From Recognition to Restoration : Latvia's History As a Nation-State [1 ed.] 9789042030992, 9789042030985

Citation preview

From Recognition to Restoration Latvia’s History as a Nation-State

On the Boundary of Two Worlds: Identity, Freedom, and Moral Imagination in the Baltics 25

Editor Leonidas Donskis, Member of the European Parliament, and previously Professor and Dean of Vytautas Magnus University School of Political Science and Diplomacy in Kaunas, Lithuania. Editorial and Advisory Board Timo Airaksinen, University of Helsinki, Finland Egidijus Aleksandravicius, Lithuanian Emigration Institute, Vytautas Magnus University, Kaunas, Lithuania Stefano Bianchini, University of Bologna, Forlì Campus, Italy Endre Bojtar, Institute of Literary Studies, Budapest, Hungary Kristian Gerner, University of Lund, Sweden John Hiden, University of Glasgow, UK Martyn Housden, University of Bradford, UK Mikko Lagerspetz, Åbo Academy, Finland Andreas Lawaty, Nordost-Institute, Lüneburg, Germany Olli Loukola, University of Helsinki, Finland Hannu Niemi, University of Helsinki, Finland Alvydas Nikzentaitis, Lithuanian History Institute, Lithuania Yves Plasseraud, Paris, France Rein Raud, Rector of Tallinn University, Estonia Alfred Erich Senn, University of Wisconsin-Madison, USA, and Vytautas Magnus University, Kaunas, Lithuania David Smith, University of Glasgow, UK Saulius Suziedelis, Millersville University, USA Joachim Tauber, Nordost-Institut, Lüneburg, Germany Tomas Venclova, Yale University, USA

From Recognition to Restoration Latvia’s History as a Nation-State

Edited and Introduced by

David J. Smith, David J. Galbreath and Geoffrey Swain

Amsterdam - New York, NY 2010

Cover image: © Morguefile.com The paper on which this book is printed meets the requirements of “ISO 9706:1994, Information and documentation - Paper for documents - Requirements for permanence”. ISBN: 978-90-420-3098-5 E-Book ISBN: 978-90-420-3099-2 © Editions Rodopi B.V., Amsterdam - New York, NY 2010 Printed in the Netherlands

Table of Contents From Recognition to Restoration: Latvia’s History as a Nation-State David J. Smith, David J. Galbreath, and Geoffrey Swain

7

Celebrating Origins: Reflections on Latvia’s Ninetieth Birthday Andrejs Plakans

13

Inter-war Multiculturalism Revisited: Cultural Autonomy in 1920s Latvia David J. Smith

31

Forgotten Voices: Reflections on Latvia during World War Two Geoffrey Swain

45

The Deportation of March 25, 1949 in Latgale: Oral History Sources and Archival Documents Irēna Saleniece

61

The Strange Death of Latvian National Communism William D. Prigge

77

Latvia’s 90th Anniversary: between ‘Partocracy’ and a Misconstrued Model of Liberal Economy Veiko Spolitis

99

A Nation in the Making? The Social Integration Process in Latvia since 1991 Marina Germane

117

The Bronze Man and the Homeless Man: Performance Art in Latvia from Perestroika to Post-Soviet Amy Bryzgel Between a ‘Rock’ and a ‘Hard Place’: Baltic Foreign Policy after Enlargement David J. Galbreath

133 159

From Recognition to Restoration: Latvia’s History as a Nation-State David J. Smith, David J. Galbreath, and Geoffrey Swain The commemoration by states of key historical anniversaries serves primarily as a ritualised affirmation of nationhood. In the words of Amitai Etzioni, cited by Andrejs Plakans in the current work, national holidays constitute “a major mechanism for the re-creation of society, one in which members of a society worship shared objects and in which they share experiences that help form and sustain deep emotional bonds among the members.” 1 In all three Baltic countries, the 90th anniversary of the original establishment of statehood provided the occasion for prolonged media discussion, regular public events and the inauguration of new places of memory. However, such commemorations also invariably give rise to scholarly reflection on the historical period in question. Such was the aim of the conference entitled ‘Ninety Years since Independence: Evaluating Latvia's Past and Present’, which brought together invited speakers from Latvia, Great Britain and the United States at the University of Glasgow on 28 November 2008. This one-day event was divided into sessions dealing with the three phases to date in Latvia’s existence as a territorial entity: 1918-1940, when the country was an independent sovereign state; 1940-1991, when it was a Union Republic of the USSR; and the post-1991 period, which has seen the restoration of sovereign statehood on the basis of legal continuity from the inter-war period and – latterly – accession to the European Union. What emerged was an intriguing discussion of the complex relationship between state and nationhood during an era of truly profound – and still ongoing – political change. A selection of the papers dealing with all three aforementioned phases is presented here. In the opening chapter Andrejs Plakans – keynote speaker at the conference – uses public commemorations of Latvia’s Independence Day to illustrate how official understandings of the nation have shifted over the course of the past nine decades. Securing control of the territorial homeland and diplomatic recognition proved to be a long and difficult undertaking for the Latvian nationalist movement that espoused the goal of independence during 1918. In looking at the conflicts of 1918-1920 and the fraught early years of the Latvian Republic, Plakans brings to the Latvian case the question famously articulated by Walker Connor back in 1990 – namely, “when is a nation”? 2 Here his analysis leaves little room for doubt that the new national elites, having made Latvia, now had to make Latvi-

David J. Smith, David J. Galbreath, and Geoffrey Swain 8 ___________________________________________________________ ans. Throughout the first decade and a half of its existence, the new Republic witnessed continued tensions between nationality and class as markers of collective identity. At the same time, proponents of an inclusive concept of nationhood embracing all residents (Latvijas tauta) faced a strong challenge from those who viewed the state as the patrimony of an ethnic Latvian nation (Latviešu tauta). The ambiguous quality of national identity within what remained a deeply multicultural society was arguably a key factor behind the highly distinctive provisions for minority cultural autonomy adopted at the start of independence. These are the subject of David J. Smith’s chapter on the interwar period, which examines how political representatives of both national minorities and the ‘titular’ Latvian nationality worked together to implement and sustain the 1919 law on minority schooling. Pragmatic and ideological motives both had a role to play in the drafting of this legislation, which granted parents the freedom to determine the language of schooling for their children and established no less than five autonomous national sections within the Ministry of Education. Quite apart from anything else, this law responded to the practical needs of the day, in a society where language spoken and (ascribed) ethnicity were not always synonymous. While some feared that the minority bloc in parliament could punch above its weight and risk destablising the republic, cultural autonomy actually undermined the prospect of ‘states within states’ emerging. Cultural autonomy merits close scrutiny, as a provision that marked Latvia and the other Baltic States from other European countries at the time. Ultimately, however, it was a short-lived experiment, as the multicultural democracy of the 1920s quickly gave way to more overtly ‘nationalising’ state practices during the years of the Ulmanis dictatorship. Ulmanis’ increasing concentration of power in his own hands undoubtedly alienated not only representatives of national minorities but also a significant number of those belonging to the ‘titular’ national group. 3 In his chapter on the ‘forgotten voices’ of World War Two, Geoffrey Swain argues that the Latvian Central Council - encompassing the leaders of the pre-Ulmanis Republic – was central to the evolution of the National Partisan movement during 1945, when restoration of a democratic Latvia became the overriding goal. Moreover, the National Partisans and their ‘Red’ counterparts were not always so implacably opposed as later accounts usually maintain. There were many on both sides of the ideological divide during and immediately after World War Two for whom the prime concern was to prevent a civil war between Latvians. In the frame of reference held by many ‘Red’ activists we see the origins of the ‘National Communism’ that gathered force in Latvia during

From Recognition to Restoration ________________________________________________________

9

the late 1950s. The purges that ended this movement in 1959 were long assumed to have occurred at the behest of Soviet leader Nikita Khrushchev. The chapter in the current volume by William Prigge demonstrates that this was not the case, and that conservative elements within the Latvian Party were in fact instrumental in the ouster of Eduards Berklavs and his supporters. In this respect, both Swain and Prigge go beyond the often essentialising contours of Cold War and post-Cold War historiography to reveal a picture that is far more complex and ambiguous. Irena Salaniece makes a similar point in her chapter on the mass deportations of 1949, arguing the need to distinguish between official and individual perceptions, and demonstrating how oral history can help us to attain a fuller picture of these events. In this respect, Salaniece argues, the deportees should not be viewed simply as victims and passive objects of state power. Even in the face of absolute repression, individuals were able to some extent to shape their own fate: in broadening the source base, one encounters a diversity of experience that the official record alone cannot capture. Amy Bryzgel’s chapter continues to explore the perspective ‘from below’, while providing us with a crucial link between the Soviet era and the post-1991 period of restored independence. As Bryzgel shows, performance art became a medium for challenging the meta-narratives of post-Soviet ‘transition’, posing some awkward questions about emerging new economic and political realities. Following logically on are the chapters by Veiko Spolitis, Marina Germane and David Galbreath, which deal more squarely with the developments of the past two decades. As Spolitis’ chapter shows very well, the period since 2004 has challenged pre-existing understandings of parliamentary democracy and a liberal market economy as a return to ‘normality’ – to use Daina Eglitis’ term – as well as the notion that entry to the European Union (and NATO) had drawn a definitive line under the Soviet past. 4 The problematic nature of the Soviet legacy also emerges clearly from Germane’s chapter on nationality issues and societal integration. The Soviet regime reinforced existing understandings of nationality as ethnocultural rather than political. At the same time, its promotion of large-scale settlement by Russian-speaking Soviet citizens was seen by many as posing a long-term threat to the survival of ‘titular’ language and culture within the Latvians’ designated ethnic homeland. Institutional legacies and collective memories both informed strongly nationalising policies in the immediate aftermath of independence, when Soviet-era settlers and their descendents (by now one-third of the population) were denied the right to automatic citizenship and designated as ‘Aliens’ who could only obtain a Latvian passport on the basis of naturalisation. Subsequent interventions

David J. Smith, David J. Galbreath, and Geoffrey Swain 10 ___________________________________________________________ by the EU and other international agencies have helped to bring about liberalisation of citizenship legislation and the establishment of a new state integration strategy. However, as of 2008 they did not appear to have changed the underlying social construction of nationhood as fundamentally ethnic in character; following EU entry and the subsequent recent economic downturn, the integration strategy would appear to have ground to a halt. The marginalisation of Soviet-era settlers within current Latvian state- and nation-building has gone hand-in-hand with an ‘othering’ of neighbouring Russia, which has been portrayed as an active external threat to the restored state. Residual ethnic tensions within Latvia are all too often explained away by reference to alleged external intervention and manipulation, in a discursive strategy that denies any capacity for independent identity or agency on the part of local Russian-speakers. David Galbreath’s concluding chapter on international relations, aptly titled ‘Between a Rock and Hard Place’, argues that the attainment of EU and NATO membership has done little to alter the securitised frame of reference governing the state’s foreign policy. While the Baltic States’ relationship with Russia has remained constant, they have found themselves within the tides of power in Brussels that flow all to often away from their geopolitical interests in Eastern Europe. This final chapter closes the reflection on the last ninety years and offers a cautionary conclusion for Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania in the present. The editors of this book all form part of the Language-based Area Studies Centre for Russian and Central and East European Studies (CRCEES), which since 2006 has brought together staff and PhD students from eight Scottish and two English Universities, including Glasgow and Aberdeen. We are grateful for the financial support provided by CRCEES, which organised the November 2008 conference in conjunction with the Department of Central and East European Studies at the University of Glasgow and the Glasgow Baltic Research Unit.

1 Etzioni, 2000, 47, cited on p.15 of the current volume. 2 Connor, 1990. 3 In this regard, see for instance Lumans, 2006, 49-50. 4 On the concept of ‘normality’ in current Latvian political discourse, see Eglitis, 2002. References

From Recognition to Restoration 11 ________________________________________________________ References Connor, W. (1990), “When is a Nation?” Ethnic and Racial Studies, 13, 1: 92-100. Eglitis, D. (2002), Imagining the Nation: History, Modernity and Revolution in Latvia. University Park, PA: Penn State University Press. Etzioni, A. (2000), “Toward a Theory of Public Ritual,” Sociological Theory, 18, 1: 44-59. Lumans, V. (2006), Latvia in World War Two. New York: Fordham University Press

Celebrating Origins: Reflections on Latvia’s Ninetieth Birthday Andrejs Plakans Though Latvian folk beliefs engage a large array of natural and human phenomena, an explanation – mythic or historical – of how and when Latvians came into the world seems not to have been a major preoccupation in the distant past. Basic intellectual constructs such as “nation” (tauta) and “society” (sabiedrība) appeared only in the second half of the nineteenth century, and such folklorised heroes as Lāčplesis (the Bearslayer) were more symbolic of Latvians’ eternal and cyclical struggle against hostile outsiders than of a founder of the collectivity. 1 When speculative accounts of Latvian origins began to appear, they dealt much more with the Baltic languages and with archeological evidence of ancient Baltic settlement and burial sites than with theorising about explicitly Latvian origins; and when historians eventually turned to the question, they came to rest with the consensus that the Latvian language as such and presumably its speakers were produced by the merger of the identifiable tribal societies of Couronians, Letgallians, Selonians, Semigallians, and Livonians during the years of the Livonian Confederation (13th to 16th centuries). 2 Since it was impossible to celebrate a merger stretching over centuries, Latvians have had to forego the ritualised reenactments of founding myths and the celebration of founding monarchs (such as Mindaugas in the Lithuanian case). But they did celebrate other kinds of events, 3 and for such festivities the historical evidence is extensive even if underused and researched very unsystematically, as seems to be the case everywhere with the entire sociological and social-historical subject of holidays, celebrations, and national birthdays. 4 Even before there was a Latvian state, celebratory traditions of various kinds had become deeply ingrained in Latvian popular culture. Over the centuries, Latvians, a rural people at the bottom of the eastern Baltic littoral’s social hierarchy, participated as congregants in marking the holidays of the Roman Catholic Church and, after the sixteenth century, of the Lutheran Church as well. There also existed a pagan substratum of festivities marking turning points in the agricultural year: the arrival of spring, the end of the harvest season, the solstices. 5 Cultural historians describe the merging of these holidays over time, producing substantial discomfort in the clergy who remained vary of pagan admixtures. There were also the personal celebrations, such as the extended week-long

Andrejs Plakans 14 ___________________________________________________________ wedding feast, that to the Baltic Germans were evidence of the fundamental slothfulness of the peasantry. Peasants frequently participated in the birthdays and other family celebrations of their immediate overlords as well, and, after the eastern Baltic littoral became part of the Russian Empire, a new set of holidays entered the list, headed by observances, especially among urban Latvians, of such occasions as the Tsar’s birthday and the anniversaries of the Romanov dynasty. In the 1860s, with the appearance of such Latvian organisations as the Riga Latvian Association, numerous opportunities arose for activists to plan and carry out culturally specific and consciousness-raising Latvian celebrations that were meant to involve more than local participants. The most notable of these were the general song festivals, which after 1873 became the single most telling expression of an emerging Latvian national consciousness. 6 The song festivals became occasions for the use of symbols that gradually came to stand for national unity: the song “Dievs, svētī Latviju” and the crimsonwhite-crimson flag. At the end of the nineteenth and the beginning of the twentieth century, therefore, the practice of organising for and coming together to celebrate important events was well entrenched in the Latvian population. But because large gatherings of any kind required prior approval of government authorities, such endeavours remained largely nonpolitical. They had an indirect political effect nonetheless, because all large and inclusive Latvian gatherings for whatever purpose contributed to the diffusion of the notion that the Latvian-speakers of the Baltic Provinces were a people, a nation, a tauta. Embedded in this longer chain of celebrations, Latvia’s state birthdays, when they began after the founding of the state in 1918, were by definition unique. We still do not know much about them, however, because only recently have Latvian scholars turned their attention to investigating Latvian holidays systematically, in the past and in the present, producing a handful of pioneering studies. 7 The subject turns out to be very complicated, not so much because of the dearth but because of a plenitude of evidence. The sources (archival and printed) include anniversary speeches by prominent and nearly prominent persons, newspaper accounts of gatherings large and small, the manner in which flags and other appropriate symbols are displayed, even the menus and seating arrangements of anniversary dinners; and, at one or two removes from the official celebrations themselves, thoughtful and polemical essays by commentators on the theme of “whither Latvia?” Current historical and sociological research has succeeded in corroborating at least one general feature of such national celebrations, namely, a continuing fissure between official celebrations and attitudes in the larger celebrant population. The fissure is, of

Celebrating Origins 15 ___________________________________________________________ course, easier to document in the present, when celebrants can be interviewed, than in the past. Because the basic evidence is so formless, it may be useful to reach out to theory in order to help organise thinking. Sociological thinking about national holidays, for instance, began at the start of the twentieth century in the writings of the French theorist Emile Durkheim (18581917), who was admittedly more concerned with religious than secular holidays. But at the same time he took the important first step of sorting celebrations into types so that they could be analyzed as general cultural phenomena with meanings and purposes that transcended any particular case. In Durkheim’s initial typology national holidays were “integrative events” or, as reformulated in the words of a more recent sociological theorist, Amitai Etzioni, “a major mechanism for the re-creation of society, one in which members of a society worship shared objects and in which they share experiences that help form and sustain deep emotional bonds among the members.” The participants of celebrations of national holidays, Etzioni contends, “symbolically re-create their society and recommit themselves to its existence; the hypothesis is that the participants or celebrants will be more committed to the shared beliefs and institutions of their society after such participation than they were before”. 8 In this view, celebrations of national birthdays are meant to reinforce and consolidate feelings and emotions about the political entity in which the celebrants reside; they are intended, at least momentarily, to suspend all divisions in society, class divisions included, and enhance in participants a sense of commonality. Whether they actually achieve this purpose becomes an empirical question that will find different answers in different case studies; the theory, moreover, holds out the possibility that such holidays may have a divisive effect as well. Etzioni, it should be noted, is more careful than Durkheim was in his theorising by making quite clear that all theoretical statements are hypotheses of various kinds (theories of the middle-range) whereas Durkheim, typical of the thinking of the preWorld War I era, put forward his ideas in the form of statements having the ring of universal truths. Theories about national holiday by definition operate in the realm of abstract thought, where making connections between different theoretical propositions is relatively easy. In both Durkheim’s and Etzioni’s postulates there is frequent reference to a collectivity they term “society”, which purportedly experiences the integrative (or divisive) effects of national holidays when any effects are present at all. When the starting point is on-the-ground history, however, and a particular country – in this case Latvia – the operational utility of the concept of “society” is less than

Andrejs Plakans 16 ___________________________________________________________ clear. Can we in fact assume the existence of a “society” in Latvianlanguage space over the entire period when evidence of national celebrations is available? Before 1918 such a collectivity is hard to identify, if the phrase “Latvian society” is meant to be pointing to a coherent population. At most, before 1918 reference can be made to a Latvian-speaking subset of the population of the Russian Baltic provinces, but even that subset had a major rift through it (Latvian-speakers in Livland and Courland; Latvian-speakers in Latgale). 9 Nor, before 1918, can there be confidence in referring to a Latvian population in which feelings of “national” solidarity ran deep. A “Latvian society” contained within politically fixed and internationally recognised borders of a Latvian state may have been imagined by the most fervent advocates of the idea – small in number before World War I and growing during the years of the conflict – but even at the moment of the proclamation of the state an accompanying “society” was, at best, amorphous. Benedict Anderson’s productive concept of an “imagined community” is useful at this juncture, as is his addendum that “the members of even the smallest nation will never know most of their fellowmembers, meet them, or even hear of them, yet in the minds of each lives the image of their communion”. 10 Enough is known about the thoughts and feelings of Latvian-language speakers in the Russian Baltic provinces just before and during World War I to say that both a “Latvian society” and a “Latvian nation” were works-in-progress; the process of “nationalisation” of all Latvian-speakers had not yet resulted in a collective meeting of all minds (to use the English phrase). A state could be proclaimed to exist, but a nation and a society had to emerge, suggesting that on 18 November 1918, the independence proclamation drew political boundaries around a heterogeneous population, thus simultaneously transforming an “imagined” collectivity into an identifiable state, a more easily identifiable society, and a nation in the process of formation. It is not necessarily true, however, that consciousness of membership in this state, nation, and society – now defined by political borders – resonated evenly throughout the entire population over which the new government now asserted political jurisdiction. To understand the 1918 events and the later celebrations properly, this trio of concepts – state (Staat), society (Gesellschaft), and nation (Nation) – has to play a role in the descriptions because each had its separate pre- and post-1918 history. The “Latvian state” was the physical territory on which Latvians lived, together with the administrative machinery that handled its affairs in the broad sense. “Latvian society” was the population of that territory: the sum total of all the people who lived there, however differently they described themselves in reference to their language, relig-

Celebrating Origins 17 ___________________________________________________________ ion, and customs. The “Latvian nation” was a more problematic concept. The term could be understood as pointing to all the members of Latvian society who felt themselves part of that society, or as a subset of the society defined by one characteristic, namely, their “nationality” (tautība). Latvians had been wrestling with these ideas since the “national awakening” of the 1860s when the expanding Latvian intelligentsia began to challenge the rights and privileges of the Baltic area social estates (Stände, soslovie) dominated by the Baltic Germans, and to question the propriety of the territorial boundaries used in the Baltic region by the Tsarist administration. Under the tutelage of nationalist activists, Latvians were becoming familiar with the thought that a common language signified the presence of a tauta of which they were members, even if such membership was not acknowledged. By the eve of World War I the concept of tauta had become firmly lodged in the thinking of many Latvians, but it had not superseded all other descriptors of self-definition. Nor did the proclamation of the Latvian state in 1918 and the participation of thousands in its defence during the independence wars settle the question forever. What the proclaimers of the Latvian state were asking the population of the Latvian-speaking territories to do was to step out of real historical time into a simulated universe in which mutual conflict and strife, disagreement and argument, did not exist. In that moment of leaving historical time, they were to transport themselves to Anderson’s “imagined community” and to recognise their membership in a new collectivity called the Republic of Latvia, the outside markers of which consisted of boundaries, symbols, a common language, a national culture, and a redefined society. This momentary mental self-removal from historical time in order to acknowledge such membership must have occurred thousands of times in the general population, and generated considerable enthusiasm. Yet it must also have occasioned bewilderment in the minds of at least as many. Evidence suggests that in November 1918 there was a jarring discrepancy between the disturbing actual world and this new “imagined community.” Commonality of language and cultural expressions in that language were relatively easy to comprehend, since the Baltic provinces had had a strong Latvian cultural component since at least the 1880s. In November 1918, however, this component was supposed to suddenly include a political framework, redefining both cultural activity and the population at large. The desired outcome was by no means inevitable. The writings of the Latvian “national awakening” activists such as Atis Kronvalds and later proponents of the “national” idea are replete with examples of what a difficult task it was to get ordinary Latvians to recognise that they had an obligation to feel such transcendental loyalties. 11 Even lan-

Andrejs Plakans 18 ___________________________________________________________ guage was something of a hindrance: was Lettgallian a language or a dialect? By what right could the written Latvian of the literati claim to be the “standard’? Moreover, in everyday discourse such designators as “livlander” and “kurlander” rather than “Latvian” were not uncommon when Latvian speakers referred to each other, and such provincial identities pointed to long-lived differences in historical experience. The national community of which Latvians were being asked to think themselves a part required an act of the imagination that did not always have the desired outcome. The phenomenon of Latvian-speakers who deliberately disguised their origins and sought another linguistic identity – normally German – remained commonplace even after the turn of the twentieth century, as the contemporary novels of Augusts Deglavs about the wealthy Latvians of Riga amply testify. Even if J. G. Herder a century earlier had described language as one of the key attributes of the commonality of the tauta, such cultural theorising was of little consequence for most Latvian-speakers even as the idea played a major role in stoking the activism of the expanding Latvian intelligentsia. The reconceptualisation of collective identity was as difficult as was the realisation that with the 1918 proclamation a new society had been born, a new collectivity defined by an entirely new set of borders. All such rethinking, it should be remembered, had to take place even while hundreds of thousands of Latvians were refugees, displaced from Courland and other Baltic regions by the northward move of the German Imperial Army. On the very day of the independence proclamation in Riga, the city itself was occupied by the German army. Permission for the ceremony had to be negotiated with the military authorities, who seemed to consider it a harmless entertainment. 12 A military force, spearheaded by Latvian Bolshevik and Latvian rifle regiments, had already started its move toward the Baltic littoral to recapture it from the Germans. Although shortly after November 18 the independence proclaimers announced the existence of a Provisional Government, there was no effective machinery of governance, no military force to speak of, and not much reason to believe that any of these embryonic entities could survive. The potential citizenry – the new society – that was to be the human substance of the new political entity was also difficult to identify precisely, even though the proclamation spoke in terms of the merging of “historic” regions. The proclamation of the Latvian state highlights the contrast between those twentieth-century European states that had emerged through processes operating over long periods of time, and those that were being created through an act of will as the old multi-national empires of Europe dissolved. The 1918 Republic of Latvia was in the latter category, and that

Celebrating Origins 19 ___________________________________________________________ meant that at the moment of its proclamation the founders of the Republic could draw on only two potential sources of support – their own will power and the Latvians’ sense of nationality. But the reality of the buttresses of collective identity – society, nation, state - needed time to become incorporated into the thinking of the general population that resided on the territory over which the new state sought to gain legitimacy and establish authority. The whole enterprise was much more fragile than the confident words of the proclamation suggest. One sign of an emergent sense of statehood was the Provisional Government’s success in piecing together a national army willing to fight on its behalf, and another was the success of this military force in the field when by the spring of 1920 the last remnants of the Bolshevik army were driven out of Latgale. But even then the job of state-building was not complete. International recognition was sought and obtained over the next four years; a constitution of the country was not adopted until 1922, and then only partially; elections to the first parliament (Saeima) took place in the same year; the national government was in the process of implementing a massive agrarian reform which was not concluded officially until 1937; and legal specialists were wrestling with the difficult and drawn-out task of converting the legal system of the country from Russian to Latvian law. In these circumstances, the subsequent annual celebrations of the birth of independent statehood were restrained, but a review of the first ten-year anniversary – a “round birthday” (apaļā jubileja) as Latvians would say – does provide clues about the collective mood in the country. Not too surprisingly, there was a note of tentativeness in the oratory of the 1928 celebrations as reported in newspaper accounts of commemorative speeches and declarations. That anniversary was an altogether solemn occasion, free of a festival atmosphere. 13 Official oratory exhorted the population to keep alive the sense of national solidarity that was said to have existed during and immediately after the independence wars. Much satisfaction was expressed in these speeches that the government of the country was finally in the hands of the titular nationality – Latvians – and that the new political system was enabling Latvians to realise institutionally their collective will and was providing them with an instrument for perpetuating their national culture. The heroism of the soldiers who had joined the Latvian army in defence of the imagined community was praised. These speeches tended to look backwards and because of that risked the appearance of self-congratulation. The time between 1918 and 1928 had been relatively short, and the same persons who had participated in the events surrounding the founding of the state were still alive, now in positions of high authority, and were, in a sense, evaluating their own

Andrejs Plakans 20 ___________________________________________________________ work. Self-praise was minimal, however; the need to praise heroes was met by highlighting the accomplishments and sacrifices of such deceased persons as the first commander of the Latvian national army Oskars Kalpaks, who had died from “friendly fire” in 1919; Zigfrīds Anna Meierovics, the talented foreign minister who had worked hard for Latvia’s international recognition but had been killed in a car accident in 1925; and Jānis Čakste, the first President who had died in 1927. In the absence of public opinion surveys, the question of the extent to which belief in an independent Latvia had suffused throughout the general population by 1928 remains unanswerable, as does the companion question of what the “imagined community” was that the 1928 celebrants had in their mind’s eye. It is at least conceivable that the “imagined community” of officialdom differed somewhat from the collectivity being memorialised, if noted at all, outside governmental circles. In the memoir literature of the early post-1918 years, one finds that many residents of the country, and many of those who had fled the country when its territory became part of the eastern front of the Great War, were very surprised upon receiving the news that an independent Latvia had been proclaimed. The continuing inflow of returning refugees testified at least to their hope that the Latvia they were reentering held promise for peaceful private lives. The early years of the 1919 agrarian reform saw the transfer to thousands in the rural areas of land parcels of which they could now claim proprietorship; and a series of elections – to the Constituent Assembly in 1919, the Constitutional Convention in 1920, the two Saeimas in 1922 and 1925 – with relatively high turnouts all suggested the expansion of the sense of stakeholdership in the Latvian state and the society the state boundaries now defined. Yet the public record of the 1928 celebrations did not testify to the presence of a uniform vision of the new state and society. The achievement of political independence was welcomed by most, but commentary displayed the existence of a fragmented vision. 14 References to both “the nation of Latvia” (Latvijas tauta) and to the “Latvian nation” (latviešu tauta) were intermixed, suggesting that for some the object of celebration was the more inclusive collectivity while for others the object was the accession of the tauta to the control of a country that bore its name. Ideologically motivated commentary was also present: Communist pamphlets called for a boycott of the “bourgeois and fascist celebrations”; and, though leaders of social democratic political parties agreed that political independence was a good thing, they could not bring themselves to say that because there was now a state the country’s residents were living through good times. Some social democratic publications complained

Celebrating Origins 21 ___________________________________________________________ about the extraordinary number of awards and medals being handed out for the occasion, including the Order of Lāčplesis to Italy’s dictator Benito Mussolini; and also remarked that the tauta had had little access to official gatherings and had to remain satisfied with watching the fireworks. In a year when no one political party nor any single political leader was in position to dictate how the holiday should be celebrated and structured, public statements on the occasion generally continued to portray the country as a work-in-progress rather than as a job accomplished. Some official speeches seemed to say that the state framework had already achieved the job of unifying Latvia’s society in a common effort while others saw an ongoing process, with the state framework perceived as benefitting it. On the extreme right, there was worry that non-Latvians were still playing too large a role in Latvian affairs; on the extreme left the opinion was voiced that national celebrations could never trump class divisions and that a fraud was being perpetrated on the “working masses.” The 1928 celebrations probably did affect many as Etzioni hypothesised – namely, that “the participants or celebrants will be more committed to the shared beliefs and institutions of their society after such participation than they were before” – but whether such an outcome was widespread remains problematic. By 1938, at the time of the twentieth anniversary of the country’s birth, much had changed and the celebrations of that year reflected those changes. According to the oratory of that year, the “imagined community” of ethnic Latvians and on-the-ground reality had achieved a kind of merger, yet a more sober analysis, had it been permitted, would have shown that this merger had produced an entity very far from what the 1918 founders had intended and what still in 1928 celebrants had memorialised. As a result of the 1934 coup by Kārlis Ulmanis the Constitution of 1922 and the elected parliament had been suspended; the political parties had been disbanded; and instead of a system with a strong legislature and a weak executive Latvia had become a country governed by one man – Ulmanis – and his hand-picked cabinet. A cult of personality had become institutionalised, and the oratory of the 1938 celebrations featured Ulmanis – now both Prime Minister and President of the country – as the Vadonis (leader) or as the Saimnieks (the head of the farmstead). 15 According to Ulmanis and his supporters, the imagined community had always been what the reality was now: a Latvian tauta, unified under the leadership of one man who embodied the will of the tauta, with the tauta responding obediently to plans and directives issued from the government of expert functionaries. The formulation “nation of Latvia” (in the sense of all residents of Latvia”) had virtually disappeared from official speeches. The celebrated national culture, defined as Latvian culture, and the national

Andrejs Plakans 22 ___________________________________________________________ state, defined as a Latvian state, was expected to continue to grow under the wise leadership of the man who understood the aspirations and hopes of the “fundamental nation” (pamattauta). In the 1928 celebrations there had been no noticeable praise of any single political leader, and official speeches more often than not alluded to the past accomplishments of groups – the brave political leaders who declared independence, the brave volunteers of the Latvian national army, or the brave rural pioneers (jaunsaimnieki) who were benefiting from the 1919 agrarian reform. There was certainly no exceptional praise for the 1928 president – Gustavs Zemgals. By 1938, however, the celebrated “imagined community” had changed its makeup entirely, and speeches almost unanimously portrayed it as inextricably connected to the figure of the Vadonis. In the array of personages that speeches invoked as deserving the gratitude of the tauta, Ulmanis’ name, or at least his unofficial title Vadonis, almost always came first. Groups that might have been expected to be critical of this kind of “imagined community,” and their publications, were silent, judging by the report of the political police (politiska pārvalde), and such skepticism as existed within the general population remained unarticulated. The impression being given was that celebration of the birth of the state was unthinkable without at the same time celebration of the genius of the Leader, who understood and articulated the wished of the tauta. This structure of the community that was now to be “imagined” was in fact close to the political philosophy of Ulmanis himself, though he was anything but a systematic thinker. Even so, the elaborate celebrations of 1938 may not have been Ulmanis’ own doing; generally speaking, his acolytes always had a tendency to overdo their worship, embarrassing him at times. 16 Yet, he must have enjoyed the sense of overwhelming unity that the celebrations projected, because the unity theme (vienotība) had always been an important part of public pronouncements and accurately expressed his view that the Latvian state “belonged” to the Latvian tauta and that its principal purpose was to protect and defend the Latvian presence in the world. The interests of the state were those of the tauta defined culturally and linguistically, and these interests by definition encompassed the welfare of those who were Latvians as well as of those were not. This was the Latvian version of Edmund Burke’s idea of “virtual representation”: non-Latvians in Latvian society and others who did not subscribe to Ulmanis’ agrarian politics could still depend on the wisdom of the Leader to “virtually” represent their interests in the affairs of the Latvian state. The 1938 celebrations comprised the final ten-year birthday to be celebrated in Latvia for the next half-century. By 1948, the year when the

Celebrating Origins 23 ___________________________________________________________ thirtieth anniversary should have taken place, celebrations of the 1918 independence year had had to emigrate to the west, together with some 200,000 Latvians who had fled in the final years of World War II to escape the return of Soviet power. In Latvia itself, the Soviet regime quickly instituted an entirely new calendar of national holidays, and severe punishment awaited anyone who on 18 November sought to lay flowers at the Freedom Monument in Riga or at the grave of Jānis Čakste, the first Latvian president; or even murmured kind things about the 1918 state. Instead, Latvians were expected to celebrate the “imagined community” proposed by Marxist-Leninist ideology and the state that embodied it: a “fraternal” Union of Soviet Socialist Republics presided over by a Moscow-controlled Communist Party. For many now living in a Latvian Soviet Socialist Republic, the 1918 state retreated into private thought until in the course of time it ceased to be a living memory for all but a cohort of older people. But 18 November 1918 never disappeared entirely from the collective memory of all speakers of the Latvian language. First in German “displaced persons” camps and thereafter in the many host countries to which Latvian refugees dispersed after 1949, the next four ten-year holidays continued to be marked in an increasingly stylised fashion, even if at times there was disagreement about what was being celebrated. 17 The ceremonies became completely solemn and the remembered pre-1940 Latvia a country of great purity. The prayers and oratory now called for an eventual liberation of a lost Latvia and the discourse in émigré publications was suffused with nostalgia. The “imagined community” was no longer forward-pointing but backward-looking, remembered for the most part through the prism of the Ulmanis years. Because 18 November was not a national holiday in the host countries, the memorial meetings normally took place on the weekend preceding or following that important date. In the larger émigré centers, the commemoration was held in the community’s main hall, on the walls of which normally hung portraits of the last Latvian president Kārlis Ulmanis and the commander of the Latvian armed forces General Jānis Balodis, and occasionally also a photograph of Jānis Čakste, the first president. Other decorations would include the paintings of the Latvian “old masters” – such as Vilhelms Purvītis – v revered by the community. Flags stood on the dais, with the Latvian flag several inches shorter than the flag of the host country. The dais might have a table with carved wooden candelabra in which the candles in the outside branches were red and those in the middle white. There might also be a vase of flowers in the national colours. The ceremony itself began with the singing of the national anthem of the host

Andrejs Plakans 24 ___________________________________________________________ country and then of the Latvian anthem. The community’s leader greeted the assembly and the pastor of the local Latvian congregation delivered the prayer. These were followed by a speech, normally by a prominent Latvian political activist or a Latvian official from outside the community: in the larger communities in the US this might be the charge d’affaires of the Latvian legation in Washington or some other surviving member of the pre-war diplomatic or political elite; in smaller communities the speaker might be a representative of the national Latvian association of the host country or a representative of the World Association of Free Latvians (Pasaules Brīvo Latviešu Apvienība). The address was retrospective and frequently contained a brief description of the original independence declaration ceremony in Riga in 1918. There could very well be some reflections on what Latvians had lost with the incorporation of the country into the USSR, on the tasks that lay ahead in order for the idea of a “free Latvia” to be kept alive, and on the need for providing a “patriotic” education for the community’s children. The main speech might be followed by a musical program with Latvian music performed by a pianist, an ensemble of kokle players, a vocal soloist, or a performance by the community’s choral group. The independence day ceremonies were almost matched in solemnity by similar commemorations held on the Deportation Remembrance Day (Aizvesto piemiņas diena – 13-14 June), Lāčplēsis Day (Lāčplēša diena – 11 November), and Kalpaks Remembrance Day (Kalpaka piemiņas diena- 6 March) when the community remembered the deportations of 13-14 June 1940, and the heroic exploits of Latvian soldiers in the Wars of Independence and other wars. These days, of course, were entirely absent from the holiday calendar in the Latvian SSR. Their persistence in the émigré community was sustained by a wide network of voluntary and mutual assistance organisations as well as the by periodic reiteration by political leaders of the host countries of the official non-recognition policy of the 1940 incorporation of the country into the USSR. 18 The holiday in the émigré setting, however, had been severed from its natural roots: its cultural stance had to be an embattled one since there was no larger Latvian society in which the celebrants could feel themselves embedded. The émigré communities began to develop their own unique internal histories, as well as a collective diaspora history culminating in the quadrennial general song festivals. The day-to-day reality within which émigré communities existed was not particularly harsh materially, but it was wrenching psychologically. The western liberal democracies in which émigrés lived were not so much antagonistic to Latvian Independence Day celebrations as indifferent, with local politicians sending routi-

Celebrating Origins 25 ___________________________________________________________ nised greetings (Latvians after all were becoming citizens and therefore voters), while the “natives” round about viewed with puzzlement yet another “ethnic group” marking its special holiday with curious rituals. Very little information about life in real-time contemporary Latvia entered these commemorations, and the sharpest images came from traumatic memories of the older participants. Latvian “society” in Latvia and in the diaspora were becoming increasingly differentiated, with the former being changed by the continuing influx of Slavic-speakers into the country and the latter being diminished numerically by seemingly inevitable assimilation. This constellation continued until the end of the 1980s, when in Latvia itself and in the émigré communities public attitudes underwent dramatic changes. First in dissident activities and then in the organised strategies of the Popular Front in the Latvian SSR the 1918 Republic moved increasingly out of hiding to the forefront of public discourse, together with its symbols, music, leaders, literary works and accomplishments. The 4 May 1990 independence declaration stated explicitly that the restored republic was a continuation of the pre-1940 republic. In 1988 – the year of the seventieth birthday – such memorial activities as took place, however, had to be carried out carefully because the fundamental structures of the USSR had not changed essentially, nor had its institutions of control suspended their operation. In the émigré communities, the oratory accompanying the national birthday celebration in 1988 had a puzzled quality to it: one could not employ the language of absolute bereavement as before because it now seemed that the 1918 Republic was struggling to be reborn, but the rebirth had not yet occurred. More conservative members of the émigré communities, in fact, remained skeptical about the “singing revolution” in Latvia: perhaps the Latvian Popular Front was no more than a clever Communist Party plot to control perestroika and glasnost’ and guide these impulses into acceptable channels. But by 1998 – the eightieth birthday – the remarkable had occurred: the 1918 Republic had been successfully revived, the activists of the transition in Latvia juridically tying the 1991 state to the interwar republic by renewing the 1922 Constitution and the 1937 Civil Law Code, and by sequencing the 1993 Saeima elections with the pre-Ulmanis Saeimas. Purportedly, there was now real-time continuity between the institutions of the Latvian state and Latvian-language- based culture with the pre-1940 years. Yet the same could not be said about “society,” because the redefined “society” was nothing like the “imagined community” of the émigré celebrations. Most of its new elites – cultural, economic, and political, being in the age range of 30 to 50 years – had matured in the Soviet period and were now having to learn to live amidst a set of new- found

Andrejs Plakans 26 ___________________________________________________________ freedoms. Moreover, the reborn 1991 state contained a substantial – largely Russophone – population for whom the reestablished 1918 republic was not as much a source for celebration as a potential threat to its own sense of identity. They too had to adapt, but to them the successful drive by Latvians to reclaim control of “their” geographical space in the Baltic littoral had severed their direct link to the national culture of the Russian Federation. For many, the annual calendar of celebrations remained mostly the same as it had been before 1991, and this alone became the source of continuing friction. The integrative purposes of the 18 November celebration for many of this subpopulation were dubious at best, and a source of anguish at worst. In its extreme forms this viewpoint continued to paint the interwar republic as a period of “bourgeois” rule, ending in the “fascist” government of Ulmanis; consequently, in this view the 18 November holiday marked the memorialisation of an undesirable political entity. For most of Latvia’s Latvian-speakers, however, the 90th birthday celebration in 2008 was a satisfying holiday and its ceremonies among the most elaborate of recent times. The festivities began some weeks before 18 November and became a combination of traditional solemnity and modern frivolity. In addition to serious speeches, church services, and the laying of flowers at national monuments, there was a marathon as well as elaborate web pages announcing the events. Young people in national costumes sought to create the longest folk-dancing chain ever, announcing that this effort would be submitted to the Guinness Book of World Records. Available on the internet many weeks before 18 November were pictorial surveys of the different phases of Latvian history in the twentieth century, with the material arranged so as to suggest that the year 1991 was a culmination point of recent historical developments. The president of Latvia, Valdis Zatlers, together with a group of schoolchildren re-enacted on the stage of the Latvian National Theatre the events of 18 November 1918. Celebratory activities during the weeks before 18 November were almost continuous, having the appropriate pomp and splendor in the capital city of Riga and being somewhat more subdued elsewhere. But whether in 2008 all these events, individually or collectively, had the integrative effect hypothesised for them by the Durkheim/Etzioni theory of national holidays remains an open question. Some were highly commercialised, and the whole array seemed at times more a large folk festival than a solemn occasion, certainly a mixture of the two. Still, in the oratory of the more solemn moments one could easily find statements of the holiday’s integrative intent: the call for re-commitment, for participation in shared beliefs, for re-dedication of sacred monuments and places, as well for

Celebrating Origins 27 ___________________________________________________________ remembrance of shared experiences in distant and very recent Latvian history. In any event, the celebrations needed to overcome a certain degree of disenchantment with, perhaps cynicism toward, national celebrations as such, as evidenced by public opinion surveys before the 90th birthday. In a thorough 2007 study of Latvian national holidays, the Baltic Institute of Social Sciences in Riga found that about 35% of the ethnically Latvian population of the country, and 65% of the population that belonged to other nationalities did not believe that 18 November was an important holiday. 19 This was a sobering finding, and certainly raised the question of how such surveys would have been answered by the population at large in 1928 and 1938. Public opinion always tends to shift radically over short periods of time, and it may well be that the 2007 results were correlated with the generally low esteem in which the country’s political leadership was being held at that moment (in 2007): only 12% of Latvians and 14% of persons of other nationalities expressed pride in nation’s politicians, and, indeed, only 42% of Latvians and 28% of persons of other nationality expressed pride in the democratic political institutions of the country. 20 Such seemingly incommensurate findings and clashing perceptions of national holidays suggest that much more thoughtful research needs to be done on the historical record before clarity is obtained about what in the past their meaning was outside official circles. In closing, it should be remembered that the Durkheim/Etzioni theories about holidays in general and national holidays in particular are an interconnected set of hypotheses to be tested against the historical and contemporary record. Whether Latvian celebrations of the country’s birth sustain or disprove the integrationist hypothesis remains to be seen as research continues, in part because it is as yet unclear what evidence should be adduced for corroboration or refutation. Speaking impressionalistically, if the first ten-year anniversary in 1928 was meant to have an integrative effect, it failed to do so as far as the “nation of Latvia” (Latvijas tauta) is concerned, even while it may have had something like that effect on the “Latvian nation” (latviešu tauta). Six years later, in 1934, a segment of the country’s political leadership felt so frustrated over what to it was a continuing and unnecessary socio-political fragmentation of the “nation of Latvia” that it carried out a successful coup, suspended what it saw as symptoms of that fragmentation – the Saeima and the political party system – and opted for a unitary state headed by one individual committed to the “Latvian nation.” The twentieth birthday (1938) was testified to this new domestically muscular Latvian nationalism, which spoke in the name of the Latvian tauta but not all the inhabitants of Latvia. During the next half century the independence-day ceremonies had as their

Andrejs Plakans 28 ___________________________________________________________ venue only the Latvian western diaspora population, where the commemorations could not reflect anything else but the sorrows and hopes of the émigré community. When the ceremonies were revived in Latvia itself, the first, in 1988, took place under the shadow of persisting though crumbling Soviet institutions, and the second in 1998 – the eightieth – was a mixture of satisfaction over regained independence, hope for a better future, and still considerable uncertainties over a host of questions relating to achieving normality. The 2008 ceremonies testified to the presence of a hopeful mood, but only a few months later in 2009 the public airwaves were filled with dire predictions about the “bankruptcy of the state” as a world-wide recession began to take its toll on the Latvian economy. It may be that the most telling tests of the integrationist hypothesis need to take place in a country with a more stable socio-political framework than Latvia has had over the past century, a consensus over basic questions of state organisation that is already in place, and an international context that does not threaten the very existence of the collectivity being celebrated. Notes 1 Kursīte, 1999, 348-349 2 Bojtár, 1997, 113-158 & 167-170 3 Dunsdorfs, 1964, 625-629 4 Etzioni and Bloom, 2004, 3-40. 5 Šterna, 1998; Līdeks, 1991 6 Bērzkalns, 1965; Bula, 2000, 93-106 7 Skudra, 2008; Tisenkopfs, 2008; Zepa, 2008; Zelce, 2008 8 Etzioni, 2000, 47 9 Zeile, 2006, 361-381 10 Anderson, 1991, 6 11 Berzins, 2000, 467 12 Paegle, 1923, 218 13Zelče, 2008, 48-59 14 Zelce, 2008, 49-59 15 Zelče, 2008, 59-71; Zelce, 2007 16 Dunsdorfs, 1978, 346-354 17 Pelkaus, 2003, 403-411 18 Veigners, 1993; Celle, 1998, 414-415 19 Zepa, 2008, 85 20 Zepa, 2008, 88

Celebrating Origins 29 ___________________________________________________________ References Anderson, B. (1991), Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism. Revised edition. London and New York: Verso. Bērzkalns, V. (1965), Latviešu dziesmu svētku vēsture 1864-1940. New York: Grāmatu draugs. Bērziņš, J. (ed.) (2000) Latvija 19.gs.: vēsturiskas apceres. Riga: Latvijas vēstures institūta apgāds. Bojtár, E. (1999), Foreword to the Past: A Cultural History of the Baltic People. Budapest; Central European University Press. Bula, D. (2000), Dziedātājtauta: folklora un nacionālā ideoloğija. Riga: LU Literatūras, folkloras, un mākslas institūts. Celle, O. (1998), “Īss atskats trimdas politisko aktivitāšu vēsture,” in Latvijas valsts atjaunošana 1893-1993. Riga: Fonds Latvijas vēsture. 413419. Dunsdorfs, E. (1978), Kārļa Ulmaņa dzīve. Stockholm: Daugava. Dunsdorfs, E. and A. Spekke (1964), Latvijas vēsture 1500-1600. Stockholm: Daugava. Etzioni, A. (2000), “Toward a Theory of Public Ritual,” Sociological Theory, 18, 1: 44-59. Etzioni, A. and J. Bloom (2004), We are What We Celebrate: Understanding Holidays and Rituals. New York: New York University Press. Kursīte, J. (1999), Mītiskais folklorā, literatūrā, mākslā. Riga: Zinātne. Līdeks, O. (1991), Latviešu svētki: Latviešu svinamās dienas. Riga: Scientia. Paegle, S. (1923), Kā Latvijas valsts tapa. Riga: published by author.

Andrejs Plakans 30 ___________________________________________________________ Pelkaus, E. (2003), “Latvijas neatkarīga valstiskuma ideja bēgļu nometņu laikā 1944.-1949. Gadā,” in Padomju okupācijas režīms Baltijā 1944.1959. gadā: Politika un tās sekas. Latvijas vēsturnieku komisijas raksti. No. 9. Riga: Latvijas vēstures institūta apgāds. 404-413. Skudra, O. (2008), “Baltvācu preses refleksijas par Latvijas Republikas dibināšanas gadskārtām (20.gs.20.-30. gadi),” Latvijas arhīvi, 4: 102122. Šterna, M. (1998), Senā gadskārta. Riga: Zinātne. Tisenkopfs, T. (2008), Dziesmu un deju svētki mainīgā sociālā vidē. Riga: LU Sociālo un politisko pētijumu institūts. Veigners, I. (1993), Latvieši ārzemēs. Riga: Latvijas encikolopēdija. Zeile, P. (2006), Latgales kultūras vēsture. Rēzekne: Latgales kultūras centrs. Zelče, V. (2008), “Svinēšana. Ieskats Latvijas valsts dibināšanas 10. un 20. gadadienas svētkos,” Latvijas arhīvi, 3: 45- 108. Zelce, V. (ed.) (2007), Reiz dzīvoja Kārlis Ulmanis. Agora 6. Publications series of the Department of Communication Studies, Faculty of Social Sciences. Riga: Zinātne. Zepa, B, (ed.) (2008), We. Celebrations. The State: A Sociological Study of How National Holidays are Celebrated. Riga: Baltic Institute of Social Sciences. Andrejs Plakans is emeritus professor of history at Iowa State University and author of The Latvians: A Short History (Hoover Institution Press, 1995).

Inter-war Multiculturalism Revisited: Cultural Autonomy in 1920s Latvia David J. Smith In the early 1920s, the recently-established nation-states of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania became renowned for the constitutional provisions they made for national minorities living within their borders. These not only guaranteed the civil and ethnic rights of individual citizens, but also provided for the devolution of cultural functions – most notably administration of publicly-funded education – to representative bodies established in the name of minority groups. The best known exponent of this approach was Estonia, which in 1925 passed a law allowing representatives of national minorities to establish public legal corporations – collectivities of individual citizens who had voluntarily enrolled themselves on a national register. Once established, such corporations had the possibility to elect cultural councils and cultural self-governments to manage schools teaching in the relevant minority language and other cultural matters specific to the group. Minority language schools continued to receive funding from the state education budget, but this could also be supplemented by additional cultural taxes levied by the cultural self government on those who had enrolled on the national register. Non-territorial cultural autonomy was also a feature of state-building in Lithuania during the country’s brief period of democracy during 1919-1926: a law passed in 1920 gave Jewish groups the right to set up their own cultural self-governments at local level. A similar system was actively discussed in Latvia during the first half a decade or so after independence, but was never brought to realisation. Broadly similar rights were, however, conferred by the December 1919 law on minority schooling, which has rightly been described as providing for a form of cultural autonomy. 1 Indeed, some would argue that it actually offered a higher level of minority rights than its better-known Estonian equivalent. 2 The novelty of the Baltic States’ thinking on minorities is best appreciated when set within the wider context of post WW1 Europe. In the aftermath of the conflict, the new League of Nations and the dominant Western European powers at its heart had opened the subject of minority rights in their dealings with the new successor states of Central and Eastern Europe. Those states whose borders were confirmed by the peace settlements of 1919-21 were obliged to sign minority protection treaties. These treaties were guaranteed by the newly-founded League of Nations,

32

David J. Smith

___________________________________________________________ to which aggrieved minorities or member governments could present petitions complaining of alleged violations. In reality, however, the minority protection system of the League was “essentially a political procedure, in which the sovereignty of individual states was scrupulously safeguarded”. 3 Once a petition had been presented, the issues within it were addressed solely through consultation with the state government concerned, which in case of need was granted a seat (and hence a blocking veto) within the League of Nations Council. Minority representatives thus complained with some justification that they were merely objects rather than subjects of international law. In sum, as leading figures at the League freely admitted, the minority provisions of the peace settlement were envisaged as little more than transitional stage in a process leading to the eventual assimilation of non-titular national groups into a single dominant societal culture. 4 Any suggestion of creating public institutions for minorities as an intermediary between individual citizens and the state was therefore distrusted and seen as likely to undermine the sovereignty and cohesion of new countries by encouraging the formation of ‘states within states’. Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania, of course, were not products of the peace conferences, having confirmed their own statehood through treaties with Soviet Russia following wars of independence waged against the competing claims of the Bolsheviks and Imperial Germany. As such, their approach to minority rights was informed more by debates and experiences within late tsarist and revolutionary Russia than it was by Western models. From the start, the approach that was adopted deliberately eschewed pre-existing notions of “one nation, one culture” within a single state. In the case of Latvia specifically, the 18 November 1918 declaration of independence was addressed not to “the Latvians’ but to the ‘citizens of Latvia’, who were urged to maintain peace and order and to support the provisional government in its difficult and responsible work”. 5 Although the declaration referred to the ‘united ethnographic boundaries’ of the state, undertakings were also made to respect the ‘ethnic rights’ of minority groups, and a Nationalities Commission established to oversee this. Similarly, the 1922 Constitution made reference to a single political ‘nation of Latvia’ (Latvijas tauta), while stating that ethnic Latvians (Latviešu tauta) were only one of a number of ‘sovereign and autonomous’ ethnic communities entitled to preserve their distinct cultural heritage, religion and language. 6 This multicultural understanding also underpinned the earlier education law adopted in 1919, which made pupils’ language of instruction a matter of parental choice: wherever a district contained 30 children

Inter-war Multiculturalism Revisited

33

___________________________________________________________ speaking a particular ‘family language’, the state was obliged to provide schooling in that language. Administration of education was also structured along ethno-linguistic lines, with each of the main linguistic groups having its own broadly autonomous section within the Ministry of Education. Five such sections were established during the 1920s: German, Russian, Polish Belarussian, and Jewish. The latter initially administered schools teaching in Yiddish and Hebrew, but from 1925 also assumed responsibility for Russian and German language schools in which a majority of the pupils were of Jewish origin. 7 The head of each of these sections, despite being a state official was chosen by the parliamentary delegates of the relevant national minority. It was this scope to establish and run one’s own minority cultural institutions that really marked out Latvia and the other Baltic States at this time Hardly surprisingly, much of the impetus for minority cultural autonomy came from within the non-titular national groups themselves. Initial proposals presented in 1919 by Jewish representatives within the Nationalities Commission represented a continuation of the democratic federalist thinking so apparent during the latter phases of the former empires. Specifically, they were inspired by the Austrian Social Democrats Karl Renner and Otto Bauer, whose ideas had proved hugely influential in the western borderlands of tsarist Russia. The concept of national cultural autonomy also held obvious appeal for the Baltic German population. More than any other group in the region, the Baltic Germans presented the image of an established ‘community of character’; its representatives were determined to cling to their distinct culture and traditions, which were rooted within a corporatist conception of social order. The local German population also possessed an unparalleled degree of socio-political cohesion, which meant that it was well-placed to advance and defend its interests effectively within the new state. As such, it became instrumental in shaping the development of national minority schooling during the early years of the Republic. Yet, the efforts of these minority representatives would have come to nought had they not found the requisite degree of support within the ranks of the titular national political elite. The initial commitment to cultural autonomy displayed by the likes of Kārlis Ulmanis derived at least in part from the geopolitical circumstances of the day and the need to mobilise internal and external support behind the goal of independent statehood. In time, this same struggle would necessitate the espousal of an agrarian reform which complicated already fraught relations between the new state and its German minority. However, the subsequent settling of accounts with the former German overlords and the Bolshevik government

34

David J. Smith

___________________________________________________________ did not alter the basic parameters of state building laid down during 191819. The need to win external support and sympathy from the Western powers was also clearly a consideration during these years. Here again, however, the far-reaching provisions for minority autonomy were able to weather the rise in nationalist self-assertion that followed Latvia’s recognition by the Western powers and its entry into the League of Nations, without any insistence that it sign a minority protection treaty of the kind previously imposed on other new states of the region. 8 Overall, while external geopolitical considerations remained important even after this time, the persistence of a multicultural approach cannot be fully explained without reference to domestic political factors. Here one should highlight not just the presence of a large and influential minority bloc within parliament, but also a genuine ideological commitment to minority autonomy amongst members of almost all Latvian political parties, especially those on the Left and the conservative Right. Despite this favourable conjunction of circumstances, advocates of cultural autonomy still faced an uphill struggle to realise their goal. The profoundly ‘anti-modernist’ character of early state building was thoroughly unpalatable to those Latvians whose mindsets envisaged a centralised and uniform state in which the majority had absolute sovereignty. 9 Of particular concern to the more nationalistically inclined was the fact that Latvians could still opt to send their children to German or Russian language schools, despite years of struggle against Germanisation and Russification within the context of the former empire. The autonomy project also had to contend with reactionary and/or nationalist elements within the local German and Russian population, which were unwilling to accept the status of a minority and to engage with the new Latvian state. In this respect, major credit must be given to the influential liberal Baltic German politician and Editor of the Rigasche Rundschau Paul Schiemann, who was able to unite the various German factions behind a political platform based on absolute loyalty to the new state. In Schiemann’s view, this was the surest way to securing durable long-term guarantees for the preservation of German language and culture within the historic Baltic homeland. Bitterly attacked in reactionary Baltic German émigré circles for his ‘compromising’ stance towards the changes of 19181920, Schiemann observed in January 1920 that “if, in this hour of crisis, we abandon the posts that we have been given, then we are lost. It is demonstrating the durability of our own culture and working in the interests of the state that we can best defend that culture”. 10 From May 1920, Schiemann chaired a Minorities Committee of Latvia, which managed to inject at least some measure of cohesion into

Inter-war Multiculturalism Revisited

35

___________________________________________________________ what was a rather fractured and fractious minority political landscape and thus helped to drive forward the autonomy agenda during the early 1920s. By late 1925, he was forced to concede that there was little prospect of Latvia adopting a cultural autonomy law on the Estonian model. Nevertheless, by this time Latvia’s German minority at least had been able to replicate many of the features of this model within the existing legislative framework. Notwithstanding the obvious political divisions within its ranks, the Baltic German community was well-placed to take advantage of the window of opportunity that presented itself during 1918-1919. Already prior to the declaration of Latvia’s independence, during the period of occupation by Imperial German forces, local educational experts had begun work on a draft education law, fearing that longer-term German occupation might lead to a ‘Prussification’ of the local school system. This draft legislation was handed to Prime Minister Ulmanis in July 1919 and did much to influence the shape of the law that was adopted in December of that same year. In addition, a German educational expert, Karl Keller, was appointed as an adviser to the Latvian Minister of Education. 11 The school legislation of 1919 had the character of a framework, to be superseded in due course by a more general, comprehensive law on education. In the event, such a law was never adopted during the period of the democratic Latvian Republic. Baltic German representatives, however, were able to turn the loose framework very much to their own advantage, exploiting the many loopholes and ambiguities within it. At a time when successive education ministers were wholly consumed with the task of setting up a functioning Latvian-language school network almost from scratch, the German minority section was left very much to its own devices and given wide latitude when it came to questions of curriculum design and inspection for the schools under its particular jurisdiction. 12 By the autumn of 1920, German representatives had already worked out a 400-page programme for the management of Germanlanguage schools, and had established a German Parents Association to raise additional funds towards the maintenance of the sector. This was capped by the creation in 1923 of the Zentrale deutschbaltischer Arbeit, an entity which over time came to replicate on a private basis many of the features of the German public law corporation later created in Estonia. This included the introduction in 1926 of a system of (in this case voluntary) self-taxation which provided still more funding towards the operation and maintenance of German schools. 13 An additional source of income was obtained in the form of subventions from the German Reich, which grew in weight during the course of the 1920s.

36

David J. Smith

___________________________________________________________ By the end of that decade, Latvian German educational chief Karl Keller was able to reflect on many positive developments during 10 years of autonomous schooling. Notwithstanding the small proportion of Latvia’s population (3.8%) that declared itself as having German ethnicity, there were by 1929 no less than 110 basic and upper secondary schools teaching in German, plus one institution of higher education, the Herder Institute in Riga. 14 These schools were not only German by language: the broad autonomy granted by successive ministers of education suggests that they were also for the most part schools where “German teachers [taught] in a German spirit”. 15 Keller’s successor as Head of the German section, Wolfgang Wachtsmuth, basically concurred with this positive assessment in a further set of reflections, probably published during 1933. In particular, he emphasised what he saw as the clear advantages of the Latvian system of minority schooling when set against its Estonian counterpart. In Wachtsmuth’s view, the German Cultural Council in Estonia had the appearance of a local authority, whose role was to serve as a liaison between the Ministry of Education and German-language schools. In Latvia, by contrast, the German education section was in effect a ministry within a ministry, running and inspecting its own schools in the name of the state. Thus, while the internationally renowned Estonian model might have given the local German minority more autonomy from a purely legal standpoint, in practical terms German schooling enjoyed more independence in Latvia than Estonia. 16 Representatives of other minority groups struggled to match the Germans in terms of organisation, as they grappled with political and social divisions that were even more profound than those faced by Paul Schiemann and his colleagues. When it came to matters of schooling, Latvia’s Jewish elite was riven by disputes between secular and religious parties over the nature of the school curriculum and – partly by extension over issues such as language of instruction (Yiddish? Hebrew? Russian? German?). 17 Similarly, the workings of the Russian section within the Ministry of Education were undermined by infighting between a liberal, ‘democratic nationalist’ fraction that advocated close cooperation with all national groups inhabiting Latvia and a more rightist nationalist grouping that adhered to the principles of ethnic purity and exclusivity. 18 Also significant in this regard were divisions between the urban-based Russian leadership in western Latvia and representatives from rural Latgale, where a significant minority of Russian-speaking inhabitants were also religious Old Believers and thus adhered to their own specific cultural practices. Lettgalian representatives such as Saiema deputy M.A. Kallistratov fre-

Inter-war Multiculturalism Revisited

37

___________________________________________________________ quently complained that the views and concerns of his constituents were insufficiently represented within the Russian section of the Latvian education ministry. 19 These divisions – which continued to be mirrored within the German community - ultimately proved detrimental not just to specific interests of the minority but to the political influence of Latvia’s minorities as a whole. For instance, any lingering hopes Paul Schiemann might have entertained regarding the possibility of a cultural autonomy law were dealt a further blow in November 1926 by the acrimonious collapse of the Russian parliamentary fraction, and with it the minority bloc within the Saiema. 20 In spite of this, one of the leading historians of Latvia’s Jewish community has rightly described the years of the democratic Latvian Republic as characterised by the flourishing of national culture and education: cultural autonomy, he declared, was undoubtedly “the main achievement of national minorities in democratic Latvia”. 21 Similarly, Russian representatives of all political persuasions could presumably draw comfort from the fact that 92% of ethnic Russian children were receiving primary education in their native language by the end of the 1920s. 22 In this regard, as one leading spokesman of ‘Russia abroad’ observed in the Rigabased daily Segodniia, Latvia’s Russians enjoyed far greater possibilities to practise their culture than did their counterparts in other successor states of Central and Eastern Europe. 23 The broad approbation of cultural autonomy expressed by representatives of all non-titular national groups tends to suggest that this model actually undermined rather than encouraged the prospects for the emergence of ‘states within a state’. Yet cultural autonomy is of course not the be all and end all as far as the construction of a multicultural political community is concerned. In itself, it can provide no guarantee of loyalty to the state if it is accompanied by differential treatment of ethnic groups in other societal spheres. The unitary state structure and system of majoritarian democracy in place during the 1920s meant that political representatives of individual national minorities were not well placed to make their voices heard. The highly fragmented nature of Latvia’s party system ensured that the minority bloc (in so far as one can speak of such) was able to punch above its numerical weight, and at times even able to have a decisive say in coalition building within parliament. Nevertheless, the various groups displayed considerable variation in terms of their social and economic development, a fact that derived in part from their previous status within the former empires. Despite the radical change in power relations brought about by the 1919 land reform, Latvia’s Germans retained a prominent role within

38

David J. Smith

___________________________________________________________ the urban economy, and were disproportionately represented within the professions. Ethnic Germans also continued to be appointed to key posts not just within the education ministry but also within other branches of the state administration. The local Jewish population also remained prominent within industry, commerce and the professions, but was less wellrepresented within the public sector. 24 Jewish representatives also levelled allegations of anti-Semitism when it came to the practice of admitting wartime Jewish refugees entitled to Latvian citizenship under the terms of the peace treaty with Soviet Russia. 25 Talk of integration on the basis of “broad cultural autonomy” 26 also appeared somewhat fanciful in the case of those national minorities (mainly Russians, Belorussians, Poles and Jews) concentrated in the eastern border region of Latgale, which had not previously formed part of the German-ruled Baltic provinces prior to 1918 and faced particular problems of adaptation to the new economic and political realities of an independent Latvia. Whereas most of Latvia’s urban dwellers were bi-, tri- or even quadri-lingual well into the 1930s, most ethnic Russians beyond a certain age in Latgale remained mainly monolingual, a fact which further inhibited possibilities for social mobility amongst a largely impoverished rural community. 27 Voices calling for a more ‘complete’ Latvian nation-state were continued to make their presence felt throughout the democratic 1920s, as Aldis Purs’ illuminating study of clandestine state practices in the eastern borderlands shows us only too well. 28 These nationalising discourses sought to cultivate a collective memory of Latvians’ oppression within the former empire and thereby foster popular resentment towards the prominent role which minorities continued to exercise within the state. Such discourses found more and more adherents within the straitened economic context of the early 1930s, when Education Minister Atis Ķeniņš’ described Latvia as an ‘Eldorado for Minorities’ in which the former German overlords continued to benefit from the sweat of ethnic Latvian labour. 29 By this time, the likes of Ķeniņš could also play upon heightened perceptions of external threat from Germany, following Hitler’s rise to power and the growing influence of Nazism within Baltic German political circles. As Europe drifted increasingly towards chauvinism, National Socialism found its Latvian imitator in the form of the extreme Right Pērkonkrusts, or ‘Thunder Cross’. Virulently anti-Semitic, this movement nevertheless reserved its most violent attacks for the Baltic Germans, opining provocatively in October 1933 that

Inter-war Multiculturalism Revisited

39

___________________________________________________________ “it is up to us Latvians how we act in our country. We shall decide your fate without you. You are a mere object in our hands. We will do what we think right. Using the same methods you used against us. Your time, you German people, is over … In the Latvia of the Latvians there is no room for you.” 30 Latvia’s democracy, however, was ultimately undone not by a challenge from the radical Right, but by a pre-emptive strike from the political centre, where founding father Kārlis Ulmanis, long tired of the parliamentary system, mounted his own coup d’etat in May 1934 and went on to establish his own personal dictatorship. The latter remained an essentially conservative regime, dedicated to building a ‘more Latvian Latvia’ rather than espousing the slogans of the radical Right. 31 Minority education was retained, but the autonomous sections within the Ministry of Education were abolished and the number of non-Latvian language schools greatly reduced. Crucial in this respect was new legislation that limited the free choice of schooling by parents, a trend that began already during the latter phases of the democratic period. These nationalising measures, however, did nothing to strengthen the position of the Latvian state. Indeed, Ulmanis’ curtailment of democratic freedoms arguably facilitated its eventual demise at the hands of neighbouring totalitarian powers during the decade after 1939. 32 Back at the start of Latvia’s independence, Paul Schiemann had predicted that the day the last Baltic German leaves it will mark the end of the Latvian state. 33 As so often, his words proved prescient, as the Nachumsiedlung of 1939-40 offered the surest possible indication to the Latvian republic that its days were numbered. Schiemann for his part remained in Latvia following the Soviet annexation of August 1940, eventually succumbing to ill health during the ensuing period of Nazi occupation, when he and his wife sheltered a young Jewish woman in their house. Most of Latvia’s Jews perished within a year of the arrival of German forces, whose campaign of mass murder was aided and abetted by elements within the local population. The Soviet order that was consolidated after 1944 marked a further departure from the democratic multiculturalism of the inter-war democratic republic. On the one hand, Soviet nationality policy reinforced the conceptual link between ethnicity and territory, institutionalising the notion of the Latvian SSR as the homeland of the (ethnically defined) Latvian nation. At the same time, the regime also increasingly promoted

40

David J. Smith

___________________________________________________________ public use of the Russian language, as part of its project of forging a new transcendent Soviet identity. The ethnic Russians who settled in large numbers from the 1940s enjoyed access to education and employment in their mother tongue, but were in no way encouraged to learn the Latvian language and had little practical need to do so. Smaller minorities such as the Poles and Belorussians were denied any opportunity to practise their own culture. The profound demographic and socio-cultural shifts of the postwar decades, set against collective memory of the 1940 annexation and its aftermath, meant that it was all too easy to paint the growing ethnic Russian presence as a ‘threatening other’ once political freedoms were restored in the late 1980s. Unlike in 1918-22, the vision of the unitary and culturally homogeneous nation-state has been central to the construction of post-Soviet Latvia. This model has, broadly speaking, been endorsed by the various international organisations that Latvia has joined since the start of the 1990s, though the process of EU accession was consistent with a shift towards a more ‘multicultural’ mode of state and nation-building. The experiments of the 1920s therefore do not resonate especially within contemporary Latvia, though revisiting them seems especially apposite in 2009, at a time when some commentators are beginning to speak of a ‘crisis of democracy’ in contemporary Latvia. 34 .the experiments of the 1920s should not be treated as some obscure historical footnote. Rather, they can be seen as an important and original contribution to the History of Europe. The distinctive laws adopted in Latvia and Estonia helped to generate Europe-wide debate on the future of the state-nation relationship during the late 1920s, when the likes of Paul Schiemann were highly influential within the international minorities movement. Studying the interwar ‘Baltic model’ is not only intrinsically interesting, but offers helpful insights into contemporary discussions on the ‘minority question’, at a time when new laws on cultural autonomy have been drafted in Hungary and a host of other Central and East European countries. Notes 1 Ezergailis, 1996, 3. 2 Wachtsmuth, W. (undated), ‘Die rechtlichen Grundlagen des deutschen Schulwesens in Lettland.’ Latvian State Historical Archive (LVVA) f.2125, a.2, l.12. 3 Crols, 2005, 188. 4 Hiden and Smith, 2006, 388.

Inter-war Multiculturalism Revisited

41

___________________________________________________________ 5 League of Nations Archive, S345, no.3, 20-22. 6 Plakans, 1995, 127. 7 Minutes of Meetings of the Council of the Russian Dept of the Ministry of Education from 24 January 1924 to 2 September 1932. LVVA f.2125, a.1 l.45, p.19. 8 Latvia merely agreed as a condition of League entry to conform to its general principles governing the protection of national minorities. 9 Ezergailis, 2002, 176. 10 From Petersen, 1936. 162. Cited in Laurits, 2008, 35. 11 Hiden, 2004, 43. 12 Wachtsmuth, loc cit. 13 Hiden, 2004, 97 & 105-108. 14 Steimanis, 2002, 68, claims that at the start of the 1930s, around 20% of the pupils in German schools were not of German ethnic origin. Statistics cited in Bobe, 2006, 225 show that one in ten Jewish pupils attended a German language school during the 1922-23 school year. 15 This, according to a report by representatives of the Association of German Minorities in Europe, was the goal that should be aspired to if denationalisation was to be avoided. ‘Denkschrift zur Frage der Behandlung der Nationalitäten in Deutschland mit besonderer Rücksicht der Rückwirkung auf das bodenständige europäische Auslandsdeutschum’, 28 October 1924. Russian State Military Archive (RGVA) f.1502, o.1, d.110. 16 Wachtsmuth, loc cit. 17 See, for instance, the meeting minutes of the Jewish Section within the Latvian Ministry of Education for 1920. LVVA f.2125, a.4, l.29. More generally, see Steimanis, 2002, 184; Bobe, 2006, 218-226. 18 Volkovs, 1996, 103-105. 19 Minutes of Meetings of the Council of the Russian Dept of the Ministry of Education from 24 January 1924 to 2 September 1932. LVVA f.2125, a.1, l.45. 20 LVVA f.5645, a.1, l.3. 21 Bobe, 2006, 226 & 218; see also Šteimanis, 2002, 66. 22 Volkovs, 1996, 102. 23 Mikhail Kurchinskii, quoted in “Soveshchanie predstavitelei russkikh men’shinstv’ 6 gosudarstv’ v Rige,” Segodnia, 22 August 1929. 24 See, in this regard, comparative statistics from 1935 on the occupational distribution of the ethnically Jewish and ethnically German working population in Anonymous, 2002, 189-190. 25 Bobe, 2006, 162 & 201; see also “Memorandum sur les droits de minorité des Juifs en Lettonie adressé au Conseil de la Societé de Nations par

42

David J. Smith

___________________________________________________________ le Comité des Delegations Juives”, 20 April 1992. League of Nations Archive S345, no.3, 20-22. 26 Volkovs, 1996, 101. 27 Volkovs, 1996, 102. 28 Purs, 2002. 29 Cited in ”Hüben und Drüben,” Rigascher Rundschau 30 January 1932. 30 Cited in Butulis, 1996, 315-316. 31 Ulmanis actually prohibited the expression of anti-Semitism and courted the Jewish religious Right. See Pabriks and Purs, 2002, 22. 32 Pabriks and Purs, 2002, 22. 33 Cited in Hiden, 2004, 60. 34 On this point, see Spolitis and Germane in the current volume. Also Ijabs, 2009 and Pridham, 2009. References Anonymous (2002), “The Jews of Latvia 1919-1940”. Reproduced in: J. Šteimanis, (2002), History of Latvian Jews. New York: Columbia Univesity Press..179-212. Bobe, M. (2006), Evrei v Latvii. Riga: Shamir. Butulis, I. (1996), ”Die Deutschbalten in der Lettischen Presse in den Jahren 1930-1934”, Nordost Archiv, 5, 2: 301-325. Crols, D. (2005), “Old and new minorities on the international check board: from League to Union,” in: D.J. Smith (ed.), The Baltic States and their Region: New Europe or Old? Amsterdam and New York: Rodopi. 185-210. Ezergailis, A. (1996), The Holocaust in Latvia. Riga: Historical Institute of Latvia. Ezergailis, A. (2002), “Comments on ‘The Jews of Latvia 1919-1940’,” in: J. Šteimanis (2002), History of Latvian Jews. New York: Columbia University Press. 169-178. Hiden, J. (2004), Defender of Minorities: Paul Schiemann 1876-1944. London: Hurst and Co.

Inter-war Multiculturalism Revisited

43

___________________________________________________________ Hiden, J and D.J. Smith (2006), “Looking Beyond the Nation-State: A Baltic Vision for National Minorities between the Wars,” Journal of Contemporary History, 41, 3: 387-399. Ijabs, I. (2009), “Strange Baltic Liberalism: Paul Schiemann's Political Thought Revisited,” Journal of Baltic Studies, 40, 4: 495-515. Laurits, K. (2008), Saksa kultuuromavalitsus Eesti Vabariigis 1925-1940. Tallinn: Rahvusarhiiv. Pabriks, A. and A. Purs (2001), Latvia: The Challenges of Change. London: Routledge. Peterson, C. (1936), Handwörterbuch des Auslanddeutschtums. Bd.2. Breslau: Ferdinand Hirt.

Grenz-

und

Plakans, A. (1995), Latvia and the Latvians. Boulder: Westview. Pridham, G. (2009), “Post-Soviet Latvia–A Consolidated or Defective Democracy? The Interaction between Domestic and European Trajectories,” Journal of Baltic Studies, 40, 4: 465-494. Purs, A. (2002), “The Price of Free Lunches: Making the Frontier Latvian in the Interwar Years,” Global Review of Ethnopolitics, 1, 4: 60-73. Šteimanis, J. (2002), History of Latvian Jews. New York: Columbia University Press. Volkovs, V. (1996), Krievi Latvijā, Rīga: Latvijas Zinātņu akadēmijas Filozofijas un socioloǧijas institūta Etnisko pētījumu centrs. David J. Smith is Professor of Baltic History and Politics at the Department of Central and East European Studies, University of Glasgow, and Convenor of Glasgow Baltic Research Unit.

Forgotten Voices: Reflections on Latvia during World War Two Geoffrey Swain The occasion of the 90th anniversary of Latvia’s declaration of independence seemed a suitable occasion to reflect on this author’s decade long commitment to studying the history of Latvia during the Second World War. In 2003 Routledge published Between Stalin and Hitler: Class War and Race War on the Dvina, 1940-46, a detailed case study of Latgale under Soviet and Nazi rule. Since then, two articles have appeared on the National Partisans: “Divided We Fall: Divisions within the National Partisans of Vidzeme and Latgale, Fall 1945”, Journal of Baltic Studies 38/2 2007 and “Latvia’s Democratic Resistance: a Forgotten Episode from the Second World War”, European History Quarterly 39/2 2009. Prior to that, in January 2004, there was also a short paper to the XIII Scientific Readings of the Humanities Faculty, Daugavpils University, on the subject “From Source to Person: the Case of Jānis Niedre”, published in Proceedings of the 13th International Scientific Readings of the Faculty of Humanities. History VII (Saule, Daugavpils 2004). These studies all focus on the power of the great ideologies of the twentieth century and the way those ideologies could justify the abandonment of accepted morality. Yet they also say something else about ideology: the years of Soviet and now post-Soviet historiography have drowned out the voices of those who did not quite fit in with the dominant ideologies of the time. The aim of this short paper, therefore, is to restore to the historical record the voices of some of those who have been marginalised or forgotten. Three examples are taken: the case of Jānis Niedre; the demands of Latvia’s former Red Partisans; and the decisions taken by many, possibly a majority of Latvia’s national partisans. 1. The Niedre Case The Niedre Case took place not on the 90th anniversary of Latvia’s declaration of independence, but an altogether less celebratory occasion, as preparations began to mark the 25th anniversary of the declaration of independence in 1943; it concerned events surrounding an article written by the Latvian communist and folklorist Jānis Niedre to mark that anniversary. Niedre’s name re-surfaced in September 2008. In that year the Journal of Baltic Studies published an article by Kevin Karnes on “Soviet Musicology and the ‘Nationalities Question’: the Case of Latvia”. Karnes

Geoffrey Swain 46 ___________________________________________________________ commented on the moves made by the Latvian musical and cultural establishment during the Soviet era to discover folksongs outlining the longstanding friendship between the Latvian and Russian peoples, and one essay he chose to consider was written by Jānis Niedre for the collection Karogs published in 1942. In this essay Niedre referred to the words of the following folk song: “I gave my sister to a Russian, and myself took a Lithuanian bride, among the Russians, among the Lithuanians, everywhere I find friends and relatives.” 1 However genuine or not the folksong, Niedre’s choice of subject matter seemed particularly appropriate for a communist apparatchik, an unthinking pro-Soviet lackey. And may be that is what Niedre was in 1942, but a year later he had become an extremely unreliable communist. On 15 December 1943 Niedre was expelled from the Latvian Communist Party for a nationalist deviation. His expulsion was the result of an article he had written for Moscow Radio’s Latvian service to commemorate the 25th anniversary of Latvian independence. 2 Niedre was born on 24 May 1909 not far from Krustpils, and then went on to study at the primary school in Līvani, before moving to a secondary school in Jēkabpils. As an adult, he then became a Social Democrat, joining the party in 1929. A student of both history and economics, in 1932 he joined the writer’s and journalists’ union and became involved in publishing left-wing papers. He stayed a member of the Social Democrats until President Ulmanis rounded up Left-wing activists in the aftermath of his coup on 15 May 1934. In prison he at once joined the Communist Party and when, like many others arrested at that time, he was released in 1937, he formally left the Social Democrats in 1938 and devoted himself to communist politics. In June 1940, after Soviet troops took control of the country, Niedre was elected a deputy to the Supreme Soviet and a junior member of the government working on press and publications, and a founder member of the Union of Writers. When the Nazi invasion began a year later, Niedre was one of those Soviet officials important enough to be evacuated from Latvia, and in exile he was given the job of Secretary of the Presidium of the Latvian Supreme Soviet. It was in this capacity that he was also required to provide material for Moscow Radio’s Latvian broadcasts. He worked in this post until his dismissal in November 1943 and his expulsion from the Party the following month. The affair did not completely blight Niedre’s career. After the war he continued his work as

Forgotten Voices 47 ___________________________________________________________ a Soviet deputy, and pursued his interest in folklore, becoming deputy director of the Institute of Folklore of the Latvian Academy of Sciences. 3 The “crime” which led to Niedre’s expulsion was this: he had written for broadcast, and forwarded to the relevant broadcasting authorities, the Soviet Information Bureau (Sovinburo) and the Radio Committee, two articles which he had claimed had been endorsed by the Central Committee of the Latvian Communist Party, but which in reality had never received its endorsement. Leaving aside the question of how perfunctory the Central Committee’s procedures were or were not for vetting such broadcast articles, this was not a simple question of procedure; it was the content of what Niedre had written that was the problem. One of the two articles concerned the Education Minister under Ulmanis and writer on national matters Atis Ķeniņš, who was, it was felt, portrayed in far too positive a light, given the fact that Ķeniņš had been arrested and exiled as a counter-revolutionary . The other article was the more topical, and concerned the significance of the date 18 November 1918 on its approaching 25th anniversary. What precisely did Niedre say about the date in 1918 on which Latvia’s independence was declared? Well, first of all it should be borne in mind that this was an important anniversary to mark because, unlike in 1942, the German occupation authorities had agreed that lavish celebrations could take place throughout Latvia, culminating in a march past by the Latvian Legion in Riga and a special performance by the Riga Opera. 4 Niedre clearly felt that Soviet Radio had to take cognisance of this and address head-on what the significance of the date was for a majority of Latvians. So he described the regime which owed its origins to the declaration of 18 November 1918 as a democratic republic “proclaimed by many groups of the Latvian people”. He then looked at its most positive features, drawing an unfavourable comparison with the Ulmanis dictatorship by stressing that the inter-war parliamentary republic had given wide representation to the country’s ethnic minorities. However, the most controversial part of the planned broadcast came when he then went on to suggest that the events of summer 1940 had simply been about restoring to Latvians the democratic rights that had been lost under Ulmanis, explaining that the People’s Government of 1940 “embodied the ideals of 1918”. The short-lived Latvian Soviet Republic of 1919 was scarcely mentioned, nor was the incorporation of Latvia into the Soviet Union in autumn 1940. The clear implication of what Niedre wrote was that, as the future of Latvia came back on to the international agenda after the success of the Red Army at Stalingrad, the re-incorporation into the Soviet Union was not the only option. 5

Geoffrey Swain 48 ___________________________________________________________ What made Niedre act in the way that he did? To the leader of the Latvian Communist Party Jānis Kalnberziņš there was little to explain. As he informed N. N. Shatalin, then the Deputy Head of Cadres in the All-Union Communist Party (Bolsheviks) but in autumn 1944 to become the head of the Chairman of the Bureau for Latvia (Latburo), the Niedre case proved that all former Social Democrats were quite simply unreliable. 6 However, another explanation seems more plausible: both Niedre and Kalnberziņš were caught out by an important shift in the ideological agenda between Stalin’s speech on 6 November 1943 when he looked forward to the reincorporation of the Baltic States into the Soviet Union, and the “AntiFascist Meeting of the Latvian People” held in Moscow on 12 December 1943 when he acted as if this were a fair accompli when he allowed the President of Soviet Latvia Augusts Kirhenšteins to state that it would not be long before “the Red Army frees our beautiful Latvia”. 7 2. Red Partisans as National Communists There are other signs that Niedre was not a lone former Social Democrat communist dissident, but in fact the voice of a vanished communist orthodoxy. Niedre had dropped reference to things “Soviet”, and had stressed the popular front nature of the People’s Government established in June 1940, and similar views were well established by 1943 among Latvia’s Soviet partisans. When in 1942 the first attempts had been made to establish a Red Partisan movement in Latvia, Party propaganda had constantly used the word “Soviet”; leaflets had ended “Long live free Soviet Latvia!” or “Long live Stalin!”. In 1943 the propaganda used by the Red Partisans had dropped all this. In fact, in many ways it was similar to that of any other communist party operating in occupied Europe: the communists stressed national themes; leaflets were circulated signed by Orthodox Church bishops, calling for the defence of Christian civilisation, the words “brothers and sisters” replaced “comrades” and all appeals to join the Red Partisans ended “Long live the freedom loving Latvian people and its gallant patriots”. 8 This line was established when a Latvian Communist Party Central Committee delegation to the Red Partisans arrived at their Belarus base on 21 January 1943, led by Kārlis Ozoliņš and Milda Birkenfelde. In a report to Soviet Partisan HQ on 25 April 1943 Ozoliņš stressed that “there are only a few Hitlerites”, that most “bourgeois” nationalists looked to England and Sweden; the message from the Central Committee was “to make contact with Latvian associations of patriots and influence them to struggle more actively against the Germans, in the direction we wish”. 9 Fulfill-

Forgotten Voices 49 ___________________________________________________________ ing these instructions, the most successful of the Red Partisan leaders deliberately sought out representatives of the national partisans and tried to open talks with them. Wilhelms Laiviņš, who had commanded the “For a Soviet Latvia” regiment when it tried to march from Soviet territory back into Latvia in July 1942, was one of those keen to open talks with the nationalists towards the end of 1943; he recalled, however, in an interview recorded in December 1944 that the only place where formal talks actually took place was near Valka. “We held talks with the nationalists. We met them and held talks. It took place in Valka District. In other districts we just could not make contact. At that time the nationalists were split, breaking up into separate groups. There the Valka HQ had a secretary and we held talks. We met with them and tried to persuade them to fight.” 10 Otomar Oškalns, who had been the commissar for Laiviņš in summer 1942, was only slightly more successful: on 10 November 1943 he held talks with national partisans near Birzgale. The group he met was linked to the Latvija underground resistance newspaper. He recalled rather bashfully that the meeting had begun by singing the “bourgeois” Latvian national anthem. Although disappointed that the talks seemed to get nowhere – the national partisans were determined to co-ordinate their activity with their leadership in Sweden and the possible intervention of the Western Allies – Oškalns decided to keep in touch; later in spring 1944 he even cooperated with an armed nationalist group in resisting a German attack. As he told his interviewer: “I would have given anything to make contact with them, but was unable to do so”. 11 These flirtations with a popular front approach to politics, and the implied suggestion that what would be restored in Latvia at the end of the war was a People’s Government rather than a Soviet Government, were brought to an end in December 1943. It was an open secret that the future of the Baltic States was discussed at the meeting of the three Allied Foreign Ministers held in Moscow on 19-30 October 1943. Stalin then used his October Revolution anniversary speech on 6 November to lay claim to the Baltic State once more, and at the Tehran Conference of the Big Three from 28 November to 1 December 1943 Stalin was indeed promised by Roosevelt that the Baltic States would be his. 12 There was no more need for any talk of developing a popular front strategy for Latvia.

Geoffrey Swain 50 ___________________________________________________________ How seriously should we take the declarations of Niedre, Laiviņš and Oškalns? Was it an early outburst of national communism within the Latvian Communist Party? Niedre in particular, and Laiviņš and Oškalns as things evolved, were caught out by the changed Party line between November and December 1943 when the question of the re-incorporation of the Baltic States into the Soviet Union changed from being an open to a closed question. It would be possible to argue that there is nothing more at stake here than the dictates of Party discipline: communists followed a popular front style strategy when told to, and dropped it when told to. This must inevitably have been the case for some, but there seems to be more in it than that because those associated with the Red Partisan movement would become troublesome comrades in the immediate post-war years. Birkenfelde, who travelled in early 1943 with Ozoliņš to represent the Central Committee among the Latvian Red Partisans, proved after the war to be a real member of the awkward squad. Milda Birkenfelde (née Dzervite) was born in 1903 near Vecate into the family of an agricultural worker. She joined the Latvian Communist Party in 1921 in nearby Mazsalaca, and after two years of activity emigrated to the Soviet Union, where in 1928 she graduated from KUNMZ and returned to Latvia as Komsomol organiser in Riga. Arrested the following year, she spent ten years in prison, moving on her release to organise the communist underground in Sēlpils near Jēkabpils and heading the party’s Daugava regional organisation. Active in welcoming the Red Army in June 1940 and organising popular demonstrations to demand the removal of Ulmanis and friendly relations with the Soviet Union, she was an obvious choice for rapid promotion and by August she had been elected First Secretary of the Jēkabpils District LCP Committee. Her Second Secretary was Otomar Oškalns, the future Red Partisan leader, and together with him she formed an ad hoc military brigade which fought its way to Soviet territory when trapped by the speed of the German advance. After her three months with the Latvian partisans in 1943, it was logical that in July 1944 she should return with the Red Army and take up once again the post of Secretary of the Jēkabpils District Secretary. 13 Her dramatic life story meant that she had no qualms about calling a spade a spade. At the V Plenum of the LCP Central Committee on 25-6 August 1944, she immediately went on to the attack, criticising the behaviour of the security forces. Birkenfelde argued that the “first duty” of the NKVD and NKGB should be to help restore links with the local population, the clear implication of her remarks being that this was not yet happening and the security services were in fact undermining the tenuous links the communists had with the local population. 14 Later in the discussion she was even clearer

Forgotten Voices 51 ___________________________________________________________ about the need to work with, rather than against the local population. She stated: There are very many people who waited for us, who fought the Germans in some way or another, and they must be found, trusted and included in constructing Soviet power. We must work with them. If we rely only on the aktiv which has come from the Soviet Union, we will achieve nothing. 15 Birkenfelde was not alone in her concern at the way Soviet power was being re-established. At the VI Plenum on 15-16 November 1944 the Valka District Secretary Fricis Bergs, another former partisan, complained about the behaviour of the Red Army, much to the fury of Party leader Kalnbērziņš who commented: “Comrade Bergs carried out heroic deeds working among the partisan detachments in the rear of the enemy. And now he is embarrassed by Soviet power. It is shameful for a district secretary to say such things.” 16 Birkenfelde continued to voice her concerns at the way Soviet power was being implemented in Latvia. Almost two years later, at the XII Plenum on 18-19 July 1946, she had another clash with the leadership when she stated: “It has to be said, that the greater part of our leading workers, both the Russians and those Latvians from the old republics, do not have a feel for the class struggle which is taking place with us. For them, all Latvians are as grey as cats, they cannot distinguish the difference in thought of a middle peasant or a kulak and put everything down to the national question. Their position is incorrect.” 17 Such views did not go down well with the Latburo, the Party institution established by Moscow to oversee the work of the Latvian Communist Party. As early as a meeting between district party secretaries and representatives of the security organs held on 2 April 1945 the then Latburo leader Shatalin commented: Even among party activists there are manifestations of local nationalism, manifestations of bourgeois nationalism, when comrades misunderstand our mutual relations and the current help we are giving. Our help is

Geoffrey Swain 52 ___________________________________________________________ not always accepted as it should be, sometimes it is accepted with ill-grace and here and there you hear such things as: why have they come, and sometimes much ruder things. 18 The re-surfacing of such views fifteen months later was not welcome, particularly since it coincided with other signs of nationalism among leading party members. By autumn 1946 the Latburo was increasingly concerned about the Third Secretary of the Central Committee J. Jurgens. Addressing a republican conference of local soviet chairmen, he made a series of statements that, while self-evidently true, were at variance with Soviet propaganda and which suggested to the LCP’s Moscow minders a common stance with bourgeois nationalism. The starting point Jurgens took for discussing the current tasks faced by soviet chairmen was the fact that the situation faced in 1946 was far harder than that faced in 1940 because the country “had been emptied”. Things were made worse because “our people is no longer the people of 1905, 1917 or 1919; the revolutionary mood there was then no longer exists”. He conceded that some peasants had lived well under Ulmanis, and saw it as understandable that they did not approve the Soviet land reform, since no one liked having their property taken away. It was his view that “we must win the personal respect of all peasants” and drew no distinction between kulaks and peasants. 19 Even though Birkenfelde and her Jēkabpils district colleagues were pioneers of collective farm construction in Latvia, the Latburo felt that she was tainted with nationalism because she tended to see the Latvian peasantry as suffering in common rather than being sharply differentiated between the rich kulak and the rest. When the Latburo held its only formal meeting on 21 October 1946 to assess the state of the harvest in light of the growing threat of famine in the USSR, it reminded the LCP Central Committee that failure to meet harvest targets in the current situation would be considered a state crime and that any failure to deliver the harvest was a direct result of sabotage by kulaks. In this situation, an incorrect attitude to the kulak danger was impermissible. Birkenfelde was among those district party secretaries criticised. The new Latburo chief V F Ryazanov demanded that at least one district party secretary be sacked as a warning to others and reminded those present of rumours that Birkenfelde’s husband was effectively a kulak who, through relatives, controlled at least three farms. The implication was clear, Birkenfelde was soft on kulaks because of personal circumstances. In the end it was Jurgens who was sacked, because he had also been associated with a group of veteran party members who remained loyal to Kalnberziņš’s predecessor as party leader. 20 Birkenfelde’s punishment was to be issued with a party

Forgotten Voices 53 ___________________________________________________________ penalty for her anti-party attitude to the kulaks. 21 It would appear that after receiving this warning, Birkenfelde was demoted to raion level work, but later appointed District Party Secretary for Jelgava. She retired in 1954. 22 3. National Partisans and Surrender The most controversial comment made by Jurgens at that conference of local soviet chairmen did not in fact relate to the kulaks, but the national partisans, or “bandits” as they were always referred to in Soviet documents. Jurgens told the local soviet chairmen: “we could put the army into every forest to destroy every last bandit, but we think, however sad the fact, that they are our Latvians too”. It seems certain that it was this apparent sympathy for the national partisans that was the ultimate cause of his dismissal. However, he concluded those remarks with the comment: “may be they will understand and leave the forest; those who do not, we will have to destroy”. It was always part of Soviet strategy to encourage national partisans to surrender their weapons and leave the forests. Why so many did so is not something that has really been explored by historians. Since 1991 it has seemed more important to extend the time-scale of national partisan activity into the mid 1950s, rather than to consider why, after such a dramatic beginning, the national partisan movement dwindled to become little more than an irritant to Soviet power. The key to understanding the success of the Soviet calls for national partisans to leave the forests is to remember that these calls were not issued by the Soviet authorities alone. When Oškalns held his talks with national partisans in Birzgale in 1943, he felt the national partisans had no real leadership, no real centre. That was not the case. The national partisans to whom he talked owed allegiance to the Latvian Central Council and it had simply taken a policy decision not to talk to the communists. The story of the Latvian Central Council is well known. Formed in August 1943, it brought together the leaders of Latvia’s pre-Ulmanis democratic republic, uniting democrats, Christian democrats and socialists, but excluding the communists as a point of principle. Its strategy was simple: it would make contact with Latvia’s diplomats abroad and on the basis of such contacts, prepare for a national uprising to begin after the Red Army had crossed into Latvia; supported by the Swedes and British, the uprising would begin in Kurzeme and as it got under way a new national government for Latvia would be declared; for safety’s sake, most of the members of that planned government would already have been smuggled to security in Sweden before the uprising began.

Geoffrey Swain 54 ___________________________________________________________ Often held to ridicule because of its reliance on British and Swedish support, which was not in the event forthcoming, and the fact that before the insurrection could begin, its leader General Jānis Kurelis was arrested by the Nazis in November 1944, it should be remembered that the Latvian Central Council always had a reserve strategy, and that reserve strategy began to be successfully implemented early in 1945. The reserve strategy was to prepare an army of national partisan forces throughout Latvia, which would stand ready to act when the western Allies entered the Baltic Sea. This event was anticipated as taking place in March 1945 when the Germans began to withdraw from Norway and the Allies began to make moves to open up a northern front for the final assault on Berlin, from bases to be established in Norway, Sweden and Denmark. When none of these developments materialised either, the national partisan forces had to consider whether or not to continue their operations or stand down. 23 Over the summer of 1945 the national partisans loyal to the Latvian Central Council leadership in Sweden came close to representing the nation. In the 1960s and afterwards it suited Soviet analysts to build up the links that existed between some Latvian national partisans and the Germans; but it is beyond question that from autumn 1944 to autumn 1945 the dominant groups among the national partisans were those linked to Sweden and the Latvian Central Council; as the certainty of German defeat became clearer, so those who had initially fought with German support looked to Sweden and the Allies too. The biggest national partisan group the Latvian Fatherland Guards (partisans) Union (LTSpA) saw itself as an umbrella linking all regions of Latvia, with a common democratic programme, linked to Christian ideals, thus echoing the participation of Bishop Jāzeps Rancāns in the Latvian Central Council. The LTSpA brought together the traditions of Latgale Christian democracy and aizsarg nationalism, just as the Latvian Central Council had brought back Ulmanis’s Peasant Union back into the political fold; it united those who had resisted both the Nazis and the Soviets, with those who had resisted only the Soviets. The LTSpA was a political as well as a military organisation. Although it is questionable whether much was ever done in this regard, the LTSpA saw it as essential to operate a “Self Help” organisation, to give support to the families of those suffering under Soviet oppression. Thus over summer 1945 it stressed the need for political work to be undertaken among the peasantry in order to organise a boycott of deliveries to the Soviet state. The LTSpA was strong enough to circulate 2,000 copies of its newsletter, and in this it identified its support base as “democratically inclined Latvians”. It always stressed the word “democratic”, and was

Forgotten Voices 55 ___________________________________________________________ keen to associate itself with the work of Latvia’s last ambassador to Britain, Kārlis Zariņš. 24 Latvia’s national partisans were buoyed up by developments at the Potsdam Conference of the Big Three on July-August 1945. They interpreted the fact that Stalin had been forced at the conference to include members of the Polish Government-in-Exile in the new Polish Coalition Government as a clear sign that Britain was taking a firm stand against Stalin. Rumours at once began to circulate that British military intervention was imminent. What destroyed the LTSpA was the failure of that British military intervention to materialise. The zenith of LTSpA activity came at the end of September, when British troops were reported to have landed on Latvian soil; moves to appoint a new provisional government began at once. It seems clear in the case of Antons Juhnēvičs, the leader of the LTSpA, that the failure of any British forces to materialise persuaded him not only to leave the LTSpA himself, but to issue an appeal for his followers to surrender as well. He was not alone. Arvids Puids, adjutant to the LTSpA Second Division, surrendered once he became convinced that no real contacts existed between the LTSpA and Sweden and Britain. The Ilūkste commander Stanislaws Urbans and his Chief of Staff both surrendered at about the same time. All those who surrendered expressed concern that a level of violence which was acceptable in the context of foreign military intervention, could not be justified if the national partisans faced the Red Army alone; reprisals would lead to the shedding of too much innocent blood, forcing the national partisans to turn to robbery to survive. To paraphrase the words of Juhnēvičs: good friends were dying in pursuit of a wrong tactic, based on violence and theft. 25 However, by October 1945 the call to leave the forests was not only emanating from the official Soviet statements about possible amnesties, for a full understanding of the decision of so many national partisans to leave the forests, it is essential to keep in mind that the advice to lay down arms did not only come from the Soviet side. The message that the Latvian Central Council was sending from Sweden at this time was very clear: the international situation meant that an uprising in Latvia could not be sustained; therefore, military units should be preserved but stood down and instead of military action a broad underground network needed to be established to keep the national idea alive until the international climate improved. This was the agreed position of the Latvian Central Council in July 1945 at it tried to restore contact with Latvia from its Swedish base. It leaders concurred: “in the near future, disagreements are hardly likely to arise between the Allies [so] … we must prepare for the future; armed struggle by the Latvian people against Soviet power would only be harm-

Geoffrey Swain 56 ___________________________________________________________ ful and lead to nothing”. When the Latvian Central Council emissary arrived in Riga in October, his message was quickly passed on to national partisans meeting in Vidzeme, and from them to the national partisans in Latgale. The message stated: “To the command staff of the national partisans of Latvia. I order you not to engage in heavy fighting with the Red Terror. Preserve your strength… demand from you subordinates the strictest discipline allowing no theft, arson or similar actions which will bring harm to our people… Until the moment when foreign states intervene to restore the independence of the Baltic States by force of arms, be passive in your attitude to the Soviet authorities, preserve your lives and organisation and wait for instructions from abroad to begin active operations”. 26 Of course, the national partisans did continue to fight after autumn 1945, but increasingly those still in the forests distanced themselves from the democratic programme of the Latvian Central Council. In May 1946, national partisans belonging to the Latvian National Partisan Union (LNPA), which by then had supplanted the LTSpA as the dominant national partisan force, issued a statement to commemorate thirteen years since the Ulmanis coup. It was a peon of praise: on this “unforgettable day”, it stated “class government” was replaced by “national government”, a dream that had been achieved “without bloodshed”; by his action Ulmanis had unfurled “the banner of Latvia’s new democratic republic”. 27 Such statement played into the hands of Soviet propagandists determined to stress the aizsarg nature of the national partisans, and helped silence the democratic voice of the first wave of the movement’s first wave. Conclusion What conclusion can be drawn from these loosely connected events Niedre, the party dogmatist who rejected Latvia’s sovietisation; Red Partisans who acted like national communists before their time; national partisans who left the forests on the advice of Latvia’s democratic politicians rather than surrendering to the Soviet administration? Such events suggest that at the end of the Second World War there were, on both sides of the ideological divide, what might be termed “moderate” elements, people who wanted to prevent civil war between Latvians more than anything else. That, surely, was the message behind the controversial statement Jurgens made about “bandits”: “we could put the army into every forest to

Forgotten Voices 57 ___________________________________________________________ destroy every last bandit, but we think, however sad the fact, that they are our Latvians too”. This concern for the fate of fellow Latvians was reminiscent of the policy adopted during the war by the Red Partisan leader Oškalns: it was his policy never to open fire first on patrols of the Latvian Legion. 28 In a different context, Andrew Ezergailis has written about the “missing centre” in Latvia, and that was the impact of the Cold War as well; political views which might be quite close one to another in a democratic society, were pulled to the extremes of Left and Right. As the Cold War developed, there was no chance of the “national partisans” from the Soviet partisan movement establishing contact let alone a common cause with the “Swedish” element of the national partisans, even though in a different context their views, a mixture of Left and democratic politics, would have seemed rather close. Voices such as these simply disappeared, and Cold War historiography became set in stone. An important milestone in the dismantling that Cold War historiography was taken by Ezergailis when he wrote his Nazi/Soviet Disinformation about the Holocaust in Latvia: Daugavas vanagi, who are they revisited (Riga, Occupation Museum of Latvia, 2005). This study goes a long way to demolishing the Soviet propaganda myth that there was a direct connection between those involved in murdering Jews in Latvia, those who led the national partisans in the immediate post-war years and those who headed the Latvian antiSoviet emigration in the 1960s. However, there are other Cold War myths which need addressing. In Latvia’s post-independence popular writing, and in some academic writing too, communists are considered nothing more than Soviet agents, that the Latvian Communist Party had any roots within Latvia itself is simply denied. Such an approach means not only that the voices of the Red Partisans who were national communists before their time are not being be heard, but also that the voice of any Latvian idealist, who mistakenly saw in the model of the Soviet Union a solution to their own country’s problems of social and national inequality, is also not going to be heard. Even Augusts Kirhenšteins, the man the Soviet Union made President of Latvia in July 1940 and thereafter Chairman of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet, could fall into this category. In 1946 a report from the Latburo to the Soviet Politburo revealed: He chatters a lot about how they have put the Latvian people in prison, have pursued a policy of destruction in Latvia, and other bourgeois nationalist nonsense. Kirhenšteins often supports people with anti-Soviet views and is particularly close to the reactionary section of the intelligent-

Geoffrey Swain 58 ___________________________________________________________ sia attached to the university, the academy of sciences, and the institute of medicine. 29 It is not time, 90 years after the declaration of Latvia’s independence, to rehabilitate Kirhenšteins, but it is time to recognise that even Kirhenšteins was a product of his time, a time when the ideological struggle between fascism and communism attracted many idealists to the communist cause, only to discover that the communist cause and the machinations of the Soviet system were by no means one and the same thing. Yet some of those idealists learned how to survive within the Soviet machine and live to fight another day when Khrushchev began his experiment with reform communism. Now, 90 years after the declaration of Latvian independence, it is important to hear the voices of all those who created its history. Notes 1 K. Karnes ‘Soviet Musicology and the “Nationalities Question”: the Case of Latvia’ Journal of Baltic Studies vol. 39, no. 3, 2008, p. 288. 2 Latvian State Archives (LVA) 101.3.2 p. 51. 3 LVA 101.5.1 p. 14. For his cultural activities, see My, nash, my novyi mir postroim: sotsialistichecskaya revolyutsiya I sotsialisticheskoe stroitelstvo v Latvii v 1940-41 godakh. Sbornik vospominanii (Liesma, Riga, 1975), p. 283. I have been unable to resolve the contradiction between these sources on his place of birth: My nash gives his place of birth as Tikhvin, Novgorod Province. 4 These events are discussed at more length in G Swain Between Stalin and Hitler: Class War and Race War on the Dvina (London: Routledge, 2004), p. 135. 5 LVA 101.3.2 p. 51 6 LVA 101.5.1 p. 14. 7 Pravda 14.12.43 8 Latvian State Historical Archives R-69.1a.18 p. 173; R-69.1a.26pp. 25, 150, 152 9 LVA 101.5.6 pp. 151, 156. 10 LVA 301.1.29 p. 23 11 LVA 301.1.29 p. 46 12 These events are discussed at more length in Swain Between Stalin and Hitler, p. 134. 13 Compiled from L. N. Terent’eva Kolkhoznoe krestyanstvo Latvii (Moscow 1960), pp. 195- 201; and My nash, p. 281.

Forgotten Voices 59 ___________________________________________________________ 14 LVA 101.3.5 p. 35 15 Ibid p. 97 16 LVA 101.3.7 p. 115 17 LVA 101.9.6 p. 233 18 LVA 101.7.44 pp. 18-19 19 Russian State Archive of Social and Political History (RGASPI) 600.1.11 p. 121 20 RGASPI 600.1.23 p. 19 21 RGASPI 600.1.11 p.27; 600.1.23 p. 2 22 See My nash p. 281 and Terent’eva Kolkhoznoe krestyanstvo, n.22 p. 340. 23 For a full discussion of the Latvian Central Council, see G. Swain ‘Latvia’s Democratic Resistance: a Forgotten Episode from the Second World War’ European History Quarterly vol. 39, no. 2. 24 G Swain ‘Divided We Fall: Divisions within the National Partisans of Vidzeme and Latgale, Fall 1945’, Journal of Baltic Studies vol. 38, no. 2, p. 210. 25 Ibid pp. 201-02. 26 Swain ‘Latvia’s Democratic Resistance’, p. 257-8. 27 H Strods, Latvijas Nacionālo Partizānu Karš III, Dokumenti, Apcerējumi un Atmiņas 1944-1956 (Riga, Preses Nams, 2003) p. 119. 28 Na pravyi boi, na smertnyi boi: sbornik vospominanii i dokumentov (Riga, 1968), Vol. 1, p. 422. 29 RGASPI 600.1.23 p. 18. I referred to this first in my ‘ “Cleaning up Soviet Latvia”: the Bureau for Latvia (Latburo), 1944-47’ in O Mertelsmann (ed.) The Sovietization of the Baltic Sates, 1940-1956 (Tartu: Kleio, 2003). The same document is commented on by Elena Zubkova in her Pribaltika i Kreml’ (ROSSPEN: Moscow, 2008) p. 277. Geoffrey Swain studied for his doctorate at the London School of Economics under the supervision of Professor Leonard Schapiro. He has taught at University College Cardiff and the University of the West of England, and currently holds the Alec Nove Chair in Russian and East European Studies at the University of Glasgow. He has published extensively on the history of Russia and Eastern Europe, with his most recent studies focusing on Latvia.

The Deportation of March 25, 1949 in Latgale: Oral History Sources and Archival Documents Irēna Saleniece This essay uses both oral history testimony and archival documents to consider the fate of one Latvian family during the deportations of March 25, 1949. Like many of those deported at this time, this was allegedly a “kulak” family, but, reflecting the ethnic diversity of Latgale - the eastern part of Latvia – this was a family of Russian Old Believers. Latgale borders Lithuania (Poland), Belarus, and Russia. Historically, by the beginning of the 20th century a polyethnic and multiconfessional environment 1 had been formed here that influenced the formation of a specific identity for the population. Local people usually did not directly declare themselves as “Latvians”, “Russians”, “Poles”, “Byelorussians” or “Lutherans”, “Catholics”, “Russian Orthodox”, “Old Believers”. However, their narratives (written or oral) clearly reveal their belonging to an ethnic group and religious confession, an awareness of the practices of the life of the religious group and an acceptance of its respective values. The local population, along with an ethnic and religious identity, often had a distinct sense of belonging. The narrators usually very carefully separate the “local people” (“vietējie”, “mestnyje”, “tuteishy”) from all others and mention examples of friendly coexistence between representatives of different nationalities and confessions within this community. However, the “local people” do not constitute a homogeneous mass – the respondents pick out differences between diverse nationalities and religious confessions preferring their own nationality and confession when forming closer relationships. Belonging to the “local” group of people was clearly manifested in communications with the “alien”, in particular with those coming from the Soviet Union after 1940. 2 During the Soviet period, under the impact of the “alien”, elements within the local population changed, taking over “alien” values and acting against neighbours under their guidance. However, during Latvia’s the years of independence (1918-1940), as a result of national policy, above all compulsory general free primary education, the people of Latgale (like the people of all Latvia) started to form a national identity 3 , which marked the relationship between the individual and the state. Those people of different ethnic origins living in eastern Latvia who grew up in the 1920-30s shared the characteristic features of this national identity. 4 Whatever their ethnic origin, the young

Irēna Saleniece 62 ___________________________________________________________ people who grew up in inter-war Latvia observed in their actions the demands and practices of the Latvian state through such things as military service in the army of the Republic of Latvia, and involvement in civil society and its organizations. In a variety of situations they showed love for the homeland, honouring state symbols and celebrating state festivals. In fact, they often demonstrated a closer understanding of the political nation, aware more than others that Constitution of the Republic of Latvia (Satversme) wrote about the “people of Latvia” and not “Latvians”. However, tThe communist regime which was established in Latvia after World War II demanded that the local population of Latgale, as elsewhere in Latvia, give up their former attitudes, change, and become “Soviet people”. Methods used for Sovietization were very wide, extending from propaganda and associated education to repression, including deportations. Deportations were used as a form of repression by the Soviet authorities in 1941 and between 1944-1953. At this time more than 60,000 thousand people were deported from the Latvian Soviet Socialist Republic to the distant regions of the USSR. Deportations which assumed a mass character took place on 14 June 1941, and 25 March 1949. In March 1949, to frighten farmers and force them into collective farms, more than 13,000 families (42,125 people – 2.2% of the population of Latvia) were deported from Latvia to an alien natural and social environment in Siberia. According to Latvia’s State Archives:“ Altogether 44,271 people were directly affected by this deportation, because 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 March 25, and 1,422 were sent from labour camps to join their deported families in settlements in Siberia. The March 1949 deportation affected almost three times as many people as the deportation of June 14, 1941. The majority of the deportees were farmers, whereas the target of the 1941 deportation had been mostly city dwellers, even though almost a third of the 1941 deportees were from rural areas. 5 The deportation campaign, code-named “Surf” (“Priboi” in Russian), was decreed by the Communist Party of the Soviet Union and the USSR Council of Ministers, and implemented by the USSR Ministry of the State Security and the USSR Ministry of the Interior. The campaign took place simultaneously in all three Baltic republics. Local Communist Parties and government authorities were also involved in the deportation and Communists, Komsomol members and Extermination Battalion soldiers participated directly in the operation. 6 More than 8.5 thousand people (1.7 % of the total population) were deported from eastern Latvia

The Deportation of March 25, 1949 in Latgale 63 ___________________________________________________________ (Daugavpils, Ilūkste, Krāslava, Ludza, Rēzekne, Viļaka, Viļāni districts), among them Latvians, Poles, Russians and Byelorussians. 7 Forced migration and life in Siberian special settlements certainly had an impact on the identity of the deported – but to what extent? The deportations experienced by the people of Latvia have been widely discussed in recent historiography; 8 yet generally the analysis provided by historians is based on sources that have been created by the representatives of power, those who fabricated the ideology behind the deportations, who organized and carried them out. This provides the opportunity for deciphering the smallest nuances of those in positions of power, while the situation of the objects of that power – the deportees – is revealed only indirectly, mediated by the perspectives of those in positions of power. This invites the danger of creating stereotypical notions of the deportees as just victims of external conditions, those who suffer and whose actions were wholly determined by power. In mass consciousness, characteristics of this kind are useful for creating a rather primitive conception of history, according to which the past life of people is coloured either in black or white, without any space for free will and selfexpression by the people, i.e., actions committed as a result of individual choice. Yet, one cannot deny the diversity of life by, reducing human life to playing out a single role. Even in total captivity, there is a choice between accepting one’s condition, making do with it, or opposing it at least through one’s attitude. In order to account for human actions, a broad and multifaceted source base is needed, since only by acquiring and comparing information from numerous sources is it possible to reveal the diverse aspects of human existence, thus becoming aware of the complexity of the historical process and the uniqueness of each individual event. Turning to studies of the deportations from the Latvian SSSR on 25 March, 1949, the first sources to consult are documents from the Latvian State Archives. In the course of preparing the top secret operation “Surf” the USSR State Security Ministry started to compile documents for each family that was destined for deportation and later deported. This process of compilation continued on the way to the Siberia, in the place of special settlement, as well as during the rehabilitation in the 1980s. As a result, an impressive corpus of documents was built up containing 13 358 family cases that are kept in the series (fonds) No. 1894 of the Latvian State Archives. However, this huge corpus of documents, and the amount of information contained within it, is insufficient even to reconstruct the event under investigation, to say nothing of its deeper understanding. This is so because archival documents reveal the past from the position of power, almost totally ignoring the individual experience of the humans involved

Irēna Saleniece 64 ___________________________________________________________ in this event. Yet only the people know what they felt and thought about at the moment of detention, deportation and during their special settlement. Only they can recall how they learned to orientate themselves in the alien natural and human environment of Siberia, how they managed to adapt to living under new conditions – in the special settlements and working on collective farms. For an answer to questions such as these, it is necessary to turn to oral history. In the collection of the Oral History Centre at Daugavpils University (DU OHC), 9 more than 600 interviews contain life stories of the inhabitants of Eastern Latvia who were born from 1900 to 1940. The collection records the memories of people of diverse ethnic and religious backgrounds, social status, and educational level. The collection is specifically regional, seeking to reflect the situation in the eastern part of Latvia. Oral history sources help to recreate the psychological atmosphere and the emotional background of historical events; they give us the only possibility of trying to reconstruct from the perspective of the present the way participants in historical events found the motivation, grounding, justification and explanation for their behaviour in diverse situations. Finally, how did they manage to survive in very unaccustomed and often terribly harsh conditions like deportation? The need to bring together archival documents and oral history sources seems obvious, and this was attempted in the book The Voices of the Deported, 25 March, 1949: The fate of some deported families from Daugavpils and Ilūkste districts in oral history sources and archival documents. 10 Assembling the body of sources used in this study took place in a rather unusual manner. Some of the life-stories from the DU OHC collection were selected as its basis. During the oral history field research expeditions in Daugavpils region (Vabole parish in 2003, Saliena parish in 2004), among a number of the local people’s life-stories several interviews were recorded with the deportees of 25 March, 1949, and their relatives who were witnesses to the deportation. The expedition members did not have the particular goal of interviewing only former deportees. All narrators were asked to talk about their life and it depended solely on the person what s/he chose to recount. Memories were produced spontaneously, the narrator determining the content of the story, giving certain emphases and making evaluations. In this way, the DU OHC collection acquired the lifestories of three of the deportees of 25 March, 1949 - Irina Grigoryeva, Zelma Redzoba, Ritvalds Redzobs and Mirdza Staltmane. Deportation was also reflected in the life-stories of Glikeria Mukāne and Yefrosinya Silchonok: the ten months old Glikeria was first left by parents in Latvia, but later her granny took her to Omsk district where she lived together with

The Deportation of March 25, 1949 in Latgale 65 ___________________________________________________________ her family in special settlement from 1951 to 1956; the eight year old Yefrosinya witnessed her grandparents Agafia and Elisei Skladovs’ deportation. Staff at the Latvian State Archives (LSA) initiated the cooperation between LSA and DU OHC. The cases of the Grigoryevs, Kalvāns, Redzobs and Skladovs’ families were found in the archives, and a comparison of the information from the archival documents and the oral history sources revealed that the joint use of these two kinds of sources made the reconstruction of events much more profound and complete, sometimes even providing answers that could not be found by working with just one kind of source. The information from the oral history sources supplements, clarifies, and sometimes contests the archival documents; including them in the present volume facilitates a clearer vision of the contrast between the official and the individual perception of the same facts. Archival documents provide strict external contours for the historical event (location in time and space, participants and roles, etc.) Lifestories make it possible for a historian to become aware of the impact of upbringing and social milieu on the participants in the events, their value system, as well as to better understand the motivation of their action and psycho-emotional state in the course of the events, for example during deportation. Information from diverse sources provides for a more comprehensive vision of the consequences of a historical event (in the totality of life) as well as making one consider possible assessments of a historical event. At the very least, simultaneously turning to documents of both official and personal origin provides a broader understanding of the inhumane nature of the totalitarian communist regime. Let us consider a situation reflected in the life stories of two Russian Old Believer women living in Eastern Latvia – mother 11 and daughter. 12 Interviews were recorded during the expedition to Vabole parish in the Daugavpils region during summer, 2003. The central event of both stories is the deportation of 25 March 1949, as a result of which the Grigoryev family, along with 43 000 people from Latvia were deported to Siberia. Life stories and archival material 13 make it possible to reconstruct in broad lines the living conditions of the Grigoryevs. It was a typical well-to-do Old Believer family with seven children (three sons and four daughters). The year 1940 and the war brought changes to the family: the sons were mobilized into the Latvian Legion of the Waffen SS, one of them died, another – Yevtikhiy – was taken captive by the Soviet Army. Having returned home he got married and together with his wife Irina settled in the parents’ house. In 1948, their daughter Glikeria was born. The family was also affected by socio-political changes: in 1947, their

Irēna Saleniece 66 ___________________________________________________________ farmstead was registered as a “kulak” property, 14 notwithstanding the fact that after the agrarian reform of 1944 the Grigoryevs had lost part of their land and property. Later, representatives of the local political authorities included the Grigoryev family in the list of potential deportees as “kulaks” who used hired labour. It was also noted that the two sons of the family had served in the German army during the war. 15 On 27 February 1949, LSSR State Security Minister A. Novik signed papers for the deportation of the Grigoryevs family. 16 Thus they were included with those thousands of Latvian, Estonian, and Lithuanian families that were supposed to be taken away from their native soil over the next few days without notice or the time to get ready. From the point of view of the political authorities such a decision was quite logical: in order to facilitate the creation of collective farms in the former Baltic countries, it was necessary to isolate (even through deportation) the opponents of this process – the well-to-do rural landowners. On the other hand, the inflow of Baltic “kulaks” to Siberia secured for this region skilled and industrious workers that provided considerable economic benefit. 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 reservation. Oral history sources reveal the past not from the position of power but from the standpoint of the “ordinary” person who is often involved in the course of events against his or her 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 own participation were forced to make do with rumours and live under unbearable strain. Notwithstanding the strictest secrecy of operation “Surf”, fragmentary, vague, frightening rumours were wide-spread. Fear in the face of threatening danger made people seek refuge in the forests, leave the places where they lived, bribe local functionaries, or try to escape their vague but horrifying fate in some other way. The Grigoryevs lived in just this atmosphere, anticipating the approaching danger; however, they did not try to hide because their case was specific, they had their ten month old daughter Glikeria: “People knew about these deportations. In Vārkava, in the parish offices, my husband’s niece worked there, she knew everything... every day we were informed about such things. Here, Anna – they all kept leaving every

The Deportation of March 25, 1949 in Latgale 67 ___________________________________________________________ morning, but how could we leave – we had a small baby...” 17 Therefore, on the morning of 25 March, when a neighbour came running with the news that they would be taken away at any moment, the Grigoryevs remained unsure what to expect. The daughter-in-law just asked the neighbour to take the icons away from home. They were afraid that the house could be wrecked and the family’s sacred possessions would perish: “Neighbour Vanya came and said: ‘They are coming to take you... Aleinikov is being taken now, so they are coming to take you.’ But I said: ‘Vanyushka, take away the icon from that corner.’ He took that icon, left, but they were already besieging the street. ‘Where are you going? (To him) come back.’ He put [the icon] down and when we had been taken, took it away.” 18 Irina Grigoryeva’s description of the procedure for detention and deportation was rather short. According to her case in the archives, the narrator’s memory tricked her: she reproduced her mother-in-law’s words during detention, but the documents testify that her mother-in-law was at that time visiting one of her married daughters in the neighbouring parish and for this reason was not deported at all. “They came with machine guns... First one of them came and, asked: ‘You have a big house, large windows, we need to bring seven soldiers.’ Father-in-law was in the mill, and mother-in-law says: ‘So, if you need to, then bring them.’ But when they took us, he was the first to enter with a machine gun and another one with a machine gun.” 19 Some exaggerations indirectly testify to how terrified the narrator was. Next follow memories about their journey to Siberia and life there. The most dramatic and heartbreaking episode during the deportation was sort of dropped from the mother’s story. We learned about it from the daughter’s story: “In 1949, 25 March, our family – father, mum, aunt – father’s sister, me (I was ten months old) were deported to

Irēna Saleniece 68 ___________________________________________________________ Siberia [voice breaks up, starts crying, later tries to hold back tears]. Of course, I remember nothing. From mum’s words, what can I say now. On 25 March, before six o’clock, three people with machine guns came in a cart; mum and dad were given half an hour to get ready... Mum asked permission to milk the cow to get milk for the baby. She went to the shed but her hands refused to milk... somehow she managed to do it and before leaving breastfed me... and then collected the most necessary things, everybody got into the sledge and they were taken to Vārkava collecting point. There they were collected, lorries were waiting for them... afterwards they were taken in lorries to Nīcgale. Everybody was frightened. Mum told dad: ‘Maybe let us leave the baby with neighbours? We do not know where we are going... maybe we all will be shot...’ Father said: ‘If we have to die, let us die together...’ And yet they decided... there, in Vārkava, in the dairy, someone they knew, Vaģelis, worked there... and she gave me away to this Vaģelis [...] afterwards I was taken to father’s sister but they were taken to Nicgale [sighs, stops crying]. My granny came after a week and took me with her and raised me till the age of two... till August fifty...” 20 While listening, one had the impression that this story was not told for the first time. It was likely that this narrative binds together several generations of the family: Glikeria, her mother Irina, late grandmother (Glikeria is promptly aware that she learnt about everything that had happened exclusively from the stories of the elder family members: “granny says, mum says”, “of course, I remember nothing. From mum’s words, what can I say now”), Glikeria’s children and, possibly, her grandchildren. The sense of this narrative is deeply symbolic, it tells about the strength of the family and its capacity to survive and sustain unity even in unbearable conditions. The point is that family members, especially the mother, at least twice faced an unimaginably complicated choice. First, at the moment of deportation, the decision had to be made as to whether to keep the family united taking risk of perishing together or to part with the daughter hoping to save her life. In Siberia when it became clear that there was no threat of death, it had to be decided whether to live in separation from the sick baby or unite, thus potentially destroying the girl’s favourable future life prospects. Remaining in Latvia with her granny, Glikeria would have

The Deportation of March 25, 1949 in Latgale 69 ___________________________________________________________ kept her ordinary civil status devoid of restrictions; being deported to Siberia, the three-year-old girl automatically became classified as a “spetsposelenka” (specially settled), with all the restrictions on freedom of movement that implied. As one can see, following generally accepted human norms, and meeting the demands of the political authorities, turned out to be incompatible. Whatever Irina’s choice, the consequences would be tormenting. Listening to mother and daughter telling their stories, one realizes that their agony was caused not so much by the memories of past experience but by certain conditions that made fear, pain, and resentment unbearable both in the past and in the present. First, the causes of what was going on were unclear: “In one day everybody was taken. They took everyone they caught... They were given this order – to take all in one day... Guilty or innocent – just take away...” 21 Second, at the moment of detention and deportation as well as on their way to Siberia, people were completely unaware of what was to be their further destiny: “Oh, you know, it was terrifying [cries]. Two weeks we were taken in cattle wagons... And when we reached the station, they said: ‘Get ready, at the next station you will get off.’ We shed tears, lamented – all of us in our transit, well in our 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 cars were getting off and others were taken further. We were placed in a club and told: ‘Wait while they come with horses, oxen, 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...” 22 Hence, the key word was uttered – injustice. “- [...] were sent to Siberia... - Please,tell me how it happened. Why was it so? - We were to be taken by our parish... But we were taken by another parish [with resentment, starts crying] – Vārkava parish took us but we belonged to Daugavpils

Irēna Saleniece 70 ___________________________________________________________ parish... [...] Enemies... And then – neighbours, our own people, Russians [delivered up]... - And what were you guilty of? - We had twenty seven hectares of land...” 23 In this fragment, at least four moments are mentioned, which according to the narrator testify to an extreme injustice that was brought on her family. Their farmstead was located in Kalupe parish, Daugavpils district (the narrator is mistaken when mentioning Daugavpils parish, which has never existed) but those who executed the deportation order were from the neighbouring Vārkava parish. Why so? The woman still treats this situation not as a formal offence but as an intrusion of “aliens” into a more or less balanced life and the destruction of the normal order of things. It is clear that nothing would have changed if on the morning of March 25 the Grigoryevs’ house had been stormed by activists from “their own” parish. However, in the narrator’s consciousness this disarray still remains a significant fact. Besides, she was deeply hurt by the unjust accusation of being “an enemy of the people” that remained with this family for decades (“Enemies...”). In the official deportation documents, they were entitled “kulaks”; however, one may suppose that both in everyday life and the press (especially in the Stalinist epoch) they often faced this phrase being addressed to them. Besides, according to the family version of events (which finds neither approval nor rejection in the archival materials), one of the reasons why the family was included in the list of deportees was denunciation by neighbours who were Russians, just like the Grigoryevs, in a generally Latvian parish environment. Thus, traitors turned out to be “their own people” – another violation of the normal order of things and a cause of disillusionment. Finally, in the opinion of a woman who was born and brought up in independent Latvia, landed property had always been and remained the greatest benefit for human kind, a source of material well-being and respect from others. Under the new conditions, it turned out that this thing of value could bring misfortune to its owners: in the period from 1940 to 1949 they first had to become reconciled to the loss of land in the process of land reform 24 and then were persecuted because of their former well-being. Hence, the situation was unclear and unacceptable to the narrator. Her whole world was destroyed in one moment: the usual norms and values were rejected, the integrity of her family and even life as such were endangered. Besides, all this happened by the will of political authorities that were seemingly supposed to safeguard security and sustain order, instead of causing chaos. Irina and her relatives were treated by officials

The Deportation of March 25, 1949 in Latgale 71 ___________________________________________________________ as criminals, but for what reason? The answer to this question has not been received up to now. And up to now they experience the same horror, fear of death and loss, bitterness, resentment and disillusionment. In the little repressed girl’s narration, this feeling gains a concrete expression of physical pain that periodically plagued her. Though she cannot remember the moment of deportation, she was then also caught in the whirlpool of dread and anxiety. Today she assumes that her body keeps the memory of the reality experienced then. The physical sensation of pain in her legs is caused, in her opinion, by fear that she (literally!) imbibed through her mother’s milk on the day of deportation: “And from that fear when mum [on the morning of March 25] breastfed me (I was already so strong, walking when somebody held my hand) I was left without legs, I could not take a single step... this is what granny says, mum says [...] Probably because of that fear... Yet they cured me, though later when I grew up it probably gave me complications, and my legs still ache...” 25 The experience of deportation in a slightly transformed way still haunts the mother, too: “- [unclearly – due to sobs] I keep saying now: ‘Daughter, Kira, maybe you resent me because I left you? If you had the same situation, would you leave Sveta [narrator’s granddaughter] or not?’ She [Glikeria, the narrator’s daughter] kept her silence and did not say anything. - You didn’t know what would happen to you...” 26 As one can see, the mother’s agony did not end with the family reunion or their return to their homeland. In the course of fifty years she has been afraid that her daughter had not forgiven her for “betrayal” – for parting with the baby on 25 March 1949. Towards the end of her life, when people spend much time resting and brooding, pricks of conscience had seemingly become more acute. The atmosphere ruling in the family reveals the daughter’s love towards her mother, she is taking care of her and it is unlikely that she would reproach her mother. Yet, during the interview the aged woman often, sometimes even without any relation to the topic of conversation, seemed to justify herself: they did not know whether they were being taken to a new place in which to live or die; in the transit there were no conditions for feeding and nursing a baby; small children died on

Irēna Saleniece 72 ___________________________________________________________ the journey, and so on. It can be assumed that, in the course of time, memories of the initially dominating fear of death faded as the threat did not materialise. What seemed quite real in March, 1949, turned out to be just a figment of the imagination. On the other hand, the fact of “betrayal” in relation to her daughter was real as the mother gave the baby away to someone she knew, yet who was not a relative. Today, with the benefit of hindsight, she accuses herself for having made a wrong decision. However, responsibility is just a consequence of free choice. The person who is not free and has no right to choose cannot be seen as guilty (that does not eliminate the possibility, as in this case, that the person may agonize over the consequences of a choice that he or she did not make). Our heroine, like millions of other inhabitants of Latvia, “ordinary” people of several generations, became after 1940 an object of the impact of two totalitarian regimes that excluded the possibility of free choice. They had no choice but to fit into the enforced order and succumb to it, yet this did not mean becoming reconciled to it. The numerous incidents of spiritual resistance testify to people’s striving for the sustenance of their world view. Yet the family stories depicted in this book show that, despite captivity and oppression, the deported sustained trust in their values and did not turn into “Soviet people”. The community in Latgale faced up to the grave and destructive consequences of the deportation, consequences that have not been completely overcome to the present. Thus, the repressions were not effective in reaching the aim of Sovetisation, although this provided the grounds for their implementation. In this divided and bullied community, with a limited access to information, communist propaganda and Soviet upbringing made a much greater impact on future generations than direct repressions. But that is another story.

Notes 1 Apine, 2007, 14-16. 2 Салениеце, 2007, 227-228. 3 Smits, 1997, 19. 4 Saleniece, 2005, 33-42. 5 Bleiere, Riekstiņš, 2008, 6. 6 Strods, 2003, 87-92. 7 Āboliņa et al, 2007, 179. 8 Cf. Āboliņa et al, 2007; Bleiere, 2005; Bleiere, 2007; Dimanta, Zālīte, 2003; Riekstiņš, 2000; Riekstiņš, 2003; Strods, 2003 etc.

The Deportation of March 25, 1949 in Latgale 73 ___________________________________________________________ 9 The Oral History Centre at Daugavpils University (DU OHC) was founded on 2 December, 2003. The aim of the OHC is to promote theoretical research into, and the practical use of oral history, by establishing an archive of oral evidence and founding a research institution. The main activities of OHC are recording of life-stories of the inhabitants in Eastern Latvia and depositing them in the archive, as well as using oral history sources for research into 20th century Latvian history. 10 Saleniece, 2008. 11 Irina Grigoryeva’s life-story. 12 Glikerija Mukāne’s life-story. 13 Registered case for the Grigoryev family, Latvia State Archives, series No.1894, sub-series No.1 (Daugavpils apriņķis), piece No.7639. 14 Resolution No. 125 of the Executive Committee of the Soviet of Deputies of the Working People, Daugavpils district “On Validation of the Lists of Kulak Households” as concerns the household of F.Grigoryev, 25 November, 1947. LSA 1894.1 (Daugavpils apriņķis).7639, page 4. 15 Summary [of information] signed by the head of Daugavpils department of the Ministry of State Security of the LSSR concerning the family of kulak F.Grigoryev, 17 February, 1949. LSA 1894.1 (Daugavpils apriņķis). 7639, p. 1c. 16 Conclusion of the senior commander of operations of the 4th department of the Ministry of State Security of the LSSR Major Kachesov as concerns the deportation of the family of F.Grigoryev from the territory of the LSSR to a place of special settlement in distant locations of the USSR, 27 February, 1949. LSA 1894.1 (Daugavpils apriņķis).7639, p. 6. 17 Irina Grigoryeva’s life-story. 18 Ibid. 19 Ibid. 20 Glikerija Mukāne’s life-story. 21 Irina Grigoryeva’s life-story. 22 Ibid. 23 Ibid. 24 Bleiere, 2007, 243-245. 25 Glikerija Mukāne’s life-story. 26 Irina Grigoryeva’s life-story. References Registred case for the family of “kulak” Fyodor Martynovich Grigoryev. Latvia State Archives, series No.1894, sub-series No.1 (Daugavpils

Irēna Saleniece 74 ___________________________________________________________ apriņķis), piece No.7639. (Latvijas Valsts arhīva 1894. fonds, 1. apraksts (Daugavpils apriņķis), 7639. lieta) Glikerija Mukāne’s (Grigoryeva) life-story. Interview undertaken by Irēna Saleniece in „Lielie Vaideri”, Vabole parish of Daugavpils region, 1 July, 2003. The record of the interview (1 tape, 62 minutes, in Latvian) is kept in the archives of the Oral History Centre at Daugavpils University, catalogue No. 72, abbreviated – DU MV: 72. Irina Grigoryeva’s (Kurmeliyova) life-story. Interview undertaken by Irēna Saleniece in „Lielie Vaideri”, Vabole parish of Daugavpils region, 1 July, 2003. 1 tape, 62 minutes, in Russian. DU MV: 73. Āboliņa, A., A. Kalnciema, Z. Kārkliņš, D. Kļaviņa, E. Pelkaus, J. Riekstiņš, I. Šķiņķe, L. Strazdiņa and I. Zemļanskis (eds.) (2007), Aizvestie. 1949. gada 25. marts. Vol. 2, 3. Rīga: Nordik. Apine, I. (2007), “Mazākumtautību loma vēsturē un mūsdienās. Multikulturālas sabiedrības izveidošanās un attīstība,” in: L. Dribins (ed.), Mazākumtautības Latvijā. Vēsture un tagadne. Rīga: Latvijas Universitātes Filozofijas un socioloģijas institūts, Īpašu uzdevumu ministra sabiedrības integrācijas lietās sekretariāts. 9-25. Bleiere, D., I. Butulis, I. Feldmanis, A. Stranga, and A. Zunda (2005), Latvijas vēsture. 20. gadsimts. Rīga: Jumava. Bleiere, D. (2007), “Repressions against Farmers in Latvia in 1944-1953”, in: V. Nolendorfs and E. 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. Second edition. Rīga: Institute of the History of Latvia Publishers. 242-255. Bleiere, D. and J. Riekstiņš (2008), The second mass deportation of the inhabitants. 25 March, 1949. Rīga: Latvian State Archive. Dimanta, S. and I. Zālīte (2003), “Structural Analysis of the Deportations of the 1940’s”, in: T. Puisāns (ed.) Unpunished Crimes: Latvia Under Three Occupations. Stockholm – Toronto: Memento. 97-103.

The Deportation of March 25, 1949 in Latgale 75 ___________________________________________________________ Riekstiņš, J. (ed.) (2000), Represijas Latvijas laukos: Dokumenti un materiāli (1944-1949). Rīga: Latvijas Valsts arhīvs. Riekstiņš, J. (2003), “1949.gada 25. marta deportācija Latvijā”, in: Latvijas Vēsturnieku komisijas raksti. Vol. 9. I. Šķiņķe (ed.), “Padomju okupācijas režīms Baltijā 1944.–1959. gadā: politika un tās sekas: Starptautiskās conferences materiāli, 2002. gada 11. – 12. jūnijs, Rīga”. Rīga: Latvijas vēstures institūta apgāds. 162-169. Saleniece, I. (2005), ”Latvian 20th Century History from the Perspective of Oral History Sources. The Views of Russians from Eastern Latvia,” Pro Ethnologia: Publications of Estonian National Museum. 19: 33-42. Saleniece, I. (2007), „Sovetskie voiny glazami russkih zhitelei vostochnoi Latvii: 40-е gody ХХ veka,” in: R. Apanavičius et al. (eds.) Humanities in New Europe. Vol. 2. Science and Society = Humanitariniai mokslai naujojoje Europoje. T. 2. Mokslas ir visuomenè. Kaunas: Vytautas Magnus University. 218-228. Saleniece, I. (ed.) (2008), 1949. gada 25. martā izvesto balsis: Dažu Daugavpils un Ilūkstes apriņķa deportēto ģimeņu likteņi mutvārdu vēstures avotos un arhīva dokumentos. Daugavpils: Daugavpils Universitātes akadēmiskais apgāds „Saule”. Smits, E. D. (1997), Nacionālā identitāte. Rīga: AGB. Strods, H. (2003), ”Operation ‘Coastal Storm’ (Priboy) the Deportation of the Baltic Peoples 1949,” in: T. Puisāns (ed.) Unpunished Crimes: Latvia Under Three Occupations. Stockholm – Toronto: Memento. 87-96. Irena Saleniece is Professor and Head of the History Department and Oral History Centre at the Faculty of the Humanities, Daugavpils University.

The Strange Death of Latvian National Communism William D. Prigge Historians and Latvians have an ambivalent attitude towards national communism and its members; however, there has been little debate about the cause of the July 1959 purges and the leading role of Nikita Khrushchev. Scholars have customarily assumed that the actions were the result of Latvian localism exceeding limits acceptable to Moscow. Such an interpretation generally includes a characterization of “Moscow” as monolithic, failing to consider Kremlin feuding and its effect on politics in the republic. The fact that Khrushchev paid a visit to Riga that June and confronted dramatically the leader of the Latvian national communists, Eduards Berklavs, only reinforced the perception that the purge originated with Moscow. It appeared that an angry Khrushchev delivered swift retribution as happened so often in the past; then, the Kremlin and surrogates in Rīga dispersed the national communists, replacing Latvian leadership with those more loyal to the Soviet Union—and more Russian. What little attention the West paid to the events followed this line. In their seminal work, The Baltic States: Years of Dependence 1940-1990, Romuald J. Misiunas and Rein Taagepera explained that while “the majority of the Latvian Central Committee apparently opposed the measure [purge of Berklavs] . . . only repeated pressure, including personal intervention by Khrushchev, carried the day.” 1 Andrejs Plakans concluded that “some prominent members of the Latvian Central Committee thus viewed the thaw period as an opportunity to try to block and perhaps reverse this relentless Russification of Latvian life. Spearheading this nonconformism in the party was Eduards Berklavs . . . opposing him in the heated party discussions over these issues was Arvīds Pelše.” Plakans continued: “Thus Khrushchev, on a visit in June 1959 to Riga to meet with East German communist leaders, decided the dispute in favor of Pelshe and his supporters, accusing Berklavs of disfiguring Leninist principles concerning nationality. The consequence of this decision for the

William D. Prigge 78 ___________________________________________________________ Latvian Central Committee was a purge of some two thousand functionaries who had been sympathetic to Berklavs’ brand of “national communism.” 2 Prior to the 1990s, most of the West’s knowledge of the purge was limited to Soviet newspapers, Berklavs’ account in the Protest Letter, and Michael Widmer’s 1969 dissertation, “Nationalism and Communism in Latvia: The Latvian Communist Party under Soviet Rule.” The majority of Widmer’s research came from Soviet Latvian newspapers, whose postpurge accounts were riddled with the viewpoint of the victor, namely Pelše. Widmer hypothesized that there were two reasons for Khrushchev’s offensive: first, he believed that Latvian leaders had angered Moscow with their decision not to accept “Thesis 19”, requiring a fixed number of hours to be devoted to the study of Russian in schools. “The Latvian’s leadership’s position on this issue must have been one of the important factors which prompted Moscow to purge the Berklav[s] group.” 3 Second, Widmer observed that the national communists, particularly Pauls Dzērve, proposed an economic program on 6 June 1959 giving local production needs in Latvia priority over general Soviet needs, amounting to economic autarky. In his opinion, “the drafting and circulation of this ‘program’ may well have been the incident which triggered Khrushchev’s trip to Latvia in mid-June 1959.” 4 Berklavs recently stated that he likewise attributed his removal to Khrushchev and to Moscow’s attempt to implement an “imperialistic policy of Russification,” which resulted in reaction and protest from Latvia. When the Kremlin’s masters could not quiet Latvia using peaceful means, they started to look for scapegoats. Khrushchev, “reading the accusations, not checking any of the facts . . . deported me from the republic without my Party card in my pocket. I was called to Moscow 5 and told my future presence in Latvia is no longer possible. . . . it happened like that.” 6 While Berklavs is a primary source, his accounts are highly politicised; and though Widmer drew sound conclusions on many points, the few sources available to him limited his research. Therefore, some of the most basic assumptions about the purge merit revision. The addition of recent accounts by various national communists and the opening of Soviet archives in Moscow and Riga reveal a truth stranger and more complex than imagined before. This author’s research indicates that conservatives

The Strange Death of Latvian National Communism 79 ___________________________________________________________ in Latvia purged the national communists despite Khrushchev’s disinclination to remove Berklavs. Instead of instigator, Khrushchev’s played the role first of a mediator between the two factions and ultimately an unsuccessful defender of the younger generation. Berklavs, the national communists, and Khrushchev were outmaneuvered by the skill, luck, and audacity of Pelše, his allies in the military, and powerful supporters in Moscow. In many ways, Khrushchev’s own political fate five years later mirrored that of Berklavs; that is, both purges bore the print of conservative Politburo member, Mikhail Suslov. This discovery requires a complete rethinking of the events of 1959 and raises a host of larger questions: How much control did the centre have over the periphery? Who made up the centre and how might Moscow’s politics have affected Latvia’s? Was there a connection between Berklavs’ ouster and Khrushchev’s? Did the movement to dismiss Khrushchev begin with the Latvian purges? The timing of Khrushchev’s June visit to Riga, scarcely three weeks prior to the ouster of Berklavs, explains the suspicion and confusion Western scholars have had over how and why the purge unfolded. Widmer believed that Khrushchev knew of Latvia’s infighting, and the purpose of his visit was to clean out the problematic Latvian nationalists. He states: “It is not clear when Khrushchev began to appreciate the significance of developments in Latvia. Nevertheless, one can pinpoint the moment when he took the offensive. On June 9, he traveled to Riga with Walter Ulbricht and a delegation from the German Democratic Republic. On the 12th, the Germans left Latvia for other parts of the Soviet Union. Khrushchev, however, stayed in Riga an extra day where he “took part in meetings of leading Party workers of the Latvian SSR.” In view of the soon-to-follow developments, there can be little doubt that he was sounding out the views of Latvian Party leaders and arranging for changes in the top-level personnel of the republic organization.” 7 However, more recent accounts are certain on the one point that Khrushchev came to Riga as part of a routine state visit, not to set a purge in motion. Both the memoirs of Berklavs and Second Secretary Vilis Krūmiņš describe an enjoyable visit by Khrushchev until the final day. The Latvian Communist Party had a long history of party intrigues of which Khrushchev had little knowledge. What he did know about devel-

William D. Prigge 80 ___________________________________________________________ opments in Latvia prior to June 1959, specifically, the rejection of “Thesis 19” on language instruction and a complaint about Riga’s immigration policy, did not distress him on his visit. 8 The extra day the premier spent was not to lay the groundwork for a purge, but to conduct a series of meetings that transpired pleasantly. Only at the end of Khrushchev’s stay did Russian military officers in Latvia inform him in detail of the national communists’ activities. 9 Although infuriated by the Latvians’ nationalistic policies, he was, even then, reluctant to take dramatic steps. Berklavs understood that Khrushchev’s trip was nothing more than a state visit, and the premier’s outburst the final morning at the airport surprised Berklavs as much as anyone. Nevertheless in the Protest Letter, he gave the impression that Khrushchev came to Riga personally to remove the national communists because of their growing power. The letter states: “But when his [Berklavs’] support grew to include a majority of the Central Committee members, the then first secretary of the Communist Party of the USSR, Comrade Khrushchev, made a personal trip to Latvia and later sent the secretary of the CPSU, Mukhitinov. As a result, E. Berklavs was dismissed from his post as vice chairman of the Council of Ministers and expelled from the Central Committee bureau and the Central Committee, and was sent out of the Latvian Republic.” 10 A number of factors may have inclined Berklavs to blame Khrushchev, including the stinging nature of their final encounter at the airport. Furthermore, he was not present at critical meetings with Khrushchev in the days immediately preceding and following the July 1959 Plenum—leaving him in the dark regarding the premier’s thinking. Finally, because the Protest Letter was intended to highlight abuses occurring in Soviet Latvia, such a document was not suited to investigating the subtleties of Kremlin politics. Krūmiņš’s recollection, while at times suspect, is likely more reliable than Berklavs’s. As second secretary, he had more access to high Moscow officials and was present at key phone calls and meetings with Khrushchev just prior to the purge and several months later. Krūmiņš’s account differs markedly on one key point: Khrushchev’s reluctance to purge Berklavs. Several days after the Riga visit, Khrushchev sent Nuriddin Mukhitdinov to investigate the charges. After a long conversation with Pelše, Mukhitdinov stopped by Krūmiņš’s office and relayed Khrushchev’s preference that Krūmiņš criticise the Latvian First Secretary

The Strange Death of Latvian National Communism 81 ___________________________________________________________ Jānis Kalnbērziņš at the upcoming Latvian Communist Party Central Committee Plenum in July. 11 While he agreed to criticize some general character flaws of Kalnbērziņš at the Plenum, Krūmiņš said that he too shared responsibility for the nationalism. When he conveyed this to Khrushchev by phone, the Soviet premier angrily responded, “Then do what you want!” 12 Considering how Krūmiņš turned on his past friend at the July Plenum, one wonders how much responsibility he was willing to take. In any case, other evidence supports many of his basic assertions. Khrushchev considered Kalnbērziņš inept, 13 and even before 1959 the national communists believed that his days were numbered. 14 Therefore, it is not surprising that in June, Khrushchev tried to make this passive member of the old generation the scapegoat. Second, Berklavs (interestingly) also recounted Khrushchev’s reluctance to purge the national communists. On 20 June, the Bureau of the Latvian Comunist Party held a session to prepare a case against Berklavs. After the session, Berklavs recalled how he was ordered to Kalnbērziņš’s office. There, the first secretary, together with Berklavs’ onetime political mentor, Chairman Vilis Lācis, Pelše, and the Moscow investigatory commission telephoned Khrushchev to get his consent for the arrest and trial of the besieged deputy chairman. Khrushchev declined. In Berklavs’s words, the premier feared a nationalistic backlash in Latvia and wanted to avoid generating too much “noise” in the world. 15 Several days later, Krūmiņš, Kalnbērziņš, and Lācis went to Moscow to attend the 24-29 June Plenum of the Central Committee of the Soviet Communist Party. According to Krūmiņš, Khrushchev was still upset and asked to speak with each about the brewing nationalism. Khrushchev wanted to know how Kalnbērziņš could let this happen. The first secretary tried to justify himself by explaining that the troubles did not begin until the Berklavs faction took shape. Such assurances did not appease Khrushchev, who cut him short. In defence of Latvia’s policies, Krūmiņš began his turn by stating that Latvian youth knew Russian and in fact, at Moscow State University, they tested better in Russian than those from other republics. He explained that without knowing Latvian it was impossible to build Soviet power in Latvia. Krūmiņš claimed that Khrushchev’s attitude changed at that moment, as the premier began to sense that the whole “Latvian incident” was overblown and that he was not finding real manifestations of “bourgeois nationalism.” 16 Later, Khrushchev apparently recalled his meeting with Berklavs at the airport: “I gave him a healthy tongue-lashing, but later on the plane I thought—you know, this guy is straight-forward and honest…but obstinate.” 17 The

William D. Prigge 82 ___________________________________________________________ stenograms of that plenum support Krūmiņš’s claims. Khrushchev made his wishes clear by underscoring the fact that there was no need for a purge of Latvian cadres: “Khrushchev: All of these, comrades, are very serious questions. Perhaps sometime we will have to put them to the Plenum and discuss. But I would consider that now we should not pass a resolution. At first when we discussed the question on Latvia at the Presidium, we wanted to pass a resolution. If it were passed, then you, probably, would have supported us. However, after thinking it over it was decided: no, don’t pursue this matter, because if such a resolution is passed, . . . the Latvians could rise against Soviet power. And then, . . . the troublemakers who want to cause problems will appear. Perhaps because of them, the wonderful picture of brotherly friendship of nations of our great Soviet Union will be spoiled. Voice from the hall: Right!” 18 Khrushchev could not have imagined, Krūmiņš later observed, that within days the real “hunt for wreckers” would begin. 19 1. Cause of the Purge Berklavs had many enemies in Latvia, from the Daugavpils Party, to the military, to Pelše; they were the instigators of the purge. The hard-liners capitalised on the confrontation between Berklavs and Khrushchev, using it as a pretext to assail the national communists. They moved swiftly against Berklavs, first on 20 June at a Bureau session and next at the Latvian Communist Party Central Committee plenum on 6-8 July. Moreover, both Berklavs and Khrushchev had enemies in the Kremlin who sought simultaneously to remove a nuisance in Latvia and weaken the premier in Moscow. The initial confrontation at the airport between Berklavs and Khrushchev was pivotal in providing momentum for Pelše and the military. In the past, their struggle against the national communists had been thwarted at every turn, often because of Khrushchev; the airport incident would be the opposition’s chance to defeat the faction. Pelše had no future in a Latvia dominated by the younger generation, and this fact gave him every reason to take a gamble. Fortunately for Pelše, the confrontation was ex-

The Strange Death of Latvian National Communism 83 ___________________________________________________________ plicit and public, whereas Khrushchev’s later reconsideration of Berklavs was witnessed by very few Latvian communists. Pelše could also capitalise on the conflicting impressions Moscow gave in the days that followed the argument. According to Khrushchev’s statement at the June Plenum of the Soviet Communist Party, he and the others in the Presidium were initially in favor of a purge before rethinking. A week after the incident, during the 20 June Bureau session, it looked to all observers as though Berklavs’ demise was desired by Khrushchev and therefore imminent. The man Khrushchev sent, Mukhitdinov, compared the recalcitrant Latvian to Lavrentii Beria and implied that he might share the same fate. 20 By the time the Bureau met, the unity of the national communists was in disarray. Pauls Pizāns broke down into hysterics, pleading: “admit it . . . we didn’t win!” 21 Immediately after the June visit, Berklavs became a liability to his former stalwarts. Soviet purges often took on their own dynamic, and there was no room for neutrality, simply victors and vanquished. By 20 June, it was already too late for Berklavs. Only after the Bureau meeting did Khrushchev indicate to a limited number of party members, first on the phone in Kalnbērziņš’s office and next in Moscow, that he no longer favored a purge. The process of removing Berklavs was rapidly reaching the point of no return, even for Khrushchev. As clearly indicated in the June Plenum of the Soviet Communist Party, Khrushchev’s reluctance to deal with the Latvians stemmed not from indifference, but fear of a nationalistic uprising. He understood the fragility of this multi-national empire based on occupation and perhaps recognized that such outbursts could quickly spread, threatening Soviet rule in other republics. As with the 147 letters of complaint that Moscow received the year before, Khrushchev’s policy was to ignore the obvious nationalism and not stir the hornets’ nest. In this context, Pelše’s gamble was logical. Because Berklavs’ policies were nationalistic, if the Latvian Communist Party brought formal charges of nationalism, Khrushchev would have no ideological grounds for defending Berklavs. Capitalising on the premier’s weakness and the fog of battle at the local level, Pelše sought to force the issue with a simple but effective strategy: expose the nationalism in Berklavs’ policy and use Khrushchev’s episode at the airport to give the purge legitimacy. If other members of the Party did not support the purge, the threat of losing one’s post was clear. At the July Plenum, Pelše portrayed Berklavs as a nationalist who refused to repent. On the question of Berklavs’ immigration policy, Pelše stated that Moscow considered the policy misguided and required the adoption of a new regulation:

William D. Prigge 84 ___________________________________________________________ “Even after conversing with Comrade Khrushchev, after the Bureau session in which Comrade Mukhitdinov participated, you said, “No, I’m against this, I object!” Why do you follow this line? This is Ulmanis’ slogan “Latvia for the Latvians.” This is politically a mistaken line.” 22 Berklavs’ own obstinate personality did not help his cause. Pelše recalled that when Khrushchev asked if “he was able to correct himself,” Berklavs replied, “Comrade Khrushchev, I didn’t become a Party member to get a high post.” 23 When he fell back on his record as an honest and hard working Party member, Pelše cynically jabbed, “Berklavs is not mistaken, Nikita Sergeevich Khrushchev is.” 24 It is difficult to understand why Krūmiņš did not enlist Khrushchev’s support to save a drowning party member. One probable reason is that Berklavs was too extreme and unwilling to modify his position on nationalism. Krūmiņš had always been, at least publicly, more moderate and appealing to Moscow; thus, he still saw a future in the Party and agreed to abandon his friend because he probably hoped (or was told by the Pelše faction) that in doing so, his own position would remain secure, and the purge would be limited. 2. The Purge Expands The potentially explosive month of July may be the reason why Pelše initially confined the purge to Berklavs and the head of trade unions, Indriķis Pinksis. Nevertheless, the Agitprop secretary continued to move methodically toward his larger goal of dislodging the national communists from positions of influence and replacing them with his clique. The next target was Voldemārs Kalpinš and the Ministry of Culture. Kalpinš was dangerous because his frequent newspaper articles cast him as a defender of Latvian national culture, undoubtedly endearing him to the public. Pelše removed lesser-known cultural deputies first and allowed Kalpinš to retain his position on the promise that he recant his errors, but Pelše did not intend for Kalpinš to remain Minister of Culture for long. The first dismissed was Kalpinš’s deputy and the primary investigator of the Russian-dominated Daugavpils Party in November 1958, Pavel Cherkovskii. In early August, Cherkovskii was demoted from first deputy to editor of the Latvian agricultural encyclopedia. 25 Because Cherkovskii was the chief architect behind the Latvianization of Latgale, once he was removed, the pendulum in Latgale swung from cultural Latvianization to Russification. In February 1960, Daugavpils first secretary, Ia. Rudometov, com-

The Strange Death of Latvian National Communism 85 ___________________________________________________________ plained that national schools were not advancing the cause of “friendship among the peoples.” He contended that the various groups remained separated during their formative early years and did not know how to cope with other nationalities later in life. Therefore, Rudometov proposed mixing all the nationalities in a single school instead of the traditional schools based on nationality. Theoretically, school instruction would be given in Russian or Latvian, depending on the student. This would mix nationalities while preserving respect for Latvia. However, Rudometov concluded his statement with the qualification that it might not be possible for every school to offer both Latvian and Russian. 26 In Daugavpils, where only 13 percent of the population was Latvian, the students would now be scattered in Russian-dominated schools with little practical reason to offer Latvian as a second language of instruction. Rudometov was laying the groundwork to linguistically Russify the Latvians of Latgale. The attack against Kalpinš remained indirect, but relentless. In September, the Latgalian Song Festival planned by the Ministry of Culture came under fire. Without naming Kalpinš directly, Pelše accused the Ministry of failing to portray contemporary Soviet life, the struggle to build communism, the Great Patriotic War, Soviet patriotism, and proletarian internationalism. Pelše also criticized the song festival for not allowing the use of the popular Belorussian folk song “Vecherinka.” 27 As a result, an investigation was launched into the Ministry of Culture, which offered the following conclusions: Kalpinš had not admitted the mistakes he made at an earlier Plenum until after July; the articles he wrote prior to that Plenum were misguided; when newspapers, such as Rīgas Balss, published problematic articles, the Ministry of Culture remained silent; under Kalpinš, the Ministry “rejuvenated” its ranks with younger members, who only recently had joined the Party, at the expense of older cadres; and lastly, the same charges made about the song festival were made again against Kalpinš and the Ministry. While the Bureau did not remove Kalpinš from his position, the Ministry’s head of cadres was dismissed. For Kalpinš, the Bureau warned that if he did not actively combat nationalistic tendencies in the arts and correct the serious problems in the Ministry, he would be removed. 28 The apparent purpose of this exercise was to force Kalpinš to become complicit in the rejection of national communism and adopt Pelše’s stance. Once this had been done, Kalpinš would lose credibility with the public, provide support to the new order, and Pelše could then dispose of him. This was also the approach taken with the editors of pro-Latvian newspapers. In August 1959, the editor for Rīgas Balss was strongly reprimanded, and the Bureau ordered Berklavs’ former mouthpiece to “deci-

William D. Prigge 86 ___________________________________________________________ sively criticize national narrow-mindedness and all types of nationalistic manifestations and localist tendencies.” 29 If Berklavs went out with a bang in July, the venerable old lions of the Latvian Communist Party, First Secretary Kalnbērziņš and Chairman Lācis, left in November with scarcely a whimper. Kalnbērziņš voluntarily resigned his post and continued for many more years in the Party with his reputation intact. 30 Pelše, Krūmiņš, and Kalnbērziņš flew to Moscow to discuss the resignation. While Khrushchev wanted Kalnbērziņš removed from the post, 31 he was reluctant to accept Pelše as the replacement. 32 The animosity that had been evident since the 1956 Secret Speech had not vanished, and only with considerable hesitation did Khrushchev agree. After nearly twenty years as secretary of Agitprop, Pelše at last moved into the leading position of the LCP. 33 One senses greater unwillingness on the part of Lācis to resign. In announcing Lācis’ retirement, Krūmiņš began with the strange remark, “many know that he [Lācis] repeatedly requested, or if he didn’t request then wanted to request” retiring for health reasons. 34 The task of removing Lācis was more difficult due to his popularity in Latvia and Moscow. However, according to Pinksis, Lācis’ work conditions were made so unbearable that he gave in before long and resigned. 35 Pelše probably promised him a dignified departure if he left voluntarily. Like Kalnbērziņš, Lācis resigned in November and the Party continued to honor him. While many of the charges against the Berklavs faction were actual manifestations of nationalism, the fall of Pauls Dzērve, economic director at the Academy of Sciences, highlights how the opposition also fabricated stories. In early 1960, an unattributed piece appeared in the newspaper that accused Dzērve of approving a “research program” on 6 June 1959. The “program” called for the division of Latvia’s economic production into two sectors: the first, mainly for export to other regions in the Soviet Union and abroad; the second, production for the need of the local economy and the Latvian population. The article went on to allege that Dzērve desired the second sector to have priority over the first. Such an economic platform was intolerable: “It is not difficult to see that the realization of the mistaken purpose included in the “Research Program” would bring about great harm to the development of the national economy of the USSR as a whole, would disorganize the economy of the Latvian republic, [and] would violate both the long-established connections of the

The Strange Death of Latvian National Communism 87 ___________________________________________________________ economy of the republic with other regions of the USSR.” 36 Based on this article, Widmer argued that “the implications of this ‘program’ were vast. In essence, the Latvian Party leaders were pursuing an autarkial policy by which Latvia’s close economic ties with the Soviet Union would be largely broken.” Widmer continued, “The timing of Khrushchev’s appearance, coming less than a week after the institute’s formal acceptance of the ‘program,’ strongly suggests that there was a connection between the two events.” 37 However, it is now apparent that Dzērve’s “program” probably did not exist. In later years when asked about Dzērve’s “program,” Berklavs responded that it was a fabrication, emphasising that while the national communists were accused of advocating economic autarky, they never would have proposed such a radical agenda. What they were actually promoting was an economy based on agriculture and industry best suited to conditions in Latvia. 38 Moreover, Khrushchev never brought up such a “program” in his Riga visit or the Soviet Communist Party Plenum that followed. If Khrushchev was upset by a Latvian economic “program,” he did not show it; as Krūmiņš noted regarding the June visit, Khrushchev’s character was not diplomatic and if something bothered him, it would be obvious. 39 It is important to note that in the 1960 article accusing Dzērve of autarky, the issue of export versus local consumption was closely bound to the question of light industry and consumer goods production versus heavy industry; perhaps the article sought to confuse the two issues. 40 The national communists freely acknowledged that they believed Latvia was best suited to light industrial production (mainly consumer goods) and agriculture. In April 1959, Dzērve proposed that “in each union republic those fields of industry for which there are more advantageous natural and economic conditions receive priority development.” 41 Prior to the July Plenum, there was never any mention of Dzērve’s “program” in the press; nor is there any trace of it now in the archives. The only article he did publish in June indicates that, at least in public, Dzērve generally followed the Party line. He stated in the June issue of Liesma regarding Khrushchev’s Seven-Year Plan: In seven years, the interests of the Soviet nation will be coordinated with the interests of the republic. All the Soviet people need Latvia to develop its electric and radio production, car production as well as fish, meat and

William D. Prigge 88 ___________________________________________________________ milk production. This production will be exported mainly to other Soviet republics and some abroad. 42 Rather than production based on internal consumption versus export, it may be that Dzērve proposed a two-sector economy based on heavy industry in the first and light industry, consumer, and agricultural goods in the second; and that Latvia should place emphasis on the second. It would be a small step for enemies later to equate heavy industry with export production and light industry, consumer, and agricultural goods with local consumption. At any rate, the “investigation” into Dzērve concluded in December, and he was removed from his post. 43 Once an allegation was made and adopted as the Party line, all members had to support the accusations or risk falling suspect themselves. Nikolajs Bissenieks, a national communist who at the Seventeenth Congress of the Latvian Communist Party in February 1960 was under fire for not denouncing Berklavs’ article “Conversation from the Heart,” chastised Krūmiņš: “[Several members] do not want to criticize their friend, [and instead] spare their [friend’s] pride. Doing so, while well meaning, has the opposite effect and does harm to our common cause. Today, I want to advise Vilis Karlovic Krūmiņš to renounce this flaw. When we discussed in the Bureau the state of affairs at the Institute of Economics, friendship with Dzērve impeded Krūmiņš. On the one hand, he condemned him, but at the same time pitied and supported him. Friendship and working together in the Komsomol hindered him. You must renounce this. If not, it will be impossible to correct the serious mistakes that were allowed.” 44 Ultimately, the swirl of self-criticism, requests for leniency, justifications, and blame of former friends did nothing but ease the task of Pelše. By the end of February, both Krūmiņš and Bissenieks lost their positions. 45 3. The Purge and Kremlin Politics Up to this point, the causes of the purge have focused on Latvia. A second reason why Pelše could disregard Khrushchev’s wish to avoid a purge may be found in the limits of the premier’s own power. Grasping the connection between the Kremlin and the Latvian purges provides the greatest insight to date of the poorly understood leadership changes that occurred throughout the USSR in 1959. Western historians Robert Con-

The Strange Death of Latvian National Communism 89 ___________________________________________________________ quest and Michel Tatu noted a tide of purges involving issues of nationalism; most strikingly in Latvia, but also in Azerbaijan and Lithuania (in August), Moldavia (September), and Kazakhstan (October). Especially puzzling to scholars was the demotion in January 1960 of Khrushchev’s strongest supporter, Aleksei Kirichenko. 46 The author’s research will demonstrate that Mikhail Suslov played a major role in the Latvian purges. If, as William Tompson asserts, 47 the republics were Khrushchev’s primary source of support, then events in Latvia demonstrate that Khrushchev’s base of support was undermined from the republics inward, and that Suslov had a larger hand at an earlier time than previously believed. While the study of Suslov’s role in other republics is beyond the scope of this study, the possibility of his involvement outside Latvia should be explored by future researchers. It is the story of Krūmiņš’s fall that yields hints about the inner workings of Kremlin politics in 1959. Krūmiņš recounted the trip that he, Kalnbērziņš, and Pelše made to Moscow to discuss the first secretary’s replacement. This was the first they had seen of Khrushchev since the June Plenum and he was furious about the July purge: “How is it that the whole world now knows Moscow is not able to fix its affairs with Riga?” 48 When Kalnbērziņš requested that Pelše take his place, Khrushchev asked: “if you become first secretary, what [kind of trouble] would you start?” 49 It was apparent that Pelše had already thought out his answer: “I would request a second secretary from your apparatus.” 50 At this, Khrushchev suddenly turned red with hostility and asked sharply “Are you planning to bury him [Krūmiņš]? Or is he already buried? I know you have all this garbage in your head. They’ll devour him. You’re being dishonest.” He once more reminded Kalnbērziņš and Pelše, “See that you are both responsible for Krūmiņš.” 51 Soon after, Pelše became first secretary. Despite Khrushchev’s objections, within a few months Krūmiņš was relieved as second secretary (replaced with a Russian, as Pelše wished), given the post of Minister of Education, and all but removed from the Latvian Central Committee. 52 If Krūmiņš’s account is correct, it calls into question the extent of Khrushchev’s power over the republics. There were two possible limiting factors. First was the influence of the military in Latvia. Both the national communists and Khrushchev had recently antagonised the military, and it was military commanders who brought Berklavs’ activities to the attention of Khrushchev the night before his departure from Riga. Berklavs later recalled that Khrushchev could not simply ignore the political power of the Russian military in the republics. 53 A second, more complex clue to Khrushchev’s limitations lies in Krūmiņš’s further demotion in September

William D. Prigge 90 ___________________________________________________________ 1961. The post of Minister of Education, while a blow to Krūmiņš, was relatively light punishment compared to Berklavs’ removal from the Party and exile. The next initiative against Krūmiņš came from Suslov, one of the most powerful men in the Kremlin and close to Pelše in politics and personal relations. 54 Suslov declared in the press, “After all that’s happened in Latvia, this position [Minister of Education] is too high for him [Krūmiņš].” 55 Krūmiņš was demoted to head of the Latvian Museum of Natural History. 56 There are other reasons to suspect that Suslov worked with Pelše and against Khrushchev to orchestrate the Latvian purges. During the November 1959 meeting, Khrushchev commented to Krūmiņš about the recent events in Latvia: “perhaps the main guilty ones are not hiding in Riga, but our house.” 57 In Serge Petroff’s biography of Suslov, he noted a strained relation between Khrushchev and Suslov. “They had emerged from the XXIst Party Congress in greater opposition to each other than they ever had been before. Obsessed with the idea that Suslov was a political rival, Khrushchev had been trying to reduce Suslov’s authority and influence since the Moscow International Communist Conference in November 1957. Suslov, on the other hand, was becoming progressively more critical of Khrushchev’s theoretical pronouncements, his political intransigence, and his campaign to eliminate what was left of the old Stalinist guard.” 58 Suslov eventually led the neo-conservatives in the unprecedented task of removing Khrushchev according to the Party rules. 59 A less apparent threat than the military or Suslov was Aleksandr Shelepin. Previously a friend to the national communists and a Khrushchev protégé, his past amicability was no guarantee of future support, for either the national communists or Khrushchev. After an argument with Berklavs in early 1958 Shelepin lost patience with the Latvian national communists. Although he had endured Berklavs’ stubbornness, Shelepin was undoubtedly glad to see this flashpoint of conflict removed. Pinksis later accused Shelepin of keeping Khrushchev ignorant of events in Latvia. After his ouster, he attempted to inform Khrushchev of the situation and claimed that Shelepin prevented him, stating the premier was too busy. 60 This was not the first complaint about obstruction from Khrushchev’s entourage. In his own dealings with Khrushchev, Yugoslav ambassador Veljko Mićunović was convinced that Khrushchev’s officials

The Strange Death of Latvian National Communism 91 ___________________________________________________________ bassador Veljko Mićunović was convinced that Khrushchev’s officials misinformed their master. 61 While owing his spectacular rise to Khrushchev, Shelepin did not hesitate to turn against his former patron. As he rose in stature (Khrushchev appointed him KGB head at the end of 1959), Shelepin grew disillusioned with the premier’s leadership. Particularly bothersome was Khrushchev’s increasingly autocratic rule after the 1957 Anti-Party Purge, together with the localism spawned by the sovnarkhoz reforms. 62 At the October 1964 Plenum, he accused Khrushchev of being “coarse, demonic, and infected with inordinate conceit.” The “rudeness” of which Lenin had once accused Stalin “applies fully to you.” 63 His assistance was invaluable to Suslov. Nevertheless, once Khrushchev was gone, Shelepin quickly became disposable to Suslov, who removed him in 1966. 64 William Tompson argues that Khrushchev’s democratic removal was a testament to his own legacy. 65 His expulsion was wholly different from political demises during the time of Stalin and Beria. This is in part because of Khrushchev’s liberalisation of Soviet politics. However, the relatively democratic proceedings are more a consequence of Suslov. The conservative Suslov was in many ways more democratic than Khrushchev, who showed a disregard for collective leadership. In contrast to Marshal Zhukov’s removal in 1957, Shelepin argued that Khrushchev’s ouster was no “palace coup.” “During Khrushchev’s removal, all democratic norms were observed.” The process was relatively transparent and known to the public through the major speech by Suslov published in its entirety. 66 Suslov ensured the collective nature of the October 1964 Plenum and the leadership that followed. 67 Now, the premier’s removal necessitated garnering the proper votes. Consequently, Suslov had to methodically dislodge as many potential supporters of Khrushchev as possible. These manoeuvres began far earlier than previously believed, with the purge of Berklavs. Even though Berklavs was not a member of the Soviet Communist Party Cental Committee, many of his supporters were influential in Moscow. Within months of Berklavs’ dismissal, Kalnbērziņš, Lācis, Krūmiņš, and Kārlis Ozolinš—all favourable to Khrushchev—had lost most of their sway. 68 Pelše, who only three years earlier had threatened retirement and did not have a seat on the Soviet Cental Committee even at the time of Berklavs’ removal, became a full member in 1961. 69 Similarly, the purge catapulted the Russianised Latvian, Jānis Peive, into political prominence: first, replacing Lācis as chairman and becoming a Bureau member, then taking a seat as a candidate member of the Soviet Cental Committee. 70 Other Party members, namely Augusts Voss and Vitalijs Rubenis, came to prominence under Pelše and eventually took

William D. Prigge 92 ___________________________________________________________ seats on the Soviet Central Committee. 71 Both on the Latvian and Soviet Central Committees, Pelše’s appointees were likely to be loyal to Suslov, to the detriment of Khrushchev. The fortunes of Pelše skyrocketed after the sacking of Khrushchev. In the years following the ouster, Suslov and Leonid Brezhnev cleansed the senior leadership. As part of this, in 1966, Suslov installed Pelše as Chairman of the Soviet Communist Party Committee for Party Control. Soon thereafter, Pelše ascended to the Party’s Politburo, unusual for a party control chairman, thus making him one of the most prominent leaders in the Soviet Union. At the time of the Twenty-fourth CPSU Congress, out of fifteen Politburo members, Pelše ranked behind only Brezhnev, Nikolai Podgorny, Aleksei Kosygin, Suslov, and Andrei Kirilenko. 72 Petroff explained the newly acquired power of Suslov and Pelše: “[Yuri] Andropov’s appointment to the chairmanship of the KGB in 1967 concentrated in Suslov’s hands what T.H. Rigby has correctly labeled as “the convergence of the ideological, Party discipline and security concerns of the regime.” Pelshe’s and Andropov’s careers were inseparably linked to Suslov’s patronage - Pelshe was his brother-in-law, and Andropov a well ensconced protégé since the days of the Hungarian revolution when Andropov was Ambassador in Budapest. With Andropov heading the KGB and Pelshe the Party Control Commission, Suslov wielded enormous power in the smaller upper echelon of the Politburo.” 73 By 1970 the fates of Pelše and Khrushchev had reversed to such an extent that the former spoke to the latter as if he were an errant schoolboy. The West had recently published Khrushchev’s memoirs, and Pelše, as head of the Party Control Commission, ordered Khrushchev to his office to demand an explanation. After agreeing to sign a document stating that the memoirs were a fabrication, Khrushchev derided the current leadership. Historian William Taubman recounts, “Khrushchev compared current party leaders with Tsar Nicholas I, blasted them as Stalinist, and charged them with ruining his reforms and ‘pissing away’ gains he made in Egypt and the Middle East. Pelše reminded Khrushchev he was in ‘a party house’ and demanded he behave himself accordingly.” Khrushchev accused his successors of ruining the country, to which Pelše retorted that he was blaming others for his failures. When Khrushchev charged Pelše with interrupting him in a “Stalinist fashion,” the latter snapped, “You’re

The Strange Death of Latvian National Communism 93 ___________________________________________________________ the one in the habit of interrupting people.” Khrushchev replied, “I too was infected by Stalin, but I also freed myself from him, whereas you did not.” By the end of the conversation, Khrushchev revealed himself a broken man. His dramatic fall from power and six years of near house arrest had taken their toll. He pleaded with Pelše: Arrest me, please, shoot me. I’m sick of living. I don’t want to live. Today the radio reported de Gaulle died. I envy him. . . . Maybe your summoning me here will help me die sooner. I want to die. I want to die an honest man. I’m seventy years old. 74 While imperceptible to past historians, July 1959 marked the beginning of the end for Khrushchev. The archival documents and memoirs now at hand contradict the previous orthodoxy that the Latvian purges were ordered by Khrushchev. Instead, the republics were a key base of support that shifted to Suslov after the Latvian purge. In a new era of Party democracy as represented by crucial votes in the CPSU CC, the loss of Latvia was a pivotal event in the political life of Khrushchev. The deftness with which Pelše and Suslov moved is a testament to their political acumen. Years of experience, pockmarked by near brushes with death (literal as well as political), sharpened in both men the sense of when to wait and when to strike. This subtle understanding of Soviet politics was less acute with Berklavs, leading to his downfall and those associated with him. Thus ended national communism in Latvia. Notes 1 Misiunas, 1993, 143. 2 Plakans, 1995, 157 & 159. 3 Widmer, 1969, 545. 4 Ibid., 479. 5 Berklavs did not speak with Khrushchev personally, but with Iakovlev (presumably Aleksandr Iakovlev). 6 Interview, 10 October 2003; Berklavs, 1998, 258-259. 7 Widmer, 1969, 209-210. 8 Letters complaining of Berklavs’ immigration policy in Rīga were known in Moscow by 1958, but Khrushchev was probably not made aware until perhaps March 1959. Kruminsh, 1990b, 86. 9 Ibid., 88.

William D. Prigge 94 ___________________________________________________________ 10 Samizdat, 1974, 436. 11 Kruminsh, 1990b, 88. 12 Ibid. 13 Berklavs, 1998, 196-197. 14 Interview, 1 October 2003. 15 Berklavs, 1998, 216. 16 Kruminsh, 1990b, 88. 17 Ibid. 18 Plenums, 2001, reel 67, delo 382, frame 105. 19 Kruminsh, 1990b, 88. 20 Berklavs, 1998, 215. 21 Ibid., 216. 22 LVA, 101. f., 22. apr., 15. l., 53 lp. 23 LVA, 101.f., 22. apr., 15. l., 55 lp. 24 LVA, 101. f., 22. apr., 15. l., 55 lp. 25 LVA, 101. f., 22. apr., 29. l., 24 lp. 26 LVA, 101. f., 23. apr., 2. l., 84-85 lp. 27 LVA, 101. f., 22. apr., 30. l., 38-39 lp. 28 LVA, 101. f., 22. apr., 31. l., 62-65 lp 29 LVA, 101. f., 22. apr., 29. l., 13 lp. 30 Bol’shaia Sovetskaia Entsiklopediia, 1973, “Kalnberzin’sh, Ian Eduardovich.” 31 Kruminsh, 1990b, 88. 32 LVA, 101. f., 22. apr., 20. l., 88 lp. 33 Bol’shaia Sovetskaia Entsiklopediia, 1975, “Pel’she, Arvid Ianovich.” 34 LVA, 101. f., 22. apr., 20. l., 90 lp. 35 Pinksis, 1988, 126. 36 Kommunist Sovetskoi Latvii, 1960, 10; Widmer, 1969, 481. 37 Widmer, “Nationalism and Communism in Latvia,” 480-481. 38 Interview, 10 October 2003. 39 Kruminsh, 1990b, 87. 40 see Kommunist Sovetskoi Latvii, 1960, 8-14. 41 Widmer, 1969, 481; Sovetskaia Latvia, 22 April 1959, 2. 42 Dzerve, 1959, 2. 43 LVA, 101. f., 22. apr., 33. l., 36 lp. 44 LVA, 101. f., 23. apr., 2. l., 123 lp. 45 LVA, 101. f., 23. apr., 27. l., 18 lp.; LVA, 101. f., 23. apr., 27. l., 55 lp. 46 Conquest states in Russia after Khrushchev that “There seems little doubt that these purges of ‘nationalists,’ of which there were less striking examples [than Latvia] in other peripheral republics, were taken very

The Strange Death of Latvian National Communism 95 ___________________________________________________________ seriously in Moscow. It is plausible that the fall of Kirichenko in early 1960 was due at least in part to alleged softness on nationalism” However, Conquest did not specify who in Moscow engineered Kirichenko’s fall. He came closer in Power and Policy in the U.S.S.R. when he noted, “There seems to be an implication that the 1959-60 campaign in this sphere [towards national minorities] was, if not overtly, directly against Khrushchev himself.” Tatu found the Kirchenko affair still highly mysterious even seven years after the event and marks this event as the beginning of Khrushchev’s decline. However, neither Conquest or Tatu made a connection between these events and Suslov. Serge Petroff noted that Suslov’s power had been ebbing since 1958 and that his return to power took place partially as a result of Kirichenko’s decline; but Petroff argued that Suslov did not play a role in the events of 1959-60 because of his low standing at the time. The details of the Latvian purge suggest that Suslov was far more active than Petroff believed. Conquest, 1965, 210; Conquest, 1962, 387; Tatu, 1969, 33-37; Petroff, 1988, 118, 120. 47 Tompson, 1991, 167, 171. 48 Kruminš, 1988, 136. While Kruminš provides the only account of this meeting in November, the words and phrases he has Khrushchev uttering are typical of other accounts. According to Krūmiņš, Khrushchev said in November: “Well, look what has happened, instead of formal conversation, you have made a ruckus [“troksnis” in Latvian means “noise” or “ruckus”] around the world.” Ibid. Recalling the 20 June 1959 meeting, Berklavs also used the word “troksnis” to explain why Khrushchev did not want a purge at that moment. Berklavs, 1998, 216. Both accounts are in keeping with Khrushchev’s own words at the June CPSU CC Plenum. Plenums, 2001, reel 67, delo 382, frame 105. 49 Kruminsh, 1990b, 89. 50 Pelše meant removing Kruminš from the post of second secretary and returning to the pre-1958 tradition of appointing only non-Latvians to that position. 51 Kruminsh, 1990b, 89. 52 LVA, 101. f., 23. apr., 27. l., 18 lp.; Widmer, 1969, 219. 53 Interview, 10 October 2003. 54 Petroff, 1988, 152. 55 Kruminsh, 1990b, 89. 56 Kruminsh, 1990a, 101. 57 Kruminš, 1988, 136. 58 Petroff, 1988, 117. 59 Documentary History, 1993, 275.

William D. Prigge 96 ___________________________________________________________ 60 Aleksandr Shelepin at that time was head of party organs for union republics. Like Pinksis, Kruminš also believed that Berklavs’ 1958 meeting with Shelepin had fateful consequences. Shelepin, 1991, 4; Pinksis, 1988, 127; Kruminš, 1988, 136. 61 Taubman, 2003, 389; Micunovic, 1980, 423, 438.. 62 Shelepin, 1991, 4. 63 Taubman, 2003, 12. 64 Petroff, 1988, 140, 148, 153. 65 Tompson, 1995, 272. 66 Shelepin, 1991, 4. 67 Petroff,, 1988, 147, 149. 68 Pravda, 1 November 1961, 2. 69 A Biographic Directory of 100 Leading Soviet Officials, 1981, 160. 70 Pravda, 1 November 1961, 2. 71 Bol’shaia Sovetskaia Entsiklopediia, 1975, “Ruben, Vitalii Petrovich”; Bol’shaia Sovetskaia Entsiklopediia, 1971, “Voss, Avgust Eduardovich.” 72 Petroff, 1988, 172. 73 Ibid., 160. 74 Taubman, 2003, 638, 639; see also Tompson, 1995, 280-283; Khrushchev, 1990, 246-247, 303-304; Khrushchev, 1974, xv. References Latvijas Valsts arhivs Biographic Directory of 100 Leading Soviet Officials Bol’shaia Sovetskaia Entsiklopediia Pravda Sovetskaia Latviia Conquest, R. (1962), Power and Policy in the USSR: The Study of Soviet Dynastics. London: Macmillan. Conquest, R. (1965), Russia after Khrushchev. New York: Praeger. Berklavs, E. (1998), Zinat un Neaizmirst. Riga: Preses Nams. Berklavs, E. (2003), Interview by author, tape recording, Riga Latvia, 1 October.

The Strange Death of Latvian National Communism 97 ___________________________________________________________

Berklavs, E. (2003), Interview by author, tape recording, Riga Latvia, 10 October. Daniels, R. (ed.) (1993), Documentary History of Communism in Russia: From Lenin to Gorbachev. Hanover and London: University Press of New England. Dzerve, P. (1995), “Saruna par septingadi,” Liesma, 6. 2. “Ekonomicheskuiu nauku—na sluzhbu Kommunist Sovetskoi Latvii, 1 (1960). 10.

narodnomu

khoziaistvu,”

Kruminš, V. (1988), “Tas drumais piecdesmit devitais.” Sarunu ar rakstnieku Jani Lapsu. Karogs, 9. 130-137. Kruminš, V. (1990),“Dolgaia doroga k demokratii.” Kommunist Sovetskoi Latvii,1. 101-104. Kruminš, V. (1990), “Dolgaia doroga k demokratii.” Kommunist Sovetskoi Latvii, 4. 84-91. Khrushchev, N. (1974), Khrushchev Remembers: The Last Testament. Edited and translated by Strobe Talbott. Boston: Little Brown. Khrushchev, S. (1990), Khrushchev on Khrushchev: An Inside Account of the Man and His Era. Edited and translated by William Taubman. Boston: Little Brown. Micunovic, V. (1980), Moscow Diary. Translated by David Floyd. Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday. Misiunas, R. and R. Taagepera. (1993), The Baltic States: Years of Dependence 1940-1990. London: Hurst & Company. Petroff, S. (1988), The Red Eminence: A Biography of Mikhail A. Suslov. Clifton, N.J.: Kingston Press, Inc. Pinksis, I. (1988), “Tas drumais piecdesmit devitais.” Sarunu ar rakstnieku Jani Lapsu. Karogs,10. 125-127.

William D. Prigge 98 ___________________________________________________________

Plakans, A. (1995), The Latvians: A Short History. Stanford: Hoover Institution Press. Plenums of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union, 1941-1990: From the holdings of Russian State Archive of Contemporary History. Moscow, Russia. (Plenumy tsentral’nogo komiteta kommunisticheskoi partii Sovetskogo Soiuza, 1941-1990: iz fondov Rossiiskogo gosudarstvennogo arkhiva noveishei istorii, Moskva, Rossiia). Woodbridge, CT: Primary Source Media, 2001. Saunders, G. (1974), Samizdat: Voices of the Soviet Opposition. New York: Monad Press. Shelepin, A. (1991), “Istoriia—uchitel’ surovyi,” Trud, 14, 15, 19 March, Tatu, M. (1969), Power in the Kremlin: From Khrushchev to Kosygin. Translated by Helen Katel. New York: Viking Press. Taubman, W. (2003), Khrushchev: The Man and His Era. New York: W.W. Norton. Tompson, W. (1991), “Nikita Khrushchev and the territorial apparatus, 1953-1964.” Ph.D. dissertation, University of Oxford. Tompson, W. (1995), Khrushchev: A Political Life. London: Macmillan Press. Widmer, M. (1969), “Nationalism and Communism in Latvia: The Latvian Communist Party under Soviet rule.” Ph.D. dissertation, Harvard University. William Prigge is an assistant professor of history at Briar Cliff University in Sioux City, IA. His research deals with the Latvian national communists from 1945 to 1960.

Latvia’s 90th Anniversary: between Partocracy and a Misconstrued Model of Liberal Economy Veiko Spolitis Introduction Many analysts 1 who spoke of the three Baltic States – Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania – in laudatory terms prior to EU accession, now have to use more cautionary language. The open economies of Estonia and Lithuania have suffered tremendously during the world economic crisis, but it is the Latvian economy which is on the verge of insolvency. The Europeanization of Latvian society has actually been rather shallow and a major reason for this is the oligarchization and consequent stratification of Latvian society. Latvia celebrated its 90th anniversary with a small Europeanized elite rejoicing over the fifth anniversary of EU membership, while the bulk of society recalled a bygone era of a less than perfect Soviet style welfare society. Domestic politics throughout the 1990’s was very much characterized by the strategic aim of the Latvian leadership to achieve accession into the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) and the European Union (EU). The “return to Europe” 2 blinded Latvian civil society, entrenching a predetermined path towards a liberal economic model and a political system fashioned for the Latvian privileged class. This analysis explores those major aspects of domestic politics which supported the oligarchization of Latvia’s political system. First, the unique transformation of the Latvian constitutional order which culminated in the establishment of an allegedly democratic political system. Second, a burgeoning civil society which lacked empowerment by the state, because of faulty and somewhat artificial perceptions concerning the division between the social and state spheres. This separation delayed the process of Europeanization and frustrated mutually enriching co-operation between civil society and the public service. Instead of increased efficiency for the Latvian administrative system, green shoots were trampled down early on, much needed time and money was wasted and Latvian public services were transformed into a system of unco-operative fiefdoms. Finally, the transition from a centrally planned to a market economy went smoothly until EU membership, and then changed into a rough ride as a result of Latvia’s entrenched and imbalanced economic structure. Latvia’s political leadership, instead of capitalizing on EU and International Monetary Fund (IMF) policy suggestions, prematurely decided to

Veiko Spolitis 100 ___________________________________________________________ rest on its laurels, wrongly assuming that EU and NATO membership had automatically secured Latvia’s sustainability. On its 90th anniversary, the Latvian leadership had to learn a lesson about how political institutions can lose public trust, while at the same time Latvian society was reminded that, without really functioning checks and balances within a representative democracy, democracy itself does not work. 1. Re-establishment of sovereignty and the constitution Ever since 4 May 1990, when the Latvian Supreme Soviet proclaimed that the Republic of Latvia had reasserted sovereignty over its territory, academic discussions have been ongoing about the legitimacy of the present political regime. 3 From 4 May 1990 until the dissolution of the USSR following the failed coup d’etat on 20 August 1991 and the recognition of de jure independence of Latvia by the Russian Federation and major world powers, political consultations between the moderate Popular Front and the more radical National Independence Movement were ongoing. Citizens’ committees 4 were established and insisted that only citizens and their descendants who had lived in Latvia prior to the Soviet occupation on 17 June 1940 had the right to form a constitutional assembly and elect a new parliament. This insistence divided the liberal movement, turned away Russian activists who supported independence, and did not allow for the creation of an all-encompassing founding assembly. 5 The decision to reinstate the 1922 Constitution meant that the instability associated with this Weimar-era constitution spread into Latvia’s political culture. 6 Unique in the region, this decision meant that Latvia had no sort of constitutional assembly. Chapter VIII was simply added to the 1922 Constitution in recognition of the fact that Latvia became a member of the United Nations on 17 September 1991 and was thus party to the Human Rights Convention. The time frame for implementing Chapter VIII proved to be rather lengthy: thus Latvian citizens could exercise these rights only from June 1998, and this process also delayed the establishment of the Ombudsman’s office. 7 Other important changes were made to bring the constitution into line with other modern parliaments. The parliamentary term was increased from three to four years and a threshold of five percent was established. Thus Latvian parliamentarians tried to address the shortcomings of the 1920s when faction-riven parliaments proved ineffective, paving the way for Kārlis Ulmanis to stage his coup d’ etat on 15 May 1934. Despite these changes to the 1922 Constitution, many pitfalls remained in place. For instance, Latvian lawmakers had failed to notice the constitutional principles (Art. 59) regulating the composition of the cabi-

Latvia’s 90th Anniversary 101 ___________________________________________________________ net. Thus, should just one minister leave the cabinet, the government as a whole would requird a new vote of confidence, thus endangering the stability of the entire cabinet. While in the German or Estonian constitutions (both learning from the mistakes of the Weimar constitution) ministerial changes can be approved by presidential decree, in parliamentary Latvia any minister leaving his or her post requires that whole cabinet be endorsed by parliament. The result is that governments are unwilling to sack incompetent ministers, which weakens the position of the Prime Minister who, rather than dealing with government affairs, has to look to the other members of his coalition, deciding matters in enclaves which are not democratically accountable and where special interests reign supreme. Constitutional amendments by themselves have not improved Latvia’s political culture, which is still characterized by post-Soviet inertia. The transition from a Weberian transitional authority to an authority based on law is still ongoing. 8 This is most vividly reflected whenever questions of cronyism resurface or when amendments to the criminal code are discussed. 9 Feuding between Latvia’s oligarchic families, through the political parties they run, influences the work of Latvia’s lawmakers. Corruption has poisoned Latvian politics and caused Western governments to call for efforts to fight government sleaze, leading to the founding of the Corruption Prevention and Combating Bureau (KNAB). 10 Several researchers point out that Latvia must be serious about undertaking these obligations, but the slow pace of the Latvian Prosecutor’s Office in combating this new tradition of “state capture” means that both experts and the population at large remain concerned. 11 It is rather ironic that KNAB must basically do the work that, in other EU countries, is performed by the State Prosecutor’s Office. Building on Latvia’s democratic experience from 1920 until 1934, voters elect a hundred representatives to the unicameral parliament (Saeima) for a four-year term; this assembly then elects the President. The President has representative functions but also the important duty of nominating the future head of the Cabinet. Apart from Germany, Latvia is the only EU country where the president can be elected by a simple majority vote. 12 Unusually, the President can also propose as Prime Minister someone not elected to parliament. 13 The Prime Minister is usually the person who chooses the members of the government. Since the first Saeima of October 1993, power has always rested with parties of the Right and Centre-Right. Uniquely, the complicated nature of the Latvian political party system needs more space than can be discussed here. However, we can say that initially the Latvian party system evolved from the Latvian Commu-

Veiko Spolitis 102 ___________________________________________________________ nist Party (LCP). The only bottom-up alternative political group was the National Independence Movement, which later became the Fatherland and Freedom Party (FFP). However, Latvia’s legislators failed to pass lustration laws and it is impossible to distinguish between the offspring of the LCP and FFP today. The political party landscape is fractional (Annex, Table. 1), and most parties simply became the voice of special interest groups rather than articulators of any ideology. Reverting to the original St. Laque system of counting votes also did not foster party consolidation. Therefore, while the 1922 Constitution was used as a stabilizing factor in society against the depredations of maverick politicians 14 in the early years of independence, it is slowly turning into an obstacle for the development of a balanced society in Latvia. In particular, the failure to legislate for mandatory declarations on property and income tax means that Latvia still functions without legal foundations for its public finance system 15 , and the Latvian Internal Revenue Service has no proper oversight of the incomes of the Latvian people. Such shallow “Europeanization” does not allow for the consolidation of Latvian democracy and further alienates the electorate from the political establishment. 2. Europeanization and the transformation of the Latvian political system The Europeanization process, in broad terms, is characterized as a twoway process whereby the member states agree EU norms and values and, through the mechanisms of inter-governmental governance, create national competencies for implementing EU policy. But before achieving the level of a two way process, the EU candidate countries first had to adapt their legal, economic and political systems as outlined in the acquis communautaire. 16 Thus Europeanization can also be described as a unidirectional process and it is in this process that Latvia has been struggling, mainly as a result of the constitutional principles described in the previous section, which still ossify the Latvian political system. The election law was written specially for the 1993 elections, in order to avoid amending the Constitution prior to the elections. The 1922 Constitution only gave the vote to those aged over twenty one, and it was decided to lower the age to eighteen. The election law divided Latvia into five electoral districts, but no common electoral registers were established. The absence of voter registration in parliamentary elections prevented proper oversight of elections. The 6 December 1993 Directive 93/109/EK regulated the establishment of registers for elections to the European Parliament, and Latvia’s legislators passed a law to establish voter registration on 22 January 2004, although these did not cover parliamentary elec-

Latvia’s 90th Anniversary 103 ___________________________________________________________ tions. 17 Latvian political parties have devised a system whereby famous composers or sportsmen, so-called “locomotives”, were put at the top of the party lists in all five electoral districts, 18 allowing each “locomotive” to choose his or her electoral district. The “locomotives” would then pull in the votes for numerous representatives who would not have been elected otherwise. 19 The law on party finances has been a major factor in making the Latvian political system a playground for oligarchic families. 20 Latvia is one of the few European states which does not directly finance its political parties from the state budget. Political parties have found ways of bypassing regulations so that politicians can finance political parties with funds derived from state-owned company boards. 21 The logic of coalition government allows members of the governing coalition to gain access to the lucrative funds of state company boards, denying opposition parties similar pots of money. For liberal democracy to function, government and opposition parties should alternate in power, but with opposition parties barely able to survive it is not possible for them to initiate constructive debates about policy issues, or to attract the best talents. Parliamentary debates very often turn into personal attacks. Disagreeing with the general line of the majority coalition is considered to be social deviance, and an analysis of speeches in the Latvian parliament attest to this fact. 22 Thus, Latvian parties themselves have fostered the stagnation of the system, compounded by the fact that the election law still requires only the miniscule number of two hundred people to found a party in Latvia. By way of comparison, in neighbouring Estonia, where the population is half the size of Latvia, this number is one thousand. The basic tenets of Leninism in Latvia comprised the total absence of critical discussion, closed channels of upward mobility within the party, and the inordinate focus on polity issues, leaving policy matters intact. Thus Latvia’s political culture today clearly attests to fact that a postSoviet culture of Leninism is still alive. 23 Latvia’s political culture fosters democratic centralism within party elites and does not allow for consolidation of the Latvian political system. 24 The Latvian political system stands out among the other EU polities because less than one percent of Latvian citizens have joined political parties. 25 In other words, Latvia’s political culture has so far fostered an elitist democracy where a small circle of party leaders cater to the needs of oligarchic groups. The system is not transparent and the parties traditionally deliberate mostly on short-term goals, leaving the long-term needs of the republic on the backburner. This “partocracy” has established a poisonous system of Right-wing ethnic Latvian and Left-wing ethnic Russian political debate. Such a system

Veiko Spolitis 104 ___________________________________________________________ discourages policy debates and therefore instead of ideological positions, political parties churn out populist policies which often have a confrontational character. Dissatisfaction with the governing regime was apparent between 1993 and 2004 26 , for the election law tended to foster status quo policies and the circulation of the same political leadership. The leadership changed somewhat with new political parties appearing on the political scene 27 , however those parties were not grassroots movements and very soon were co-opted into the corrupt system of Latvian “partocracy”. After parliamentary elections in October 2006 opposition parties and other observers discovered that the two parties that won most votes – the People’s Party (PP) and Latvia Way/Latvian First Party Union (LWFPU) – had breached the permitted limits on campaign financing by using legal loopholes that were of their own creation. Opposition parties demanded that the elections be declared null and void. On 3 November 2006 the Administrative Senate of the Supreme Court decided that, though there had been serious breaches of the law concerning party campaign financing, which parliament should try to eliminate, the elections were considered legitimate. Though that decision disappointed many, the decision of the Supreme Court created a precedent and allowed opposition parties to demand that the PP and LWFPU reimburse the state treasury. This disputed election campaign added to discussions about the corrupt political system which had emanated from the so-called Jūrmalgate affair. 28 President Freiberga vetoed amendments to the Law on Security Organizations which would have allowed political protégés to access classified (including NATO) information. Her decision created a precedent and although her tenure as president finished two months later in May 2007, the decision to veto the Law on Security Organizations called for a consultative referendum which energized Latvia’s rather dormant civil society - such a scandal would probably have given rise to early elections or at least a full parliamentary inquiry in other EU democracies. After much campaigning by members of civic society, the government of Aigars Kalvitis resigned in December 2007. The change of prime ministers did not signify much, because almost all cabinet members remained in post under the leadership of the LWFPU co-chairman Ivars Godmanis. Since the new president decided ultimately not to call early elections 29 , voters and supporters of the opposition parties became increasingly disenchanted with the governing coalition, something vividly reflected in opinion polls throughout this period (Annex Table. 2). Members of the Saeima declared that they would make “Europeanized amendments” to the election law. These amendments have not been

Latvia’s 90th Anniversary 105 ___________________________________________________________ implemented, however, because the coalition parties could not agree whether or not they should be passed prior to the 3 October 2010 parliamentary elections. Opinion polls suggest that by acting so irresponsibly Latvian MPs have destroyed the trust in institutions they should represent and have convinced the Latvian public that their elected political parties (Annex Table. 3), government (Annex Table. 4), and parliament (Annex Table. 5) are illegitimate. Furthermore, this distrust in Latvia’s leadership also translates into Latvians’ comparatively hostile attitude towards the EU (Annex Table. 6) and its possible benefits (Annex Table. 7). However, Latvian voters do trust the EU (Annex Table. 8) more than they do Latvia’s own institutions. Ivars Godmanis’ government had to resign after controversial pronouncements by several cabinet members, coupled with a lack of transparency concerning the rescue of Latvia’s second largest bank. President Valdis Zatlers then nominated a former member of the European Parliament to form a new government, as if willing to show that Latvian leadership was able to follow a Europeanizing path after all. The new Prime Minister, Valdis Dombrovskis, was sworn into office amidst politically and economically turbulent times in March 2009. Pressure from civil society has been relentless and can be traced back to a process of change stemming from the statements of the former president in March 2007. 3. The public and transforming public service In the early 1990s, in the euphoria of renewed independence, the formerlybanned student, professional and home guard organizations were reestablished, and myriad local and international non–governmental organizations (NGOs) were formed. The number of NGOs increased from zero in 1991 to 8296 in 2004, although only 66 percent (about 5000) of these were actually operational. 30 Some five hundred new organizations were established each year. At the same time since the first parliamentary elections in 1993 the participation of the electorate declined from a high of 79 percent to only 54 percent in 2006. The disillusionment of the electorate is reflected in the half-yearly Eurobarometer poll (Annex Tables. 3-8). Although the Latvian people are not happy with their state, they still believe that it should provide for them. 31 Latvian citizens actively criticize their government in internet forums and through interactive TV or radio shows, since this was the only alternative for citizens to show their dissatisfaction with the government prior to the establishment of the Ombudsman in March 2007 after continuous pressure from President Freiberga. 32 The radical transformation from the centralized Soviet economic system of the early 1990s was accepted without serious political repercus-

Veiko Spolitis 106 ___________________________________________________________ sions. After the closing of the huge and generally inefficient factories, workers did not organize themselves. Though trade unions were part of the Soviet system of administration, strikes were not allowed 33 , and this ambivalent situation was one factor that prevented workers from acting to change their conditions and salaries in post–Soviet Latvia. Workers saw union dues as an additional expense, and refused to join an organization considered an integral part of the Soviet administrative system. The traditional understanding of trade unionism was wiped out by the legacy of official Soviet ideology and it took about five years before workers began joining Independent Trade Unions. 34 The Latvian Employers’ Association, together with the Trade Unions, joined the government in a tripartite commission which was established on 30 October 1998 and this commission worked well until EU enlargement. EU membership in 2004 increased the amount of money flowing into the Latvian economy and facilitated the growth of nominal wages, particularly in metropolitan Riga. 35 Public sector employees demanded wage increases after seeing the spectacular rise of salaries in some sectors of private business like construction. The association agreement with the EU in 1995 prompted the Latvian Government to start an ad hoc civil service reform, which disrupted the smooth functioning of the Latvian civil service. The 1997 reforms of Andris Skele destroyed the comprehensive remuneration system for the Latvian Civil Service, allowing the highest ranking public servants to keep their high salaries. In 2000 a report suggested that the Latvian public administration required centralization, but Latvian politicians considered these proposals too radical. 36 Piecemeal reform continued, resulting in a sudden and exponential increase of civil servants between 2003 and 2007 37 ; this made Latvia the country with the second highest number of public servants in the EU. 38 At the height of the economic crisis in 2009, the State Chancellery and the Civil Service Administration were finally merged. The civil service was mostly safe from possible politicization until 2002, when the anti-corruption government of Einars Repse realized that its principles were inoperable if the Prime Minister was unable to cooperate with his cabinet undersecretaries. Repse’s decisions transformed the system of impartial public administration, leading to a system whereby governing parties, through their representatives, control ministries as virtual fiefdoms. The fact that former top civil servants go on to become ministers 39 is nothing unique. However, with an institutionalized system of political party patronage in certain ministries, it is hard to speak of the impartiality of public administration. .

Latvia’s 90th Anniversary 107 ___________________________________________________________ 4. The Liberal creed of the Latvian economy From 1991 until 2004 the Latvian economic transformation was comparatively smooth due to exuberance in the international financial markets, low-cost wages, and the availability of land. The initial pursuit of a conservative financial policy allowed Latvia’s financial authorities to gain the credibility needed to borrow on favourable terms in international credit markets. Cut-price wages enabled Latvia to establish medium-size businesses and assembly plants for international corporations, while the availability of cheap land and discounted former state-owned companies made Latvia attractive to foreign investors. From the early years of restored sovereignty the independence of the Bank of Latvia (BoL) was enshrined in statute, thus requiring the government to coordinate its fiscal policy with the monetary policy of the financial authorities. The opening up of Latvian financial and goods markets to other Baltic countries was swift and a transition period was introduced only for agricultural goods after pressure from the farming lobby. As a rule all Latvian governments continued to follow the principles of the Washington consensus 40 , although these principles acquired a rather negative image among Latvia’s politicians after Latvia joined the EU. In fact the Washington consensus devised policies of fiscal reform and balanced budgets, open capital accounts, privatization of state enterprises, legal security of property rights, redirection of public spending from subsidies, trade liberalization and competitive exchange rates. At first the Latvian financial system was based on the gold reserves retrieved after the re-establishment of independence. The Washington consensus demanded the opening up of capital accounts, so after the Latvian lat (LVL) appreciated against the US dollar in 1993, the Bank of Latvia decided to establish LVL and SDR (special drawing rights) parity. 41 In so doing it mitigated Latvian exposure to the Russian market and allowed the country to buffer itself from the 1997 tremors within the Russian financial system. SDR parity operated in Latvia until 2004, when on 1 May the Bank of Latvia became part of the ERM II Central Bank Agreement; a fixed LVL exchange regime with the euro was established on 1 January 2005. 42 The fixed exchange rate was set when the real estate bubble was maturing, thus the euro-lat exchange regime was established when the LVL was overvalued. Its effect has been to eradicate the competitiveness of the actual Latvian property market and also allowed inflation to gradually eliminate the savings of the middle class. A privatization agency based on the German Treuhand model was founded in 1994, which used a voucher system to successfully privatize about a hundred former state owned companies. 43 The industrial sector

Veiko Spolitis 108 ___________________________________________________________ experienced an immediate and drastic slump after the collapse of the Soviet military industrial complex, and during the late 1990s the rate of unemployment failed to fall below seven percent. 44 Nevertheless, the number of Latvian medium and small private enterprises increased, and the share of the private sector in the national economy rose from zero to approximately 73% during 1991-2001. The late 1990s also saw the founding of Latvian electronics and software companies. 45 The Latvian gas monopoly ‘’Latvijas Gaze’’ was sold to a German-Russian consortium during the 1990’s, and the largest water treatment plant in the capital city, as well as many smaller ones, were sold to a French company. The privatisation of the national energy monopoly Latvenergo backfired, and its privatization was postponed in a national referendum until 2013. Only after Valdis Dombrovskis became Prime Minister was an agreement reached in April 2009 to construct an underwater cable with Lithuanian and Swedish collaborators, thus connecting the Baltic electricity grids with Sweden. 46 Foreign firms played a role in the privatization of other former state-owned enterprises, with Scandinavian companies the major participants in this privatization process. Shares of the large and formerly stateowned gas, electricity, telecommunications, air and shipping companies were mostly purchased by international investment funds or big Western European and Russian enterprises such as Nomura, SAS, Telia, Carlsberg, Statoil, Gazprom, E-on, Lukoil and others. While Scandinavian companies purchased food processing and retail businesses, Russian and German companies were active in the Latvian energy sector. After the 1998 Russian financial crisis, Scandinavian and North German financial companies purchased major Latvian banks. 47 The privatization agency has still not devised its exit strategy, and thus continues to provide dubious politicians with a cosy place to work and hefty allowances from the public purse. In the meantime one former head of the agency believes that the businesses still in the agency’s care should be quickly sold off. 48 During the early years of independent statehood, the general assumption of Latvia’s leaders was that, during such turbulent times, they could depend on no one other than themselves. 49 They assumed, therefore, that hard reforms were easier to undertake during the early years of restored sovereignty because the general population was ready to suffer initial hardships for the sake of a better future. One such hard reform was land. Land reform, based on a restitution law, enabled all legitimate owners to regain land and property nationalized after the 1940 Soviet occupation. During the first years of independence, this created an exodus of former owners from urban centres to the countryside. The reform bankrupted many collective farms, but a certain number of former collective

Latvia’s 90th Anniversary 109 ___________________________________________________________ farm leaders were able to buy up the vouchers of less astute collective farm workers and privatize their formally collectively owned farm, creating their own personal agricultural companies. This land redistribution, based on the model of agriculture which existed prior to collectivisation, has not resulted in rural unrest in Latvia because the typical private farms were and now are mostly larger than elsewhere in Central and Eastern Europe. 50 The reform has allowed the agricultural sector to sustain some development, while also impoverishing large segments of the rural population. It is customary today to place Latvia alongside Estonia, the country which succeeded in earning the status of the “world’s most liberal economy”. 51 Such a comparison omits the fact that Latvia cannot sustain the status of a liberal economy due to structural weaknesses imposed by its corrupt political system. This liberal economy is in reality a facade, and thus Latvia is relentlessly lagging behind its nearby neighbours in several world rankings (Annex Table. 9). Latvia’s EU membership proved that without an acceptable economic system and a coherent constitutional and political framework Latvia cannot operate in the competitive environment of the world’s largest consumer market. 5. EU membership, crony capitalism and human exodus Continuously preaching the principles of the liberal economy contradicted the EU’s principles of legal transparency and its values of co-operation. Mass privatization and the opening of its financial system, without securing the sustainability of its real economy, meant that Latvia was following in a rather random manner the scriptures of Adam Smith, Friedrich Hayek, and Milton Freedman. The majority of so-called liberal Latvian politicians assumed that the economy should be detached from the political sphere, but such assumptions stemmed from the classical discourse of nineteenth century economic liberalism. The introduction of this liberal creed assumed that society consists of mere individuals, thus actually fostering a faulty understanding of Western society as something that exists artificially apart from the state. 52 Such a view was particularly emphasized during the early transition period, when Latvia experienced its transition from Soviet totalitarianism into a market economy. Latvia had opened its market to competition from the world without having the expertise to compete openly. Infant industries were not chosen strategically, but traditionally. The government ceased to wield arbitrary power, but gradually turned to serving special interests, leaving aside the long-term requirements of the state. This view strengthened the government’s “short

Veiko Spolitis 110 ___________________________________________________________ termism”, while privatization of state assets and EU pre-accession funds allowed the edifice of Latvian crony capitalism to sustain itself. At the 1999 Helsinki Summit Latvia achieved its goal of being asked to start EU entry negotiations. At the end of those negotiations the final 2003 Comprehensive Report outlined Latvia’s remaining problems. In its report, the EU particularly underlined the weak administrative capacity of the state and the immaturity of the economy, while the International Monetary Fund (IMF) underlined the serious problems of corruption, money laundering and state capture. 53 These shortcomings were left to be addressed after EU membership had been obtained and the EU, true to its good governance norms, did not provide any mechanisms to enforce policy changes. Four consecutive Latvian Prime Ministers from 2004 onwards spent their time ensuring government stability, rather than addressing the country’s structural weaknesses, even thought the political and economic system reached a state of major disequilibrium soon after EU membership. Ireland and the UK allowed the free movement of labour even before EU enlargement was finalised, and that explains why these two countries became major destinations for the new emigration wave that started in 2003. The differences between real wages in the EU’s old and new democracies instigated a major outflow of Latvia’s skilled and most entrepreneurial workforce. 54 The haemorrhaging workforce produced a shortage of blue collar labour, and the public service and trade union representatives, anticipating EU structural funds, ratcheted up their pay demands. This created a serious asymmetry whereby wage increases in the public sector outpaced the private sector of the economy. Thus there was a spiralling wage increase without any additional labour productivity that outpaced the growth of the real economy, and as a result public remuneration expenses surpassed consumption levels for the economy at the end of 2006. 55 Such developments amplified current account deficits, which reached the staggering rate of 23 percent in 2007. The Latvian Central Bank and Latvian Financial Markets Control Commission did not intervene in a market that was swollen with private loans from commercial banks, and the fixed exchange rate regime only added to the inability of Latvia’s financial authorities to fix the serious discrepancies in the Latvian financial market. Not surprisingly, the Economist and other experts started voicing their alarm about the unsustainability (Annexe Table. 10) of the Latvian economy. 56 Warnings from Western advisors were not heeded, and Latvia’s leaders continued to preach the liberal economic gospel they so poorly understood. Prime Minister Aigars Kalvitis, contrary to his own public

Latvia’s 90th Anniversary 111 ___________________________________________________________ statements, failed to address the structural problems of the real economy, did not shy away from overt acts of nepotism, and continued to stimulate the economy throughout his period in office. 57 Such reckless leadership galvanized burgeoning civil society groups, which called alternately for early elections and for constitutional amendments during the referendum campaigns in the summers of 2007 and 2008. 58 In the meantime, the national air company Air Baltic was provided with hefty sums 59 of taxpayers’ money to start subsidizing internal flights within Latvia in 2007, thus distorting domestic bus transportation. Civil society had irreversibly lost its trust in a Latvian political establishment which allowed the country to fall into economic and political chaos and borrowed a massive 7.5 billion euros in order to save the country from insolvency. In other circumstances, revolutionary sentiments might have flourished; indeed, the president’s powerlessness to call early elections in January 2009 did result in intermittent demonstrations that prompted a reconfiguration of the Latvian body politic. 60 Concluding remarks Reliance on cheap credits in open financial markets, a neglect of the real economy, and the self-induced quiescence of its civil society has turned Latvia from “Baltic tiger” into “Baltic pussycat”. 61 The experimentation of the 1990s is over and Latvia has just celebrated its 90th anniversary, although many forget that the celebration of this jubilee coincided with only its 33rd year as a democracy. 62 The 90th anniversary occurred just when pressure from civil society, exerted since March 2007 and partially successful in spring 2009, had demonstrated that it is possible to break the existing rules of the “partocracy” and improve Latvia’s political culture. Nevertheless, with nascent civil society working in a disorganized media market it will be an uphill struggle to Europeanize Latvia’s post-Soviet political culture quickly after many years of neglect. Unlike with Bulgaria and Romania, the EU cannot threaten to withhold funds until issues of corruption and good government are addressed. 63 To reverse Latvia’s present negative development, new tax laws need to be debated in a democratic forum and East Asian style development strategies such as a state investment bank need to be considered. With many skilled workers having already left, and with a negative demographic trend in the foreseeable future, prospective Latvian governments should debate inward and outward migration. 64 With timely improvements, the twenty years following regained sovereignty could be considered a harsh but necessary learning curve for the Latvian people in their quest for better governance.

Veiko Spolitis 112 ___________________________________________________________ Notes 1 Åslund (2007); Bildt (1994) ; Halonen (2001) 2The first statesmen who used the phrase “return to Europe” was Czech playwright and President Vaclav Havel. Later his ominous phrase gained common currency among majority of politicians in Central European States. Havel (1996) 3 There was discussion about the use of international law principles. For more information see at Latvijas PSR Augstākās Padomes Deklarācija Par Latvijas Republikas neatkarības atjaunošanu, 1991. gada 4. maijā http://www.historia.lv/alfabets/L/la/neatkar_atj/dok/1990.05.04.htm 4 The Latvian "grassroots" movement was emulating Estonian Committees of Citizens and the movement culminated in establishment of the Citizen’s Congress in April 1990. The latter provided democratic alternative to the official Soviet institutions of government that the Citizen’s Congress considered illegitimate because of the Soviet occupation in June 17, 1940. 5 In hindsight one may compare how differently the constitutional caucus determined Latvian and Estonian developments. Estonian Supreme Soviet left the issue of proclaiming the Estonian independence until later stage. Thus, it allowed the Estonian Supreme Soviet to work out more constructive relations with the Estonian Congress and invited their leadership to the joint session. On August 20, 1991, while the hardline communists staged coup d’etat in Moscow, the caucus consisting from invited members of the Estonian Congress and members of the Supreme Council proclaimed sovereignty restored in the territory of Estonia. 6 The Weimar Constitutiton of 1919 served as an example for Latvian and Estonian lawmakers. Shortcomings of the Weimar constitution, particularly the lack of the five percent entry threshold and dependence of government ministers for support in Reichstag (Art. 55, 56) was among reasons for discreditation of democratic rule and its eventual abolishment in 1933. 7The Chapter VIII on fundamental rights replaced the 1991 Constitutional Law about the Rights and Obligations of a Citizen and a Person. 8 Weber (1958):2,3 9 Discussions about nepotism, changes in criminal law, and the unchanging Latvian political culture are still ongoing in Latvia. For more information see Dzintars Kalniņš (2009) and Diena, March 12, 2009 10 KNAB at http://www.knab.gov.lv/en/knab/functions/history/ 11 Kalnins ed. (2009):7-17

Latvia’s 90th Anniversary 113 ___________________________________________________________ 12 The German Federal Council, consisting from Bundestag and Bundesrat, elects Germany’s president with the simple majority. The political problem with simple majority vote usually entrenches already bypartisan electorate and blocks achievement of political consensus. It is exactly what happened in 2007, when Valdis Zatlers was elected the Presidentof Latvia with 58 votes out of 100. 13 President Guntis Ulmanis nominated former civil servant of the Ministry of Agriculture Andris Skele as the Prime Minister in 1996. 14 Former KGB major and head of the Latvian Socialdemocratic Party Juris Bojārs had his Constitutional project which established strong presidential powers. For more information see: http://www.politika.lv/index.php?id=3503 15 Former Minister’s of Justice I.Labucka announcement in Diena, January 26, 200. An official announcement of the PM A.Kalvitis to introduce the declaration by January 1, 2008 followed on March 20, 2007 (LETA). Finally Latvia’s Saeima was ready to introduce the mandatory property declaration system on January 31, 2008 (LETA), but until finishing this research has failed to do so. 16Acquis communataire is the compilation of legal principles that new EU member states must fullfil in order to be eligible for membership. 17 The law on voters register - http://web.cvk.lv/pub/public/28371.html 18 Composers Raimonds Pauls (People’s Party) and Imants Kalniņš (Fatherland Party) have been Saeima backbenchers for the last twelve years, and the weight - lifting World Champion Viktors Ščerbatihs (Union of Greens and Farmers) became the member of the Saeima in 2006, but has been absent most of the time due to grueling training sessions. 19 NGO Society for Election Reform (VelRef) appealed the law to be changed, and also the President Valdis Zatlers demanded to change this clause of election law in his March 30, 2009 ultimatum. MP’s changed the law and in October 3, 2010 elections finally party candidates would have to compete on equal terms. For more information on the appeals of the NGO look at: http://www.velref.lv/lv 20 Spolitis (2007) 21 The state company board members remuneration system was transformed only after the economic crisis hit in 2009. Previous research clearly illustrates that governing coalition parties among other parties have disproportionate size of private donations. For more information see Valecki & Kažoka (2007):41 22 Rozenvalds (2007): 5 23 Ījabs (2010)

Veiko Spolitis 114 ___________________________________________________________ 24 Democratic centralism is the tradition of Leninist party leaderships to extinguish the differing views within political party in order to establish palpable legitimacy behind the majority consensus. For more information see Weisbord ( 1976) 25 Auers (2005) 26 Ehin (2007):11-14. 27 In 1996 as an alternative to the continuous sleaze of the liberal ‘’Latvian Way Party’’ governments conservative People’s Party was founded. Dissatisfied with practices of corruption of the newly founded People’s Party the former governor of the Bank of Latvia and colleagues established right wing ‘’New Era’’ party in 2002, and which won elections on the anti – corruption ticket. 28 After municipal elections in March 2005 former Prime Minister Šķēle and acting Minister of Transportation Šlesers were implicated in vote buying scam in the Jūrmala Town Council among other corrupt officials. Records of telephone conversations were leaked to the press and because of involvement ofsuch a high ranking officials the affair acquired the name Jūrmalgate. 29 According to Article 48 of the Latvian Constitution the president is the only official who has th power to initiate the procedure for dismissing parliament. 30 Gaugere (2005):5 31 Rozenvalds and Ijabs (2009):190,191 32 Latvia’s Ombudsman: http://www.tiesibsargs.lv/lat/tiesibsargs/vesture/ 33 Gailis (1997):79 34 Venturini & Frerichs (2002): 6 35 Spruds, Daugulis, Bukovskis (2009):82-84 36 Latvijas Vēstnesis, April, 27, 2000 37 The Ministry of Education had 70,5%, Ministry of Justice 59,3%, Egovernment secretariat 56,8% increase of number of emplyees from 20052007 according to Diena, September 19, 2008 38 Hansen 2009:8-11 39 The Union of Greens and Farmers Former offered former undersecretaries of the Ministry of Education Tatjana Koķe and Mārtiņš Roze from the Ministry of Agriculture as well as parliamentary secretary Uldis Augulis from the Ministry of Welfare to become ministers in respective ministries. Former undersecretary of the Ministry of Economics Kaspars Gerhards joined the Fatherland Party as well as former undersecretary of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs Māris Riekstiņš the People’s Party in order to follow the same policy pattern.

Latvia’s 90th Anniversary 115 ___________________________________________________________ 40 The term Washington consensus was originally designed by John Williamson to specify requirements of the US government vis-à-vis Latin American governments. After the collapse of the USSR this term became a catchphrase and was recommended to most of the Central European states. Williamson (2004):5-7 41 A Special Drawing Right (SDR) is the monetary unit of the reserve assets of the International Monetary Fund . The unit was created in 1969 in support of fixed exchange rates in order to alleviate the shortage of U.S. dollar and gold reserves in the expanding global market. 42 The European Community in March 1979 introduced the European Exchange Rate Mechanism (ERM) to reduce exchange rate variability and achieve monetary stability in Europe, in preparation for a single currency (euro). Later the goal was to improve stability of currencies outside Eurozone, as well as to gain evaluation mechanism for potential Eurozone members. This mechanism is known as ERM II. Thus the lat (LVL) – euro parity was established at 1EUR-0.702804LVL 43Archive of the Latvian Privatisation Agency: http://www.lpa.bkc.lv/lpa/lpa.php?ID=11 44 The Latvia’s Statistics Yearbook unemployment figures in: 1996/1997 - 7 percent, 1998 – 9 percent and in 1999 - 10 percent. 45 Economic Development of Latvia Report (2002): 110 46 Estonia had already finished construction of the the undersea cable with Finland in 2009 47 Central European (1999):4 and (1999/ 2000):28 48 Diena, February 6, 2010 49 Gailis(2007):125 50 Davis (1997): 1429 51 Razeen (2000) 52 Taylor (1997): 67 53 EU final monitoring report (2003):57; IMF Country report (2003): 60, 63-66 54 There are about 51 thousand Latvians who have immigrated to the UK since 2002 and estimates show that about 30-50 thousand have left for Ireland during the same time. The Baltic Times, October 1, 2009; Okolski (2007): 6,15 55 Hansen (2009):8,9 56 The Economist (2007), Aristovnik (2006): 18. See also: ‘’ Economic crisis in Latvia – official pronouncements’’ on November 21, 2008 in http://spolitis.blogspot.com

Veiko Spolitis 116 ___________________________________________________________ 57 The Prime Minister Kalvitis in his exclusive report for the Yearbook Latvia 2006 concluded: ‘’The opportunities for using the EU Structural Funds, the political stability in a right-wing oriented government, macroeconomic processes which promote the increase of competitiveness of the knowledge society, the intellectual and professional potential of the inhabitants of Latvia are our strengths. All we need is a positive will and purposeful action, as well as consolidation of society in the name of the declared goals. All we need is to believe in ourselves.’’ Ozolina (2007):36 58 The greatest achievement of the 2008 referendum campaign were constitutional amendments (Art. 78&79), which MP’s managed to pass only after the presidential ultimatum deadline in March 30, 2009. Among several other demands Art. 78 and 79 of the Latvian Constitution would give the qualified number of Latvian voters a right to initiate the procedure of early elections. Formerly this right was only entrusted onto president of the republic. 59 In 2008 Air Baltic suffered about 40 million euro losses. Dienas Bizness, August 4, 2009 60 Civil unrest followed peaceful demonstration on January 13, 2009. New political unions (Annex Table. 1) have been formed as an answer to the challenges Latvia is facing in 2010. For more information: The Baltic Times, January 28, 2010 61 The Baltic Times, August 13, 2009 62 Spolitis&Reetz (2008) 63 ‘’Lost EU funds force new look at Bulgaria's corruption problems’’ on November 30, 2008 in http://www.eubusiness.com 64 According to P. Zvidriņš and his research team, under current policy framework projections for 2050 indicate Latvian population shrinking to1.873 million people or to 81.2% of the current population. For more information see Ozoliņa (2007):130 Veiko Spolitis is lecturer at the Riga Stradins University and PhD student at the University of Helsinki Faculty of Social Science

A Nation in the Making? The Social Integration Process in Latvia since 1991 Marina Germane The purpose of this chapter is to give an overview of the process of nation building, better known in Latvia as social integration, since 1991. In this respect, I define ‘social integration’ in the narrow sense of integrating different ethnic groups living on Latvian territory as opposed to using the more recent, wider understanding of it as the social and political inclusion of all marginalised groups within the population. Anthony Smith’s seminal book ‘National Identity’ was published in Latvian translation in 1997 with the following foreword: “Presumably, Latvian readers will find it rather unusual that nation, nationalism and national identity...may combine both civic and ethnic elements. For Latvia, it is much more traditional to think that nationalism has a purely ethnic nature, and only occasionally includes territorial aspects. This is the way it was. In the future, possibly, the significance of the territorial aspect will grow.” 1 There is indeed a persistent belief in modern Latvia that Latvian nationalism is intrinsically ethnocultural, and the idea of a civic, or political, nation is largely perceived as alien, foreign to Latvia; something which is being imposed from above, like numerous European Union directives which allegedly do not always take into account Latvia’s unique historical past and the unusual ethnic composition of its population. This somewhat narrow existing interpretation of nationalism in Latvia should perhaps not come as a surprise - after all, it was the ethnic mobilisation of Latvians which propelled the Latvian state into being not once but twice during the 20th century. Historically speaking, Latvian nationalism was also from the moment of its conception (which is usually dated around 1850) greatly influenced by German romanticists, and assumed primarily ethnocultural forms, being founded upon common Latvian historical memories, Latvian cultural heritage, and Latvian language. Finally, after fifty years of Soviet occupation with its ‘ethnic engineering’ and continuous Russification, ethnic Latvians had narrowly escaped the fate of becoming a minority in Latvia, and Latvian language and culture were per-

Marina Germane 118 ___________________________________________________________ ceived to be in danger of extinction. This ‘endangered state of Latvianness’ was often used to justify the restrictive provisions of the 1994 Citizenship Law, the 1999 Language Law of 1999, and the 2004 Education Reform with regard to ethnic minorities. However, it would be a mistake to assume that Latvian nationalist thought has always been exclusively ‘ethnically based’. On the contrary, the extreme ethnic diversity of the Baltic provinces meant that the idea of a political nation incorporating all residents of Latvia emerged already during the 19th century. With the proclamation of an independent Latvian state in 1918, it was reflected in the comparatively generous provisions made for ethnic minorities (see Smith in the current volume). In the 1920s, all across Europe the overall abundance of political ideas and theories kept ethnocultural nationalism consistently challenged. Latvian nationalist thinkers during the First Republic continuously debated principles of social and political inclusiveness, civil participation and ethnic minorities’ integration into the Latvian national state; this process was widely reflected in the press. National unity was perceived by many as an important condition for the preservation of national sovereignty and for the very existence of the Latvian state. According to the Latvian historian Leo Dribins, public debates on the “unprecedented model of interethnic relations which would foster existence of an independent state” continued up to 1934, when the country took an explicitly ethnic nationalistic course. 2 When Latvia regained its independence in 1991, the nationbuilding dilemma again came to the fore. This time the challenges were event greater – as a result of Soviet ethnopolitics, in 1989, Latvians constituted just 52 per cent of the whole population, while the number of Russians, had tripled compared to the period of the interwar republic. 3 In some cities, like Riga, Daugavpils and Liepaja Latvians were in the minority. 4 Many new ethnic groups from the other Soviet republics had settled in Latvia contributing to a further ethnic fragmentation of the population. Decades of consistent Russification had put the very existence of the Latvian language and culture in danger; the need to protect the Latvians’ cultural heritage was often cited as a reason behind the somewhat harsh laws on citizenship and language adopted following the restoration of independence. On the other hand, if Latvia wanted to return safely to the haven of western democracy, it had to live up to its standards, and that implied recognition of minority rights, and observing the norms of social inclusiveness and civil participation. Over the past eighteen years, Latvia has made steady progress in this regard, becoming a member of the European Union and NATO. It is generally believed to be following a stable

A Nation in the Making? 119 ___________________________________________________________ course of further democratisation, civil society development and European integration. There is one aspect, however, which remains a matter of both domestic and international concern, namely the large number of noncitizens residing in Latvia. The Citizenship Law of 1991 created more that 700,000 non-citizens within the population, most of which were from a non-Latvian ethnic background (60 per cent of the Russian ethnic minority did not acquire citizenship under the terms of this law). It was the source of much controversy, both within Latvia and amongst the international community. Many scholars observed that the law was a primary source of ethnic tensions in post-Soviet Latvia. 5 The Citizenship Law limited automatic citizenship to the citizens of the interwar republic and their direct descendants. Those who arrived later and their descendants were to undergo a naturalisation procedure, which included a Latvian language and history examination. De jure such a decision was based upon the historical continuity of the interwar republic. De facto, the main rationale advanced for the restriction was the allegedly questionable loyalty toward the newly independent Latvian state of those who migrated to Latvia during the years of Soviet occupation. This consideration was further reinforced by the fact that Russia has included Latvia within the sphere of its geopolitical interests, and has continually tried to use the large population of ethnic Russians , or, in modern Russian political jargon, ‘compatriots’ as an instrument to influence Latvia’s internal affairs. The tensions that the Citizenship Law created within society were exacerbated by a complicated system of quotas (‘naturalisation windows’ in Latvian) introduced in 1994 which regulated the order in which different categories of non-citizens could naturalise. The quotas, which were finally lifted in 1998, were in the first place introduced in order to cope with the expected high numbers of naturalisation applications, yet the ensuing naturalisation process turned out to be painstakingly slow. Despite considerable efforts on the part of the Naturalisation Board, by 1998 the total number of naturalisation applications received was just 11,858. A year after the quotas had been abandoned, a further 15,183 applications had been received. 6 In other words, by 1999 still more than a quarter of Latvian population was not participating in the political life of the newly independent state and was becoming increasingly marginalised. The concept of social integration was born in 1998, when the Latvian government commissioned a group of experts to draft a Framework Document for the National Programme for the Integration of Society in Latvia. This was a response to growing pressure from the newly emerging civil society within Latvia, represented by various NGOs and aca-

Marina Germane 120 ___________________________________________________________ demic institutions, and from international organisations, such as the United Nations Development Programme and the Organisation for Security and Co-operation in Europe. All of these agencies called for greater action to reduce the huge number of non-citizens. Hardly surprisingly, the drafting of the Social Integration programme elicited considerable public discussion and debate. When the Framework document was submitted to public discussion in March 1999, the sheer scope of involvement on the part of Latvia’s residents was absolutely unprecedented at a time when civil society was still at an embryonic stage. According to the data of the Naturalisation Board, over 25 thousand people across the whole country actively participated in the discussions; around 80 different events were organised to facilitate debates, and 306 articles were published in both national and regional newspapers. 7 The high level of general public involvement and considerable interest from the media indicated that there was a widely perceived need for measures against the further fragmentation of society, and that the idea of the Social Integration programme had huge popular support. In other words, the beginning was very promising. At the end of 1999, the Framework Document was approved by the Cabinet of Ministers, and in 2000 the National Programme for the Integration of Society in Latvia was adopted. The Justice Ministry was made responsible for its implementation. The Programme, which has served as a basis for all subsequent social integration policy documents, defined the meaning, goals and objectives of social integration as follows: “For integration of society to take place, diverse groups within the society must reach understanding among them and learn to work together in one single country. The foundation for integration of society is loyalty to the state and awareness that each individual’s future and personal well being are closely tied to the future stability and security of the State of Latvia. Integration is also based on a willingness to accept Latvian as the state language, and respect for Latvian as well as minority languages and cultures.” “The goal of integration is to form a democratic, consolidated civil society, founded on shared basic values. An independent and democratic Latvian state is one of these fundamental values.” “The task of integration is to facilitate an understanding of the future in all dependable and loyal

A Nation in the Making? 121 ___________________________________________________________ Latvian residents, and simultaneously to promote an understanding among all residents that living together in one state is necessary, that only together we can improve prosperity and security, and that each person must contribute his/her knowledge, initiative, and good intentions to the development of Latvian society.” 8 The Programme also recognised, albeit guardedly, that existing interethnic relations and attitudes of Latvia’s residents towards the state might be in need of change: “Social integration and civic participation are part of the process which will shape the future of Latvia. Changes of the attitude in residents toward the state and one another are foreseen in the context of this process.” 9 Further on, the Programme addressed another sensitive issue, stressing the fact that social integration is a two-way process: “Integration is a multi-faceted process – non-Latvians will be learning the Latvian language and overcoming their alienation from Latvian culture, but also Latvians will develop an attitude of “receptiveness” toward nonLatvians. Up till now, a point of view has predominated that integration is a concern primarily for non-Latvians. To implement a programme for the integration of society, Latvian attitudes and understanding should also change.” 10 Finally, the Programme was the first official document to outline a multicultural approach to interethnic relations within the state, introducing a positive concept of linguistic and cultural diversity: “Integration means broadening opportunities and mutual enrichment. It is better to know several languages than to know only one. Experiencing several cultural environments offers a better perspective than being confined to only one. The integration process reinforces common values, interests, and knowledge both at the individual level and within society as a whole.” 11

Marina Germane 122 ___________________________________________________________ During the same year, the Social Integration Fund (SIF) had been created ith the mission of implementing the Programme through the financial support of various integration projects and activities. The Fund is an independent institution reporting directly to the Cabinet of Ministers and administers funds from both the state budget and from EU structural funds. The next milestone on the road to social integration was the creation in 2002, upon the initiative of the Latvia’s First Party (which used the ‘social integration’ rhetoric during the 8th Saeima election campaign) of the post of the Special Assignments Minister for Social Integration. The Minister’s Secretariat was entrusted with developing and implementing state policies in the field of social integration. Its brief included, inter alia: fostering the further development of civil society; fighting ethnic and racial discrimination; encouraging tolerance within society; ensuring minority rights and implementing international regulations binding upon Latvia; and overall coordination of social integration activities. In 2004, the country witnessed an escalation of ethnic tensions caused by the implementation of the minority education reform, which requested minority secondary schools to use a ratio of 60 per cent Latvian language and 40 per cent minority language in teaching. A series of mass protests erupted, culminating on the 1st of May, when allegedly over sixty thousand people participated in a demonstration against the reform. 12 Experts tend to agree that the problem was not so much the substance of the reform itself, but rather a lack of clear goals, which were never sufficiently formulated or explained to the public (instead, a whole range of reasons had been cited, from strengthening social integration to increasing competitiveness of minority students); poor implementation (insufficient numbers of Latvian-speaking teachers; lack of methodology and teaching materials, etc.); and, mainly, a lack of participation by representatives of minorities in the design of the reform. 13 In any case, after the reform was implemented, public interest towards it began to dwindle already in 2005; rumour has it that schools often do not comply with the strict requirements and teach bilingually during the Latvian-language taught lessons in order to help children to absorb material better. For all the mayhem the Education reform of 1994 created and for all the publicity it caused, the main fact remains obscured – that in the reality, it maintained the segregated school system inherited from the Soviet era, which ensures mutual isolation of Latvian- and Russian-speaking schoolchildren. In a way, the main achievement of the reform so far is that Russian-speaking teachers are now forced to communicate with Russian-speaking pupils in Russianlanguage schools in often not so good Latvian language.

A Nation in the Making? 123 ___________________________________________________________ At the beginning of the 2008/2009 academic year, there were 724 schools with Latvian as the main language of instruction; 135 schools with Russian as the main language of instruction, and 81 schools with two language streams (Latvian and Russian); plus five schools with Polish as the language of instruction, one with Ukrainian, one with Belarusian, and one with English. 73.5 per cent of all pupils are enrolled in Latvianlanguage schools, while 25.8 per cent attend Russian-language schools, and 0.6 per cent attend schools with other languages of instruction. 14 It should be noted that although multicultural standards are incorporated into some subjects (like civil education), there are no overall multicultural educational standards in Latvia. Available teaching materials do not reflect the ethnic, cultural, linguistic or religious diversity of Latvia’s population. In effect, school textbooks create a segregated information space for both Latvian and non-Latvian students, not unlike the one that exists in the Latvian media. 15 On a positive note, the number of minority students in Latvian-language schools is growing, albeit slowly, and stands at present at about 17 per cent. 16 In the meantime, naturalisation remains slow. Membership of the European Union, against all predictions, had a short-lived effect on the naturalisation rate – after reaching a peak of 21,297 citizenship applications in 2004, this started to slow down. The Naturalisation Board received 19,807 applications in 2005; 10,581 in 2006; 3,308 in 2007, and 2601 in 2008. 17 According to the data of the Office of Citizenship and Migration Affairs, on the 1st of July 2008, the number of non-citizens stood at 365,151 – roughly 50 per cent of the initial 1991 total. With the upcoming merger, in yet another attempt by the government to trim the state budget, of the two institutions in January 2010, there are wide-spread concerns that naturalisation will be further sidelined. On 01.12.2009, the Naturalisation Board announced the result of its fifteen-year long operation – 150,000 new Latvian citizens. 18 The year 2006 represented something of a watershed in the public discourse on social integration. A number of studies were published calling public attention to the fact that the integration process has indeed come to a halt, if not failed completely; that a big part of Latvian residents is alienated from the state, and that a set of new, revised policies is necessary in order to address these problems. The study, entitled ‘Resistance to social integration: causes and ways to overcome it’, identifies the overall ‘deficit of democracy’ in state policy, mistakes and imperfections in implementation of the Integration Programme, and politicians’ blunders as the principal causes of delayed integration. It points out that the existing ethnic democracy regime with its dominance of ethnic Latvians in politics

Marina Germane 124 ___________________________________________________________ amplifies alienation in the society, and concludes that the social integration process has not really taken off, quite possibly because decision makers themselves were not fully convinced of its viability. 19 The authors of a further study ‘Integration Practice and Perspectives’ identify the current political discourse as one of the factors hindering the consolidation of society: “…there are quite a few politicians in Latvia who pursue a different position – one that could be termed a ‘nationalist political discourse’. These politicians oppose the official integration discourse of Latvia, as well as the position which the EU takes vis-à-vis minority issues.” 20 Still another study, ‘Ethnopolitical tension in Latvia: looking for a conflict solution’, observes that “Political parties continue to engage in political confrontation when it comes to issues of ethnic policy, and they hinder public integration instead of promoting it, thus enhancing ethnic tensions in society. In Latvia, representatives of the political elite continue to exploit ethnicity to mobilise their supporters in elections. Thus they become a chief catalyst in promoting ethnic tensions.” 21 The study ‘Integration Practice and Perspectives’ also calls attention to the lack of any adequate discussion within society around the concept of national identity, and observes that the “debates which began in the early 1990s about the kind of nation that was being shaped in Latvia and the kind of the model of nationalism which prevails in the country – an ethnic or a civic mode – have diminished.” 22 It was finally acknowledged that the State Programme of Social Integration was outdated and in need of revision. The task of elaborating the Guidelines for Social Integration during the period 2008-2018 was, logically, entrusted to the Secretariat of the Special Assignments Minister for Social Integration. The first draft, which appeared at the beginning of 2008, was heavily criticised for being ‘too multicultural’. For example, the State Language Commission sent a letter to the Secretariat insisting that integration in Latvia should be based around the language, and culture and

A Nation in the Making? 125 ___________________________________________________________ history of the titular nationality. The Minister of Culture Helena Demakova offered similar comments, stating that multiculturalism as a foundation for integration and cultural policy cannot be applied in Latvia because the Latvian future depends on common ideas such as the Latvian language and Latvian national symbols. 23 One of the Secretariat’s officials resigned during the process. As its next step, the Secretariat hired a private public relations company to help elaborate the Guidelines. This evoked a wave of indignation among the NGO representatives and integration experts. The working group of experts was summoned back as a matter of urgency. The revised Guidelines state that the long-term aim of integration policy in Latvia is a united society based upon common values, including commitment to an independent and democratic Latvian state and European common values such as human dignity, freedom, solidarity, rule of law and human rights, including minority rights. Social integration is defined as a process that promotes affiliation to a complex of shared values through democratic involvement and representation, mutual agreement and co-operation, dignity and non-discrimination. The national state is defined as “an independent democratic republic, where the state language – the Latvian language – is the means of democratic participation and social exchange; where there is a unified cultural space, comprehension of history and state identity”. 24 As a footnote to this definition I would like to quote one of the participants in the drafting process, historian Leo Dribins, who observed that the definition should be a clearly perceived as a future vision rather than a present-day reality. 25 The resulting document was submitted to the public discussion. Alas, the Secretariat of the Special Assignments Minister for Social Integration will not be there to oversee the implementation of the Guidelines if they ever are adopted. As the current economic crisis took hold in October 2008, Latvia’s Cabinet of Ministers decided to disband the Secretariat with effect from 1st of January 2009. Its functions have been assigned to the Ministry for Family and Children’s Affairs, now renamed the Ministry for Family, Children and Social Integration. The demise of the Secretariat, it must be said, elicited mixed reactions from among NGO representatives - while some ethnic minority NGOs expressed regret at its disbandment, others, who had been increasingly unhappy and critical about the Secretariat’s alleged incompetence in the field, excessive bu-

Marina Germane 126 ___________________________________________________________ reaucracy and unclear decision making mechanisms, said ‘good riddance’. 26 At the same time, many academic commentators and NGO representatives believe that there is a need for a state institution dedicated to the problems of social integration, and that this need will only grow in the years to come. Yet, if such an institution is to succeed, it will require the kind of unequivocal political support that was clearly lacking in the case of the Secretariat. However, recent developments indicate that there will be no such dedicated to the integration issues state institution in the foreseeable future. The Ministry for Family, Children and Social Integration continued to work on the improvement of the Draft Guidelines until it was also disbanded within the scope of the government’s cost-saving programme. On 28.04.2009 the Cabinet of Ministers made a decision on ‘reorganisation’ of the Ministry apportioning its functions between three other ministries. The social integration programme ended up where it had started nine years ago, at the Ministry of Justice, which was charged with taking over the elaboration, implementation and coordination of state policy in the area of integration, as well as with the responsibility to foster intercultural dialogue and to participate in developing the support system for the successful integration of immigrants. In general, lack of political will remains the main stumbling block in the path of social integration. Not just political parties, but also a majority of non-governmental organisations remain monoethnic. At the same time, levels of political activity and involvement amongst the Latvian population remain very low, with only one per cent of residents being active in a political party or organisation. 27 Needless to say, the economic recession dealt another hard blow to the integration process by all but removing it from the state’s list of priorities – it is, so to say, back to square one. Non-citizens, nevertheless, are not being granted voting rights in municipal elections – on 11 September 2008, the Saeima yet again voted against a Draft Law submitted by the opposition party For Human Rights in a United Latvia. This issue remains highly divisive. Whereas supporters of non-citizens’ right to vote see it as a first step in the process of social consolidation, their opponents argue that such a measure would further slow down naturalisation and would devalue the very concept of Latvian citizenship. At the same time, the nationalistically oriented party For Fatherland and Freedom has repeatedly called for amendments to the Citizenship Law which would restrict the number of potential naturalisation applicants, and well as advocating a slowdown in the naturalisation process overall.

A Nation in the Making? 127 ___________________________________________________________ The ‘Quantitative and Qualitative Research Study of Topical Issues in Social Integration and Citizenship’ 28 attests that Latvia is perceived by its residents as a Latvian ethnic project, whereas the main characteristic of the Latvian state is its geographical location. Summarising the data obtained from an ethnic Latvian focus group, the authors of the study observe that: “Latvia as a political subject does not exist for discussions’ participants....Terms such as ‘democracy’, ‘Satversme’, and ‘Saeima’ are not mentioned when asked to list associations with Latvia...Latvia as a democratic society and Latvian state as a political unit which based upon principles of Latvian Constitution have not been spontaneously mentioned.” 29 Citizenship, on the other hand, was being equated with ethnicity. The Russian focus group convened as part of the same study produced similar results: nobody tried associate Latvia with political ideas and principles. The Satversme (Latvia’s Constitution) was not mentioned, whereas the Parliament was mentioned in an exclusively negative sense. Another growing concern relates to a persistent segregation of informational, cultural, and, as already mentioned above, educational spaces according to language. Recent research demonstrates that up to 91 per cent of ethnic Latvian respondents claimed that they almost never read Russian-language newspapers, whereas up to 85 per cent of ethnic Russians said the same about Latvian-language publications. 30 The language in which readers peruse newspapers would not be so important, were it not for the dramatic difference in content, or rather in the disparate interpretation of the same events among the Latvian- and Russian-language press. The current draft of the Guidelines for Social Integration, in its analysis of current challenges, admits that knowledge of Latvian per se has not solved the problem of separated information spaces; nor has it radically changed the ‘values cleavage’ pertaining to citizenship, history, and language between Latvians and ethnic minorities. 31 The authors of the Draft Social Integration Guidelines also acknowledge that generational change has not proved to be a factor advancing social integration. Values different from those associated with Latvian statehood are being reproduced in different linguistic groups regardless of age. 32 In short, after eighteen years of independence and democracy, the people of Latvia still stand divided over many issues, such as citizenship,

Marina Germane 128 ___________________________________________________________ language and education, whereas common political values remain abstract and vague. Ethnic Latvians, still riding a wave of reconstructionist sentiment, have fallen back upon the ethnic nationhood concept of 1930s. Considerable time and effort will be required if traditions of democracy and civil participation are to take a firm hold; in the meantime, Latvia’s ethnic minorities are left in limbo, becoming increasingly alienated from the state. A political nation, which failed to materialise during the interwar republic, continues to be a highly contested subject at present. This is perhaps even more so than ever, as the demographic changes in the country as a result of Soviet policies, the cultural trauma experienced by ethnic Latvians during the occupation, and lack of consensus on the recent history among different population groups serve as roadblocks on the way to political unity. Nor does the current worldwide economic situation allow for overly optimistic prognoses – economic crises in general do not inspire ethnic accord. On the other hand, in times of hardship, a nation needs to be united more than ever. Perhaps some lessons may be drawn from the past – the prominent Latvian historian Ādolfs Šilde, in the book ‘The Problems of the Latvian State’ published in Germany in 1964, juxtaposed the ‘national’ and the ‘state’ consciousness, and came to a conclusion that on the part of both ethnic Latvians, and ethnic minorities, an exaggerated ‘national’, that is, ethnic, consciousness, has overshadowed the “state consciousness” necessary for a unified nation. He concluded that this “did not strengthen our state”. 33 The present situation, with its obvious polarisation of society along ethnic lines, does not strengthen the state either. On the other hand, social scientists have repeatedly observed that there is no ethnic animosity in Latvia on a personal, everyday level, and that differences are often exaggerated for the purposes of political manipulation. It seems that what Latvian people need is a political leadership which would be able to recognise the modern Latvian reality and rise above short-lived interests, and which would be determined to ‘make a virtue out of necessity’. Notes 1 Smits, E.D. (1997), Nacionālā identitāte. Rīga: AGB Izdevniecība. Foreword by Vebers, E.. Translation mine. 2 Dribins, 1997, 207.

A Nation in the Making? 129 ___________________________________________________________ 3 In 1935, ehnic Latvians comprised 75.5 % of the whole population, while ethnic Russians – 10.6 % (Source: Skujenieks, 1937). In 1989, ethnic Russians represented 34 % of Latvia’s total population (Source: Migranti Latvijā 1944-1989. Dokumenti, 2004). 4 In 1989, ethnic Latvians comprised 36.5% of the population in Riga, 38.8% of the population in Liepaja, and 13% of the population in Daugavpils. Source: Migranti Latvijā 1944-1989. Dokumenti, 2004). 5 G. Smith et al., 1994; Lieven, 1994; Pabriks and Purs, 2002 6 Naturalizācijas Pārvaldes Ziņas. Ikmēneša informatīvais izdevums. 2008. gada 15.septembris – 2008. gada 15. oktobris. 7 Data of The Naturalisation Board, http://www.np.gov.lv/?id=511 . Last time accessed 17.03.2009. 8 National Programme ‘The Integration of Society in Latvia’. 2001, 7-8. 9 Ibid., 7. 10 Ibid., 11. 11 Ibid., 8. 12 Reports on the number of participants in the protest actions widely differed: the Russian-language newspapers gave an estimate of 60,000 65,000 (Telegraf, Vesty Segodnya), while the official police estimate was 20,000. 13 As amply summarised in the Alternative report on the implementation of the Council of Europe Framework Convention for the Protection of National Minorities in Latvia. Latvian Centre for Human Rights. 2008, 3132. 14 Data of the Ministry of Education of Latvia. http://izm.izm.gov.lv/registri-statistika/statistika-vispareja/3334.html . Last time accessed 20.03.2009. 15 ‘Diversity in Latvian Textbooks’, 2004. 16 Alternative report on the implementation of the Council of Europe Framework Convention for the Protection of National Minorities in Latvia, 2008. 17 Naturalizācijas Pārvaldes Ziņas. Ikmēneša informatīvais izdevums. 2008. gada 15.septembris – 2008. gada 15. oktobris. 17 Data of The Naturalisation Board, http://www.np.gov.lv/?id=511 . Last time accessed 17.03.2009 18 http://www.np.gov.lv/index.php?id=420&top=420 . Last time accessed 20.12.2009 19 Apine (ed.), 2006. Translation mine. 20 Zepa (ed.), 2006, 4. 21 Zepa, Supule, et al. 2005, 13.

Marina Germane 130 ___________________________________________________________ 22 bid., 17. 23 ‘Demakova par multikulturālisma ēnas pusēm’ , Latvijas Avīze, 26.02.2008 24 Sabiedrības integrācijas pamatnostādnes 2009. – 2013. gadam ‘Saliedēta sabiedrība nacionālā valstī’, 2008, 16. 25 ‘Integrācijas pamatnostādnes gandrīz gatavas’, Latvijas Avīze, 25.11.2008. 26 See, for example Arāja, D. ‘Kantoris izdzīvošanai’ and ZankovskaOdiņa, S. ‘Spēlējot integrācijas teātri’. Both published by www.politika.lv on 28.10.2008. 27 Sabiedrības integrācijas aktuālākie aspekti, 2006. 28 ‘Ceļā uz pilsonisko sabiedrību. Kvantitatīvs un kvalitatīvs pētījums par sabiedrības integrācijas un pilsonības aktuālajiem aspektiem’, 2008. Translation mine. 29 ‘Ibid., 46. 30 Sabiedrības integrācijas aktuālākie aspekti, 2006, 95. 31 Sabiedrības integrācijas pamatnostādnes 2009. – 2013. gadam ‘Saliedēta sabiedrība nacionālā valstī’, 2008, 9. 32 Ibid. 33 Šilde, 1964, 29. References Alternative report on the implementation of the Council of Europe Framework Convention for the Protection of National Minorities in Latvia, (2008). Riga: Latvian Centre for Human Rights. Apine, I. (ed.) (2006), Pretestība sabiedrības integrācijai: cēloņi un pārvarēšanas iespējas (ethnicitātes, valsts un pilsoniskās sabiedrības mjiedarbības analīze. Riga: Latvijas Universitātes Filozofijas un socioloģijas institūts, LU aģentūra. Diversity in Latvian Textbooks, (2004). Riga: Latvian centre for Human Rights and Ethnic Studies. Dribins, L. (1997) Nacionālais jautājums Latvijjā 1850-1940. Riga: Filozofijas un socioloģijas institūta Etnisko pētījumu centrs. Friedenbergs, A. (1920), ‘Politiskā nācija un nacionalisti’, Ziņas, 126.

Jaunākās

A Nation in the Making? 131 ___________________________________________________________

‘Integrācijas pamatnostādnes gandrīz gatavas’, Latvijas Avīze, 25.11.2008 Ceļā uz pilsonisko sabiedrību. Kvantitatīvs un kvalitatīvs pētījums par sabiedrības integrācijas un pilsonības aktuālajiem aspektiem (2008). Riga: AC Konsultācijas. Available at: http://www.integracija.gov.lv/doc_upl/Petijums%20par%20sabiedribas%2 0integracijas%20un%20pilsonibas%20aktualajiem%20aspektiem.pdf . Last time accessed 24.03.2009 Lieven, A. (1994), The Baltic Revolution. Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania and the Path to Independence. Yale University Press. Migranti Latvijā 1944-1989. Dokumenti. (2004) Rīga: Latvijas Valsts Arhīvs. Naturalizācijas Pārvaldes Ziņas. Ikmēneša informatīvais izdevums. 2008. gada 15.septembris – 2008. gada 15. oktobris. http://www.np.gov.lv/lv/faili_lv/Septembris_oktobris.2008.pdf . Last time accessed 17.03.2009 National Programme ‘The Integration of Society in Latvia’, (2001) Riga: Naturalisation Board of the Republic of Latvia. Pabriks, A. and Purs, A. (2002), ‘Latvia. The Challenges of a Change’, in: The Baltic States. Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania. Routledge. Sabiedrības integrācijas aktuālākie aspekti. (2006), Rīga: Tirgus un sabiedriskas domas pētījumu centrs SKDS. Available at: http://www.integracija.gov.lv/doc_upl/Sabiedribas_integracijas_aktualakie _aspekti_2006(3).pdf . Last time accessed 24.03.2009 Sabiedrības integrācijas pamatnostādnes 2009. – 2013. gadam ‘Saliedēta sabiedrība nacionālā valstī’, ( 2008). Rīga. Available at: http://www.integracija.gov.lv/doc_upl/IUMSILPamn_apspriede311008.pd f . Last time accessed 24.03.2009 Skujenieks, M. (1937) ‘Latvijas iedzīvotāji’, in: Latvijas zeme, daba, tauta. III sejums, ‘Latvijas tauta’, Rīga.

Marina Germane 132 ___________________________________________________________

Smits, E.D., (1997), Nacionālā identitāte, Rīga: AGB Izdevniecība. Foreword by Vebers, E. Smith, G. (ed.) (1996), The Baltic States. The National Self-determination of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania. Macmillan Press Ltd. Šilde, Ā. (1964), Latvijas valsts problēmas. Stuttgart-Nice: Atlantas apgāds. Zepa, B., Supule, I. et al. (2005), Ethnopolitical tension in Latvia: looking for a conflict solution. Riga: Baltic Institute of Social Sciences. Zepa, B. (ed.), (2006), Integration Practice and Perspectives. Riga: Baltic Institute of Social Sciences. Marina Germane is a PhD student at the Department of Central and East European Studies, University of Glasgow. The title of her thesis is 'History of the Idea of Latvians as a Political Nation'.

The Bronze Man and the Homeless Man: Performance Art in Latvia from Perestroika to Post-Soviet Amy Bryzgel This is the story of two Latvian men who appeared on the streets of Riga nearly two decades apart. The temporal disjuncture between them is not nearly as dramatic as the cultural and social one, because while one walked the streets as a living statue, the other was a homeless man who eventually became a TV star. The Bronze Man perambulated the streets of Riga, Bremen, and even Helsinki in the late 1980s and early 1990s, echoing the ubiquitous bronze statues that graced the skylines of Soviet cities at that time; the homeless man, however, was a product of the Post-Soviet era, when fame and fortune could come at an easy price, owing to the influx of advertising and mass media. A close scrutiny of both men reveals that surfaces can be deceiving, and it is only through careful examination than one can get to the truth behind the façade. The Bronze Man’s appearance came at a time when Latvian citizens were beginning to do just that by demanding the facts behind their country’s incorporation into the Soviet Union, and arguing for independence on the basis that it was illicit and unlawful, yet the homeless man rose to fame within the context of a fully independent Latvia. His presence served as a reminder of the danger of false idols, and the ease with which deceptions can take place, even in fully-fledged democracies. Both men were part of artistic performances: The Bronze Man by Miervaldis Polis (1987-1991), and How to Get on TV by Gints Gabrans (2000-2004). 1. The Bronze Man Performances The late 1980s in Latvia was the time of the Third Awakening, when citizens began to demand democracy in society, the recognition of Latvia as a distinct nation, and an acknowledgement of the secret protocol of the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact, signed between Nazi Germany and the USSR in 1939, which left Latvia under the Soviet sphere of influence after World War II. In the late-1980s people began to organise themselves into activist groups, such as The Latvian National Independence Movement (Latvijas Nacionālās Neatkarības Kustība), which fought for the recognition of Latvia as an independent and autonomous state, one which had been unwillingly annexed by the Soviet Union. Their actions often took the form of public manifestations and demonstrations. The culmination of these events was of course the Baltic Chain, which occurred on the 23rd of Au-

Amy Bryzgel 134 ___________________________________________________________ gust, 1989, when citizens from all three Baltic countries formed a human chain that stretched from Tallinn to Vilnius, on the 50th anniversary of the signing of the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact. In many ways Polis’ Bronze Man performances of the late-1980s and early 1990s function in concert with these public demonstrations of political opinion that were taking place at that time, not only as a reassertion of the individual will in the public arena, but also as a challenge to the false appearances that the public was presented with on a daily basis, in the form of doctored histories, dubious narratives, and phony idols. Performance art was never a dominant genre of art-making in Latvia. A prominent mode of expression in the West during the 1960s and 70s, it was by and large proscribed in the Soviet countries, as all of the arts were under state control, although by that time artists in the East had begun to experiment with performance in underground art circles. The most notable figure in the Latvian performance art scene in the 1970s was Andris Grinbergs, who has been credited with staging the first Happening in Latvia, 1 when in 1972 he married his partner Inta Jaunzeme in the Latvian countryside, in a two-day event entitled The Wedding of Jesus Christ. Like in most countries of the USSR, in Latvia Happenings or performances such as these often took place outside of the city, away from the observation of the KGB. It wasn’t until the 1980s, after the Brezhnev era, that artists were able to move their nonconformist activity back to the cities. In 1984 an exhibition was held in Riga that marked a turning point in art production in Latvia. Nature. Environment. Man took place in St. Peter’s Church in the heart of the Old Town, and included a number of installations, multi-media works, and pantomime shows held alongside more traditional studio art, such as paintings and prints. The exhibition drew huge crowds; over 50,000 people attended during the space of less than a month. 2 It was set to remain open for three weeks, but was forced to shut down one week early owing to the “bourgeois” 3 nature of the art work on exhibit. Polis participated in Nature. Environment. Man, and his experiments with performance date back to around the time of the exhibition. Born in 1948 and having received his artistic training in the 1960s and 70s, as an artist, Miervaldis Polis was very much a product of the Soviet era. He graduated from the Monumental Painting Division of the Latvian Academy of Art in 1975; essentially, he was trained to paint largescale Socialist Realist paintings. When asked what he learned at the Art Academy, however, he simply replied: “nothing.” 4 Although he was instructed to paint in a technically accurate naturalistic manner, he considers himself largely self-taught. Indeed, Polis, together with his then-wife Liga Purmale, was largely responsible for the development of the style of

The Bronze Man and the Homeless Man 135 ___________________________________________________________ Photorealism in Latvia. Polis and Purmale were also associated with the artists in Grinbergs’ social circle, and because of Polis’ long hair and style of dress, considered a hippy. While this reputation did him no favours in the eyes of the state, he was never arrested nor persecuted for being a nonconformist. It was around the time of the Nature. Environment. Man exhibition that the artist began creating “spontaneous theatre” 5 performances with his friends in cafés and artist hangouts in Riga, such as Kaza (The Goat). It was not until the Bronze Man performance in 1987, however, that he took these activities into the public sphere. In the summer of 1987, Polis was approached by a television director from West Germany and asked to perform an action in Riga: to walk around the city painted bronze. 6 What this director had in mind was just for Polis to colour his face bronze, in the manner of a mime, but Polis himself decided to make the transformation more complete; he donned a bronze suit, hat and shoes, and – with the help of some of his friends – painted his face, hair and hands bronze. From his flat in Agenskalns he boarded a city bus, and proceeded to walk around the city centre (fig. 1).

Figure 1. Miervaldis Polis, The Bronze Man Performance, Riga, 1987. Photograph Courtesy of the Latvian Centre for Contemporary Art, Riga, Latvia.

He alighted the bus near Tallinas iela, entered a café, and ordered a bronze drink, to match his outfit – an apple juice that had been pre-ordered for him by a friend. He also smoked a bronze cigarette. From there he began

Amy Bryzgel 136 ___________________________________________________________ his stroll through the city centre, down Lenina iela (now Brīvības iela), through Kirov Park (now Vermanes Darzs, or Vermanes Gardens), past the University, the Opera, and into the Old Town. When he arrived at Philharmonic Square (now Līvu Laukums, or Livu Square), he found a temporary resting place on an empty pedestal in front of the Small Guildhall (Mazā Ģilde) and stood there briefly, immobile. He was a living, breathing statue. At times his arms remained at his side, and from time to time he adopted the pose of an imperial ruler. It should come as no surprise that this unusual man attracted a great deal of attention. This was Soviet Latvia, and although the age of Gorbachev and Perestroika had already arrived, assertions of individuality, outside of the collective – at least one as extreme as this – were still relatively rare. So the Bronze Man was forced to run down a side street (Vagnera iela) to escape the crowds that had been following him at this point. From there, he caught the bus back to Polis’ flat across the river. 7 Reactions to the Bronze Man, by those who witnessed it in person, were various and sundry. Although the entire performance was filmed by the German director, 8 none of it was broadcast on television in Latvia; viewers were either there to see it in person, or learned about it afterward, through hearsay. 9 Polis recalls that when he stood atop the pedestal in front of the Small Guildhall, some cried out “Lenin, Lenin!,” 10 thinking that the performance was an homage or reference to the communist revolutionary. Another journalist quoted Polis as recalling that when the Bronze Man boarded the bus to go home, some ladies there asked him: “Sweetie, tell us your address!” 11 Polis also remembers that these women “fell in love with him – fell in love with him because of the bronze.” 12 According to one account, a Russian in the crowd, upon seeing a man in Riga dressed all in gold, remarked, “Oh, look, the Americans have come!” 13 According to Polis, “this work visualizes the inherent tendency of men to glorify and be glorified, the inclination for power, immortality, and fame. Of course, interpretations can be different.” 14 At the time of the performance, monuments to great communists still dotted the landscape of the country, and every city had its obligatory Lenin statue somewhere in the city centre; Riga’s was on Lenina iela, 15 across from the Intourist Hotel. 16 The similarities between the Bronze Man and those statues were obvious and calculated. Polis stated that the idea of a man covered in bronze paint was a direct reference to the various bronze statues that marked all Soviet cities, including Riga. Although some observers of Polis’ walk thought that he was specifically referencing Lenin, the artist maintains that he wasn’t, rather his image pointed to bronze statues of

The Bronze Man and the Homeless Man 137 ___________________________________________________________ historical figures in general, including those from Ancient Greece and Rome, 17 as well as the ubiquitous Soviet ones. The comparison between Polis’ performance and the Soviet bronze statues goes even further than mere resemblance. Polis’ act of applying a layer of paint to his body and clothes also parallels the manner in which the production of bronze statues in the Soviet Union began. Many of the monuments that were constructed in the USSR went up quickly or were made cheaply – often they were in fact made of plaster with a layer of patina applied over the surface, much like bronze paint that was applied to Polis’ skin. The implementation of these statues in the Soviet Union dated back to 1918 and Lenin’s plan for Monumental Propaganda, the purpose of which was, according to Anatoly Lunacharsky, 18 “to set up monuments to outstanding persons in the field of revolutionary and social activity, philosophy, literature, science and art.” 19 The emphasis, however, was on quantity, not quality, and many of these monuments were created in haste. As Christina Lodder tells us in her book on Russian Constructivism: The monuments, to be set up ‘in suitable corners of the capital,’ were to ‘serve the aim of extensive propaganda, rather than the aim of immortalization.’ They were to be made of cheap temporary materials such as plaster and terracotta, although later it was hoped to replace them in more permanent materials. Primary consideration was to be given to ‘the quantity and expressive qualities of these monuments.’ 20 The statues, then, became a physical analogue to verbal gestures of the Soviet state, with a painted bronze surface that hid the cheap plaster underneath. While they were presented as one thing – solid, sturdy, even expensive, metal – a slight scratch at the surface would reveal the less stable reality underneath, in the same way that revealing the truth about Latvian history would quickly unravel the grand tales of the Soviet state as being Latvia’s saviour in World War II and that which brought prosperity and stability to the nation. 21 The Bronze Man’s emergence in Riga underscores the fact that appearances can be deceiving, and it is only once you probe further that you can get at the truth behind them. 22 Although the 1987 performance was the first appearance of the Bronze Man, it was certainly not the last. In 1989, together with five of his artist-compatriots, Polis staged a performance entitled Bronze Peoples’ Collective Begging (Bronzas cilvēku kolektīvā ubagošana), or Latvia’s Gold (Latvijas Zelts) in the Market Square of Riga’s sister city, Bremen (Germany) (fig. 2). The action was synchronised to take place at the exact

Amy Bryzgel 138 ___________________________________________________________

Figure 2. Miervaldis Polis in Bronze People’s Collective Begging (Bronzas cilvēku kolektīvā ubagošana) or Latvia’s Gold (Latvijas Zelts), Bremen, Germany, 1989. Photograph courtesy of The Latvian Centre for Contemporary Art, Riga, Latvia.

same time that another group of “bronze men” were also “begging” in Cathedral Square in Riga, but since the performance took place on June 17th, a Latvian remembrance day, the Riga group resigned from the performance. 23 With regard to the action, Polis stated that “all art and culture is begging. One shouldn’t have to be ashamed of that.” 24 For the artist, this meant that creating art is not something practical or necessary for everyday survival. As he himself said, “you can’t eat an artwork.” 25 Thus he made no distinction between “begging” by painting a picture in order to earn money to buy food, or literally standing on the street and begging for money to eat, within the rubric of an artistic performance. Indeed the artists used the cash that they collected to purchase drinks at the pub afterward. Polis recalls that he and another artist collected around the equivalent of 60-80 US Dollars, but the others collected less. 26 In 1990 Soviet Latvia’s Bronze Man (Polis) met Finland’s White Man, Roi Varra. The artist was invited to Finland by Varra to create the performance The Bronze Man Meets the White Man. Their meeting occurred on 22-23 August, just a few weeks before the 9th September Helsinki Summit, when George Bush Senior met with Mikhail Gorbachev,

The Bronze Man and the Homeless Man 139 ___________________________________________________________ which Polis described as another summit between a white man (Bush) and a bronze man (Gorbachev), although at the time Polis was not aware that the meeting was to take place. 27 The so-called ‘summit’ between Polis and Varra began on the 22nd in Helsinki University’s main hall, when the Bronze Man and the White Man had an official meeting with Finland’s Prime Minister Harri Holkeri and his wife. Following the meeting, the artists officially opened the annual arts and cultural festival in Helsinki. The second day of the summit consisted of official talks between the Bronze Man and the White Man. Following the meeting the two walked around Helsinki’s city centre together, much like the walk Polis took in the 1987 Bronze Man performance, this time visiting the Parliament building, the Cathedral, and having lunch at the restaurant Kappeli. They also had meetings with the press and embassy representatives. 28 By summer of 1991 it was clear that Latvia’s entry into the free market was inevitable. On 3rd May, 1990 members of the new Latvian Parliament, headed by Latvia’s Popular Front, announced their intention to declare independence from the Soviet Union. And on 8th August, 1991, just weeks before the politburo staged a coup against Gorbachev, Polis and his colleague Vilnis Zabers created a performance that anticipated the advent of a free market in Latvia. In the centre of Riga, just on the edge of the Old Town, by the Laima Clock – in the shadow of Riga’s Freedom Monument – the two artists stood selling sunflowers seeds from bags marked with the name of a new brand that they had co-created: Miervaldis Polis & Vilnis Zābers 08.08.91. In fact it was in many ways a competition between the bronze buying power of the Soviet era and the new era of capitalism that was soon to be ushered in: while Zabers sold regular seeds for roubles, the Bronze Man sold bronze seeds for one dollar per glass. According to the artist, the old Soviet seeds sold better than the bronze ones that were meant to be from the capitalist system. Most likely this was because of both practicality and convenience: the old ones were still edible, cheaper, and were much easier to purchase using local currency. When asked why he was selling seeds, Polis replied that “all of the millionaires today started from something small. And sunflower seeds are quite small.” 29 Although the possibility of becoming a millionaire only appeared in the early 1990s, when the communist system in Latvia was coming to an end, Polis’ gesture is ironic, as becoming a millionaire would be difficult in any circumstance, much less during this time of transformation, and less still through an endeavour such as selling sunflower seeds. While in theory it was possible, within the framework of a free market, to become wealthy through private business and entrepreneurship, the Latvian economy, like many of the Post-Soviet and Post-Communist econo-

Amy Bryzgel 140 ___________________________________________________________ mies, suffered great hardships during the early years of independence, including rapid inflation as well as a massive rise in unemployment. Thus Polis’ attempt at becoming rich through his sunflower seed sale was no more or less likely to succeed than any other entrepreneurial endeavour at the time. Finally, in the summer of 1992, after Latvia had regained independence, the Bronze Man made his final appearance – and disappearance – in Riga, in The Bronze Man Becomes the White Man performance (fig. 3). With the help of Zabers, once again, the (communist) bronze man

Figure 3. Miervaldis Polis and Vilnis Zabers, The Bronze Man Becomes the White Man, Riga, Latvia, 1989. Photograph courtesy of the Latvian Centre of Contemporary Art, Riga, Latvia.

became the (free) white man, with Zabers applying a layer of white paint over the artist’s already bronze-coated body. The performance was Polis’ idea, who stated that the bronze man becoming a white man was symbolic of the transition from communism to free-market democracy. He said of the action, “before, we were communists, now, we are men. Before we were bronze men, now we are white.” 30 Polis recalls that when he came out of his friend’s flat to do the performance, he was approached by another artist, Janis Borgs, who was with three employees of Swedish television. Upon seeing the man covered

The Bronze Man and the Homeless Man 141 ___________________________________________________________ in bronze they begged Polis to walk over to the pedestal from which Riga’s Lenin statue had just recently been removed, and stand there as if he were the statue. At first Zabers didn’t want to go, but the Swedes were insistent. Polis convinced his colleague by getting the Swedes to agree to buy them some beer afterward, for their trouble. 31 Then the whole entourage followed The Bronze Man from the Old Town to the pedestal, which was just ten minutes away on foot. Polis has stated that this impromptu action also caused quite a stir. As he stood on the pedestal at the intersection of Brivibas and Elizabetes ielas for the foreigners to photograph him, he heard cars and buses screech to a stop on the surrounding streets. He noticed that there was a green light, yet the traffic remained still, and everyone in the cars and buses was staring at him as he stood there. 32 Polis had succeeded, although unintentionally, in creating a deception for the viewers of this work. Knowing that the statue had been removed quite recently, passersby wondered whether a new Lenin statue had appeared in place of the old one. Polis mentioned one man who came toward him saying “damn, some Russian has gone and put up a little statue in Lenin’s place.” 33 It turned out that this man was an acquaintance of his, a neighbour from his childhood who had recently returned from his deportation to Siberia. The man happened to be carrying a shovel with him, and looked rather angry. Polis recounts the curiosity of seeing this man on one side of him, an ethnic Latvian who expressed his indignation at the thought of another Soviet bronze statue being erected in Lenin’s place (and whom Polis sincerely feared since he happened to be carrying a shovel!), and on the other side seeing a person wearing Soviet orders, whom he felt appeared to be supportive of the former Soviet government and a new monument to that regime. After Polis returned to Doma Laukums from his outing to the Lenin pedestal, Zabers covered the already-painted-bronze Polis with a layer of white paint, which marked the end of an era. Now that Latvia was an independent country and no longer governed by communist rule, the Bronze Man had become free. Polis even commented that once he painted himself white “there could never be another Bronze Man.” 34 In the same way that most of the false idols, in the form of bronze statues, were taken down very quickly in all former communist countries, the Bronze Man was also displaced, by being painted white. In this sense the artist’s role had changed along with the times. While during the communist occupation he was a walking bronze statue, echoing those that could be seen on the streets around him, now artists would have to find a new place to occupy in society. Since the roles of the official and the everyday citizen had changed, so, too, would the role of the artist. 35

Amy Bryzgel 142 ___________________________________________________________ In a society that for nearly fifty years had been collectivized and homogenized, in an attempt to stamp out individuality, Polis’ act was a startling reasserting of an individual, unique identity, for both artist and viewer. Not only did the artist stand out from the crowd, but the viewer, too, was forced to interpret or make sense of this act, when encountering it on the street. The work of art during the Soviet period, however, was meant to be unequivocal and unambiguous. The official style of Socialist Realism tolerated only one interpretation of the work of art. 36 Consequently, performance art wasn’t accepted within its rubric, as it was ephemeral and ambiguous, subject to various interpretations. Because each viewer literally sees the work from his or her own point of view, each interpretation cannot but be individual and unique, as opposed to any official, state-prescribed one. Thus the Bronze Man performance compelled its viewing public to abandon the passive viewing that was common practise in the Soviet era and actively work to make sense of the sight of a man dressed all in bronze in Riga’s city centre. Furthermore, in becoming a bronze statue that can breathe and walk, yet is convincing as a statue when stationary, The Bronze Man begs viewers to question the truth behind the appearances with which they are presented. As such the Bronze Man performance paralleled changes taking place in Latvia at that time, when citizens were closely scrutinizing and questioning the false layers applied to the history of their country. Inconsistencies occurred everywhere in Latvian society during the Soviet period, not just in the form of plaster statues or flesh-and-blood men that were painted bronze. Astute viewers of Polis’ performance could draw parallels between this discrepancy and others. Artis Pabriks and Aldis Purs, for example, note how Soviet ideologists inflated statistics and exaggerated data in order to justify the Soviet occupation of Latvia, by showing how the Latvian economy had flourished after its incorporation. For example, Soviet figures in 1986 show production in Latvia having increased by 4,600 per cent, GNP by 1,150 per cent and social labour productivity by 1,009 per cent, all since 1940. 37 Nevertheless, most Latvians were not happy with their living conditions under Soviet rule. In the 1930s Latvia had one of the strongest and fastest growing economies in Europe. Living standards since the country’s incorporation into the Soviet Union, however, had significantly decreased. Beginning in the 1960s, there were frequent food shortages that caused people to wonder why there was such a disparity between the high rate of production and the actual products available. For Pabriks and Purs, “economic difference between the Soviet centre and Latvia was one of the rational sources of centrifugal force making many Latvians feel sceptical about the Soviet

The Bronze Man and the Homeless Man 143 ___________________________________________________________ system and urging them to search for alternative perspectives.” 38 Audiences of Polis’ performance, recognizing an inconsistency in their everyday lives, could connect with and relate those that the artist was bringing up with his work. In this way the performance had relevance for the local audience at that time. It is interesting to note that in the Post-Soviet period, Polis ceased creating artistic performances and concentrated on his painting. Perhaps owing to his fame and the popularity that came as a result of his public persona in the 1980s, or because of his exceptionally precise style of realism, since the 1990s the artist has received a number of commissions from Latvia’s nouveau riche for family and individual portraits. He has even received the commissions to paint the official portraits of the first two freely-elected Latvian presidents in the Post-Soviet period, Karlis Ulmanis and Vaira Vike Freiberga. Although at the time of writing it has not yet been announced as to who will receive the commission to paint the portrait of the current president, Valdis Zatlers, Polis is considered a likely candidate. 39 Consequently, the artist has become known as Latvia’s court painter (galma portretists), 40 and makes a living entirely from these commissions. In many ways, his fate is a product of the Post-Soviet era, with an emerging upper class that is able to make purchases in a status- and price-driven art market. For Polis, however, it is merely a question of survival, as the commercial art market has replaced the state as the artist’s patron. Weary from the publicity surrounding his Bronze Man performances, Polis has since ‘retired’ from public life by moving to his humble country house outside of Kuldiga. 41 2. Starix: the Homeless Man who became a TV Stuntman Nearly two decades after the appearance of the Bronze Man on the streets of Riga, another man emerged, one who became equally iconic, although through entirely different means. While Polis’ Bronze Man was in many ways a self-made man, the product of one artist’s fanciful imagination and use of body paint, Starix was a character that was the re-creation of a man – a homeless man – by the artist Gints Gabrans. Unlike Polis, who used his own body in performance, Gabrans selected a homeless man from the streets of Riga, from the tunnel that connects the Riga Train Station with the city centre. He cleaned him up, groomed him, gave him a suntan, a shave, and a new set of clothes. The artist even gave him a new name, or a stage name, Starix – a Russian slang word meaning “old man,” which is usually transliterated as “stariks.” Gabrans grounds the performance in Latvia by spelling the suffix of the man’s name with the same three letters that serve as the code for the Riga International Airport, “RIX.”

Amy Bryzgel 144 ___________________________________________________________ Unlike Polis, who received his artistic training during the Soviet period, Gabrans attended art school after Perestroika, having received his degree from the Latvian Academy of Art in Riga in 1995. Although performance was still not a preferred mode of expression in Latvia, there were certainly no prohibitions against it in the 1990s, as there had been during the Soviet period. By 1991 Latvia had completed its transition period and officially became an independent an autonomous nation. As a parliamentary democracy, the arts no longer came under state control, and a plurality of visual practise once again existed in the visual arts. Gabrans was actually trained as a scenographer, and is in fact an accomplished set designer. As a visual artist, his work spans a variety of genres, from painting and performance to conceptual and installation art. His Starix project arose out of his interest in the mass media and the possibilities it afforded everyday citizens of becoming famous. Born in 1971 in Valmiera, the artist spent his youth in Liepaja – a city in Latvia known for its artistic subculture – and graduated from the Secondary School of Applied Art there in 1989, just two years after Polis’ first Bronze Man performance. Gabrans moved to Riga just as Latvia was gaining its independence from the Soviet Union, and just as an art market was beginning to develop in the country. As in many Post-Soviet cities, a Soros Centre for Contemporary art was established in Riga (now the Latvian Centre for Contemporary Art) in 1993, and set about hosting exhibitions and open competitions to stimulate contemporary art activity in the country. It is reported that Gabrans immediately and instinctively understood how the system worked, having perceived that the merit of a proposal was to be found more in the professionalism of its appearance, as opposed to its contents. He advised his friends to submit their proposals neatly typed and presented in a plastic folio. As fellow artist Mikelis Fisers recounts, Gabrans told him: “’you have to write the application on paper’…at the stationer’s shop there were all of these items we didn’t yet know about, those awful sleeves that you have to put documents in, and also the plastic covers. ‘You have to put the papers in these sleeves and fasten them together, and it is completely immaterial what the content is – if you do it this way, it will work.’” 42 Although they didn’t understand why, they followed his advice, and coincidentally or not, the proposals in the folios were the ones that won. Gabrans’ understanding of contemporary art practice being more about appearance that truth extends beyond the act of creation and into the realm of the market, a skill that wasn’t necessarily taught but was more intuitive. That the name Starix refers to a character of Gabrans’ creation, as opposed to a person, is underscored by the circumstances surrounding the

The Bronze Man and the Homeless Man 145 ___________________________________________________________ performance, as it evolved. Since the artist gave the homeless man a stage name, this meant that the role could be played by virtually anyone – so long as they fit the suit. In point of fact, Starix was not one, but two men, although the artist had only intended for the role to be held by one man. The first one, named Valerijs, played the part of Starix until he died sometime in 2002. 43 He was subsequently replaced by a man named Igors Grigorievs, the man whose image most audiences are familiar with, having had more TV appearances than the first one. Gabrans worked on Starix from 2000-2004, using mass media, advertising, radio and television to bring fame to an otherwise nameless and homeless Rigan (fig. 4). The man first appeared in an advertising

Figure 4. Gints Gabrans, How to Get on TV, 2004 Photograph courtesy of the Latvian Centre of Contemporary Art, Riga, Latvia.

campaign leading up to the Contemporary Utopia exhibition that was organised by the Latvian Centre for Contemporary Art in 2001. Following the campaign and exhibition, the “media stuntman,” as he was referred to by Gabrans in the performance, went on to appear on television in a variety of capacities. In some broadcasts he simply appeared as a spectator in the background, and in others he actually had a speaking role. After appearing at several public demonstrations his face became recognisable on the evening news, and he even acquired the status of a “professional picketer” by newscasters. 44 Even though Starix played the leading role in his

Amy Bryzgel 146 ___________________________________________________________ own “reality show,” orchestrated by Gabrans, he also made a guest appearance on several other reality shows that were broadcast on Latvian television at the time, resulting in a kind of reality show within a reality show. Very early on in the project, Valerijs (the first Starix), in an interview with Diena, admitted that people recognised him when they saw him in the street, owing to the publicity: “I walk through the Old Town, and someone comes out of the hotel and says ‘hey old man, aren’t you the one from the poster?’” 45 The marketing campaign was successful, and Starix’s image became popularly known. Gabrans was invited to represent Latvia at the 26th Sao Paolo Biennale in 2004 with Starix. His installation consisted of a summary of the project, because, as he said, it had been ongoing throughout the four years. “My work is always in process, therefore it changes – only now it seems finished,” 46 he stated in a 2004 interview. The video on display at Sao Paolo was shown on four television screens arranged in a circle, with the screens visible from inside. Each television monitor rested on a stand that was actually a cardboard cut-out of Starix himself, in his usual outfit – a white suit and sunglasses – appearing to hold in his hands the instrument responsible for his rise to fame: the television. The video displays the various instances of Starix’s appearance on television, with a fast-paced video montage of his transformation interspersed among those clips, demarcating the various chapters in the man’s life on TV (fig. 5). The montage begins with Starix in his “original” state as a homeless man, then flashes to scenes of him getting a haircut, manicure, electrolysis, visiting a solarium, undergoing a variety of spa and wellness treatments, and finally participating in a photo shoot in the ballroom at Rundale Palace. Valerijs’ (the first Starix) story is not an unusual one in Latvia. A chauffer during the Soviet period, he lost his license owing to a reckless lifestyle: “they took it away in 1981. For drinking, of course. When I got back from the zone, 47 I started working near my home as a docker, but everyone there drank, and that’s how it all fell apart…,” 48 he said in a 2001 interview. The details of how the man ended up homeless are not entirely clear, 49 but Gabrans recalls that at one point he had been in prison. 50 The story of the second Starix, Igors, is also a common one in the Post-Soviet period. Having lost his identity papers before Latvia regained independence, he found himself without the proper documentation that would have entitled him to a flat after the redistribution of property and apartments, and thus ended up without a home. Gabrans’ project attempted to change all of that by turning the man’s luck around, literally giving him the appearance of a man of fortune and fame and broadcasting his image throughout the mass media.

The Bronze Man and the Homeless Man 147 ___________________________________________________________

Figure 5. Gints Gabrans, How to Get on TV, 2004 Photograph courtesy of the Latvian Centre of Contemporary Art, Riga, Latvia.

The homeless man’s spots on television vary from him being filmed as a passive bystander in the crowd to actively participating with a speaking role. He was filmed talking part in a mass at the Jesus Church (Jesus Baznica), in the Maskavas region of Riga, easily spotted among the other parishioners on account of his white suit and sunglasses, which remained on his face despite the fact that he was, in fact, at mass, indoors. He could also be seen occupying a front-row seat at the live broadcast of a musical performance during the LTV1 (Latvian Television channel 1) music show “The Barn” (“Siena Sķūnis”). His appearance on the show

Amy Bryzgel 148 ___________________________________________________________ “Good Wishes” was the result of him sending in a picture and asking the announcers to wish Igors Grigorievs (the second Starix) a happy birthday “from his friends and colleagues,” 51 a message that is bitterly ironic in light of the fact that he sent the wishes to himself. The media stuntman also entered a picture of himself and his cat to a photo competition run by the TV3 series “The Farm,” which asked for viewers to send in pictures of themselves with their pets. As one can imagine, the image, like the birthday greeting, was also a ruse, since the homeless man did not, in reality, have a pet cat. Starix was also given a voice by the media. While participating in two public demonstrations – one against the Iraq War in front of the Parliament building in Riga’s Old Town, and one against Latvia’s entrance into the European Union in front of the Cabinet of Ministers building (both in 2003) – Starix was interviewed. His views are neither surprising nor revolutionary. About the Iraq war, Starix had this to say: “America got what it wanted! Now let them put their own house in order.” 52 With regard to EU accession, he also referenced the United States: “The EU offers no solutions. Americans want to have a war – let them go ahead! No one can say anything against it. Then what’s the use of the EU? Why do we have to join another stagnating system? One union was enough!” 53 Starix was able to test his appeal as a new bachelor on the scene when he made an appearance on the reality show “The Factory” (Fabrika), in response to one of the current stars’ request for potential suitors. Three bachelors were invited onto the show to give the woman, named Bella, flowers or gifts, after which they were subjected to a series of questions by her. At the end of the show, she made her decision as to which man she preferred. When Igors was asked to give his life motto, he stated that it was “to live in harmony with myself and the surrounding world. Try not to do to others what you wouldn’t like them to do to you. That’s the most important. Try to find the good in people, even in the bad ones. There’s something worth discovering in everyone.” 54 Once again, his statements are neither profound nor original, yet he is given a voice owing to the fact that he is famous, and he is famous because he is on TV. Given the fact that his fame is simply the result of him having been chosen by Gabrans, this notion that there is ‘something worth discovering in everyone’ resonates as meaningless. Igors’ own statements reveal that it was not that there was ‘something worth discovering’ in him that helped him to

The Bronze Man and the Homeless Man 149 ___________________________________________________________ achieve fame, but rather that he was merely discovered, and quite randomly at that. In the end, he was among the two bachelors who were rejected by Bella. Perhaps the most telling of Starix’s appearances came on an episode of the LTV1 current affairs show “Everything is Happening” (“Viss Notiek”), when the topic of discussion was, in fact, fame. Before turning the discussion to Gabrans’ project Starix, the TV presenter interviewed Raimonds Pauls, Latvia’s most beloved song writer and musician, and certainly one of their most iconic and recognisable figures, regardless of age or ethnicity. In his interview, Pauls stated that “in show business, a star with no popularity is like a corpse,” 55 a statement that is indeed ironic given the fact that the first Starix had died by that time. Nevertheless, the show used Starix as one example of a person who has made the media “dance to his whistle,” and described the media stuntman as a “man with no special talents, high ranks or rich relatives. Still Starix conquers all that he desires – every TV show or channel...The media quotes him, although he doesn’t say anything.” 56 Starix is acknowledged as being part of the phenomenon whereby anyone can be famous for doing anything – even for doing nothing at all. In the West, the concept of fame is most closely associated with Andy Warhol and his 1968 claim that in the future, everyone would have fifteen minutes of theirs. Indeed it follows from the Postmodern and Pop Art notion that if anything can be art, and anyone can be an artist, then anyone can be famous as well. While Latvia did not experience the transition from modernism to postmodernism in the same manner that Western nations did, it had certainly caught up with the West by the 1990s, after independence had brought mass media, advertising campaigns and, by the millennium era, even reality shows to the Post-Soviet nation. Among others, Latvia has its own version of reality shows familiar in the West, such as “Survivor,” the Latvian version of which is called “The Robinsons” (“Robinsoni”), after the characters in The Swiss Family Robinson; the Latvian version of “American Idol,” entitled “Hello, Jūrmala!”; a version of “The Apprentice,” where youth are given the opportunity to try out various professions, titled “Kurp, Dodies?” (“Where are you Headed to?”); and even “Dancing with the Stars” (“Dejo ar Zvaigzni”). In the Post-Soviet era, everyday Latvian citizens do, in fact, have the same opportunities for fame that are afforded those in the West, even a homeless man like Starix. While those who choose to participate in a reality show do so of their own volition, seeking fame, money, or even simply the thrill that comes with completing some of the daunting tasks presented, neither

Amy Bryzgel 150 ___________________________________________________________ Starix nor Gabrans were involved in this venture for the fame that it brought them. Gabrans denies that fame was a personal motivator for completing the project, rather, he stated that he had “simply seen a situation that is really important to a large number of people, and from that possibility concluded a real value.” 57 In fact he noticed how people “have an attitude of deep piety and humility toward [fame]” 58 and wanted not only to draw attention to it, but also to unpack it. He stated that “showing how to get on a TV broadcast is not that complicated, and turning it into a funny game dispels the religious aura of the media and provides the opportunity to think about how to create your life yourself.” 59 In this way Gabrans’ Starix project is a model for the public that comes complete with instructions, for how to achieve not only fame, but also how to create your own unique and individual identity. In the Post-Soviet era it is no longer something as extreme as a bronze suit that is necessary to achieve such goals – an everyday white one, together with a strategy, will do.

Figure 6. Gints Gabrans, How to Get on TV, 2004 Photograph courtesy of the Latvian Centre of Contemporary Art, Riga, Latvia.

The Bronze Man and the Homeless Man 151 ___________________________________________________________ Gabrans’ Starix performance participates in the discourse on the real and the fake that Polis began with the Bronze Man nearly twenty years prior. The obvious truth of the matter is that both Starix characters were in fact nameless, faceless inhabitants of Riga until they were cleaned up and groomed for television. One could argue that Starix’s rise to fame was dependent on him having the right or proper appearance, or at least a clean, as opposed to scruffy one. The “before and after” image that was reproduced as part of the project makes this clear (fig. 6). The tatty old man dressed in rags, with an unkempt beard and sullen look on his face might elicit sympathy from passersby in the train tunnel, or persuade others to quicken their gait as they walked by him in the wee hours of the night. The clean-shaven man with the neatly-trimmed and stylish goatee, chic and perfectly tailored white suit and super-cool sunglasses conveys the message that this was a man who was born for TV, fame, or at least some kind of recognition. Even a detail as minute as the background against which he was photographed indicates this: the former, against the crumbling brick and mortar edifices of the Old Town – the most popular place in Riga for vagrants and beggars, owing to the large number of tourists there – versus the marble and gilt walls of Rundale Palace. Even the rays of sunlight that beam across Starix’s exterior cast a positive light on this newly reformed man. A careful consideration of the reality behind these two images, however, reveals that just as the bronze layer of paint applied to Polis’ skin can be peeled back to reveal the real flesh-and-blood man underneath, so, too, does Starix’s white suit belie the vagabond wearing it, not to mention the fact that it clothed not one, but two men. When asked why Gabrans had dressed the man this way, he responded that it was all part of the plan. “That was one of the strategies – find a crowd and at the same time make him stand out from it, for example, all dressed in white. At the pickets it was always precisely him that they interviewed.” 60 One interviewer commented that Starix looked like a member of the nouveau riche, the white suit and the shaved head being key signifiers of one’s economic standing in the Post-Soviet era. Nevertheless, Starix is rather conspicuous everywhere that he goes, but in a manner that often borders on the comical. Watching the clips one notes how he immediately draws attention to himself as someone different, without even doing anything. Starix stands out from the crowd so much so that he might as well be wearing a bronze suit with a bronze-painted face as Polis did years earlier. With his iconic white suit and sunglasses, night or day, Starix is just as much a unique self-made man as the Bronze Man was in the 1980s. Polis’ performance shook people from their everyday stupor, yet Gabrans’ goes one step further and gives his viewers the tools

Amy Bryzgel 152 ___________________________________________________________ and motivation to become the artists and creators of their own lives, and their own fame, themselves. While media fame is most certainly a product of the Post-Soviet reality, the iconic status of both the Bronze Man and Starix among the Latvian public today demonstrates the fact that word of mouth and hearsay, which account for Polis’ popularity and artistic legacy, functioned as the Soviet-era version of a marketing campaign. In fact, Gabrans referenced Polis’ fame in his video-lecture, stating that “friendship with Miervaldis Polis or other artists is not necessarily the only way to conquer TV.” 61 Indeed, the video of Polis’ 1987 jaunt around Riga was irrevocably lost, yet his reputation was made and has even endured through to the 21st century. Polis’ Bronze Man performance drew attention to the fact that appearances can be deceiving at a time when Latvian citizens were beginning to call attention to that fact with regard to the history of their own country. Although Polis believed that the Bronze Man had no place in Latvia after the country regained independence, indeed Gabrans’ project reveals that the concept still has relevance in contemporary Latvian society. While the Bronze Man underscored the fact that the Soviet idols, along with their ideology, were more artifice than not, Starix presents a cautionary tale about fame and fortune in Post-Soviet Latvia, a statement that is even more poignant in light of the current situation of the country at the time of writing. While in the years immediately following the Starix performance Latvia became part of the European Union (2004) and experienced rapid economic growth, even being dubbed a “Baltic Tiger,” 62 in 2008 the country experienced a sudden and rapid economic downturn, leading to near-bankruptcy in 2009, as this goes to press. In the PostSoviet period it is not only the appearance of wealth and prosperity that can be found false, but also fame and popularity that can be exposed as essentially unwarranted. Both Polis’ and Gabrans’ performances serve as wake-up calls to their audiences, jarring them from their passive daily existence and asking them to participate in the creation of meaning that they had sparked with their respective art works. In fact this story is not simply a tale of a Bronze Man and a homeless man, but rather the chronicle of a country in transition, from Soviet to Post-Soviet, communist to capitalist, Latvian Soviet Socialist Republic to independent EU member state.

The Bronze Man and the Homeless Man 153 ___________________________________________________________ Notes 1 According to Svede in “Many Easels, Some Abandoned,” in Art of the Baltics, Rosenfeld, A. and Dodge, N., eds., 201. 2 According to the State Archives of Latvia. Col. No. 232, Reg. No. 1, File No. 700, Minutes No. 21, as mentioned by Ramona Umblija, “The Event 1984. Measuring Time with Asides,” Nature. Environment. Man. 1984., ed. Inese Baranovska, 70 and 72 (FN 6) (Riga: Artist’s Union of Latvia, 2004). 3 Janis Borgs, “The Cock on St. Peter’s Steeple Sings its Early Song. Free Art – A Soviet Product?,” Nature. Environment. Man. 1984., 40. 4 Polis, in conversation with the author, August 2003. 5 Miervaldis Polis, in an interview with the author, 8 September 2008. 6 Polis, in an interview with the author, September 8, 2007. 7 Polis described this route to the author in an interview, September 8, 2007. 8 Incidentally, there are no remaining copies of the film of this first Bronze Man performance. According to Polis, it was “stolen. I gave some fragments [of the video – AB] to the television. But they never gave them back. I also had a video, and they also stole that. That was around 1991.” Polis, in an interview with the author, September 8, 2007. 9 Polis, in an interview with the author, September 8, 2007. 10 As confirmed by the artist in a conversation with the author, August 2004, and also cited in Vishnevskaia, 1997, 21. 11 Vishnevskaia, 1997, 21. 12 Polis, in an interview with the author, September 8, 2007. 13 Kārkluvalka, 2000, no page no. 14 Polis, 1988, 19. 15 Since independence it has been known as Brīvības iela, or “Freedom Street.” 16 Now the Hotel Latvija 17 Polis, in an interview with the author, September 8, 2007. 18 Anatoly Lunacharsky (1875-1933), first Soviet People’s Commissar of Enlightenment, responsible for culture and education in the early years of the Soviet Union (1917-1929). 19 As qtd. in Lodder, 1983, 53. 20 Lodder, 1983, 53. 21 One of the aims of the Latvian National Independence Movement, which had become active around this time, was to reveal the truth behind the secret protocols of the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact, which would expose

Amy Bryzgel 154 ___________________________________________________________ the Soviet Union’s claim that Latvia had willingly joined the Union as illegitimate. 22 Polis was aware of the parallels between his painting himself bronze and the painting of the plaster statues. He mentions the fact that the Soviet Union had their own “perversion” the bronze statues that were erected to leaders throughout the Western . In his words, “The idea was about the putting up of monuments in general…It was the Greeks who created the greatest master works of the highest technological quality, in bronze. The power behind such a creation as the Athena statue – that was real power. But in the Soviet period they made these statues from plaster, and perverted them with horrible bronze paint of low quality, as if it were gold.” Polis, in an interview with the author, September 8, 2007. 23 17th June marks the anniversary of the occupation of Latvia by the Soviet Union in 1940. 24 Polis, in an interview with the author, September 8, 2007. 25 Polis, in an interview with the author, September 8, 2007. 26 Polis, in an interview with the author, September 8, 2007. 27 Polis, in an interview with the author, September 8, 2007. 28 For a summary of the events see “Egoinfo Paziņojums,” 1990, 3. 29 Polis, interview by Bergmanis, “Kā kļūt par miljonāru?” 30 Polis, in an interview with the author, September 8, 2007. 31 Polis, in an interview with the author, September 8, 2007. 32 Polis, in an interview with the author, September 8, 2007. 33 Polis, in an interview with the author, September 8, 2007. 34 Polis, in an interview with the author, September 8, 2007. 35 Indeed the Bronze Man did make one more appearance in the world, although he never reappeared in Latvia. In 1999 the artist was invited to participate in a residency at Cleveland State University in Ohio. In conjunction with an exhibition of his work at the Cleveland State University Art Gallery, Polis recreated the Bronze Man performance. The artist had initially planned to travel to Ohio dressed as the Bronze Man, but decided that the logistics of it would be difficult, owing to the lengthy travel time between Latvia and the US. Polis, in an interview with the author, September 8, 2007. 36 Although it is widely agreed that artists in Latvia did not so strictly adhere to the doctrine of Socialist Realism as they may have been forced to in other republics, the reference here is to the official policy of artistic practise, as it was meant to be employed union-wide. 37 See Pabriks, A. and Purs, A., 2002, 49. 38 Ibid, 50.

The Bronze Man and the Homeless Man 155 ___________________________________________________________ 39 In conversation with the author, the Deputy Head of the President’s Chancery at the time, Eriks Ozols, mentioned that since Polis had painted the previous two presidents’ portraits, it seemed likely that he would be selected to paint Zatlers’ as well. 17 June 2008. 40 For example, Niks Volmārs’ article entitled “Miervaldis Polis, the Most Expensive Court Portrait-Painter” in Privātā Dzīve, 2003 is a reference to this. 41 In conversation with the author, Polis has mentioned that he has had enough of publicity, press, and requests for interviews. He accepts only one or two commissions per year, as that is often how long it takes to complete them, owing to his painstaking methods. He is able to live off of these commissions and maintains a rather humble existence in the Latvian countryside. Polis, in conversation with the author, August 2003. 42 Miķelis Fišers, in Viestars Gailitis, “Disciplinets bohemietis,” Sestdiena (19-25 January 2003): 18-19. 43 Gabrans does not remember the exact date of Valerijs’ death. While the circumstances surrounding the death of the first Starix and his replacement by a second pose an entire host of questions and issues, it is not my aim to discuss them in this article. Incidentally, this fact is never mentioned in the popular press, and does not seem to be popularly known, thus emphasizing the notion that it is the character, not the person, who became famous. 44 When reporting the news, in one instance the announcer mentioned that a “professional picketer” had been present at the protest. 45 Valerijs (Starix), in Rudaks, 2001, no page no. 46 Gabrans, in Kusmane, no page no. 47 Valerijs was drafted into the Soviet Army, and “the zone” refers to the area where he was stationed. 48 Valerijs (Starix), in Rudaks, 2001, no page no. 49 Gabrans himself is not entirely clear as to the circumstances surrounding Valerijs’ situation. 50 Gints Gabrans, in a phone conversation with the author, April 30, 2009. 51 Excerpt from the television show Good Wishes (Latvia), shown in Gabrans, “How to get on TV” video project, shown at the Sao Paolo Biennale, 2004 52 Excerpt from TV5 show Riga Online (Latvia), shown in Gabrans, “How to get on TV,” 2004. 53 Excerpt from LTV1 News broadcast (Latvia), shown in Gabrans, “How to get on TV,” 2004. 54 Excerpt from TV5 show Fabrika (Latvia), shown in Gabrans, “How to get on TV,” 2004.

Amy Bryzgel 156 ___________________________________________________________ 55 Raimonds Pauls, speaking on Viss Notiek (Latvia), shown in Gabrans, “How to get on TV,” 2004. 56 Excerpt from Viss Notiek, shown in Gabrans, “How to get on TV,” 2004. 57 Gabrans, in Kusmane, “Kā nokļūt TV?” 58 Gabrans, in Kusmane, “Kā nokļūt TV?” 59 Gabrans, in Kusmane, “Kā nokļūt TV?” 60 Gabrans, in Kusmane, “Kā nokļūt TV?” 61 Excerpt from Viss Notiek, shown in Gabrans, “How to get on TV,” 2004. 62 A reference to the rapid rate of growth of all three Baltic countries, including Lithuania and Estonia, in the period of roughly 2000-2008. References Baranovska, I. (2004), Nature. Environment. Man. 1984. Riga: Artist’s Union of Latvia. Busevica, A. (2001), “Divi no trīsdesmit diviem,” Diena: no page no. “Egoinfo Paziņojums,” Literatūra un Māksla, (September 8, 1990): 3. Gabrāns, G., interview with Agnese Kusmane (2004), “Kā nokļūt TV?” Gabrāns, G. (2004) “How to Get on TV” video project, shown at the Sao Paolo Biennale, 2004. Gailitis, V. (19-25 January 2003), “Disciplinets bohemietis,” Sestdiena, 18-19. Kārkluvalka, I. (July 27, 2000), “Miervaldis Polis savā personalizstādē,” Talsu Vēstis: no page no. Lodder, C. (1983), Russian Constructivism. New Haven and London: Yale University Press. Pabriks, A., and A. Purs. (2002), Latvia: The Challenges of Change. London: Routledge.

The Bronze Man and the Homeless Man 157 ___________________________________________________________ Polis, M., interview by Bergmanis, A. (August 17, 1991) “Kā kļūt par miljonāru?,”, Sestdiena: no page no. Polis, M. (1988), “Miervaldis Intervē Poli,” Māksla, 1: 17-21. Svede, M. (2001), “Many Easels, Some Abandoned,” in Art of the Baltics, Rosenfeld, A. and Dodge, N., eds. New Jersey: Zimmerli Art Museum. Valerijs (Starix), interview with Rudaks, U. (27 May 2001),“Trosknis,” Diena (Izklaide): no page no. Vishnevskaia, D. (September 20, 1997), “Pohozhdenia bronzovogo cheloveka Polisa,” Sybbota: 21. Volmārs, N. (October 28, 2003), “Dārgākais galma portretists Miervaldis Polis,” Pri Amy Bryzgel is a Lecturer in History of Art at the University of Aberdeen where she specialises in contemporary art from Eastern Europe and Russia.

Between a ‘Rock’ and a ‘Hard Place’: Baltic Foreign Policy after Enlargement David J. Galbreath While much of post-communist Europe was overcoming the triple transitions of de-socialization, democratization, and marketization, Latvia, Estonia and Lithuania had a more complex post-communist experience. This complex set of factors makes Latvia and its Baltic neighbours important case studies here. The Baltic States can best be summed up in terms of history, location and size. For Latvia, Estonia and Lithuania, the end of the Cold War not only brought transition, it also brought independence; resurrected and reconstructed from the inter-war period before the Soviet invasion of 1940. Where the primary threat to the Baltic States was Poland and Germany before the war, the Soviet inclusion of the three Baltic republics left a legacy of deep distrust of the ‘East’ and a hope of security from the ‘West’. This tension between the Baltic capitals and the ancien regime is both mediated and exacerbated by their location. Bordering Russia and Belarus to the East (and West in terms of Kaliningrad), Poland to the West, and Finland to the North, the Baltic States are a complex mixture of central European, Nordic and post-Soviet, which has an impact on how they see themselves and others. Finally, Latvia, Estonia and Lithuania are three of the smallest member-states of the European Union with 1.3 million, 2.3 million, and 3.6 million respectively (as of 2007). Their small size also impacts their perspective of ‘self’ and ‘other’ in the Baltic Sea region. In discussing post-communist foreign policies, the Baltic States’ post-Soviet circumstances add several further complex dimensions. In our discussion of the Baltic States, we look at three aspects. Firstly, this section looks at the domestic factors influencing foreign and security policy in Latvia, Estonia and Lithuania. We pay particular attention to the idea of building foreign policy ‘from scratch’. Secondly, we look at Baltic foreign policies in relation to European integration into the EU and NATO. Finally, we look at the evolving regional relationship between Russia and the EU in relation to how this affects the post-Soviet region., In other words, the Baltic States sit between a ‘rock’ and a ‘hard place’. Altogether, this chapter presents an important part of postcommunist foreign policy analysis in the Latvian and Baltic contexts.

David J. Galbreath 160 ___________________________________________________________ 1. Foreign policy after independence and enlargement Given the inter-war republics, the Estonian government-in-exile, and large diaspora communities in the United States, Canada, UK and Sweden, the Baltic relationship with the outside world did not end with Soviet inclusion in 1940 nor did it restart with independence in 1991. Olav F. Knudsen established four phases of Baltic foreign policy starting between 1990 and 1991. 1 These phases oscillated between Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev’s cycle of opportunity and repression that accompanied the final years of the Soviet Union. More recently, David J. Galbreath, Ainius Lasas and Jeremy W. Lamoreaux look at foreign policy as it was consolidated in the new post-Soviet states of Latvia, Estonia and Lithuania. They find that foreign and security policies were unique in terms of the policyareas in the new states, in that foreign and security policies were generally not a part of the responsibilities of the Soviet republics, although the Baltic republics did have foreign ministries that only began to take on a meaningful role towards the end of Soviet rule. 2 Rather, these issues were dealt with in Moscow as part of the central bureaucracy and of ‘high’ politics. Nevertheless, there was some continuity with all three late Soviet foreign ministers continuing into the early Soviet period. Generally, attention was paid inwards on rebuilding a state and nation. As has been discussed elsewhere, this double rebuilding varied across Latvia, Estonia and Lithuania producing dramatic effects on domestic and foreign policies. 3 Nevertheless, the three states immediately eyed inclusion into the EU and NATO. Perhaps uniquely for Central and Eastern Europe, regardless of government, successive ruling government coalitions pressed forward for EU and NATO member-ship. Politically, EU membership was a move to restore the Baltic States to their European past and smooth the way for a European future. Strategically, NATO membership mattered because it provided insecure nations with mechanisms of defence and security. In Latvia and Estonia especially, the Baltic governments were steadfast in their intention to gain access to these two regional organizations. In the words of Lamoreaux and Galbreath, the Baltic States were “negotiating the ‘East’ by engaging the ‘West’”. 4 Did dual enlargement bring about a change in the way that foreign policy was made or discussed? In terms of foreign policy-making, Galbreath, Lašas and Lamoreaux show how foreign policy-making has become more diffuse with the accession into the EU. 5 Where the Ministries of Foreign Affairs were the primary sources of foreign policy before, now foreign policy touches nearly every ministry. This is especially the case for ministries that represent policy areas that are also well established within the EU acquis. Naturally, as foreign policy moves beyond the bor-

Between a ‘Rock’ and a ‘Hard Place’ 161 ___________________________________________________________ ders of so-called ‘high politics’, we should expect foreign policy to become influenced by a plethora of domestic actors. 6 For example, the ministries related to finance and the economy have become much more involved in foreign policy in the Baltic States since joining the EU. This diffusion of foreign policy-making and its implementation has been experienced across the EU, but especially in the twelve new member states. Looking larger afield, we can see that the international context is exceptionally important for small states in the international system. 2. From Republics to Member-States Latvia, Estonia and Lithuania began engaging with the ‘West’ even before their independence from the Soviet Union. Yet, their active participation came after independence was reinstalled in August 1991. As former republics of the USSR, a participating-state of the Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe (CSCE), the Baltic States almost immediately became participating-states of the CSCE (from 1994 known as the OSCE). Following this, the Baltic States became member-states of the Council of Europe following their first post-Soviet competitive elections, constitution adoption and (in Latvia’s case) the adoption of a citizenship law. Participation in the OSCE and the Council of Europe laid the groundwork for entry into the EU and to a smaller degree NATO. Both the OSCE and the Council of Europe played an active role in encouraging political transition, focusing primarily on democratization and human rights. 7 However, EU accession would be another threshold altogether. Estonia began accession negotiations in 1998, while Latvia and Lithuania began two years later. Initially, Estonia was named in a group of six nations also including Czech Republic, Slovakia, Poland, Slovenia and Hungary. Yet, the ‘big bang’ approach to enlargement was chosen with the Amsterdam IGC (1997) and the resulting Agenda 2000, which set out the path to future EU enlargement. Naturally, the conditions which the Baltic States had to meet are similar to other post-communist states in Europe. Most recently, Peter van Elsuwege has taken a look back at the Baltic States’ accession to the EU. 8 He illustrates how accessing states generally began adopting the so-called ‘easy chapters’ of the EU’s acquis. These ‘easy chapters’ covered areas like common foreign policy and science and research where the EU has less established engagement. 9 More intense were the areas involving the common market, such as trade, border control, taxation and energy. Out of these issues, the case of Kaliningrad stands out for its involvement of the Russian Federation. 10 In the tri-partite negotiations, there was an understanding in the European Commission that the Russian exclave between Poland and Lithuania should not

David J. Galbreath 162 ___________________________________________________________ be detrimental to the latter’s entry into the EU. Agreement between the three parties was reached in November 2002, with a ‘Joint-Statement on Transit between the Kaliningrad Region and the Rest of the Russian Federation.’ The agreement allowed for what was essentially a visa by another name (a Facilitated Transit Document) and a rail transit document that could be obtained at the time of purchasing a rail ticket. The Kaliningrad agreement illustrates the delicate relationship the EU has with Russia and the role that the Baltic States can play in affecting that role. The chapter comes back to this role later. The Baltic States’ hopes of becoming members of NATO were explicitly laid out from the early days of independence. The first statement was from Estonian President Lennart Meri, who said in 1993 that Estonia wanted to become a member of NATO, with the Lithuanian President Algirdas Brazauskas making a similar statement shortly afterward. Galbreath, Lašas and Lamoreaux illustrate the difference between EU and NATO accession. ‘Access to NATO’s membership was equally rigorous but was far less political in terms of micro-policy. The debate was not over what it took to be in NATO, but rather whether to be in NATO or not’. 11 Conditions for entry into NATO carried much of the political rhetoric of EU criteria. The alliance’s ‘Study on NATO Enlargement’ set out criteria commitments to democracy and security in the region. While occasionally Lithuania wavered in its enthusiasm for NATO membership given its more robust centre-left political parties, perpetual centre-right coalitions in Latvia and Estonia kept NATO membership clearly on their foreign policy agendas. NATO membership however was not a foregone conclusion because of the ‘West’s’ attempts at keeping Russia onside in the former Yugoslavia. The change came with two events. 12 The first event was the deteriorating relationship between NATO and Russia over the 1999 bombings in Kosovo. Sceptical NATO memberstates such as France, Germany and Italy were no longer willing to tolerate a Russian veto over Baltic membership in the North Atlantic Alliance. The second event was the election of George W. Bush in 2000 which bolstered the sceptical view of the NATO-Russian relationship. With the Bush administration, the Baltic States had a friendly ear in Washington. Yet, with entry into both the EU and NATO in 2004, the Baltic States had to come to terms with the potential competition between the EU’s developing security and defence policy and NATO’s continued role in Europe. Since a joint statement in 1993, the Baltic States have consistently declared their support for NATO as the primary collective defence organization in Europe. At the same time, the Baltic States have expressed their support for the development of the European Security and Defence

Between a ‘Rock’ and a ‘Hard Place’ 163 ___________________________________________________________ Policy (ESDP) as a ‘complement’ to NATO. Constrained by the ‘Petersburg tasks’ pertaining to development, intervention, and peace-keeping, the EU has a more confined role in European and global security. In their support for NATO, the Baltic States fit within the larger Central and Eastern European preference for NATO as their primary security guarantor. As we shall see, this support for NATO and in particular future enlargement of the alliance has a destabilizing effect on the post-Soviet region. 3. Between a ‘Rock’ and a ‘Hard Place’ Naturally, the relationship between the Baltic States and the EU has changed since the 2004 enlargement. Before enlargement, the European Commission’s Regular Reports illustrated the progress of the Baltic States in integrating the Copenhagen Criteria. In Latvia and Estonia, the issues surrounding the status of the Russian-speaking communities were deemed by the Commission as acceptable. For instance, in the 2002 Regular Report on Estonia’s Accession to the European Union, the Commission stated that since the first Regular Report in 1997, Estonia ‘has made considerable progress in further consolidating and deepening the stability of its institutions guaranteeing democracy, the rule of law, human rights and respect for and protection of minorities.’ 13 Further on the Commission concludes unequivocally, ‘Estonia continues to respect human rights and freedoms.’ By and large, the same conclusion was made about Latvia in its corresponding Regular Reports. As far as the EU was concerned, the minority issue in Latvia and Estonia was progressing well and thus was not a problem. At the same time, Baltic-Russian relations have centred on the two issues that have dominated the mutual rhetoric since Russian troops withdrew in August 1994: minority rights and borders. In an interview with the present author in March 2005, the then Latvian foreign minister stated that there had been significant actions in Moscow to spread a ‘bad image’ of Latvia. 14 Asked how Latvian foreign policy could respond to this, the minister stated that it is Latvia’s role to work through the EU to maximise the country’s own position vis-à-vis Russia. In another interview within the Latvian Ministry of Foreign Affairs East Europe and Central Asia Division, a civil servant argued that Latvia wants to see relations with Russia dealt with by ‘one European voice’. 15 In all three cases, the Baltic States would be hard-pressed to change the nature of bilateral relations with Moscow without the help of EU institutions. Paraphrasing the Latvian Foreign Minister, the Baltic States feel that they must educate Brussels about the Soviet occupation, while recognising that a shared version of history with Moscow is nearly impossible. This is the environment in

David J. Galbreath 164 ___________________________________________________________ which this triadic relationship has developed. Let us take a closer look at the ‘Baltic factor’ in challenging subregional power relationships and shaping European boundaries. A. Changing Power Relationships As was to be expected, the border issue was a salient issue for the EU before enlargement. Prior to enlargement, Russia’s Partnership and Cooperation Agreement (PCA) with the EU needed to be ratified by the 10 candidate members. In the November 2003 PCA negotiations with the EU, the border issue was raised again, since the EU border with Russia would extend down from Finland come 1 May 2004. While the EU stressed the need to sign border treaties with Latvia and Estonia, the Russian delegation was concentrating on the status of national minorities in the two states. 16 However, the EU delegation was unwilling to link the two issues. According to the Latvian daily Diena, the European Commission delegation refused to hear Russia’ complaints about minority rights in the two Baltic States, but instead focused on the border agreements. Again in February as Moscow pressed the minority rights issue in Latvia and Estonia, the EU instead focused on the need to establish a formal border. In response to Russia’s insistence, the European Parliament Foreign Affairs Committee President argued that ‘Russia’s questions about the minority issue in the Baltic States were more easily solved than they could be in Russia’. 17 By discounting the Russian’s claims about the status of minorities in the Baltic States, the EU was able to disconnect minorities from the border issue in its negotiations with Russia. However, the EU’s stance did not prevent Moscow from trying. While discussing the EU-Russia border at talks on the upcoming strategic partnership summit in October 2004, Russia again linked the two issues and the EU once again publicly exonerated the Baltic States. At the time, Dutch Foreign Minister Bernard Bot told Russian Foreign Minister Sergei Lavrov that the Baltic States had met the Copenhagen criteria before accession and thus the minority issue was not ‘an issue’. 18 By the time that the EU-Russian summit in The Hague came, Russian President Putin stated that Russia was ready to ratify the border treaties with Latvia and Estonia, without mention of the minority issue. 19 The aim of the summit was to be prepared to sign border treaties at the EU-Russian summit on 10 May. Nevertheless, the status of minorities and the borders issue were once again connected in January 2005, where Russian foreign minister Lavrov stated that the border treaty would be linked to bilateral declarations that stipulated the rights of ethnic Russians in the Baltic States. Lavrov stated that Russia had

Between a ‘Rock’ and a ‘Hard Place’ 165 ___________________________________________________________ “already signed such a document with Lithuania . . . [and such documents] must set all basic principles that will be the foundation for developing relations, including, of course, the rights of ethnic minorities.” 20 Since the November 2004 EU-Russian summit, there have been frequent negotiations between the EU, Baltic States and the Russian Federation concerning the border treaties. With the arrival of the Luxembourg Presidency of the EU, the Luxembourg Prime Minister Jean-Claude Juncker told the then Latvian President Vaira Viķe-Freiberga that the EU would concentrate on having the agreements signed. 21 However, the obstacles to agreement were more significant than Juncker could have expected. B. Shaping Europe’s border We can see similarities and differences in the way that the Baltic States have reacted to the pressure from Moscow. All three Baltic States have cooperated in their stance with the Russian Federation. 22 In fact, despite internal differences the Baltic States have tended to face Moscow with similar stances. However, Lithuania’s position next to the Russian oblast of Kaliningrad means that the issue of the EU’s borders has been of a different dimension than that of the two other Baltic States. In particular, with Lithuania’s impending EU accession and inclusion in the Schengen regime, a new agreement would need to be made between it and Russia concerning transit to and from the exclave. 23 On 1 July, 2003, the agreed system came into effect allowing commuters to purchase a ‘facilitated transit document’ that would allow them to travel through Lithuania (or Poland) but not alight on its territory. This system replaced the earlier multiple-entry visa agreement between Lithuania and Russia. 24 The Kaliningrad circumstance exemplifies the changing nature of EU foreign policy towards Russia. While the Northern Dimension Initiative encouraged integration with the Russian exclave through proposed blurred, overlapping borders, the implementation of the Schengen regime and the Common Strategy on Russia made a distinction between ‘insiders’ and ‘outsiders’. Both Latvia and Estonia have sought to maximise their position vis-à-vis Russia through the European Union, particularly in defending the ‘Baltic’ model of social integration. 25 However, Latvia has generally had a much more vocally bellicose relationship with the Kremlin and former President Viķe-Freiberga was not one to let a passing Russian remark go. The constant rhetoric between Riga and Moscow has characterised bilat-

David J. Galbreath 166 ___________________________________________________________ eral relations since the Latvian Saeima elected her president in 1999 (a role that Estonian President Toomas Hendrik Ilves has taken since former President Viķe-Freiberga’s departure). Furthermore, the Latvians have responded to Russia’s call for a bilateral agreement with a document of their own. Called the ‘Political Declaration for Relations between the Republic of Latvia and the Russian Federation’ (Politiskā Delarācija par Latvijas Republikas un Krievijas Federācijas Attiecību Pamatiem), the document refers to the 1920 peace treaty that originally established the borders between the two states. 26 According to the Declaration, the 1920 peace treaty states that Russia does not make any territorial claim against Latvia. However, the 1920 peace treaty also recognised a Latvia with the Abrene region which has since been claimed by the Russian Federation. The Russian response to the document was as expected. On 28 April 2005, the Russian Ministry of Foreign Affairs suggested that it would not sign the border treaty if the document was not withdrawn. 27 Despite the previous Russian-Latvian disputes, there was every sign that the border treaties would be signed during the EU-Russian summit. On 18 March 2005, the then Latvian Foreign Minister Artis Pabriks stated that he believed the treaty would be signed. 28 On 21 April, Russian presidential aide Sergei Yastrzhembsky stated that Russia would sign the border treaty on 10 May. 29 On the same day, EU High Representative for the CFSP Javier Solana stated that he thought the border treaties would be signed at the summit. 30 As a final sign on Latvia’s part, the Latvian government declassified the border treaty so that it could be authorised by Foreign Minister Pabriks. The EU’s assistance in bringing about the border treaties was fundamental, but in the end not enough. While protecting the Baltic States from the issue-linkage of minority rights and borders, the EU has also used its influence to pressure Moscow into negotiating the EU-Russian border. The Latvian-Russian border negotiations and the subsequent Estonian-Russian border negotiations were doomed with the two Baltic countries’ addendum to the treaties recalling the inter-war peace treaties. As discussed earlier, Latvia made known that it would add a declaration stating that the Latvian government recognised that the state had lost territory during Soviet ‘occupation’. Sure enough, while bemoaning the status of Russian-speakers in Latvia at the May 2005 summit, Russia declared that it would not ratify the treaty with the attached declaration. 31 Following the summit, Estonia and Russia made headway on establishing their own border agreement. On 18 May, Russian Foreign Minister Lavrov and his Estonian Counterpart Urmas Paet signed a border treaty in Moscow. 32 It was then the responsibility of the two parliaments to ratify the document.

Between a ‘Rock’ and a ‘Hard Place’ 167 ___________________________________________________________ Despite the signed treaty, the Estonian Riigikogu added a declaration similar to that of Latvia stating that Estonia had lost territory during the Soviet ‘occupation’. With the added declaration, the Russian government stated that there would have to be new negotiations and that Moscow would not ratify the agreement with ‘unacceptable wording’. 33 Thus, despite pressure from Brussels on all three states, the border agreements were not signed immediately following EU enlargement. Without the border agreements, there was still no existing ‘hard’ boundary between Russia and the EU with the de facto borders as dictated in the unratified border agreements. In the end, it was not Moscow’s linkage politics that led to the stalemate but rather the two Baltic States’ added declarations. The ‘Baltic factor’ in EU-Russian relations in respect to borders led to an unrecognised boundary between the Union and the Russian Federation. The pressure to agree the de facto borders between Latvia and Estonia with Russia became greater after enlargement since Baltic entrance into the Schengen Zone would be delayed until a border was officially recognised. Under a great deal of domestic political wrangling, the government led by the People’s Party approved withdrawing the addendums to the border treaty in late 2007. In December, the Latvian and Russian governments exchanged border treaties officially declaring an agreed border. 34 While the border between the two northern Baltic States and Russia has finally been settled (although in the case of Estonia not signed), the ‘Baltic factor’ in regards to the boundaries of ‘empire Europe’ has been directed towards further EU expansion. The EU’s ‘common strategies’ led many in Moscow to see that Brussels was attempting to interfere in what has been called Russia’s ‘near abroad’. Nevertheless, the EU’s European Neighbourhood Policy (ENP) has continued to focus on the post-Soviet area including Ukraine, Belarus, Moldova and Georgia. Quite clearly, the fears of many Russian politicians came true: they made the ‘European’ choice. With this in mind, Russian troops sit in two of the three proWestern countries, making the situation particularly complicated, and arguably much more so following the short conflict between Russia and Georgia in August 2008. While Moscow has attempted to hold on to what it sees as its area of influence, the EU has succeeded in fostering programmes aimed at politically and economically integrating these countries into ‘Europe’. As the Latvian foreign minister stated in an interview, ‘We are their lobby.’ As the Baltic States have become important for the proWestern regimes, we see that Tallinn, Riga and Vilnius sit in the middle of this geo-political contest between the EU and Russia.

David J. Galbreath 168 ___________________________________________________________ In March 2003, the European Commission produced a programme to revitalise the EU’s relations with its new ‘Neighbours’. Entitled ‘Wider Europe – Neighbourhood: A New Framework for Relations with out Eastern and Southern Neighbours’, the programme also focuses on Ukraine, Belarus and Moldova. The point was to ‘develop a zone of prosperity and a friendly neighbourhood – a ‘ring of friends’ – with whom the EU enjoys close, peaceful and co-operative relations’. 35 The Parliamentary resolution identified the key obstacles in the three countries. In terms of EU-Ukraine relations, the resolution points out that the creation of a Russia, Belarus and Kazakhstan common economic space could create problems for Ukrainian integration. The resolution points out also that Belarus is faced with a substantial political problem as the ‘only dictatorship left in Europe.’ Finally, the resolution states that a solution to the conflict in Transdniestra is required to improve the economic and social conditions in Moldova. In each case, the resolution highlights the conflicts in interest between the EU and Russia. The Baltic States have been heavily involved in the EU’s engagement with the three states mentioned in the ENP, in addition to Georgia. Because these states are all post-Soviet, the Baltic States have a particular role to play with shared history and many shared problems. With the outcome of the Orange Revolution as a win for Victor Yuschenko, the Baltic States were quick to engage with Kiev. In November 2004, then Latvian foreign minister Pabriks criticised the EU’s previous weak engagement with Ukraine. 36 Both Lithuania and Estonia have also encouraged further European integration. 37 This was likewise the case for Mikheil Saakashvili in Georgia after the 2003 Rose Revolution. In October 2004, the Latvian government stated that it would help Georgia on the path to EU and NATO membership. 38 The Estonian Foreign Minister, Urmas Paet, has maintained pressure on the EU to influence Russia into withdrawing troops stationed along Georgia’s northen border. 39 Likewise, Latvia kept pressure on Minsk over the imprisonment of former Belarussian ambassador to Latvia Mkhail Marinich. In Belarus, Latvian Ambassdor Maira Mora visited Marinich on 25 April 2005. 40 In Brussels, Latvian Foreign Minister Pabriks discussed the state of Belarussian politics at a meeting of EU foreign ministers on 15 April. 41 Finally, in the case of Moldova, the Lithuanian Foreign Minister Antanas Valionas visited in March in order to discuss EU-Moldovan relations. 42 Likewise, Latvian officials meet with their Moldovan counter-parts in order to share their experiences with EU integration. 43 During an informal meeting of Baltic foreign ministers at a NATO summit of foreign ministers, the Baltic States agreed that they would cooperate in respect with the EU’s ENP in an effort to promote

Between a ‘Rock’ and a ‘Hard Place’ 169 ___________________________________________________________ democratic reform in Ukraine, Georgia and Moldova. 44 Overall, the Baltic States have shown that they can use their own experiences of post-Soviet transition as well as European integration to bring about a change in Russia’s ‘near abroad’ and Europe’s eastern ‘neighbourhood’. C. Changes in the Baltic Sea Region and Post-Soviet Area With the enlargement process and the post-enlargement phase, the Baltic States became far more active in their region. This activity has promoted greater relations with the Nordic States while at the same time encouraging support for other former Soviet republics. The Baltic relationship with the Nordic States was mainly a post-Cold War feature. Investment and government support from Norway, Denmark, Sweden, and Finland came following the Baltic States’ independence from the Soviet Union. By the end of the 1990’s, Nordic supermarkets, banks, retail chains and many other businesses opened in Latvia, Estonia and Lithuania. Furthermore, some manufacturing moved from the Nordic to the Baltic States. Of the foreign direct investment in the Baltic Sea Region, the Nordic contribution was ordinarily at the top of the list. In general, the Nordic-Baltic relationship improved after enlargement. Coordination in terms of foreign policy became more frequent such as the Nordic-Baltic ministerial meetings. This relationship was reinforced by institutional arrangements such as the Nordic-Baltic Council and the Baltic Sea Council. There have been a number of drawbacks since enlargement. Firstly, of the Nordic States only Sweden opened its labour market to Baltic workers prior to them joining the Schengen zone in January 2008. For Latvia, access to Swedish labour markets was a mixed blessing as the ‘Lavel en Partneri’ fiasco illustrated, where Swedish labour unions halted the Latvian construction company from using Latvian workers at Latvian wages. Secondly, EU enlargement thrust those Nordic States who were EU member-states forward in regular consultations with the Baltic States, leaving Norway (not an EU member-state) out in many discussions. Finally, there are several differences between some of the Nordic States and the Baltic States. The primary difference lies in the way different states engage the Russian Federation. For example, Finland has traditionally engaged Moscow in a policy of ‘constructive neutrality’ where its southern neighbour, Estonia, has been typically much more belligerent in its rhetoric. 45 What it comes to issues such as the muchdebated ‘Nordstream’ pipeline, planned to carry natural gas from Russia to Germany, Finland and Estonia have also not seen eye-to-eye, although both oppose the plan. Nevertheless, the Nordic-Baltic relationship remains

David J. Galbreath 170 ___________________________________________________________ an important feature of the Baltic States foreign policy, with ever increasing blurring between what is ‘Nordic’ and ‘Baltic’. The Baltic positions with other former Soviet republics have been summarised as ‘bastion, beacon and bridge’. 46 In terms of bastion, the Baltic States exist as the edge of Europe which characterises how they see their relationship with Russia. The Baltic States have also been recognised by other former Soviet republics as exemplary beacons of how to deSovietize and democratize. Countries such as Ukraine, Georgia and Moldova have used the Baltic governments and NGOs as consultants to assist reform. Finally, the Baltic States have actively attempted to bring some former Soviet republics into the EU and NATO. Again, Ukraine, Georgia and Moldova have been the target of development aid and promotion policies from each of the three Baltic States. The Baltic governments would prefer to be ‘bastions’ at the edge of Fortress Europe vis-á-vis Russia, a ‘beacon’ for reform to other former Soviet republics, and a ‘bridge’ to future enlargement of the EU and NATO. Finally, the Baltic States have variable relationships with Russia. All three states share the view that the erosion of democratic reforms in Russia and the rise of populism present a threat to the Baltic States. The August 2008 events in Georgia caused considerable alarm in the three capitals. Yet, traditionally, Lithuania has had a much easier relationship with Russia than Latvia and Estonia. Lithuania had fewer troops that needed to be withdrawn after the Soviet Union fell, experienced less Soviet migration, and actually gained territory from its inclusion into the Soviet Union. However, the other states had more troops, Soviet era migrants, and lost territory to the Russian Federation. Nevertheless, Lithuania has been just as vocal as Latvia and Estonia once in the EU and NATO in terms of criticizing Russia, blocking EU-Russian agreements, promoting reform and opposition groups in neighbouring states. Yet this common stance is undercut by two issues. The first is that the Baltic States (Latvia and Lithuania particularly) benefit greatly from energy imports from Russia. As the Ignalina nuclear power plant is decommissioned, this dependency will grow. Furthermore, for related reasons there is ever increasing prevarication in the stance of many EU member-states with Germany and France chief among them. For the Baltic States, there is a perception of being squeezed between a ‘rock’ and a ‘hard place’. Altogether, the road from republics to member-states and after has been exceptional. Yet many of the same problems still face the Baltic States, while other new ones have arrived. In many ways, they represent other Central and Eastern European states who have recently joined the EU and NATO. Yet, because of their history, location and size, Latvia,

Between a ‘Rock’ and a ‘Hard Place’ 171 ___________________________________________________________ Estonia, and Lithuania face a particular set of conditions that make navigating through a ‘rock’ and a ‘hard place’ more difficult. Notes 1 Knudsen, 1993. 2 Galbreath, et al., 2008, 27. 3 See Smith, et al., 1994; Smith, 1996; Gelazis, 2003; Galbreath, 2005. 4 Lamoreaux and Galbreath, 2008. 5 Galbreath, et al., 2008, 125-126. 6 See Hill, 2003. 7 For example, see Galbreath, 2006. 8 van Elsuwege, 2008. 9 van Elsuwege, 2008, 313. 10 See Browning, 2001; Jakobson-Obolenski, 2005; Nies, 2007. 11 2008, 36. 12 White, et al., 2006. 13 European Commission, 2002 Regular Report on Estonia’s Accession to the European Union, p. 34. 14 Interview with the author in Riga, 30 March 2005. 15 Interview with the author in Riga, 1 April 2005. 16 Diena, 5 November 2003. 17 Diena, 27 February 2004. 18 Diena, 20 October 2004. See also EUObserver.com, ‘EU Negotiates Strategic Partnership with Russia’, 20 October 2004. 19 Neatkarīgā, 26 November 2004. 20 LETA, 19 January 2005, emphasis added. 21 LETA, 26 January 2005. 22 LETA, 12 March 2005. 23 Christopher S. Browning, 'The Internal/External Security Paradox and the Reconstruction of Boundaries in the Baltic: The Case of Kaliningrad', COPRI Working Paper 21(Copenhagen: Copenhagen Peace Research Institute 2001). For further information about the difficulties faced by the exclave, see Alexander Sergounin, 'Kaliningrad,' in A. Lievan and D. Trenin, ed., Ambivalent Neighbors (Washington D.C.: Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, 2003). 24 The previous Poland-Russia agreement allowed for visa-free travel. 25 See Vello and Klara Hallik Pettai, 'Understanding Processes of Ethnic Control: segmentation, dependency and co-operation in post-communist Estonia,' Nations and Nationalism 8, 4 2002, 505-529.

David J. Galbreath 172 ___________________________________________________________ 26 From the Latvian Foreign Ministry website: http://www.mfa.gov.lv/lv/Jaunumi/PazinojumiPresei/ 2005/februaris/10-2/deklaracija/ 27 LETA, 28 April 2005. 28 LETA, 18 April 2005. 29 LETA, 21 April 2005. 30 Ibid. 31 LETA, 11 May 2005. See also The Baltic Times, ‘Russia to bring up minorities issue at EU summit’, 27 April 2005. 32 Postimees, 18 May 2005. For English language account, see EUObserver.com, 19 May 2005. 33 The Baltic Times, ‘Border treaty requires new negotiations’, 29 June 2005. See also The Baltic Times, ‘Russia agrees to border treaty ratification’, 15 June 2005. 34 Galbreath, et al., 2008, 68-69. 35 European Parliament Session Document, Report on ‘Wider Europe – Neighbourhood: A New Framework for Relations with out Eastern and Southern Neighbours’, (COM(2003) 104 – 2003/2018 (INI)), 5 November 2003, p.4. 36 Diena, 25 November 2004. 37 Lithuanian Ministry of Foreign Affairs Press Release, ‘Lithuanian Foreign Minister to discuss with Ukrainian President and Foreign Minister the Development of EU-Ukraine Relations in Kiev’,13 April 2005 and Estonian Ministry of Foreign Affairs Press Release, ‘Paet: NATO supports Ukraine’s move towards Transatlantic values’, 21 April 2005. 38 Neatkarīgā, 14 October 2004. 39 Estonian Ministry of Foreign Affairs Press Release, ‘Paet: The European Union has to take care of the Security of Georgia’s Northern Border’, 15 April 2005. 40 Latvian Ministry of Foreign Affairs Press Release, ‘Latvia’s Ambassador to Belarus, Maira Mora, visits the political prisoner Mikhail Marinich’, 25 April 2005. 41 Latvian Ministry of Foreign Affairs Press Release, ‘Latvia’s Minister of Foreign Affairs, Artis Pabriks, discusses the situation in Belarus with Ministers of Foreign Affairs’, 15 April 2005. 42 Lithuanian Ministry of Foreign Affairs Press Release, ‘Foreign Minister to Visit Moldova’, 3 March 2005. 43 Latvian Ministry of Foreign Affairs Press Release, ‘Consultations between Latvia and Moldova on security policy’, 15 April 2005.

Between a ‘Rock’ and a ‘Hard Place’ 173 ___________________________________________________________ 44 Latvian Ministry of Foreign Affairs Press Release, ‘Latvia’s Minister of Foreign Affairs, Artis Pabriks, discusses cooperation of the Baltic States in Vilnius’, 21 April 2005. 45 see Forsberg and Vaahtoranta, 2001. 46 Galbreath and Lamoreaux, 2007. References Forsberg, T., and T. Vaahtoranta. (2001), “Inside the EU, outside NATO: Paradoxes of Finland's and Sweden's post-neutrality,” European Security, 10: 68 - 93. Galbreath, D. J. (2006), “European Integration through Democratic Conditionality: Latvia in the context of minority rights,” Journal of Contemporary European Studies, 14: 69-87. Galbreath, D. J. (2005), Nation-Building and Minority Politics in PostSocialist States: Interests, Influence and Identities in Estonia and Latvia. Stuttgart: Ibidem Verlag. Galbreath, D. J., and J. W. Lamoreaux. (2007), “Bastion, Beacon or Bridge? Conceptualising the Baltic logic of the EU's Neighbourhood,” Geopolitics, 12: 109-132. Galbreath, D. J., A. Lasas, and J. W. Lamoreaux. (2008), Continuity and Change in the Baltic Sea Region: Comparing Foreign Policies. Amsterdam: Rodopi. Gelazis, N. M. (2003), “The Effects of Conditionality on Citizenship Policies and the Protection of National Minorities in the Baltic States.,” in: V. Pettai and J. Zielonka (eds.) The Road to the European Union: Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania. Manchester: Manchester University Press. 46-74. Hill, C. (2003), The Changing Politics of Foreign Policy. Basingstoke: Palgrave.

David J. Galbreath 174 ___________________________________________________________ Jakobson-Obolenski, S. (2005), “Overlapping Ideological Boundaries and Transformations in the EU Periphery: the Baltic States and Kaliningrad,” in: D. J. Smith (ed.) The Baltic States and their Region: New Europe or Old? Amsterdam: Rodopi. 115-142. Knudsen, O. F. (1993), “The Foreign Policies of the Baltic States: Interwar Years and Restoration,” Cooperation and Conflict, 28: 47-72. Lamoreaux, J. W., and D. J. Galbreath. (2008), “The Baltic States As 'Small States': Negotiating The 'East' By Engaging The 'West',” Journal of Baltic Studies, 39: 1 - 14. Nies, S. (2007), “Governance and Diplomacy as Attributes of a Great Power: Russia and the Three Enclaves - Kaliningrad, Nagorno-Karabakh and Nakhchivan,” in: R. E. Kanet (ed.) Russia: Re-Emerging Great Power. Basingstoke: Palgrave. 124-151. Smith, G. (1996), The Baltic States: The National Self-determination of Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania. St. Martin's Press: New York. Smith, G., A. Aasland, and R. Mole. (1994), “Statehood, Ethnic Relations, and Citizenship,” in: G. Smith (ed.) New York: St. Martin's Press. 181205. van Elsuwege, P. (2008), From Soviet Republics to EU Member States: A Legal and Political Assessment of the Baltic States' Accession to the EU. Lieden: Martinus Nijhoff Publishers. White, S., J. Korosteleva, and R. Allison. (2006), “NATO: The View from the East,” European Security, 15: 165-190. David J Galbreath is a Senior Lecturer in politics and international relations at the University of Bath, UK. He is the author of numerous publications on Baltic politics and is the editor-in-chief of European Security.