swedish State Archives (BARA), Karl Liivola, Kartong 6.

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as 6–9 percent died on the journey.18 Around forty thousand people reached Germany,19 and ca twenty-seven thousand landed in Sweden.20 Around twelve thousand Estonians arrived in Sweden in an organized way. Other destinations, including neighboring Finland, and Great Britain, Austria, and Denmark were of smaller importance.

Repatriation Most of the refugees stayed in the West, but some of them repatriated to Soviet Estonia. Indrek Jürjo writes that 20,575 repatriated during 1945–50, 11,125 of them were civilians and 9,450 were ex-soldiers.21 Soviet archival documents state that during 1945–52 a total of 20,668 Estonians repatriated.22 At the same time western archival documents affirm that there were only approximately seven to eight hundred Estonians returning home.23 UNRRA (United Nations Relief and Rehabilitation Administration) data in February 1947 explains that there were twenty-eight thousand Estonians in Germany and 479 or 1.5 percent had been repatriated. During IRO’s (International Refugee Organization) existence 256 Estonians repatriated. Neither UNRRA nor IRO mentioned how many of them were civilians and how many were POWs. Why is there such a large difference between Soviet and Western archival data? I would point out several reasons. Soviet archival data about the Estonians repatriates includes diverse categories. Repatriated soldiers are listed separately. Estonian refugees, who were on the way to the West (first of all to Germany), 18

19

20

21 22 23

Ene-Margit Tiit, Eesti rahvastik ja selle probleemid [Estonia’s Population and Its Problems], Akadeemia 5 (1993), pp. 1654–79; Kumer-Haukanõmm, Eestlaste Teisest maailmasõjast, p. 8. Tiit Tammaru, Kaja Kumer-Haukanõmm and Kristi Anniste, Eesti diasporaa kujunemine ja areng [The Formation of the Estonian Diaspora and the further Development], Kristi Anniste, Kaja Kumer-Haukanõmm and Tiit Tammaru (eds.), Sõna jõul: Diasporaa roll Eesti iseseisvuse taastamisel (Tartu, 2008), p. 23. Sven Alur Reinans, Eesti põgenikud Rootsi statistikas [Estonian Refugees in Swedish Statistics], Kumer-Haukanõmm, Rosenberg, Tammaru (eds.), Suur põgenemine 1944, p. 93; Kangeris, Die organisierte Flucht, pp. 1–10; Arvo Horm, Pooled põgenikud toodi Rootsi organiseeritult: Päästeoperatsioonid Eestist 1943–1944 [Half of the Refugees were brought in an Organized Way to Sweden: Rescue Operations from Estonia 1943–1944], Teataja 20 (1984), 27 October 1984. The figures stand for repatriates before the year 1950, Jürjo, Pagulus, pp. 16–7. Eesti Riigiarhiiv (Estonian State Archives, ERA) R-1789-1-100, l. 24; Vseviov, Kodumaa kutsub, pp. 1855–69. UNRRA data, 21 February 1947, ERA 1608-2-496, l. 124. IRO data, undated, NARA rg. 59, entry 1420, box 3; See also Kool, DP Kroonika, p. 8; Louise W. Holborn, The International Refugees Organization: Its History and Work 1946–1952 (Oxford, 1956), p. 361.

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were caught by the Soviets before arriving at destination and were repatriated to Estonia.24 Estonians, who have been evacuated to Germany during German retreat in autumn 1944, were repatriated, too. There is the possibility that data in the Western archives does not contain the figures of evacuees and Estonians repatriated by the Soviets. Some countries, for example Finland, extradited Estonians to the Soviet Union, but Finland did not belong to the international refugee’s organizations and thus those figures are not included in Western data.

Voluntary or forced repatriation Another important question is whether repatriation was voluntary or forced repatriation. The Yalta agreement stated that “Soviet and United States repatriation representatives will have the right of immediate access into the camps and points of concentration where their citizens are located and they will have the right to appoint the internal administration and set up the internal discipline and management in accordance with the military procedure and laws of their country.”25 The Soviets started with their visits in spring 1945 and continued until the DP camps finished their existence. They justified their visits with this paragraph of the Yalta agreement.26 As the visits of the repatriation representatives were not effective and the repatriations were not carried out quickly enough for the USSR, the Soviet government constructed a huge propaganda ‘machine’. Different kinds of booklets were printed and movies and radio programs were produced. Also many articles appeared in different newspapers that were directed at Soviet citizens in POW and DP camps.27 The Soviet propaganda was taken to the camps by Soviet repatriations representatives. In my opinion, Soviet propaganda had only a minimal effect on the repatriation of Estonians, because most of them fled fearing the Soviets. Estonians in the

24 25

26 27

First research with archival documents shows that a lot of Estonians were repatriated from Latvia, Lithuania, and Poland, ERA R-1789-1-1. Agreement Relating to Prisoners of War and Civilians Liberated by Forces Operating Under Soviet Command and Forces Operating Under United States of America Command, February 11, 1945, Article 2: http://avalon.law.yale.edu/20th_century/sov007.asp (4 June 2012). For example: Kool, DP Kroonika, pp. 15, 468–88, 613; Kyhn, Unwelcome Guests, p. 379–81. About Soviet propaganda see Polian, Zhertvy dvukh diktatur, p. 339; Airi Kuusk, Repatrieerimispropaganda Eesti NSV-s repatriantide kaasamise näitel aastatel 1945–1953 [Repatriation Propaganda in the Estonian SSR on the Example of the Inclusion of Repatriates in 1945–1953] (BA-thesis, University of Tartu, 2008).

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West knew what reality persisted in Estonia – most of the Estonians DPs and refugees had witnessed the first Soviet year 1940–41. Outside of Germany Peter Kyhn points out that many Balts voluntarily repatriated from Denmark. Most of them repatriated during the period just before the formation of the Soviet repatriation commission.28 Why did these Estonians repatriate? Among the reasons for making the decision to return home may have been that the choice to leave Estonia was not made by the person himself – as was the case with the evacuees and also soldiers, especially wounded soldiers. The approximately three thousand evacuees from Sõrve (Saaremaa) repatriated completely. Besides, adaptation problems in the destination country and in the refugees’ and DP camps were enormous. It is understandable that not all could adapt to the new conditions and the best solution seemed to be return. For example, 192 Estonians repatriated from Sweden (approximately 0.7 percent of all Estonian refugees there). We know that 146 or 167 Baltic citizens, among them seven Estonians, who escaped in German uniforms to Sweden, were forcibly deported to the Soviet Union,29 but we do not know of any other examples of forced repatriation from Sweden. This means that the 192 repatriates from Sweden probably did so voluntarily. The connection between a refugee and place and the influence of this connection in decisions to repatriate is a field for research on voluntary and forced repatriation and, of course, this connection was important for the choice to repatriate.30 All in all, there is evidence that the roughly twenty-one thousand repatriated Estonians found in Soviet sources could be more realistic then the figures given in Western data. Soviet data expresses more exactly the different groups of repatriated Estonians and the various reasons for repatriation.

The way to Yalta The subject of repatriation was considered at an international level for the first time in February 1945 in Yalta when the Soviet Union and the US, together with the Soviet Union and Great Britain signed bilateral agreements. But before the Yalta agreement was signed, the subject of repatriation was already burning 28 29

30

Kyhn, Unwelcome Guests, p. 381. Karl Robert Pusta to Senator Patrick McCarran, 28 December 1945, ERA 1622-2-46 l. 55–6; Norman Thomas (Chairman of the World Council) to James F. Byrnes (Secretary of State), 26 November 1945, NARA rg. 59, M 1284, roll 60. Aivar Jürgenson, Vabatahtliku ja sunniviisilise migratsiooni dihhotoomiast migratsiooni makro- ja mikroteooriate valguses [On the Dichotomy of Voluntary and Forced Migration in the Light of Macro and Micro Theories], Acta Historica Tallinnensia 13 (2008), pp. 92– 117.

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for some time. The subject of repatriation arose as a result of POWs. It is important to point out that there were POWs not only of Soviet or German origin, but also of British, American and French. Each country treated POW cases until the Yalta agreement was signed in accordance with its laws, which were valid in their country or were in accordance with laws, which were in effect in the countries of POW origin. There were different possibilities for decision-making until the Yalta agreement. In 1929 the Geneva Convention had been signed, which stated “look at the uniform that the POW wears[,] not the citizenship of the POW.” The Geneva Convention was preferred by the Western states, but the Soviet Union had not ratified it.31 Molotov in 1942 suggested considering The Hague Conventions (1899 and 1907).32 On 10 July 1941 Joseph Stalin and Ia. Chadaev signed an ‘Order about POWs’, in which POW’s treatment, maintenance, rights and repatriation according to basic international principles was set.33 There was a Soviet order concerning deserters ‘Order no. 270’ of 17 August 194134 which says that “a traitor is someone who cuts off his shoulder strap and is captured or is a deserter. The traitor’s family should be arrested like the traitor. Captured persons could be shot immediately. All traitors should be executed and their families should lose all governmental subsidies.” The order had an update that treated the punishment of the traitor’s family.35 Despite the fact that there were different international agreements and possibilities to act, most of the Western authors point out that the Soviet Union did not have any interest nor wish to recognize the problems of POWs of Soviet origin until September 1944. In January 1944, when US and British government representatives began again to talk in more concrete ways about the POWs’ future, the Soviets responded to the American and British enquiry only in 31

32

33 34

35

General Georg C. Marshall to Eisenhower and McNarney, 29 March 1945, NARA rg. 334, American Embassy United States Military Mission Moscow, box 24. It was added that the US position in this regard was set out in a note from 1 February 1945 from the State Department to the Soviet Embassy in Washington. Goeken-Haidl, Der Weg, pp. 65–6. In 1942 when Roosevelt met the Soviet foreign minister Viacheslav Molotov, he suggested the Soviet Union to talk with Germany directly about the Soviet POWs. Molotov replied that the only law that is acceptable for the USSR is The Hague Convention. It became apparent later that the USSR had not ratified this convention either, ibid., pp. 62–3. Ibid., p. 63. It is unclear how well known was the order in the West. It is important to point out that according to Arzamaskin and Goeken-Haidl all Soviets citizens in the West knew that order. Goeken Haidl, Der Weg, pp. 15–6; Arzamaskin, Zalozhniki, pp. 8–9. Remarkable is also that the Soviet Union did not make any difference between the imprisoned who were captured during battles and those who gave up voluntarily. They all were just ‘traitors’. Goeken-Haidl, Der Weg, p. 17. Ibid., pp. 15–6, 18.

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September 1944.36 The Soviets did not find it essential to have negotiations with the US or the UK, and did not even react to the SHAEF’s (Supreme Headquarters Allied Expeditionary Force) proposal to find a solution for Soviet POWs.37 For a long time it was unclear why the Soviet Union did not answer earlier. Western authors note among the possible reasons why the Soviet Union did not start with negotiations: First, initially the Soviet government did not recognize the existence of Soviet POWs.38 The Soviet government defined until the second half of 1944 Soviet soldiers in German uniforms as ‘traitors’, who do not exist for the Soviet Union or who should be executed. Second, there were too small numbers of Soviet soldiers in the POW camps.39 Now, when the Soviet archives are partly open, Russian author Polian remarks that the USSR did not start with the negotiations, because they were engaged with building up a domestic repatriation system and its infrastructure. Construction of a system started in 194140 and the work was finished only in late winter 1944 or in early spring 1945.41 I do not agree with the statement that there were not enough Soviet POWs. Ulrike Goeken-Haidl writes that in 1941 there were around three million Red Army soldiers imprisoned by Germans.42 Among them was also Stalin’s son and some other close relatives from high ranking Soviet officials.43 Despite that, Stalin did not change his opinion that they were all traitors and this kind of group did not exist for the Soviet Union. Why actually the Soviet representative acted in the middle of September and not before is still unclear. The Soviet negligence toward their citizens, the complicated political situation in the world and the rise in the numbers of POWs obliged the US and the UK to find a solution for the Soviet POWs. An added reason why the West wanted to find a solution to the POW and to the repatriation problem would have been that as the Red Army moved to Central Europe there was a fear that allied POWs who were in German camps could fall under Soviets control,44 36

37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44

Memorandum to Chief of Staff, notes on Conference held with General Vasiliev of the Russian Mission, 19 September 1944, NARA rg. 331 Halle conference, entry 1, box 88; Elliot, Pawns of Yalta, p. 33. Tolstoy, Die Verratenen von Jalta, p. 58; Goeken-Haidl, Der Weg, pp. 73–4. Elliot, Pawns of Yalta, p. 31; Goeken-Haidl, Der Weg, p. 63. The main argument is that on 31 May 1944 Molotov informed that there were no notable numbers of Soviet POWs, Tolstoy, Die Verratenen von Jalta, p. 83. Polian, Zhertvy dvukh diktatur, pp. 331–9. Order No. 015 from the Estonian Sovnarkom, 3 February 1945, ERA R-1789-1-1, l. 12. Goeken-Haidl, Der Weg, p. 15. Ibid., pp. 13–20. There were approximately 72,000 American, 150,000 British, and 300,000 French POWs in German camps, who could fall under control of the Red Army during German retreat.

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including the sons of famous American and British politicians. The US and UK governments wanted POWs to be returned as soon as possible.45 As the number of people in the camps increased day by day, the costs were rising, too.46 More and more refugees arrived in Germany to the camps. The future of the refugees was unclear like the political situation was very difficult and uncertain. Meanwhile, even though the Soviet Union did not act, the POW problem remained. Discussions in the US and UK cabinets started again. The British War Department decided on 17 July 1944 that Soviet citizens should be given back to the Soviet Union.47 Despite detailed counterarguments by Lord Selborne, the Minister of Economic Warfare, the UK did not change the declaration of 17 July.48 Soon, Churchill said that they can not be sentimental and all Soviet citizens should be repatriated.49 It is probable that this opinion was also known to Stalin. The resolution that the UK would hand over all Soviet citizens was affirmed during Eden’s and Churchill’s visit to Moscow in October 1944.50 Soon after the trip, the first vessel with Soviet POWs onboard left the UK heading to the Soviet Union. Polian believes that British pressure to repatriate Soviet POWs gave Stalin the idea to require all Soviet citizens back.51 I cannot agree with him. In my opinion, while it may have had some influence, it was not the primary reason. Perhaps this encouraged Stalin to request the return of Soviet citizens, but I think there are several factors, mostly political and some economic. After the first Soviet message to the UK and the US in mid-September 1944, but perhaps also after Soviet representatives responded to pressure from the West, the Soviet representatives started to contact their Western colleagues more frequently. Despite the attitude of the British prime minister and foreign minister on the question of Soviet POWs at that time, there was no clear opinion in the US government. Perhaps for that reason, Molotov sent a letter to the US representative in November 1944. He declared that “the Soviet Government is

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Goeken-Haidl, Der Weg, pp. 60–1. Americans soldiers were in danger in Poland, EastPrussia, Romania, and Hungary, ibid., pp.71–3. For example the son of the US ambassador to the UK was a POW in Eastern Europe. Averell Harriman and General John Deane have mentioned that American POWs under Soviet control was one of the most difficult problems during their tenure. Elliot, Pawns of Yalta, p. 34; Goeken-Haidl, Der Weg, p. 61. The economical problems were mentioned by the British, ibid., p. 77. Tolstoy, Die Verratenen von Jalta, p. 69. Ibid., pp. 69–82. Goeken-Haidl, Der Weg, p. 77. Polian, Zhertvy dvukh diktatur, pp. 344–5. Ibid., p. 344.

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interested in the immediate rendering of assistance and return to their homes of Soviet prisoners.”52 While the UK followed up on its decision on Soviet POWs by repatriating them, the US had not yet developed its policy. Ulrike Goeken-Haidl’s statement that the US did not force any Soviet citizen against their will directly back to Soviet Union until Yalta,53 is open to question.54 In January 1945, the US started to fix the citizenship of the POWs by questioning each soldier personally, not by their uniforms.55 When soldiers in German uniform said that they were Soviet citizens, they were separated from others POWs and were transported to a detached camp to await repatriation.56 On the one hand we can say that this was a kind of voluntary repatriation since a person classified his citizenship by himself. Still those cases could not be defined purely as voluntary, because most of the Soviets were poorly educated and did not know their rights according to the Geneva Convention; thus, they could not defend themselves.57 In turn, the forced repatriation of Soviet POWs was confirmed by suicides when Soviet soldiers were being repatriated by the US and the UK.58 It has already been mentioned above that Soviet POWs in the West knew Order no. 270 and this order gave them no future in the Soviet Union. There could have been some statements made that the US and the UK believed that repatriated soldiers could continue their life in the Soviet Union as it had been before repatriation. But there is evidence in documents that Roosevelt and Churchill knew exactly what was going on with repatriated Soviet soldiers.59 After the suicide cases among Soviet POWs and before the Yalta conference, the voices arguing against forced repatriations became louder. For example in the UK, there were different opinions in the War Department, in the Foreign Office,

52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59

Molotov to George F. Kennan, 25 November 1944, NARA rg. 334, box 23. Goeken-Haidl, Der Weg, p. 93. Marshall to Deane, 30 November 1944, NARA rg. 334, box 23; Memorandum, 5 December 1944, NARA rg. 331, entry 1, box 88; Elliot, Pawns of Yalta, pp. 30–3. Goeken-Haidl, Der Weg, p. 94; Tolstoy, Die Verratenen von Jalta, p.118. Goeken-Haidl, Der Weg, p. 75. Arzamaskin, Zalozhniki, p. 14. For examples: Tolstoy, Die Verratenen von Jalta, pp. 61–2; Goeken-Haidl, Der Weg, p. 75; Elliot, Pawns of Yalta, pp. 1–3, 172. See Department of State. Difficulties with Soviet Authorities in Connection with Transfer to Them of Soviet Citizens Found Among German Prisoners of War, 18 January 1945, NARA rg 43 WWII Conference, entry 301, box 3; Tolstoy, Die Verratenen von Jalta, pp. 69–71.

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and with Churchill.60 There was also disagreement in the US between the War Department and the State Department.61 To sum up, the second half of 1944 became a starting point in the negotiations concerning the POWs question. First of all, different departments of the UK and the US governments tried to find a solution to this problem. Secondly, the Soviet Union responded to Western queries and started to pressure the two great powers to repatriate all Soviet citizens.

The Yalta agreement On 11 February 1945, the Yalta agreement with a few appendices was signed by US, Soviet and British representatives. One of the appendices was the ‘Agreement Relating to Prisoners of War and Civilians Liberated by Forces Operating Under Soviet Command and Forces Operating Under United States of America Command’,62 which was signed by Soviet Lieutenant-General Gryzlov and American Major General John R. Deane. A similar appendix was signed by Anthony Eden and Molotov respectively. There were two articles in the Yalta agreement which effected the repatriation of Estonians: article 1 with the undefined term of ‘Soviet citizen’ and article 2 confirming the right of access of Soviet and American representatives to DP and POW camps. Both articles frightened Estonians at the beginning of their time in exile and this insecurity continued until the regaining of Estonian independence. The US and the UK agreed to repatriate approximately 6.8 million Soviet citizens (4.8 million civilians and two million soldiers) by signing of the Yalta agreement.63 As there were no French representatives at Yalta, a half year later a bilateral agreement was signed between the Soviet Union and France. France declared that it will repatriate all Soviet citizens. The Soviet Union had learned from 60 61

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See Draft From State Department, without date, NARA rg. 43, entry 301, box 3; Memorandum, 20 January 1945, ibid.; Tolstoy, Die Verratenen von Jalta, pp. 69–71; On 1 February 1945, Averell Harriman assured General Eisenhower that the US looks at the uniform of the POW and not the persons who is wearing the uniform and the US takes into account the Geneva Convention. From Marshall, Eisenhower and McNarney, information Deane, 29 March 1945, NARA rg. 334 box 24; Johan Kaiv to Embassy in London, 8 March 1946, ERA 1608-2-37, l. 12. http://www.yale.edu/lawweb/avalon/diplomacy/soviet/sov007.htm or NARA rg. 334, box 22. In my paper I will use ‘agreement’ to describe this appendix. Goeken-Haidl, Der Weg, pp. 20, 37–40, 75. The Soviets did not want to publicize such huge numbers and they mention 4–4.2 million Soviet citizens were awaiting repatriation, ibid., p. 41.

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the British and American cases and Kim Salomon remarks in his book that the concept of ‘Soviet citizen’ in the French agreement was defined to include persons from the Baltic states and eastern Poland.64

The concept of ‘Soviet citizen’ according to the Yalta agreement According to the Soviet citizenship law Estonian refugees and DPs were stateless and not Soviet citizens.65 Investigating the negotiations before the Yalta agreement, it becomes even clearer that the undefined term ‘Soviet citizen’, found in the final document was not accidental. When Molotov wrote to Kennan in November 1944 and explained that the Soviet Union was interested in all Soviet citizens, he clarified in a detailed manner that the Soviet Union not only wanted Soviet POWs and Soviet citizens in the labor camps, but also Soviet civilians.66 The definition of ‘Soviet citizen’ with its disputable meaning gave the US representatives doubts about the future even before the Yalta agreement,67 but they did not protest publicly against the use of this definition. There was no agreement among US representatives to include liberated civilians and POWs into the same agreement.68 The longest discussions about the 64 65 66 67

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Kim Salomon, Refugees in the Cold War: Toward a New International Refugees Regime in the Early Postwar Era (Lund 1991), pp.101–2. See Kumer-Haukanõmm, USA välispoliitika Balti küsimuses, pp. 23–9. Molotov to Kennan, 25 November 1944, NARA rg. 334, box 23; Deane to General Marshall, 26 November 1944, ibid. General Deane wrote, “the Soviets use of the word ‘citizen’ in this agreement includes those civilians forcibly removed from Russia for labor purposes, those Russians who were fighting with the German army, and actual Soviet soldiers who were prisoners of war.” Deane finds that “there is a question about the identification of German prisoners of war as Soviet citizens, and also the question of who is responsible for such identification. There is the possibility of reprisals by the enemy if we permit Soviet authorities to claim German prisoners of war as Soviet citizens and assist in sending them to Russia, possibly to be punished. Perhaps the best solution would be, however, to give the Russians the responsibility of identifying Soviet citizens, and giving their authorities opportunity to make such identification.” Deane to AGWAR for General Marshall, to SHAEF for General Smith, AFHQ General McNarney, repatriation of Prisoners of War, 21 January 1945, ibid. Smith from London: “... we greatly prefer not to include liberated civilians in the same agreement as prisoners of war, nevertheless, knowing how strong Russian feeling is on this point, we feel it is essential so to include them, if we are to get any agreement.” Smith to General Marshall, Deane, and McNarney, 26 January 1945, ibid. McNarney answered that in his opinion concerning the determination of citizenship it is believed to be “important that in determining nationality, no steps should be taken which prejudices the status of individuals who may be affected by territorial adjustments in consequence of peace treaties, or which

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definition of ‘Soviet citizen’ were related to the Soviet borders after the war.69 Debates about the Soviet frontier appeared in the summer of 1944. On 17 July, the American Office of Strategic Services declared that their views had developed in a series of discussions among senior members of the Research and Analysis Branch. The paper was called “American Security Interests in European Settlement”. The Research and Analysis Branch declared its certainty that the Soviet Union would re-establish approximately its expanded frontiers of 1941 regardless of the interests and attitudes of others. The paper noted that in the postwar period the relations with Russia could become strained and the US and the UK ways will be different from the Soviet future.70 Following the arguments in this paper and the opinions expressed about the future relationship among the USSR, the US and the UK, I am rather convinced that the later discussions about the definition of ‘Soviet citizen’ and also the incorporation of the Baltic states into the Soviet Union was to Roosevelt and his closest advisers nothing unexpected. I tend to think that this was a incident, but it was also remarkable that on the same day (17 July) the British War Department decided that Soviet citizens should be repatriated. The paper clearly states that US interests in the European settlement were primarily ones of security. Economic interests were of distinctly secondary importance. Regarding the paper, there is no doubt that during that time the US needed to implement their political aims in cooperation with the USSR.71 On 1 February 1945 in Malta, where the representatives of the US and GB delegations met before negotiations in the Crimea, there was a discussion about the Soviet frontier one last time; however, the future of the Baltic states was not mentioned.72

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tend to contravene existing international law as to domicile and residence.” McNarney to Deane and General Smith, Repatriation of POWs, 24 January 1945, ibid. John Hickerson (Deputy Director Office of European Affairs) wrote: “We have a pretty clear idea of the Soviet objectives in Eastern Europe. We know the terms of their settlement with Finland. We know that the three Baltic states have been re-incorporated into the Soviet Union and that nothing which we can do can alter this. It is not a question of whether we like it; I personally don’t like it although, but I recognize that the Soviet Government has arguments on its side.” Hickerson to the Secretary, Grew, Dunn, Pasvolsky, and Mathews, 8 January 1945, NARA rg. 43, entry 301, box 3. “American Security Interests in European Settlement” from the Office of Strategic Services, Research and Analysis Branch to Brig. Gen. William J. Donovan, 17 July 1944, NARA rg. 165, entry 13, box 141. Ibid. “There should be the Curzon Line. The question was to give Lwow to Poland or to the USSR. The Americans preferred to give it to Poland. ... There was hardly any question about the Baltic States – they will stay to the USSR.” Conversations with Mr. Stettinius, 1 February 1945, NARA rg 43, entry 301, box 4. “In Malta Mr. Eden told that the Russians would be wanting a good many things, that we had not very much to offer them, but we required a

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The reasons why the US and UK representatives had agreed to sign this kind of disputable agreement, which could lead to complications in the future, are many. The necessity of an agreement among the US, the UK and the USSR, and the need to retain the USSR as an ally were important. The Americans required Soviet support not only to defeat Germany, but they also wanted the Soviet Union as an ally in the war against Japan.73 The US and the UK were interested in the liberation of their soldiers from areas under Red Army control. The Soviet government did not agree that the allies use former Soviet POWs in their own armies.74 The uncertain situation in the world and the importance of the Yalta agreement all played a role.75 The Baltic states and their citizens was not a subject worth straining Soviet relations. The controversial text in the agreement would give different possibilities for interpretation. The first of the above reasons was in my opinion the most important, even decisive, for the signing of the agreement. It is important to also mention some other reasons that could influence this kind of agreement: The US delegation in Yalta – President Roosevelt took with him to Crimea persons who shared similar views regarding the alliance with the Soviet Union (except Deane and Harriman), but who did not know much about the repatriation subject. Secretary of War Stimson, Acting Secretary of State Grew and Attorney General Biddle, who had been working on the repatriation question, remained in Washington DC. Britain was represented by Eden and Churchill.76 The pro-Soviet climate in the US media and the naïve public assumption of basic Soviet-American compatibility should be considered, too.77 But it is hard to

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great deal from them. The Russians know that the Japanese war should not be successfully finished by the U.S and Great Britain alone.” Foreign Secretary Meeting in Malta (present Eden, Cadogan, Butler, Dixon, Stettinius, Matthews, Hiss), 1 February 1945, NARA rg. 43, entry 301, box 3. “There is another point, however, which relates to the advisability of raising any territorial question at all during the course of the war or at least, until after the Russians have clearly committed themselves to their participation in the Pacific war. Any discussions of territorial matters, whether they be in the nature of security acquisitions, trusteeships or outright territorial adjustments, are almost certain to induce controversies which put at risk a united and vigorous prosecution of the war itself.” Henry L. Stimson (War Department) to the Secretary of State, Memorandum for the Secretary of State, 23 January 1945, NARA rg. 43, entry 301, box 3. For example the case of Soviet soldiers in the French Foreign Legion, Arzamaskin, Zalozhniki, p. 13. Smith (London) to General Marshall, Deane, and McNarney, 26 January 1945, NARA rg. 334, box 23. Elliot, Pawns of Yalta, pp. 43–5. Ibid.

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believe that the representatives of the US did not know what had happened in the Soviet Union in the 1930s. In addition to these points, there were several other levers that influenced the political solutions during that period until the alliance with the USSR was not essential anymore. One example from the field of economics, in the beginning of 1945, when there were negotiations about the Yalta agreement, the State Department discussed the size of a loan to be given to the Soviet Union. The Soviets asked for six billion and suggested that perhaps the US should give even ten billion dollars.78 On the other hand, we can state that the USSR also was interested in the agreement. The Soviets used different kind of ‘instruments’ to reach an agreement. For example during the Malta meeting when members of the US government had a discussion on the issue and it was not clear whether or not they should accept an agreement with so many disputable points, the Soviets sent a telegram with a note that a new group of American soldiers have been captured in Poland. The Soviets tried to influence the negotiations with the Americans as they did before with the British. Because General Deane was afraid for the future of American soldiers, he agreed with the Yalta agreement draft in Malta.79 It means that the Soviet leadership was rather certain that they could manage to reach their aims with the agreement.

The situation after Yalta and the preparation of the Halle conference After the Yalta agreement was signed, the situation concerning the repatriation of Soviet citizens remained still unclear. The SHAEF and General Dwight D. Eisenhower, who was in command of SHAEF throughout its existence did not follow the Yalta agreement. SHAEF proceeded on the repatriation question to follow the Geneva Convention. Balts were not to belong to the group of repatriated nationalities.80 SHAEF fixed the repatriation order in April 1945 78

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The Soviet government itself had only proposed a credit of six billion dollars. One US opinion said that “this amount of money is harmful for them, but it will be a bargaining lever for them to use it in connection with the many other political and economic problems which will arise between our two countries.” Assistant Secretary W.H.C. to Secretary of State, 20 January 1945, NARA rg. 43, entry 301, box 2. Tolstoy, Die Verratenen von Jalta, pp. 122–7. “Nationals of the Baltic States and Poles whose homes are east of 1939 line of demarcation or of Curzon line cannot be returned to Soviet control unless they affirmatively claim Soviet citizenship. This interpretation is now being considered by Joint of Staff. These persons, unless they have been identified as Soviet citizens by Soviet Repatriation Representatives, will

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in Memorandum No. 3981 and on 12 May 1945 in document No. S-87880 in which they forbade forced repatriation of Balts.82 The first possibility to begin wide-scale repatriations came in the spring of 1945 when the Red Army and the Allied troops met in Germany.83 By then all three forces recognized that the Yalta agreement was too declarative and theoretical for solving the repatriations issue. It became clear that practical aspects had to be fixed in a new meeting. Arzamaskin points out that the Soviets had not agreed to a time-table for the repatriation of Soviet citizens and that they wanted to meet the representatives of the US and the UK.84 Looking at archival documents leads me to disagree with his statement. There were many American and British soldiers under Soviet control, who were waiting to be repatriated and the US and Britain were interested in their citizens.85 In mid-May, SHAEF representatives met high Soviet military personnel in Halle in the Soviet zone of Germany. Goeken-Haidl writes that the Soviets had hoped that Halle would become as advantageous a meeting for them as had Yalta. But the situation in Halle was different. First of all, the participants and the purpose of the meeting were different from Yalta. The reason for the meeting was not to make policies, but to prepare the practical work of repatriation. To establish procedures for repatriations was not as easy as policymaking. Reading the shorthand reports of the meetings, we can see that the SHAEF representatives did not accept the initial Soviet proposals and presented their own proposal.86 SHAEF intended the final product to be a more detailed document than the Yalta Agreement.

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not be returned to their country of nationality or districts of former residence unless they have committed war crimes, trial for which requires their presence there.” From Marshall, Eisenhower, and McNarney, POW, 29 March 1945, NARA rg. 334, box 24. The same interpretation was printed once again from the Joint Chiefs of Staff (SHAEF) to Command General US Army Forces, European Theater of Operations, Command General, US Military Mission in Moscow, 5 April 1945, ibid. SHAEF, 16 April 1945, NARA rg. 331, entry 1, Box 88; Aivar Jarne, Balti küsimus rahvusvahelistes suhetes 1940–1947 [The Baltic Question in International Relations 1940– 1947] (Diploma thesis, University of Tartu, 1991), p. 67; Kool, DP Kroonika, pp. 487–8. Kool, DP Kroonika, pp. 49–50. Goeken-Haidl, Der Weg, p. 200. Arzamaskin, Zalozhniki, p. 26. Message to CG 12th Army group for General Black from SHAEF forward from General Lanahan, 8 May 1945, NARA rg. 331, entry 6, box 21; at the same time the SHAEF found that Moscow acted too slowly finding solutions to that problem. Goeken-Haidl, Der Weg, pp. 202–4. The Soviets called their first draft ‘agreement’, but the SHAEF did not to agree with that and said the agreement was made in Yalta and now they are discussing a ‘plan’.

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In summarizing the Halle meeting, we do not find much pertaining to Baltic citizens. There were disputes about language and terms like ‘Soviet citizen’ and ‘all without exception’.87 Neither SHAEF nor the Red Army delegation talked about Baltic citizenship. Even in the final ‘plan,’ the term ‘Soviet citizen’ was used without explanation. SHAEF understood that there was no possibility of reaching an understanding with the Soviets regarding the term ‘Soviet citizen’ and decided that a more precise definition needed to be given in the future. Goeken-Haidl writes that in August 1945 SHAEF offered their definition for ‘Soviet citizen’.88 But there is a document from July 1945, in which General Eisenhower declared the SHAEF definition of ‘Soviet citizen’: the American and British government do not recognize as Soviet citizens persons who had possessed Estonian, Latvian or Lithuanian citizenship previously, or those formerly resident west of the Polish 1939 border unless such persons affirmatively claim Soviet citizenship.89 All in all, the main reasons why the repatriation did not work before Halle were: the lack of a land connection between the Allied and Soviet forces and, the fact that details on repatriations had not worked out. Many technical issues about the repatriation were settled in Halle: how people should be repatriated, how much luggage they could take, which country deals with what aspects, 87

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The Soviets put into their draft of the plan “all without exception Soviet citizens have to be repatriated”, but the SHAEF did not agree with this kind of phrase. The Soviets argued that they wanted to use the term all ‘Soviet citizens’. SHAEF argued that this phrase was not a military expression. Minutes of Meeting of General Mickelsen and General Ratov, 18 May 1945 (9:45), NARA rg. 331, entry 6, box 21. On the 19th of May General Barker proposed simply to call the persons concerned ‘liberated citizens’. General Golubev wished that the term should consist of: prisoners of war, soldiers, citizens, all people who were liberated by the Allied Forces and the Red Army. At last, General Barker agreed with him and they found a solution that suited both sides and in the final wording of the plan is: “All exprisoners of war and all liberated Soviet citizens.” Minutes of Meeting of Major General Barker and General Golubev, 19 May 1945 (13:00), ibid. The British definition was that a Soviet citizen is, first, a person, whose residence was in the Soviet Union in 1939; second, a person, who became a Soviet citizen before or after 1939; a person, who came from the region that was incorporated by Soviet Union after the year 1939 and the British government had recognized this incorporation de facto, but not de jure. The US definition was that all persons who lived in the Soviet Union in the year 1939 are Soviet citizens. Goeken-Haidl, Der Weg, pp. 214–5. Soviets in Belgium USFET MAIN, Timochko. To for action CG COMZONE; information to C-in-C BWQ Army group, CG TUSA; CG 7th US Army, 1st French Army, USFA; US Military Mission to Moscow; British Military Mission to Moscow, USFET Mission to France, USFET Mission to Belgium; USFET Mission to Denmark; USFET Mission to Norway; USFET Mission to Netherlands from CDPX signed Eisenhower cite GE, 17 July 1945, NARA rg. 334, box 25.

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who is responsible for the food and medical care, how long the DPs should wait for their transport and so on.90

The results When SHAEF finished its work UNRRA (United Nations Relief and Rehabilitation Administration) took over the repatriations and in 1948 IRO (International Refugee Organization) continued that work.91 In short, most of the repatriations of civilians took place under UNRRA. The time under UNRRA control was the most difficult for Estonians in the DP camps in the US zone. After the SHAEF liquidation, repatriation was carried out differently in Denmark and in every occupation zone in Germany and Austria. There is the opinion that no forced repatriation of Estonians occurred in the British zone of Germany and from Denmark. It may have been that a few Estonians had been forcibly sent back from the British zone in Austria, e.g. because the screening took place in Austria under UNRRA control.92 Forced repatriation of Estonians took place mostly in the French zone, but in some cases also in the American zone.93 Research should be also directed to investigate cases when Americans handed Estonians POW over to French representatives and they in turn sent them to Soviet representatives who repatriated them against their will.94 The agreement in Yalta and the practical plan settled in Halle were very important for repatriation. But in reality the repatriation of Estonians depended on the local repatriation officer, who acted upon different orders according to his 90 91

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NARA rg. 334, box 24; ibid. rg. 331, entry 6, box 21. About UNRRA: Kumer-Haukanõmm, Balti põgenike problemaatika, pp. 55–70; idem, Balti põgenike problemaatika USA poliitikas 1945–1952 [The Problem of Baltic Refugees in the Politics of the USA 1945–1952], Tõnu Tannberg (ed.), Eesti NSV aastatel 1940– 1953: Sovetiseerimise mehhanismid ja tagajärjed Nõukogude Liidu ja Ida-Euroopa arengute kontekstis (Tartu, 2007), pp. 273–96. Kool, DP Kroonika, p. 613. Outgoing message, SHAEF FWD to CG Twelfth Army Group, CG Sixth Army Group, 11 June 1945, NARA rg. 331, entry 1, box 89; Marshall M. Vence to Mr. Zuris, 1 August 1945, NARA rg. 59, 860n, box 6624; Evi Heinisch to Maxim Haamer, 21 June 1947, ERA 1608-2-137, l. 128; Malcolm J. Proudfoot, European Refugees:1939–1952 (London, 1957), p. 217; Kool, DP Kroonika, pp. 52–3, 595, 625–7; Harald Rajamets, Jänkid reetsid eesti sõjamehed venelaste kätte [The Yankees betrayed Estonian Soldiers and left them in the Hands of the Russians], Postimees, 8 May 1999; Juhani Püttsepp, Endine USA sõjavang seab ajaloolist tõde jalule: Jänkid andsid Saksa allohvitseri Leopold Padjuse aastase vangispidamise järel 1946. aastal venelaste kätte [Former POW of the USA establishes the Historical Truth: The Yankees handed German NCO Leopold Padjus after one Year of Imprisonment in 1946 over to Russians], Postimees, 8 August 2000. Kaiv to August Rei, 4 February 1948, BARA A. Rei, box 4.

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own political opinion despite the regulations that were in force during that time and in that zone.95 Any forced repatriation of Estonians was explained to them by pointing to the Yalta agreement. The ‘Yalta shadow’ caused problems for the DPs until their new countries of residence were determined. There are many examples in not only the DP camps in Germany, Austria, and Denmark, but also in Sweden where the Baltic refugees and DPs were scared of their future: fear of being screened out of the camps and repatriated back to their homeland.96 After the Yalta agreement was signed, Germany was defeated and soon the Soviet Union entered the war against Japan. The US and the UK did not act against Soviet aggression and influence in the Baltic states and in the other Eastern European countries. Most authors point out that the Yalta agreement was disputable and too declarative; East and West did not understand each other. There were different interpretations concerning repatriation and the duration. When western authors talk about the agreement as only being a political agreement, Russian authors stress its economic aspects and usually mention economics as the first aspect.97 Russian historians highlight that after American, British and French soldiers were repatriated, the West lost any interest in continuing the repatriations. They mention also that the West was too passive in repatriating Soviet citizens and the reason for the passivity was the interest of some social groups among POWs and DPs. I agree with most of the above statements, but I can not agree with the last statement because we still can talk about repatriations even in the early 1950s. But the political situations had changed, the Western powers did not force Soviet citizens against their will back to Soviet Union. Without doubt during the first two years after the war repatriations took place in greater numbers compared to later years. Most repatriations were related to soldiers (most of them were 95 96

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Baltic citizens will be not repatriated against their will. Command of General Eisenhower, 3 October 1945, Hoover Institution (HI) Latviesu Centrala Komiteja, LCK Box 113. About the Kempten camp, 12 August 1945, ERA 1608-2-496, l. 43–5; Marshall M. Vance, Assistant to Adviser on Refugees and DP, to Zuris, 1 August 1945, NARA rg. 59, 860n, box 6624; WRB, 24 May 1945, NARA rg. 59, M 1284, roll 57; memorandum from the Lithuanian American Council, 21 August 1945, NARA rg. 59, entry 150, box 11; Lithuanian American Council to Georg C. Marshall, 29 April 1947, NARA rg. 59, 860n, box 6624; BARA A. Koern, box 4; BARA Aleksander Warma boxes 31, 32; HI LCK box 115; R. Liepins to Chief Officer of the DP Section American SHAEF, 18 July 1945, HI A. Bilmanis box 4; petition transmitted by Detachment H6H2, 3rd Ind.Hq. USFET, by command of General Eisenhower, 3 October 1945, HI LCK, box 116; Lithuanian American Council to James F. Byrnes, 8 February 1946, HI A. Bilmanis, box 1; Georg Warren (Advisor of Refugees and DP) to Simutis, 1 March 1946, ERA 1608-2-137, l.14–5. Polian, Zhertvy dvukh diktatur, p. 331; Arzamaskin, Zalozhniki, p. 23.

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repatriated during the first two years) and also civilians who were on the way to the West. Despite all critical arguments the Yalta agreement fulfilled the political purpose of the US, the USSR and the UK in my opinion. The aim of the Yalta agreement was not to fight for the rights of small nations. Nevertheless, Winston Churchill referred to them by stating during the meeting: “The eagle should permit the small birds to sing and care not wherefore they sang.”98

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Memo of the Conference Yalta Conference Dinner, 4 Feb. 1945, NARA rg. 43, entry 301, box 4.

List of Contributors Dr Vsevolod Bashkuev, Institute of Mongolian, Buddhist, and Tibetan Studies in Ulan-Ude, Russia, is a Research Fellow at the Institute and also a Lecturer at Buriat State University. He has published on the history of Buriatia and Mongolia, and regarding the fate of Lithuanian deportees, Litovskie spetsposelentsy v Buriat-Mongolii (1948–1960 gg.). Juliette Denis, PhD-student at the Université Paris X-Nanterre and at Institut d’Histoire du Temps Présent, works on Stalinist Latvia based on Russian and Latvian sources. She has co-edited a special number of Chahiers du Monde russe on post-war cleansing in the USSR and published several papers on Latvia during Stalinism. Dr Björn Felder, University of Göttingen, Germany, is a Research Fellow working on eugenics and race in the Baltic states and Russia, and lectures at the University of Göttingen. He won the Fraenkel Prize in Contemporary History for his PhD-thesis on Latvia under Soviet and Nazi rule: Lettland im Zweiten Weltkrieg: Zwischen sowjetischen und deutschen Besatzern 1940–1946. Irene Elksnis Geisler, Western Michigan University, USA, is a PhD-student specializing in gender history. She was recently awarded a Fulbright scholarship to conduct research in Latvia. Dr Kaja Kumer-Haukanõmm, University of Tartu, Estonia, works at the Center for Migration and Diaspora Studies on the Estonian emigration. She is coeditor of a volume on the mass flight of Estonians in 1944. Dr Olaf Mertelsmann, University of Tartu, Estonia, is Associate Professor in Contemporary History and the editor of this volume. He wrote his PhD on German history and is currently working on Estonia during the Cold War. He has published extensively on Sovietization and late Stalinism using Estonia as a case study: ed. The Sovietization of the Baltic States; Der stalinistische Umbau in Estland; Everyday Life in Stalinist Estonia; co-ed., The Baltic Sea Region and the Cold War. Prof. Silviu Miloiu, Valahia University in Targoviste, Romania, is Professor in Contemporary History. He works on Romanian and Baltic history and is editor in chief of The Romanian Journal of Baltic and Nordic Studies and president

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of the Romanian Association for Baltic and Nordic Studies. His habilitation was titled Romania and the Nordic Countries during the Contemporary Age. Dr Irina Paert, University of Tartu, Estonia, has studied in Russia, Hungary, and the UK, taught in Wales and is a Senior Research Fellow. She has published extensively on 19th and 20th century Russian history, especially in the fields of religion and gender. She wrote her PhD-thesis on Russian Old Believers published under the title Old Believers, Religious Dissent and Gender in Russia, 1760–1859. Her recent monograph is Spiritual Elders, Charisma and Tradition in Russian Orthodoxy. Dr William D. Prigge, Briar Cliff University, USA, finished his PhD-thesis in 2005, The Bearslayers: Power Politics in Latvia, 1945–1960, and is Associate Professor of History. Among his publications are The Latvian Purges of 1959: A Revision Study in the Journal of Baltic Studies and his recent monograph Bearslayers: The Rise and the Fall of Latvian Communists. Dr Dariusz Rogut, Jan Kochanowski University in Kielce, Poland, wrote his PhD-thesis on Soviet filtration camps and has published extensively on the topic. Among his publications are Polacy z Wileńszczyzny w obozach sowieckich “saratowskiego szlaku”; co-ed. Represje sowieckie wobec narodów Europy 1944–1956. Prof. Irēna Saleniece, Daugavpils University, Latvia, is head of the Daugavpils University’s Oral History Centre. She is specialized in oral history and in Latvian history, especially of the Latgale region. Among her publications are The School Politics of the Republic of Latvia (1918–1934); ed. The Voices of the Deported, March 25, 1949 (both in Latvian). Hiljar Tammela, Estonian History Museum, is a PhD-student at the University of Tartu and works on post-war Estonia. Recently he co-edited a volume on the mass deportation of 1949 in Estonia. Prof. Elena Zubkova, Russian State University of the Humanities in Moscow, Russia, is a leading expert in post-war Stalinism and Soviet social history. Among her publications are Russia after the War; Poslevoennoe sovetskoe obshchestvo; Obshchestvo i reform. She has also published Pribaltika i Kreml’ 1940–1953, a highly acclaimed account of the Baltic republics during Stalinism based on the Kremlin’s perspective. She is now extending her research to later periods of Soviet history.

Name Index

Abels, Georg, 55, 57 Aldea, Aurel, 158 Alekseev, 107n Aleksii II, 211n Aleshinskii, 96 Allik, Henrik, 55–57 Antons, A.A., 39 Arens, Olavi, 7–8 Arnăuţoiu, Toma, 158–159 Arsenescu, Gheorge, 158–159 Artemiikha, 116 Arzamaskin, Iuri, 226, 232n, 241 Avotinš, Jānis, 84–85 Baberowski, Jörg, 14, 173 Balčikonis, Juozas, 127 Barons, Krišjānis, 84 Bashkuev, Vsevolod, 12, 184n Baumann, Zygmunt, 172 Bergson, Abram, 182 Beriia, Lavrentii, 19, 64, 73, 84–85, 91, 162 Berklava, Marga, 79 Berklavs, Eduards, 74, 79–82 Biddle, Francis, 239 Bodiu, Filimon, 160 Bonaparte, Napoleon, 72 Brandt, Eduard, 198 Brzezinski, Zbigniew K., 172 Bumbiers, Jānis, 83–84 Butkevich, Gerhardt, 18 Butov, F. M., 156 Celmiņa, Helēna, 140

Chadaev, Ia., 232 Chakrabarty, Dipesh, 150 Chernyshev, Vasilii, 91–92 Chuklinoi, P.Ia., 78 Chruchill, Winston, 198, 234–236, 239 Cioară, 157 Daģe, Leonora, 111n Daumantas, Juozas, 121 Deane, John R., 236–237n, 239– 240 Deglavs, Fricis, 36, 55 Deletant, Dennis, 167 Denis, Juliette, 11 Djilas, Milovan, 47 Dragalina, Corneliu 158 Duliavičene, Vera, 132 Dzērve, Pauls, 79 Eden, Anthony, 234, 239 Ederma, Vello, 203 Eisenhower, Dwight D., 236, 240, 242 Elliot, Mark R., 226 Ermolaev, 107n Feest, David, 40, 48 Felder, Björn M., 11, 176n Filtzer, Donald, 175n Fitzpatrick, Sheila, 47, 60 Friedenthal, Meelis, 8 Foucault, Michel, 14 Frank, Anne, 140 Gailīte, Angelika, 142

250

Name Index

Gaitan, Sofia, 217–218 Garleff, Michael, 8 Gedvilas, Mečys, 57–58, 64, 66–67 Geisler, Irēne Elksnis, 12 Gheorghiu-Dej, Gheorge, 167 Goeken-Haiden, Ulrike, 226, 232n– 233, 235, 242 Gorbachev, Mikhail, 10, 187 Gorki, Maxim, 8 Gorlizki, Yoram, 182 Grew, Joseph, 239 Grigoriev, Fedor M., 105–106n, 115 Grigorieva, Anna, 115 Grigorieva, Irina, 106n, 115n–117n Grigorievs, Evtikhii, 114–115 Grigoievs, family, 104 Grigorievs, Irina, 114–115 Gross, Jan T., 16–17 Groza, Petru, 167 Gryzlov, A.A., 236 Guiga, Stasys, 162 Guleran, 157 Gusarov, M.V., 78 Gusti, Dimitrie, 154 Harriman, Averell, 236n, 239 Hickerson, John, 238n Hinrikus, Rutt, 195n Hitler, Adolf, 9, 25, 87, 186 Hixson, Walther L., 203 Holquist, Peter, 172 Horthy, Miklós, 158 Ilse, 200 Irene, 200 Isachenko, Andrei, 18 Jaakson, Ernst, 204 Jakobson, 205 Jasas, Petras, 132–133 Judeikis, Jonas, 131

Juhņevičs, Voiceks, 110n Jurgens, Jānis, 68 Jürjo, Indrek, 227, 229 Käbin, Johannes, 51, 60–61, 68–69 Kaegbein Paul, 8 Kaiv, Johannes, 206 Kalnbērzņš, Jānis, 29, 37, 41–44, 54, 58, 61–62, 67, 76 Kalniete, Sandra, 139, 148 Kalvāns, Krišjānis, 106, 113 Kangeris, Kārlis, 228 Karotamm, Nikolai, 51, 55–57, 60–61, 67, 199n, 201n Karpov, G.G., 214 Karpov, L., 66n Karsakov, N., 213–214 Kennan, George F., 235n, 237 Kirhenšteins, Augusts, 17, 52, 57–58 Khushchev, Nikita, 25, 51, 73–74, 76, 81, 159n, 187, 214, 216 Khvalebnov, O.A., 78 Koenen, Gerd, 172 Kool, Ferdinand, 227 Kotkin, Stephen, 221 Kravchenok, Domna D., 111 Kronvalds, Atis, 84 Kruglov, Sergei, 95–96, 166 Krūmiņš, Vilis, 79–82 Kruus, Hans, 57–58 Kumer-Haukanõmm, Kaja, 12 Kumm, Boris, 55 Kuzmaite, Antanina, 130 Kyhn, Peter, 231 Laar, Mart, 157, 191 Lācis, Vilis, 37, 41–42, 57–58, 61, 67, 80 Laosson, Max, 196 Lāsmane, Valentīne, 141

Name Index

Latakas, Kazys, 127 Lauristin, Johannes, 51 Lavretskii, Grigorii, 111–112n, 117 Lebedev, Ivan, 71, 74, 78 Leiberg, Juhan (prophet Maltsvet), 194 Leman, Gordon, 8 Lenin, Vladimir I., 74, 76, 139 Levin, Dov, 16 Levits, Egil, 48–50 Lieven, Anatol, 10 Litvinov, 114n Maiorov, 93 Malenkov, Georgii, 37, 41–43, 63, 73, 113 Manley, Rebecca, 29 Männik, Alexander, 220 Manuil’skii, Dmitrii, 54 Marr, Nikolai, 75 Marshall, George C., 198, 232n Martin, Terry, 14 Marx, Karl, 83 Mauriņa,, Magdalena, 142 Mauriņa, Zenta, 138, 141–143, 150– 151 Medijainen, Eero, 8 Medika, Ērika, 110n Meija, Silvija, 145, 148–149 Mel’nikov, 94 Mertelsmann, Marju, 8 Mertelsmann, Olaf, 7–8, 12, 24n, 48, 192 Meshchanov, 114n Migacheva, Rafaila, 221 Miliutin, A., 161 Miloiu, Silviu, 12 Misiunas, Romuald, 48

251

Molotov, Viacheslav, 13, 18, 232, 234, 237 Morozovs, 111 Mukāne, Glikeria, 105n, 117n Musial, Bogdan, 16–17 Müürisepp, Aleksei, 60–61, 69 Mykaites, Stasys, 126 Nelson, Michael, 203 Nesaule, Agate, 143–145, 148, 150 Niculescu-Buzeşti, Grigore, 153 Nikonov, Aleksandr, 81 Novik, Alfon, 58, 109 Orlov, G.M., 123 Pabērzs, Juris, 21 Paleckis, Justas, 57, 59, 67–68 Palmer, Roundell (Lord Selborne), 234 Päts, Konstantin, 10 Paulus, Alexander, 212 Paziuk, Tatiana, 217 Pelše, Arvids, 25, 35, 72–75, 77–79, 82–85 Peter I, 72 Pimenova, Angelina, 212 Pintea, 157 Polian, Pavel, 226–227, 233–234 Poplauskaite, Paulina, 132 Postol, N., 161 Prigge, William D., 8, 12, 48 Pruks, 200, 202 Pushkin, Alexander, 83n Rainis (Jānis Pliekšāns), 75 Raudive, Konstantīns, 143 Redzoba, Minna, 113 Redzoba, Zelma, 106n, 113–114n, 116n–117n Redzobs, Kārlis, 113–114

252

Name Index

Resev, Aleksander, 55 Riazanov, V., 58 Rizea, Elisabeta, 166 Rogut, Dariusz, 12, 174n Romanovskii, Aleksandr, 18 Roos, Jaan, 189–190, 192–193, 195– 196, 199–200, 202, 204, 206– 207 Roosevelt, Franklin D., 227, 232n, 235, 238–239 Saleniece, Irēna, 12 Salomon, Kim, 237 Sanchuk, 92, 94 Säre, Karl, 51, 54–55 Schadt, A.A., 128 Schatz-Anin, Max, 21 Schwartz, Katrina, 142 Serov, Ivan, 25, 64, 163 Shakhovskoi, S.V., 211 Shitikov, 91–92 Shtromas, Alexander, 58 Shvedov, 107n Silchonok, Efrosinia, 108 Silde, Adolfs, 48 Simon, Gerhard, 48, 51 Skladov, Elisei M., 107–108, 111– 112, 115 Skladov, Feoktist, 114–115n Skladkova, Agafia, 107 Skobochkin, 122 Skrinda, Lidija, 110n Smetona, Antanas, 10 Smirnov, N.I., 37 Smith, Bonnie, 151 Sniečkus, Antanas, 51, 54–55, 61, 64, 67–68 Sotšov, Andrei, 213

Stalin, Joseph, 7–9, 13–17, 19–20, 22–25, 40, 47, 50–51, 61–64, 68, 71, 73–76, 78–79, 81, 116, 125, 128, 134, 136, 164–165, 169, 172, 175–176, 183, 186–187, 213–214, 221–222, 232–234 Stalmane, Mirdza, 117 Stimson, Henry L., 239 Strods, Heinrihs, 156, 163 Suslov, Mikhail, 63, 72–74 Svilis, Petras, 123, 127–128 Swain, Geoffrey, 48 Szabó, Zóltán, 157 Taagepera, Rein, 48, 186 Tammela, Hiljar, 12, 175n Tang, Roman, 213 Tannberg, Tõnu, 8, 48 Tarasov, 213 Timoshenko, Semen, 159 Titov, Fedor, 71, 74, 78 Tkachev, 93 Tolstoy, Nikolai, 226 Trinklers, Ivans, 55 Troianov, 107n Trotsky, Lev, 8 Truman, Harry S., 197–198 Tubutis, Kazys, 130 Vaičiulitė, Anizeta, 129 Valdemārs, Krišjānis, 84 Valentīna, Baika, 111 Vares-Barbarus, Johannes, 57–58 Vasele, Vija, 146, 149 Veimer, Arnold, 51, 55, 57, 60–61, 67 Vīksna, Ingrīda, 143 Vonogs, 116 Voskresenskii, Sergii, 212 Voslenskii, Mikhail, 47

Name Index

Vseviov, David, 227 Vyshinskii, Andrei, 22 Wallace, Henry A., 198 Wierzbicki, Marek, 17 U., Maya, 149 U., Ruta, 140–141, 148–149 Ulmanis, Kārlis, 10, 18, 20 Upītis, Andrejs, 75, 80 Zaliauskas, Kazys, 132

Žemaitis, Jonas, 162 Zhdanov, Andrei, 63, 68n, 73–74 Zotov, Ivan, 13, 17 Zubkova, Elena, 11–12 Zubrelov, N., 91 Žukene, Katrya, 131 Zverev, Arsenii G., 66n–67

253

Places Index

Algeria, 185 Asuküla, 199 Australia, 144–145 Austria, 142, 229, 243–244 Bad Krozingen, 141 Baia Sprie, 157 Baltic states, 7–14, 16–17, 24, 27–28, 52–53, 62, 87, 120, 136, 145, 153, 167–169, 171–173,175, 179, 187, 209, 211, 237–240n, 244 Bashkirskaia ASSR, 32, 34 Belorussia, 17, 181, 209n, 214 Bessarabia, 153, 156, 159–162, 173 Bucharest, 153–154 Bukovina, 153, 155, 169, 173 Buriat-Mongolia, 12, 119–124, 126– 127, 130–136 Câmpulung Muscel, 156 Canada, 144–145 Carpathian Mountains, 168 Caucasus, 10, 25, 69 Central Asian republics, 10, 32, 34, 36, 87n, 120 Chechnya, 147 Cheliabinskaia oblast’, 32 Chelutai, 122,124 Chuvashskaia ASSR, 32 Constantinople, 212 Crimea, 238–239 Curonia/Courland/Kurzeme, 22, 43, 163, 176 Czechoslovakia, 9

Daugavpils, 17, 21, 101–103, 112, 114 Denmark, 229, 231, 243–244 Doamnei River, 158 Donbass, 76 Dresden, 142 Dubrovskii, 94 Dviete, 111n East-Prussia, 234 Eglaine, 110 Ellis Island, 145 England, 197 Eriiski, 124, 126 Estonia, 9, 12, 30, 49, 51, 55–57, 59, 65, 67–69, 87–88, 97, 120, 155, 164–165, 169, 171n–172n, 176n–177n, 183, 186, 189–199, 201, 203–206, 208–210, 212– 214, 219–221, 223, 227–230 Finland, 9–10, 13, 16, 195n, 212n, 227, 229–230, 238n France, 121, 236 Fulton, MO., 198 Geneva, 232, 235, 240 Georgia, 94 Germany, 7, 27, 30, 58, 97, 106, 137–139, 141–146, 159, 195n, 199, 228–231, 239, 241, 243– 244 Gorki, 39 Gorkovskaia oblast’, 32, 36 Grīva, 107, 112, 114 Haapsalu, 201

Places Index

Halle, 226, 241–243 Handagai, 124 Handagatai, 124 Harju County, 197, 203 Hungary, 166, 203, 234 Iaroslavskaia oblast’, 32 Il’ka, 122 Ilūkste, 101, 103, 107, 111, 113 Irkutsk, 121, 127 Ivanovskaia oblast’, 32 Japan, 30, 239, 244 Jõhvi, 210–211, 214 Kaganovich region, 114 Kalinin, 92, 94 Kanash’, 39 Katyn, 24 Kaunas, 64 Kemerovo, 94 Kirov, 31, 35–36, 38 Kirovskaia oblast’, 32, 36 Kiviõli, 214 Kizel, 92n Kohila district, 197 Kohtla-Järve, 92n, 214 Kolomna, 93n Kolpashevo, 139 Korea, 129, 204 Kraslav raion, 77 Krāslava, 101 Krasnoyarsk, 121 Krustpils, 112 Kuremäe, 210–211, 215–216, 220, 223 Kursi, 193 Kursk oblast’, 214 Kutaisi, 94–95 Lääne County, 194, 196n–202 Lääne-Viru County, 202 Lake Baikal, 120

255

Lake Peipus, 205 Latgale, 42, 100–102, 114, 163 Latvia, 9, 11–13, 17–23, 25, 27–33, 35–38, 40–45, 49, 51, 55–59, 65, 67–69, 71–77, 80–82, 85, 94, 99–104, 109–110, 112, 114, 118, 120, 137, 139–140, 142–147, 149–151, 155–156, 163, 167–169, 171n, 177n, 203, 214 Leningrad, 68, 141, 213, 217 Liepāja, 18–19, 21 Lihula, 201 Lithuania, 9, 31, 49, 51, 57–58, 64–65, 66–68, 100, 120–121, 123, 127–128, 130–131, 157, 162–163, 165–166, 169, 191, 203, 212, 214 Liubino, 107 Livonia, 34 Lwow, 238n Ludza, 101 Ludza region, 17 Lüneburg, 7 Malta, 238, 240 Moldova, 12, 153, 156, 159–163, 167–169, 209n, 214 Molotovskaia oblast’, 32, 92n Moscow, 11, 13, 31, 35, 37–38, 40–41, 43, 52–56, 58, 62, 65, 72–73, 77, 96, 172, 190, 200, 212–213, 221, 234 Muscel region, 158 Narva, 92 Noarootsi, 198 Novgorod, 31 Novoil’insk, 122 Novosibirskaia oblast’, 37 Nucşoara, 158 Odessa oblast’, 217

256

Places Index

Omsk, 103, 107–108, 114–115, 117 Omskaia oblast’, 32–34 Onokhoi, 122 Ovsoso, 211 Paldiski, 94 Palestine, 21 Panevežys, 122 Pärnu, 94 Pärnumaa, 164 Pasvale, 122 Petrograd, 82 Podlipkinskii, 94 Podpol’sk, 94 Poland, 10, 13, 87–88n, 100, 145, 173, 181, 234n, 237–238n, 240 Põltsamaa, 193n Pööraküla, 193 Plungė, 122 Pskov-Pechery, 211 Pskovskaia oblast’, 56, 214 Pühtitsa, 12, 209–215, 218–219, 221–223 Rēzekne, 17, 101 Riga, 13, 17–18, 21–23, 39–40, 43, 65, 75, 81, 91, 94, 138–139, 141– 142, 150, 153, 212n Romania, 12, 153, 155n–156, 158– 163, 165–169, 214, 234n Rostov-on-Don, 217 Russia, 9, 34, 52–53, 56, 59, 72, 74, 119, 131, 136, 147, 171–172, 178, 181, 194, 218–219, 221–223, 237n–238 Saaremaa, 197n, 228, 231 Saint-Petersburg, 34 Saliena, 103, 106n–108n, 111–113, 115, 117n Saratov, 96 Šedere, 110n

Shatur, 90 Šiauliai, 122 Siberia, 87n, 99n, 101–103, 107–109, 111–116, 120, 124, 131, 135–139, 145–146, 148–149, 159, 164–165 Silene, 115 Sillamäe, 183 Sõrve, 228, 231 Soviet Union, 7, 9, 11–15, 28, 30–36, 40, 42, 45, 52, 57–59, 61–62, 64–65, 67, 81–82, 87, 97, 100, 104, 113, 119, 121, 130–131, 135–137, 139, 158–160, 162, 171, 173–174, 178–179, 181, 187, 190, 194–196, 198–199, 204–206, 208–210, 220–221, 223, 225, 230–236, 238–240, 242n, 244– 245 Stalinogorsk, 93n Stockholm, 10, 30, 227 Sverdlovskaia oblast’, 32 Sweden, 141–143, 147, 169, 195n– 197, 226–228, 231, 244 Tallinn, 55, 57, 88, 91–92, 94, 153, 190, 194, 198, 201, 205, 211, 216 Tartak, 108 Tartu, 7, 189, 193, 198, 201 Tartu County, 194, 196–197, 199, 201, 203 Tatarskaia ASSR, 32, 36 Tatrussk, 94 The Hague, 232 Togur, 139 Transdnestria, 161 Türi, 199 Turkey, 196n Ukraine, 13, 69, 159, 181, 191, 209n, 214, 217, 219 Ulan-Ude, 127, 133

Places Index

United Kingdom, 142, 144–145, 147, 194–196, 198, 229, 231, 233–236, 238–239, 241, 244– 245 Uppsala, 141 USA, 10, 136, 138, 142, 144–147, 158, 194–196, 199, 203, 206, 230n–231, 233–236, 238–241, 244–245 Vabola, 103, 105n–106n, 110n Valaam, 211 Valga County, 199 Vâlsan Valley, 158 Varakļaņi, 19 Venezuela, 144

257

Vidzeme, 163 Vietnam, 185 Viļaka, 101 Viļāni, 101 Vilnius, 65, 95, 212 Višķu, 110n Virumaa, 164 Võrumaa, 164, 199 Washington, 232n West Germany, 10 Yalta, 225–226, 230–232, 235–237, 239–241, 243–245 Yugoslavia, 119, 158 Zaigraevo, 122, 124 Zemgale, 163

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HUNGERSNOT 1932/33

EINE KARRIERE UNTER STALIN

STAATLICHE ERNÄHRUNGSPOLITIK UND

2003. XIII, 505 S. 20 S/W-ABB. AUF 16 TAF.

STÄDTISCHES ALLTAGSLEBEN

GB. | ISBN 978-3-412-06703-8

2005. VIII, 445 S. GB. ISBN 978-3-412-10105-3

BD. 35 | LUTZ HÄFNER GESELLSCHAFT ALS LOKALE

BD. 39 | STEFAN WIEDERKEHR

VERANSTALTUNG

DIE EURASISCHE BEWEGUNG

DIE WOLGASTÄDTE KAZAN‘ UND

WISSENSCHAFT UND POLITIK IN DER

SARATOV (1870–1914)

RUSSISCHEN EMIGRATION DER

2004. XIII, 594 S. 2 KLAPPKARTEN. GB.

ZWISCHENKRIEGSZEIT UND IM

ISBN 978-3-412-11403-9

POSTSOWJETISCHEN RUSSLAND

BD. 36 | FRITHJOF BENJAMIN SCHENK

ISBN 978-3-412-33905-0

2007. VIII, 398 S. 4 S/W-ABB. GB.

RB060

ALEKSANDR NEVSKIJ HEILIGER – FÜRST – NATIONALHELD.

BD. 40 | DAVID FEEST

EINE ERINNERUNGSFIGUR IM RUSSI­

ZWANGSKOLLEKTIVIERUNG

SCHEN KULTURELLEN GEDÄCHTNIS

IM BALTIKUM

(1263–2000)

DIE SOWJETISIERUNG DES EST NISCHEN

2004. 548 S. 43 S/W-ABB. AUF 32 TAF. GB.

DORFES 1944–1953

ISBN 978-3-412-06904-9

2007. 535 S. GB. | ISBN 978-3-412-06706-9

böhlau verlag, ursulaplatz 1, d-50668 köln, t: + 49 221 913 90-0 [email protected], www.boehlau-verlag.com | wien köln weimar

BEITR ÄGE ZUR GESCHICHTE OSTEUROPAS BD. 41 | BEATE FIESELER

BD. 46 | JÖRG GANZENMÜLLER

ARME SIEGER

RUSSISCHE STAATSGEWALT UND

DIE INVALIDEN DES »GROSSEN

POLNISCHER ADEL

VATERLÄNDISCHEN KRIEGES« DER

ELITENINTEGRATION UND STAATSAUS­

SOWJETUNION 1941–1991

BAU IM WESTEN DES ZAREN REICHES

2015. CA. 552 S. GB.

(1772–1850)

ISBN 978-3-412-08806-4

2013. 425 S. 2 S/W-KT. GB. ISBN 978-3-412-20944-5

BD. 42 | KATHARINA KUCHER DER GORKI-PARK

BD. 47 | KATJA BRUISCH

FREIZEITKULTUR IM STALINISMUS

ALS DAS DORF NOCH ZUKUNFT WAR

1928–1941

AGRARISMUS UND EXPERTISE

2007. VI, 330 S. 42 S/W-ABB. AUF 32 TAF.

ZWISCHEN ZARENREICH UND

2 KT. ALS VOR- UND NACHSATZ. GB. MIT

SOWJETUNION

SU. LEINEN | ISBN 978-3-412-10906-6

2014. 394 S. 16 S/W-ABB. GB. ISBN 978-3-412-22385-4

BD. 43 | FRANK GRÜNER PATRIOTEN UND KOSMOPOLITEN

BD. 48 | DARIA SAMBUK

JUDEN IM SOWJETSTAAT 1941–1953

WÄCHTER DER GESUNDHEIT

2008. XV, 559 S. GB.

STAAT UND LOKALE GESELLSCHAFTEN

ISBN 978-3-412-14606-1

BEIM AUFBAU DES MEDIZINALWESENS IM RUSSISCHEN REICH 1762–1831

BD. 44 | VERENA DOHRN

2015. 442 S. 3 S/W-ABB. UND

JÜDISCHE ELITEN IM RUSSISCHEN

4 S/W-KT. GB.

REICH

ISBN 978-3-412-22461-5

AUFKLÄRUNG UND INTEGRATION IM 19. JAHRHUNDERT

BD. 49 | JERONIM PEROVIC

2008. 482 S. 17 S/W-ABB. AUF 12 TAF. GB.

DER NORDKAUKASUS UNTER

LEINEN | ISBN 978-3-412-20233-0

RUSSISCHER HERRSCHAFT GESCHICHTE EINER VIELVÖLKER­

BD. 45 | KIRSTEN BÖNKER

REGION ZWISCHEN REBELLION UND

JENSEITS DER METROPOLEN

ANPASSUNG

ÖFFENTLICHKEIT UND LOKALPOLITIK IM

2015. 544 S. 31 S/W- UND 13 FARB. ABB.

GOUVERNEMENT SARATOV (1890–1914)

GB. | ISBN 978-3-412-22482-0

2010. XII, 508 S. 5 S/W-ABB. GB.

RB060

ISBN 978-3-412-20487-7

böhlau verlag, ursulaplatz 1, d-50668 köln, t: + 49 221 913 90-0 [email protected], www.boehlau-verlag.com | wien köln weimar

Jochen L aufer

Pa x Sovietica StaLin, die WeStmächte und die deutSche fr age 1941–1945 (ZeithiStoriSche Studien, Band 46)

Als einer der besten Kenner russischer Quellen zu Stalins Deutschlandpolitik geht Jochen Laufer in diesem Buch der Frage nach, worin und warum sich die dem Osten Deutschlands diktierte sowjetische Friedensordnung so fundamental von allen anderen Friedensregelungen nach dem Zweiten Weltkrieg unterschied. Er zeigt, dass mit der »Pax Sovietica« eine politische Ordnung an Realität gewann, die Stalin schon seit 1939 für den Osten Europas verfolgte. Seit dieser Zeit strebte er konstant nach der Durchsetzung und Anerkennung von Einflussgebieten, die außerhalb der Grenzen der UdSSR lagen. Anhand zahlreicher Fallstudien analysiert der Autor das Wechselspiel zwischen der Machtentfaltung der Roten Armee, dem Gestaltungswillen Stalins und der militärischen Schwäche seiner westlichen Koalitionspartner. Dabei bildeten die »Aufgliederung« Deutschlands bzw. dessen gemeinsame Besetzung durch die UdSSR, die USA und Großbritannien »Garanten« der Pax Sovietica. 2009. 639 S. mit 5 S/ W-K arten. gB. 155 x 230 mm. iSBn 978-3-412-20416-7

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