20 Years Later: the Soviet Legacy in the Baltic States

A European Travel Scholarship study

awarded by the Peter Kirk Memorial Fund

Submitted by Keith Ruffles

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Contents

Page

Acknowledgements 5

Introduction 5

Themes 7

Aims, Route & method 7

Route Map 8

Estonia 9

Latvia 22

Lithuania 33

Conclusion 45

Postscript 46

Annex 48

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Acknowledgements

I’d like to thank the Peter Kirk Memorial Fund and in particular Gilly King and David Peacock;

without their help and support I wouldn’t have been able to proceed with this project.

I’d also like to express my gratitude to all the people I met during my time in the Baltics.

That I was able to undertake this study is a testament to their patience and their willingness

to tell their story.

Introduction

Two decades have passed since the fall of the Soviet Union, at that time the world’s largest

nation and one of only two global superpowers. It was in December 1991 that the country

was formally dissolved, having fragmented and split into its constituent republics over the

previous two years in a popular movement fuelled by nationalism and a widespread

dissatisfaction with an economic system considered by many to have failed.

Amongst the most vocal of the dissenters were the Baltic States of Estonia, Latvia and

Lithuania. Former Russian territories that had gained independence after the First World

War, they were annexed by the USSR, subsequently occupied by Nazi Germany and then

retaken by Soviet forces in the Second. From then until 1991 the States were Soviet Socialist

Republics, integral parts of the Soviet Union.

The post-independence era has been one of profound change in the Baltics, with all three

countries apparently turning their collective backs on their communist past. The trio have

joined the European Union and shunned the Commonwealth of Independent States, the

USSR’s successor organisation. Whilst the rest of what was the Soviet Union has – on the

whole – readily acknowledged its shared history by engaging in political association the

Baltics seem intent turning on rejecting the East and embracing the West.

When I was seven my dad took me to a stamp exhibition at London’s Alexandria Palace. This

was no ordinary exhibition, however; this was Stamp World ’90, a celebration of the 150th

anniversary of the world’s first ever postage stamp the Penny Black. I was immediately

hooked.

The fall of communism and the break-up of the Soviet Union was, from a stamp collector’s

point of view, a really exciting time. Suddenly a whole new range of countries appeared,

each issuing a colourful array of stamps which introduced me to the language and culture of

places I had previously heard very little of.

It was also evident that Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania were different from the rest of the ex-

Soviet states because they had issued stamps before, between the World Wars. I wanted to

find out more, and it was this that sparked an interest in the region that remains to this day.

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I first visited the area in 2008. I decided to travel to Belarus – another ex-Soviet republic –

but I found that it would be cheaper to do so by flying to Lithuania and travelling into the

country by train and then leaving by the same method via Poland.

It really was an eye-opener. In Lithuania I found a Western-orientated capitalist state, keen

to modernise and looking firmly towards the EU of which it had only been a member for a

short time. In the pre-credit crash era the country appeared to be thriving.

Across the border in Belarus, however, it was like the Soviet Union had never gone away.

Statues of Lenin and hammers and sickles still adorned the streets, and heroic Soviet-era

slogans could be found everywhere. The contrast with neighbouring Lithuania was

profound, a difference made all the more apparent by the fact that less than twenty years

previously they had been part of the same country. I found a similar contrast at the

beginning of 2012 when I travelled to Transnistria, an unrecognised state which had split

away from Moldova when that country declared its independence.

Another thing that hit me was the highly divergent way in which the recent past was

remembered in each state. In Vilnius I visited the Lithuanian Genocide Museum, an

institution dedicated not to the holocaust – Lithuania’s Jewish population was devastated

during the War – but to the Soviet period. Here membership of the USSR was remembered

as a time of brutal oppression which threatened the very existence of the Lithuanian people.

Barely 100 miles away in Minsk, however, the Museum of the Great Patriotic War recalled

the heroic defence of the Soviet Union against the invading Nazi menace. Here flowers were

still left on Soviet war memorials and every year Victory Day celebrations ensured that the

sacrifices made over half a century ago would never be forgotten.

Why was this the case? Why would two adjacent countries recall recent history in such

diametrically opposed fashion despite their shared history, and was this accidental or by

design? What did today’s youngsters and students born post-independence think of it all?

How easily would you be able to tell in today’s Baltic States that you were standing in what

had once been part of the world’s first communist nation? And what does the Soviet Union

mean to Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania twenty years on?

Themes

I’ve always had an interest in culture and identity issues as well as politics and nationalism,

and it’s something of a paradox that in this age of globalization - where travel and

communications have never been easier - there are now more nation states than ever

before. This is undoubtedly a process that needs to be understood; those who talk of regime

change would do well to understand the attitudes of those who have undergone just that.

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It’s also a story of collective memory and historical narratives, of legacy, ethnicity,

propaganda and the other. Ultimately, however, it’s a study in whether a nation can hide a

past that it has done so much to reject, or whether the ghosts of the USSR can still be found

in the people and places of the Baltic.

Aims, Route & Method

The aim of this study, therefore, was to travel throughout Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania and

examine what remained of the Soviet legacy, whether that be in terms of physical

infrastructure or in the hearts and minds of local people. This would be achieved in a

number of ways; from prearranged interviews, networking with locals met during the trip,

and general field research including visits to specific sites of interest.

My route was reasonably simple but was intentionally subject to change as new

opportunities and lines of enquiry would open up en route. The initial plan was to start in

the north and work my way southwards. As such I started in Helsinki in Finland and caught

the ferry to the Estonian capital Tallinn, not only to get a sense of crossing from the known

to the unknown but also to undertake a journey that – as a Westerner – would not have

been possible in the recent past.

From there I took in various parts of the country including Tartu, Narva and Saaremaa

before crossing into Latvia and Riga, the largest city in the Baltics. After time in the likes of

Daugavpils and Liepāja I moved onto Lithuania, the largest and southernmost of the three

countries. Travel throughout was mainly by bus and trains were also used on occasion.

A glance at the Route Map, however, will quickly show that the journey was a little more

convoluted as I passed backwards and forwards between countries. There were two primary

reasons for this; because much of my itinerary was dictated by interviews, and because new

lines of investigation opened up.

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Route Map

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It was also obvious that despite spending upwards of 7 weeks in the Baltics I wouldn’t be

able to visit every single potential place of interest, and so whilst I had a flexible itinerary I

couldn’t allow myself to be too side-tracked or to use time frivolously.

It’s also worth mentioning that in order to keep down costs and to meet more locals I

‘couchsurfed’ for the first time. For those unfamiliar with the concept couchsurfing is an

informal system whereby individuals stay in strangers’ homes for free, either on the

aforementioned couch or bed or whatever surface is available. In all I ‘surfed’ with around a

dozen hosts, giving me access to a whole range of individuals that I wouldn’t have been able

to meet otherwise. Their contribution to both keeping to my budget, the study and my

experience of the Baltics was invaluable.

Estonia

Research in Estonia primarily consisted of interviews both formal and informal with a broad

range of interested parties - a digested record of these interviews in minute form can be

found in Annex A. A country profile can be found in Annex D.

I was also able to speak to a number of individuals primarily as a result of couchsurfing and

whilst these have not been formally recorded in the appendix they nevertheless provided a

valuable source of thought and opinion.

I also travelled to various sites connected with the Soviet Union, and have also made a note

of those I wasn’t able to get to.

Tallinn

The Estonian capital is situated on the Gulf of Finland and is on a similar latitude to the

Orkney Islands. I stayed with Elo Strauss, a film student and waitress. Elo was originally from

the Estonian countryside but had moved to the capital to study. She lived in a Soviet-era

apartment of the sort that would become a familiar sight on my travels; indeed, much of the

urban and suburban population lives in such accommodation.

With Elo Strauss in Tallinn.

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In Tallinn I visited the following places connected with the Soviet Union:

• Museum of Occupations

• Hirvepark

• Vabaduse Väljak and the Freedom Monument

• Tallinn Military Cemetery and the Bronze Soldier

I also interviewed the following people:

• Valeria Jakobson and Eduard Piho (Annex A interview 1)

• Elo Strauss and Sofia Orsits

Museum of Occupations

The Museum of Occupations was opened in a purpose-built building in 2003. Located not far

from the historical centre of Tallinn, it’s become a well-known visitor and research centre. I

contacted the Museum before arriving in Tallinn but unfortunately they weren’t able to

assist directly due to time restraints.

Left – Tallinn’s Raekoja Plats. Right – Kiek-in-de-Kök Tower.

Left – entrance to the Museum of Occupations. Right – Soviet statues in the basement

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The museum itself documents the history of Estonia from 1940 to 1991; the ‘occupations’

referred to in its title are the German and Soviet periods in the Second World War and after.

Inside were various exhibits relating to the occupations. A pair of stylised trains dominated

the main room, adorned with a swastika and hammer and sickle respectively, and all around

the edge of the museum were suitcases. Each represented the numerous Estonians

deported during and after World War II.

There were also plenty of paraphernalia from those times – propaganda posters, military

uniforms, surveillance equipment and so on. There was the tiny cell with barely enough

room to stand that individuals would sometimes be kept in for hours or days at a time and a

section of wall with a miniature, almost invisible spy-hole used for monitoring suspects. In

the basement was an assortment of Soviet statuary, including a huge marble Lenin head

slowly gathering dust.

At the back of the museum there was a series of videos with contemporary newsreel

footage, with attention being noticeably heavier on the USSR. Indeed, it felt like the 4-year

German occupation was – intentionally or otherwise – being glossed over: no mention of

the Estonian Legion, a home-grown unit within the Waffen SS, or of collaboration between

locals and occupiers.

Perhaps it was because the Soviet period had been so traumatic and so devastating, or

simply longer in duration. Perhaps the Soviets were seen as the greater threat to

independence and any cooperation with German forces was a result of political and military

pragmatism, in a similar vein to Finland’s wartime axis alliance. Or perhaps, as suggested by

Valeria Jakobson (Annex A Interview 1) it was about narratives. Any suggestion of wartime

collaboration with Nazis would not sit easily with a national narrative of an Estonian David

ultimately defeating the Soviet Goliath. It was hard to tell.

Left – large bust of Lenin. Right – Nazi and Soviet ‘trains’ representing the deported.

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Hirvepark, Vabaduse Väljak and the Freedom Monument

The leafy Hirvepark was the scene of an anti-Soviet demonstration in 1987 marking the

anniversary of the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact. This treaty was particularly infamous in the

Baltics because it agreed to carve up the then-independent states into Soviet and Nazi

spheres of influence. This demonstration was also one of the first large-scale anti-Soviet

protests in Estonia and the anniversary of the Pact was again marked two years later by the

Baltic Way, where some 2,000,000 people joined hands to form a human chain linking

Tallinn, Riga and Vilnius.

Nearby is Vabaduse Väljak, a square once used for parades on Soviet holidays but now

dominated by the Freedom Monument, an Estonian cross mounted on a pillar of frosted

glass. It was apparently made to resemble ice, presumably representing freedom’s fragility.

Strictly speaking it was not anti-Soviet – in this case ‘freedom’ was alluding to the (anti-

Russian) independence struggles of 1918-1920 – but it was difficult to deny its unashamed

patriotism.

Viru Hotel and St. Olaf’s Church

Unfortunately I wasn’t able to visit the Viru Hotel. Here a secret ‘23rd

’ floor has been

recreated to depict its former life as a KGB surveillance centre. Complete with telephones

and other bits of machinery, officers would spend their days intercepting radio signals from

Helsinki and passing messages onto Moscow. Needless to say almost the entire hotel was

once bugged.

Similarly, I didn’t get to see inside St. Olaf’s Church, once the world’s tallest building and still

the highest structure in Tallinn. This too had once been appropriated by the Soviets, used as

a radio and television jamming station. It’s now a Baptist church and a popular viewing

point.

Freedom Monument in Vabaduse Väljak

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Tallinn Military Cemetery and the Bronze Soldier

Bronze Night was an event that shocked Estonia and brought the issue of Russian speakers

in Estonia to the attention of the world’s press. In April 2007 the Estonian government

declared that it would remove a controversial statue from the centre of Tallinn. This statue –

the ‘Bronze Soldier’ – is a Soviet World War II memorial containing the remains of several

soldiers and for many Estonians it symbolised the occupation and repression of the Soviet

years. For many of Estonia’s Russian speakers, however, it represented not only the defeat

of fascism in the apocalyptic Great Patriotic War but also symbolising their right to

participation in Estonian society.

When rumours started that the statue was facing imminent removal it sparked off two

nights of violent rioting – mostly by Russian speakers – resulting in one death, dozens of

shops looted and hundreds of arrests. A panicky government ordered the statue be taken

down immediately, placing it in temporary storage before transporting it to the Military

Cemetery several kilometres from the centre of town where it now stands.

I visited the Soldier with Valeria Jakobson and Eduard Piho (see below), both of whom felt a

strong connection to the soldier.

Interview - Valeria Jakobson and Eduard Piho

Both Valeria and Eduard belonged to Estonia’s Russian minority, and felt a great deal of

resentment at their treatment by the government. The conversation mainly focused on

aspects of the Russian minority’s status in Estonia; further aspects of the conversation can

be seen at Annex A interview 1.

Valeria Jakobson and Eduard Piho by the Bronze Soldier

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Speaking to Valeria and Eduard offered a valuable introduction to the ethnic divisions extant

in the country, divisions that are repeated to a similar degree in Latvia and that many I

spoke to believe are a direct consequence of Soviet policy.

It’s worth looking at some population statistics in order to fully understand the issue:

Nationality 1934 census 1989 census 2000 census 2011 Census

Estonians 992,520 88.1% 963,281 61.5% 930,219 67.9% 889,770 68.7%

Russians 92,656 8.2% 474,834 30.3% 351,178 25.6% 321,198 24.8%

Ukrainians 92 0.0008% 48,271 3.083% 29,012 2.1% 22,302 1.7%

Belarusians * * 27,711 1.769% 17,241 1.3% 12,419 1%

Total 1,126,413 1,565,662 1,370,052 1,294,236

(source: http://estonia.eu/about-estonia/country/population-by-nationality.html)

It’s interesting to note that Estonia’s total population has steadily declined since

independence, as has the proportion of Russian speakers. The total proportion of Estonian

speakers has increased in that time but in real terms there are fewer Estonians now then

there were in any previous census. This suggests that the relative increase in Estonians and

decrease in Russian speakers as a percentage of the overall population is mainly due to

Russian emigration from Estonia.

That Russian speakers constitute such a large proportion of Estonia’s population is clear, at

least to some. According to http://estonia.eu – the ‘Official Gateway to Estonia’ – “World

War II along with Soviet and Nazi occupations interrupted the natural development of inter-

ethnic relations, deforming the inner features of Estonian society” and that “at the end of

the 1980s, Estonians perceived their demographic change as a national catastrophe.” The

cause? “The outrageous migration policies essential to the Soviet Nationalisation

programme aiming to russify Estonia - forceful administrative and military immigration of

non-Estonians from the USSR coupled with the mass deportations of Estonians to the USSR.”

Similar concerns have materialised in official government policy, most infamously in the

form of ‘alien citizenship’. Estonians who are unable to demonstrate a predetermined

degree of proficiency in Estonian are unable to become Estonian citizens, meaning they

cannot vote or travel freely in the EU.

Informal Discussion – Elo Strauss and Sofia Orsits

Elo and her friend Sofia were both students, born towards the end of the Soviet period in

the late 1980s. Elo was Estonian and Sofia spoke Russian as her first language, although she

was equally proficient in Estonian. Both seemed to be glad that they were living in a period

of independence and felt little or no nostalgia for the Soviet period. They also spoke of little

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tension amongst younger people from different cultural backgrounds, although conceded

that this might not be the case everywhere. They also acknowledged some segregation

between communities.

Sofia was also particularly angry about the alien citizenship issue as her grandparents were

classified as such.

Tartu

Tartu is Estonia’s second city and its academic and cultural capital. I stayed with Margit

Meiesaar, a project manager and Tartu native. She lived in a ground floor apartment in a

two-storey wooden structure – much of the centre of Tartu is constructed from pre-Soviet

Tsarist-era housing. Tartu is also famous as the place where the eponymous treaty of 1920

was signed confirming Russian recognition of Estonian independence, and it’s worth noting

that it has a smaller proportion of Russian-speakers than most other places in Estonia.

In Tartu I visited the following places connected with the Soviet Union:

• Walpurgis Night and Student Days celebrations

• KGB Museum

I also interviewed the following people:

• Eneli Philips and Maarja Vollmer (Annex A interview 2)

• Dagmar Kutsar (Annex A interview 3)

• Andu Rammer (Annex A interview 4)

• Heiko Pääbo (Annex A interview 5)

• Margit, Kersti and Jaan Meiesaar (informal Discussion)

Left and right – typical residential streets in Tartu.

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Walpurgis Night and Student Days celebrations

These celebrations heavily involved students from the University of Tartu, one of the most

prestigious seats of learning in the Baltics. Events involved music, celebrations and general

high jinks and revelry. One aspect of the celebrations took place on the Emajõgi River, which

comprised traditional ‘regilaul’ music – essentially Estonian poetry set to a simple melody –

and the burning of floating rafts.

A Soviet manhole cover in Tartu

Boats on the Emajõgi River

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It had a distinctly Nordic-pagan atmosphere, an observation confirmed by Margit who told

me about the importance of singing in Estonian culture. Indeed, the ‘Singing Revolution’ is

often used to describe a series of mass anti-Soviet demonstrations that featured singing in

the period leading up to independence. Many towns and cities across Estonia – including

Tartu – have dedicated arenas which host large-scale song festivals.

The KGB Museum

This small museum is located in the basement of Tartu’s ‘Grey Building’, the former home of

the local division of the KGB. It featured a series of displays on both Soviet life and notable

figures from the independence movement, such as the partisan Forest Brothers who fought

an unsuccessful armed campaign against Soviet forces from World War II until the mid-

1950s. As in Tallinn very little attention was paid to the 4-year German occupation or the

holocaust.

Interview - Eneli Philips and Maarja Vollmer

Eneli and Maarja are both Estonian students at the local university, and both voiced fears

that a resurgent Russia would once again dominate the country. Eneli in particular voiced

nationalist views and that she was pleased that Estonia was now a member of the EU and

NATO as this offered some form of collective security. Further aspects of the conversation

can be seen at Annex A interview 2.

Inside the KGB Museum

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Interview - Dagmar Kutsar/Andu Rammer/ Heiko Pääbo

This series of interviews with members of the University of Tartu’s Faculty of Social Sciences

was an extremely useful introduction to some of the theoretic underpinnings of culture and

identity in the Baltic regions. Individual observations included economic issues impacting

different communities to different degrees thereby exacerbating perceptions of difference,

a dismissal of Estonian citizenship laws and a suggestion that Russian exclusion from

mainstream society was partly self-inflicted. It was also apparent that Estonia’s present

problems regarding ethnic minorities was generally blamed on Soviet policies. Further

aspects of the conversation can be seen at Annex A interviews 3-5.

Informal Discussion – Margit, Kersti and Jaan Meiesaar

During my time in Tartu I met Margit’s parents, Kersti and Jaan. Both were retired; Kersti

had worked previously in local government and Jaan had been a refrigeration engineer on

Soviet ships. Both had also previously been members of the communist party but had only

done so as this was fairly standard practice at the time and not as a result of ideological

conviction.

It was extremely interesting talking to them both, although Margit had to translate for Jaan

as he spoke no English. I asked them about their daily experiences (in summary: generally

safe but mundane) and if they ever expected to be living in an independent Estonia. Kersti

said they wouldn’t have imagined it as it was not even considered an option. Jaan also spoke

of his experiences working on the ships, whose crews were comprised of individuals from all

over the Soviet Union. He had once been to Aberdeen and was allowed on shore leave but

only in groups in case anyone tried to defect.

I asked them if they felt any nostalgia for the old days. Whilst they both agreed that life was

better now they did miss the security (“everyone had jobs”) and in some respects the

predictability of daily life. They also said that some younger people annoyed them by

showing a lack of respect or understanding for the past; apparently mock ‘communist

parties’ were held by local students which would see them dress up in uniforms and get

drunk.

Kersti, Jaan and Margit Meiesaar

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Elsewhere in Estonia

Narva

Narva is the third largest city in Estonia and is located at the easternmost point of the

country, on the border with Russia. The river which bears its name divides the two

countries, and on each bank a fortress squares off against the other.

This proximity to Russia is reflected in the city’s demographic profile; some 94% of the

current population are Russian-speakers and ethnic Estonians account for less than 4%. In a

similar vein only 46% of the city's inhabitants are Estonian citizens; another 36% are citizens

of Russia and some 16% are classed as aliens.

It was an interesting place to walk around; it felt extremely different to the rest of Estonia

and although the Estonian script remained in use on signs and shop fronts I only heard

Russian being spoken. Most of the city was destroyed in the Second World War and its

buildings mainly date from the Soviet period. It was also the only place in Estonia that I saw

a standing statue of Lenin, in the grounds of the castle.

Left – opposing fortresses at the Estonian-Russian border. Right – Soviet apartments in Narva

Left – Stalin at Narva Fortress. Right – Soviet monument near the border crossing, Narva

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Interestingly Narva was also the scene of a recent border dispute between Estonia and

Russia. The 1920 Tartu Treaty recognised the border as some miles east of the Narva River;

during the Soviet period, however, the river was recognised as the border between what

was then the Estonian SSR and the RSFSR. At the time this had little effect but in the

independence era it has been a bone of contention between the states, a situation not

made any easier by a failed 1993 referendum seeking autonomy for the region.

Sillamäe

Sillamäe, on the north coast, was once closed to outsiders because it was a centre of

uranium production, the legacy of which is a large radioactive waste pond which has caused

considerable environmental damage to the land and sea around it.

The town itself, however, is a model Stalinist settlement, built to provide the workers and high

profile Soviet visitors with suitably utopian surroundings. It’s in a good state of preservation,

and it’s easy to see Soviet-era statues and symbols in and around the buildings. It’s an

impressive testament to Soviet planning, showing that not everything that was built in that

period was grey concrete.

Left and Right – Soviet monuments in Sillamäe

Left – top of the stairs in Sillamäe. Right – detail of Soviet symbols

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Saaremaa

Situated off Estonia’s west coast, Saaremaa is the country’s largest island. Its mainly flat

landscape consists of farmland, forests and meadows and it’s considered by many to be the

most beautiful part of Estonia. It also has one of the highest proportions of ethnic Estonians

among its population, at around 97%.

Kuressaare, the island’s capital, has a fine castle that hosted both German and Soviet forces

in the Second World War. Nazi propagandists were quick to make use of mass graves

uncovered in the castle grounds after the first Soviet withdrawal, the harrowing photos of

which I saw in museums in both Tallinn and Tartu. Unfortunately the castle was closed for

restoration during my visit.

I also explored the island by bicycle but was unable to reach Tehumardi, where a large

Soviet memorial commemorates a particularly brutal battle in World War II.

Valga/Valka

I first crossed into Latvia at Valga/Valka, a town notable because it was divided between it

and Estonia in 1920. In Soviet times this division had little impact but in the immediate post-

independence era a series of border crossings was put in place. These were removed after

both countries signed up to the Schengen agreement.

Left and right – typical Saaremaa landscapes.

Valga train station

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Latvia

Research in Latvia primarily consisted of two formal interviews with local political activists -

a digested record of these interviews in minute form can be found in Annex B. A country

profile can be found in Annex E.

I was also able to speak to a number of individuals primarily as a result of couchsurfing and

whilst these have not been formally recorded in the appendix they nevertheless provided a

valuable source of thought and opinion.

I also travelled to various sites connected with the Soviet Union.

Riga

In Riga I stayed with Kristīne Kuliša, an office worker and part-time student. Kristīne lived in

a Soviet apartment not far from the Old Town; it shared a toilet located in the stairwell with

the rest of the residents on that floor and there were traces of Cyrillic throughout the

building.

I also spent several nights in a local hostel; as Riga is the largest city in the Baltics it is major

transport hub and so I found myself there on several occasions. It has one of the largest

collections of art nouveau buildings anywhere in the world and, like the other Baltic capitals,

is also a World Heritage Site.

In Riga I visited the following places connected with the Soviet Union:

• Victory Day celebrations and the Soviet War Memorial

• Museum of Latvia’s Occupation

• Latvian Riflemen Monument

• Museum of the Barricades

• Freedom Monument

• Latvian Academy of Sciences

I also interviewed the following people:

• Edgars Engīzers

• Alise Djomina

• Kristīne Kuliša and friends

Victory Day Celebrations

I intentionally arrived in Riga in time for the Victory Day celebrations, held every year to

commemorate the German surrender at the end of World War II. It takes place on May 9th

,

unlike the rest of Europe because at the moment the document was signed on 8th

May 1945

it was after midnight Moscow time.

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The celebrations are seen as particularly polarising in Latvia; for the Russian community they

represent the Soviet defeat of the Nazi menace but to many Latvians it represents the start

of 45 years of occupation. And Latvia – just like Estonia – has a significant Russian

population, nearing 50% in Riga and forming a majority in certain areas elsewhere,

particularly in the east of the country.

The celebrations themselves focussed on the Soviet War Memorial, a typically epic sculpture

to the west of the city centre. Thousands of people were present, many with black-and-

orange ribbons tied to their clothing to denote sympathy with the Russian population.

Others brought flowers to place on the memorial, and veterans dressed in uniform and

medals were greeted by strangers keen to express their thanks for their efforts in wartime.

Left – Red Army soldiers at the War Memorial. Right – military vehicle

Left – offering gifts to a veteran. Right – dance show

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There were also displays on the Red Army, traditional Russian dancing, speeches and a

multitude of food stalls. Young and old alike were there.

What really struck me about the day, however, was the fact that it was almost entirely

Russian in character – Cyrillic was used almost exclusively and I heard no Latvian being

spoken at all. The use of Soviet symbols was also apparent, although the flag of the modern

Russian state was more evident still.

Whilst the official purpose of the event was to mark the end of the Great Patriotic War (as

World War II is known in Russia) it felt more like a cultural celebration and a statement to

the effect of “we are here”.

Left – laying flowers at Victory Day. Right – some of the crowds.

Left – flying the flag. Centre – part of the War Memorial. Right – police on the lake.

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Later that evening I was speaking to a Latvian in the youth hostel I was staying in when we

saw fireworks in the distance, coming from the direction of the memorial. “Russian

fireworks” she said in thinly-disguised disgust. Another member of staff said that whilst she

could condone remembrance of those killed she did not like the overt celebration of Russian

culture as “Soviet times were bad.” It would seem that these are not celebrations that

involve Latvians.

Left – Red Army history. Right – one of many cars kitted out for the occasion.

A veteran

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Museum of Latvia’s Occupation

Located in Rātslaukums Square, this Museum is housed in what was once the Museum of

the Latvian Riflemen - soldiers who fought with the Bolsheviks during the Russian Civil War.

Shortly after independence it was rededicated to documenting Latvia’s history during the

Nazi and Soviet periods.

Some of the displays are harrowing, with photos of wartime atrocities and items connected

to the many Latvians exiled to Siberia. There’s even a mock-up of a camp bunkhouse,

complete with beds. Interestingly there are references to the warm welcome given to the

invading Nazis in 1941, whom many thought of as liberators repelling the occupying Soviets.

Like its counterpart in Tallinn the museum is keen to present Latvia as the victim of

aggression, caught as it was between ideologically opposed regimes hell bent on carving up

Europe between them. The 45 year Soviet period is also explicitly referred to as an

‘occupation’ forced against the free will of the people.

The blame for the changes in Latvia’s ethnic composition in the post war period is also firmly

laid at the feet of the authorities in Moscow; one display stated that “the necessary labour is

brought from the Soviet Union in a deliberate attempt to reduce the Latvian proportion of

the population.” Another describes Russian immigration as “colonisation.” It also speaks of

the promotion of Russian at the expense of Latvian in all walks of life.

Below are census results from 2000, showing the high proportion of Russians speakers in

Latvia:

Latvians Russians Belarussians Ukrainians Total (including

others)

Latvia 1,370,703 703,243 97,150 97,150 2,377,383

Like Estonia, Latvia has enacted legislation withholding full citizenship to those unable to

demonstrate a predetermined proficiency in the Latvian language.

Outside the museum is a statue to the Latvian Riflemen, made all the more distinct by its

obvious Soviet ideological design. Indeed, it was a focal point for anti-independence

protests in 1991 and as I left the Museum a small group of people – with orange-and-black

ribbons on their clothing – pose next to it with Russian flags. I wonder if this would be seen

as a provocative act.

27

Museum of the Barricades

Nearby to Rātslaukums Square is the small Museum of the Barricades. Located on the first

floor of an innocuous looking building, this institution is dedicated to the period in January

1991 when the independence movement in Riga and in other cities across the country set

up barricades in anticipation of a Soviet attack – just as they had done in Vilnius.

The museum shows newsreel footage from 1991 as well as recreating a typical apartment

room from Soviet times, replete with two sets of tables and chairs to depict the shared

nature of many domestic dwellings at that time. Stylised keyholes in the wall allow the

visitor to glimpse images of Western culture, a metaphor for the ability of the authorities to

censor anything coming from beyond its borders.

These and other sights in the city associated with the Soviet period were all presented and

interpreted in the same manner as the Occupation Museum, and it did make me wonder if

contemporary Russian speakers were associated with the former regime. It was certainly

interesting to see those same Russians celebrating Victory Day and make use of Soviet

symbols that elsewhere were being associated with totalitarianism and cultural imperialism.

The Freedom Monument

This modernist construction was unveiled in 1935, during Latvia’s first stint of

independence. It’s provided something of a rallying point for nationalists ever since, and it’s

Left- the Rifleman Monument. Right – the distinctly un-Soviet Freedom Monument

28

perhaps unsurprising that the first anti-Soviet rallies in the city took place here. More

controversial in recent years has been its use as a focal point for Latvian Legion Day, an

event commemorating the locally recruited members of the Waffen SS. Opponents say the

festivities are essentially a Nazi celebration, whilst supporters claim the Legion were merely

fighting the Soviet Union. Made an official remembrance day in 1998 but abolished as such

just two years later, every March 16th

hundreds still gather here.

Latvian Academy of Sciences

This building is similar to others found throughout Eastern Europe. Nicknamed locally as

‘Stalin’s Birthday Cake’, this is a prime example of Stalinist architecture and dominates this

part of the city. Riga has plenty of Soviet era architecture but it’s this building that is the

most obvious reminder of the period. At 108 metres high it was the tallest building in the

LSSR when it was built; it’s possible to go to the top for views over Riga. I could even spy a

few hammers and sickles, the only ones I saw in the capital.

Interview - Edgars Engīzers

I met Edgars by the Rifleman statue, and we decamped to a café to have a discussion over a

cup of tea. Edgars was a political assistant, and before we met I’d seen a picture of him with

a small ‘x’ made with the colours of the Latvian flag in a box in one corner. When I asked

about this I was told it related to a recent vote to decide whether Russian should be made

an official language of the country alongside Latvian. The symbol in his photograph meant

that Edgars was opposed; shortly before I visited Latvia the motion was indeed unsuccessful.

During our chat Edgars voiced views that, although not anti-Russian per se, did seem to

voice a fear that Russians in Latvia might be a kind of fifth column with a questionable

Left and right – the Academy of Sciences

29

allegiance to the state. Further aspects of the conversation can be seen at Annex B interview

1.

Interview - Alise Djomina

Later that afternoon I met with Alise Djomina, another political activist working for the

Human Rights in a United Latvia party. It’s an organisation campaigning for Russian speaker

rights and when I met her at the party’s headquarters they were organising a petition

demanding the end of alien citizenship. Because of the frenetic activity taking place we

decided to conduct the interview at a nearby café.

Alise gave me a completely different view on contemporary events in Latvia. She was keen

to stress that Russian speakers in Latvia did not wish for the Soviet Union to be recreated

and that they wished to play their part in an independent country. She also expressed her

discomfort at the way recent history was portrayed in museums and that any threat to

Latvia and the Latvian language came not from Russians but from emigration to the west.

Further aspects of the conversation can be seen at Annex B interview 2.

Interview - Kristīne Kuliša and friends

During my time in Riga Kristīne took me to a friend’s party, where I met a group of Latvians –

there were no Russian speakers – who were university students and virtually all born around

the time of independence. I was curious to hear their views regarding the Soviet period and

whether they felt any nostalgia for that time or even that the country they knew today felt

Soviet at all.

I got some interesting answers. The birthday girl said she would only shop with Latvian-

owned stalls in the market and that if they greeted her in Russian she would go elsewhere.

Another friend piped in, stating that the efforts to make Russian an official language would

result in the death of Latvian; he also believed that Victory Day was confrontational and

talked about the use of flags to denote identity.

I was then shown some pictures of a ‘Russian party’ they had held recently, where they had

all dressed up in stereotypical Russian clothing – tracksuits, cheap jewellery and so on. I did

wonder if they had had much genuine interaction with Russian peers or whether their

impressions of Russian speakers resulted from anecdotal experience, but I wasn’t really in a

position to press the point.

Elsewhere in Latvia

Daugavpils

Not long after arriving in Latvia I discovered that Daugavpils has something of a reputation;

when I mentioned to a few people that I was intending on travelling they all pulled a face as

if to say “why would you want to travel there?”

30

Daugavpils is Latvia’s second city, close to the border with Lithuania and Belarus. It’s almost

entirely Russian speaking and has suffered economically as industries have closed or

relocated, which might explain some of the ambivalence I encountered. In the city some

85% of voters supported the proposal to make Russian the second state language in the

2012 referendum.

In Daugavpils I stayed with Vladislav Kugelevich, a Russian-speaking software developer who

lived in a Soviet-era flat in the suburbs. During the first evening we travelled to his father’s

house, where we had a meal of bread and cheese and spoke about the recent past and the

changes in Latvia over the past two decades. As with most people over the age of about 30

that I met on my travels his father spoke no English; Vlad had to translate throughout.

Daugavpils itself is also well known for its fortress, a huge tsarist construction on the

outskirts of town. When I visited I found essentially a walled town, which still has a

population of around 1,500 people living in what were once quarters for military families.

The fortress itself is undergoing major redevelopment works and many of the roads are

being dug up. Many of the buildings too are derelict, lending the whole place a somewhat

surreal and apocalyptic feel. One building had the faint letters KPSS on the side – the

‘Communist Party of the Soviet Union’, now looking forlorn and abandoned.

One new building that was recent in construction housed a small display on the final plans

for the fortress, an ambition programme of redevelopment aimed at making this one of

Latvia’s primary tourist destinations. I met a very friendly English-speaking attendant who

Vladislav Kugelevich and father

31

spoke to me about the history of the place and what it could be. He wasn’t confident that

the future would be bright, however, because of a reduction in EU funding.

I primarily visited Daugavpils because I wanted to see if a Russian-speaking Latvian city was

more obviously Soviet than those areas where Russian was less in evidence. In some ways

Daugavpils did feel like that – the city had been extensively destroyed in World War II and

much of the architecture was built in the post-war period. But geographic isolation from the

rest of the country mixed with an ambivalent government in Riga had probably contributed

as much to the ‘Other’ of Daugavpils as the language of the people living there.

Liepāja

Liepāja is a city in the south west of Latvia, on the coast. During the postwar period it acted

as a submarine base, rendering the place essentially off limits to foreigners. Much of this

heritage is preserved in Karosta, a couple of miles north of the main town centre.

Karosta (a contraction of ‘kara osta’, meaning ‘naval port’) was a military suburb developed

towards the end of the nineteenth century and was housed with a primarily Russian

Left – former communist party headquarters. Right – new road, old buildings.

Left and right – Daugavpils Fortress.

32

speaking population, who have largely remained despite the move out of the military after

independence.

The plan here was to spend a night in jail; Karosta houses a former military prison that runs

a show called Behind the Bars where actors dressed as Soviet guards bark orders and chant

slogans, as they (possibly) would have done in the days of the USSR. Not only did it sound

great fun but it would also have been interesting to see how Latvia’s Soviet past had been

turned into a tourist attraction.

Unfortunately I wasn’t able to coincide my visit with an English Behind the Bars, but I was

able to have a tour of the prison and also see some of the-red brick architecture that makes

Karosta so distinctive.

I also picked up a leaflet detailing another attraction, this one called ‘Escape from the USSR’.

Designed for a team, this event involved ‘rescuing’ a friend from enemy territory and

escaping the border guards; another event involved exploring a network of military tunnels

Left – once a bomb, now a rubbish bin. Middle – inside the military prison. Right – the water tower.

Left – communist displays in Karosta’s military prison. Right – Soviet apartments, Karosta.

33

with torches, again with a Soviet theme. If Latvians were comfortable with this, I thought,

then perhaps the ghosts of the Soviet Union were being treated as the past of a former

generation. Or maybe it was a form of gallows humour, designed to detract from the

seriousness of the ‘occupation’. It made me wonder what the museums in Riga and

elsewhere would make of it all.

There are several other such sites in Latvia, including nuclear bunkers and other Soviet-era

attractions. Unfortunately I was not easily able to reach these without my own transport.

Lithuania

Research in Lithuania primarily consisted of a formal interview with a prominent politician -

a digested record of this interview in minute form can be found in Annex C. A country

profile can be found in Annex F.

I was also able to speak to a number of individuals primarily as a result of couchsurfing and

whilst these have not been formally recorded in the appendix they nevertheless provided a

valuable source of thought and opinion.

I also travelled to various sites connected with the Soviet Union.

Vilnius

The capital of Lithuania differs from the other Baltic capitals in that it is not close to the sea;

rather it is located in the far south east of the country, near the border with Belarus. It has

an impressive collection of Baroque buildings and – like the country as a whole – has a much

smaller proportion of Russian speakers amongst the population compared to its

counterparts to the north.

In Vilnius I visited the following places connected with the Soviet Union:

• Lithuanian Genocide Museum

• Green Bridge Statues

• Vilnius Television Tower

• Antakalnis Cemetery

• Paneriai

Lithuanian Genocide Museum

This museum is located in the former offices of the KGB, an imposing neoclassical edifice

lined with the names of people who lost their lives to the ruling regime. Inside exhibits are

dedicated to the Nazi and Soviet periods, the exile of large swathes of the population to

Siberia and the partisan resistance movement – the ‘Forest Brothers’ – who fought an

ultimately futile campaign against the communist authorities. There’s also a reconstruction

of the original KGB museum that occupied this site before independence.

34

The Brothers, perhaps unsurprisingly, were depicted as heroes despite acknowledging that

“some violence against the civilian population occurred, as in any war”, which seemed a

little dismissive. Indeed, the display stated that they first attacked military targets, then

moved on to attack the “administration of the occupying power and its collaborators” –

which suggested methods and tactics that elsewhere are sometimes ascribed to terrorists.

Any links with Germany – who often armed partisans – were pictured as anti-Soviet rather

than pro-Nazi.

There was also a section on the People’s Defenders – pro-Soviet partisans who according to

the museum were hated by the indigenous population and who carried out numerous

atrocities, in complete contrast to the Forest Brothers. Of course it’s possible that this is an

accurate description of both sides but it was hard to escape the nagging doubt that this was

not a completely impartial description of history.

Left – names of those killed in the KGB building. Middle – Soviet post box. Right – remembering genocide.

Left – the wall of the Genocide Museum. Right – ‘to the victims of the Soviet occupation’.

35

It’s the basement, however, that is the most chilling aspect of this museum. Here there are

cells where people were detained, including one padded to block out noise and another

consisting of a raised wooden disc surrounded by a pit where a prisoner would have to

stand to avoid falling into icy water. There are also tiny exercise yards and an underground

room in which a dramatized film clip of summary executions is played on a loop, adding to

the gloomy atmosphere; it’s certainly true that executions did take place in the building in

the postwar period.

There was one small change since my previous visit in 2008. In one cell a small exhibition

had been created documenting the fate of Lithuania’s sizable Jewish population; indeed, for

a museum with the word ‘genocide’ in its title it seemed strange that virtually no mention of

the holocaust had been made. I had sometimes wondered if this was because much of the

killing was done by locally recruited collaborators who shared the anti-Semitic views of their

Nazi overlaords; in the infamous Paneriai Massacre just outside Vilnius, for example,

Lithuanian volunteers helped the German military kill around 100,000 people between 1941

and 1944.

Whatever the reason, there was at last a small display telling the story of Lithuania’s Jews –

although the only reference to collaboration I could find was a small statement admitting

that “the Nazis managed to involve some of the local residents in these crimes.”

The overwhelming experience of the Museum was that this documented a particularly

traumatic period in Lithuania’s history, when simply being Lithuanian was enough to be

exiled to Siberia for years. And yet I couldn’t shake off the feeling that this was not the

entire story and that this was not an objective recollection of history. I would have to look

elsewhere to redress the balance.

Green Bridge Statues

Crossing the River Neris near the centre of the city is a bridge which has an impressive

example of socialist-realist art at each corner, with statues depicting industry, agriculture,

education and the military.

The bridge itself - unique in Lithuania - is now a protected cultural monument,

demonstrating that at least some of the country’s Soviet heritage has been recognised as

worthy of preservation rather than being destroyed and forgotten. Many such statues were

not so lucky, however (see Grūtas Park, below).

36

Not far from the Green Bridge is a statue of Adam Mickiewicz, the nineteenth century poet

whose famous work Pan Tadeusz has provided a rallying cry for Lithuanian nationalists ever

since it was penned in 1834:

Litwo! Ojczyzno moja! ty jesteś jak zdrowie; O Lithuania, my homeland, though art like

Ile ciė trzeba cenić, ten tylko się dowie, health itself; I never knew thee till now, how

Kto się stracił precious, Till I lost thee

It was here in August 1987 that a group of people gathered to demand the publication of

the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact, one of the first such demonstrations in Lithuania.

Vilnius Television Tower

The large television tower which overlooks Vilnius played a prominent part in the events of

January 1991. On the night of 13th

January the Kremlin ordered its troops to seize the tower

in order to reassert control over Lithuania; 12 civilians subsequently died under the tracks of

Soviet tanks. The event brought widespread condemnation of Gorbachev’s regime and

hastened the end of Soviet rule in the Baltics.

Left – Agriculture. Middle – Military. Right - Industry

Left and right – memorial at the TV tower.

37

I couldn’t go up to the viewing platform when I visited because it was a particularly cloudy

day, but I was able to visit the small exhibition on the ground floor. It pictured those who

lost their lives defending the tower – some old, some young. One display declared that “All

Lithuania is mourning for the deads (sic)”; certainly the resultant funerals in Cathedral

Square attracted crowds of thousands. Outside the tower a monument and collection of

wooden crosses formed a focal point for those who came to remember.

Antakalnis Cemetery

This quiet cemetery on the outskirts of Vilnius is located in shady woodland, making it a

peaceful place to wander. Here are buried those people killed at the Television Tower in

1991, as well border guards killed by the Soviet authorities at around the same time. It’s

also the location of a large monument to the Red Army.

Left and right – the Red Army monument at Antakalnis Cemetery.

Left and right – Soviet graves at Antakalnis Cemetery.

38

Paneriai

Paneriai is not a site that’s readily associated with the Soviet Union; it was the location of

massacres carried out during the German occupation who used oil pits left by the fleeing

Red Army as mass graves.

But it was during the Soviet period that this area took form as an outdoor memorial. A path

led from a nearby train station and into nearby woods, where it split and headed towards

several of the pits, each lined with a ring of concrete and a small stone inscription. There

was also a small museum on site, although when I visited it was closed. An inscription on the

side described the massacre, mentioning the fact that local Lithuanians were involved.

At the entrance to the site are two stone slabs, referring to murdered ‘Soviet’ citizens,

rather than Jews; a third central inscription commemorating the Jewish victims of the

massacre was only added in 1990. It was a clear demonstration of how history could be

made to suit the political realities of the time, and I wondered if this was a process that

continues to this day.

Elsewhere in Lithuania

Kaunas

Kaunas is Lithuania’s second city, located in the middle of the country around 70 miles from

Vilnius. It was the start of my trip back in 2008, and over the ensuing four years a palpable

sense of energy had really taken hold. It felt like a place that was doing well, with a thriving

central business district and plenty of the trendy bars and clubs that go with it.

It was also the place that I saw my first tangible reminders of the Soviet Union. On a bridge

crossing the River Nemunas I found hammer-and-sickle motifs – one of which appeared to

have had paint thrown at it.

Left, middle and right – part of the extensive Paneriai memorial.

39

Kaunas was also the site of an horrific event in May 1972 when 19-year-old student Romas

Kalanta set fire to himself in protest against Soviet rule, sparking several days of rioting

which resulted in some 500 arrests. A memorial now marks the spot on Laisvės Alėja where

it took place.

Interview - Leonidas Donskis

My main reason for visiting Kaunas, however, was to interview Leonidas Donskis, a

prominent Lithuanian MEP and political theorist. He was particularly keen to talk about

national narratives and whilst he saw independence as a positive development for Lithuania

he was deeply suspicious of how history could be deliberately recorded in a way as to

present the current political climate in a more favourable way – just as I’d seen the Soviet

authorities do at Paneriai. The Museum of Genocide Victims made him particularly angry;

Leonidas had relatives who were holocaust survivors and saw the lack of discussion of this

event at the museum as a deliberate attempt to gloss over an uncomfortable aspect of

Left and right – Soviet symbols over the River Nemunas.

Karolina, Lukas and Karolis – my hosts in Kaunas.

40

Lithuania’s history. That there was collaboration between the occupying Germans and

Lithuanians, it was suggested, did not sit comfortably with the notion of Lithuania as the

victim. Further aspects of the conversation can be seen at Annex C interview 1.

Grūtas Park

When this attraction opened in 2001 it created a storm of controversy; unofficially known as

Stalin World, Grūtas Park is a collection of Soviet-era statues that had been rescued from

destruction after the collapse of the USSR. I once visited a similar site near Budapest called

Memento Park but in many parts of Eastern Europe these statues have been lost forever.

Grūtas Park also features re-creations of Soviet Gulag prison camps such as wooden paths,

guard towers, and barbed-wire fences. Plans to transport visitors in a Gulag-style train were

abandoned, although a small zoo did make the cut. Fears had been expressed that such an

attraction would trivialise the Soviet period.

It was a particularly hot and sunny day when I visited, and it was pleasant to walk around

the grounds. There were statues of famous communists like Lenin and Stalin, local officials

and monuments to the military. There were also displays giving a brief history of the

communist party of Lithuania.

One statue that struck me was of Stefanija Greiciute, a teenager who was killed by

Lithuanian partisans as a Soviet collaborator because she was involved with a communist

youth organisation. These were the same partisans who were celebrated as heroes in the

respective museums all across the Baltics. Political viewpoint, it seemed, either made such

action an act of struggle or one of terrorism – and that the political climate of the day would

dictate how victims were remembered, or indeed who qualified as a victim in the first place.

Left, middle and right – monuments in Grūtas Park.

41

When I left Grūtas Park I missed my bus back to the nearby town of Druskininkai and so I

hitched a lift back with a local. He was a lorry driver by trade and had worked all over

Europe. He spoke little English but as we passed a sign to Belarus – Druskininkai is only a few

miles from the border – I asked him if he’d been there much. “No, never” he said. Only a

short distance away and yet it might have well as been the other side of the world.

Klaipėda and Nida

Klaipėda, on the west coast of Lithuania, was once the German city of Memel and still

retains a few buildings from that era. It’s also an important port and industrial centre, and

across the narrow entrance to the Curonian Lagoon is the northern section of the Curonian

spit, one of the longest examples of such a landform in the world. The southern section of

the spit forms part of the Kaliningrad Oblast, an exclave of the Russian Federation.

Left and right – Lenin at Grūtas Park. Middle – a guard tower.

Left – a zebra and a donkey examine a statue. Right – a Soviet partisan.

42

In Klaipėda I initially couchsurfed with Kristina Kissenger and Claudia Kionies, and

subsequently with Rūta Raisutyte. All gave me some fascinating insights into attitudes

among younger people towards the Soviet Union and they seemed pleased that I’d taken an

interest in the recent history of the Baltics. It was generally agreed that independence had

been a good thing for Lithuania and that they enjoyed greater freedoms than their parents’

generation. But I also got the impression that the strident nationalism of the new Lithuanian

state was not always something to be celebrated, that it sometimes become overbearing.

German architecture in Klaipėda.

Rūta and sister Ieva.

43

An example of this could be seen in the centre of the city. Here an arch had been created

with the inscription Esame Viena Tauta, Viena Žemė, Viena Lietuva – One people, One land,

One Lithuania. Klaipėda was also represented as a red column propping up the rest of the

country.

Klaipėda has also retained a few Soviet monuments, most notably in the overgrown Soviet

war memorial at the edge of the Martynas Mažvydas Sculpture Park. As I stared at the

soldiers with Rūta she told me that as a child she found them scary to look at. I asked

whether she felt any sort of connection with the place, or if she’d ever wanted to come here

on May 9th

to remember. She almost seemed bemused by the question; “Only the old

people come here” she said. “Russians.”

I also travelled with Rūta down the Curonian Spit to the town of Nida, once the German

Nidden. Here – just as in Narva – I was able to stare across to Russia, still a forbidden world

without the required documentation. It was strange to think from Nida I could travel freely

as far as Spain or Portugal and yet I wouldn’t be able to cross an invisible line only a couple

of miles to the south.

Left – “One people, One land, One Lithuania.” Right – Soviet War Memorial.

Left – Russia from Nida. Right – Nida’s sundial.

44

It was in Nida that I came to the end of my journey in the Baltics. And as I stared over the

stillness of the Lagoon with Rūta it occurred to me that perhaps the biggest change to have

taken over the past twenty years was the fact that I was allowed to be here. That was at

least one legacy of the Soviet Union that appeared to have disappeared completely.

The Curonian Lagoon.

45

Conclusion

I was in the Baltics for almost two months, and in that time I travelled to a wide range of

sights and spoken to people from all sorts of different backgrounds. These people often had

different – even polarised – views, and it was clear that this was a topic that sometimes

touched a raw nerve. Even after twenty years people many people had strong views on

what the Soviet Union was and how it continued to influence (or not) their daily lives.

It was also somewhat of a relief to find that people were ready and willing to talk; indeed,

everyone seemed to have an opinion. I had worried before setting off that I might find it

difficult to initiate dialogue but this was not the case.

And so to the central question; how much of the USSR’s legacy can be felt in the Baltics

today, and how much does the recent past influence the present?

Clearly there were the obvious impacts on the built environment; much of the population

continued to live in Soviet-era apartment blocks and many towns and cities retained a

‘Soviet’ feel as a result. Industrial development at the time also continued to form a part of

daily life, providing jobs and in many cases a certain degree of social security.

Statues and monuments too could be found with a little hard work; certainly, most of the

larger constructions had been removed and in some cases destroyed, but some still

remained in situ. Of these the war memorials were almost certainly the most contentious,

with different communities having a markedly different relationship; some felt a

connection; others complete rejection.

Then there were the environmental impact. The Curonian Lagoon and Sillamäe were just

two places where massive clean-up operations continue to combat pollution initiated by the

Left and right – Soviet apartments in Daugavpils.

46

Soviet authorities, although paradoxically the first national park in the USSR was created in

Estonia in the 1970s.

But it quickly became apparent that perhaps the greatest impact the Soviet Union had on

the region was in the cultural and ethnic divisions that continue to persist between

indigenous Balts and Russian speakers, particularly in Estonia and Latvia. Sometimes this

would materialise in legislation – think alien citizenship – or render itself on the ground in

terms of segregation or civil unrest. There seemed to be a high degree of ambivalence – if

not mistrust – between different cultural groups and little desire to interact with each other.

Whilst not always openly hostile it was readily clear that it will be a long time before

communities regard each other as true equals.

The nationalism in Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania was also in part defined by its anti-Soviet

rhetoric, perhaps not surprising given the nature of the Baltic’s incorporation into the USSR

during World War II. As such however it risks alienating those people who still identify in

part with those times, and nostalgia was notably higher amongst Russian speakers perhaps

because such divisions were not always so readily apparent.

But I also found three countries confidently forging their own way having definitively chosen

the West as their economic, social and cultural source of inspiration. Virtually all I met

agreed that life was better now than it had been twenty or thirty years ago no matter their

cultural allegiance, and that today’s young people had opportunities that previous

generations could only dream of.

But in the Baltics it’s clear that history is still a contested subject, and it’s likely that this will

continue to be the case for some time to come. The ghost of the Soviet Union will remain as

long as this is true.

Postscript

My time in the Baltics was an extremely enjoyable and informative one; although the

capitals are slowly being discovered by tourists the rest of the countries are relatively

untouched. As such it felt at times like I was exploring an unknown place, or at least one not

well understood by those of us living in Western Europe.

I also learnt something about myself, about self-reliance and going out of my comfort zone

in order to increase my knowledge of the continent that I call home. For that I’m extremely

grateful to the Peter Kirk Memorial Fund for enabling this journey to happen, for without

their help it’s doubtful that I would ever have made it there.

As I travelled throughout Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania I realised that I was not merely

observing but collecting stories and opinions from a whole array of people – some of these

47

memories were sad, others full of hope. I slowly began to realise that I might have enough

material to write something substantial, and since returning to the UK I’ve decided to write

a book about my travels. This is now currently in progress and will hopefully be completed

in 2013.

For now I want to leave you with one of my favourite photographs of the trip, taken near

Druskininkai in the far south of Lithuania. I felt that I could spend hours sitting in that chair,

simply watching the waves gently lapping at the shore. In some ways it felt like time was

immeasurable, as if it had no meaning; like memories drifting away in the breeze.

48

Annex A - Formal interviews in Estonia

Interview 1 – Valeria Jakobson (researcher at University of Tartu) and Eduard Piho (social

worker) Reval Café, Tallinn 28/04/2012

• Museums such as the Museum of Occupations are politically motivated and not a

fair reflection of views and opinions.

• Different events celebrated by the different communities – VJ considers this gap to

have closed in recent years and that the gulf in the 1990s was due to uncertainty

after recent independence.

• Russian language media mainly comes direct from Russia and is diverse in nature.

Russian language programming from inside Estonia is less diverse.

• Short history of Estonia’s recent politics then follows – Russians supporting Centre

Party, Estonians supporting Reform Party. Build up to Bronze Night was pledge by

Reform Party to move it.

• VJ keen to stress that Russian affinity to Bronze Soldier is not a wish for the USSR to

be recreated but rather that it encapsulates Russian dissatisfaction with role in

present day Estonia. Very little dialogue between government and Russians.

• Russians have lower incomes and unable to access positions of authority. VJ

provided anecdote of a bilingual lorry driver whose application was rejected when

(Russian) name on application was seen. VJ also stated that in times of economic

hardship Estonians are given priority in the jobs market. Russian downgraded since

independence.

• VJ thinks the alien citizenship issue will diminish as mainly affects elderly; young

Russians are generally bilingual.

• There is nostalgia for the Soviet era among young people; VJ offers anecdote of

student who thinks USSR times happy from watching old films. Estonians have a

similar nostalgia regarding first independence period.

• Government condemns any industrial action as ‘communist’, thereby stifling

dialogue.

• Surveys suggest disappointment among middle-class Russians that their efforts are

not rewarded in society.

• Meeting end with visit to Bronze Soldier statue.

Interview 2 – Eneli Philips and Maarja Vollmer (students at the University of Tartu), Café

Pierre, Tartu 02/05/2012

• Eneli is a social work student, also works p/t as a nursery teacher.

• Maarja is a sociology student.

• M – there are two different peoples in Estonia – rich and poor.

• Parents are the most influential source of opinions.

49

• Nostalgia is always tinged with sadness – almost everyone was affected by

oppression.

• There are divisions between Estonians and Russians and these were also present in

Soviet times.

• Russians do not view the Soviet period as ‘occupation’ - this makes Estonians

cautious of Russians. Mutual suspicion as a result.

• There is always the possibility of another bronze night

• Another legacy is that westerners consider Estonia to be ‘Eastern Europe’.

• There is a heavy emphasis on the fragility of Estonia and its small status – a fear that

Russia may invade. Both glad that Estonia is part of EU and NATO as this offers some

collective security.

• E particularly patriotic – empathises with other small ‘nations’ – reading a book on

Basque culture when I entered café.

Interview 3 – Dagmar Kutsar (academic specialising in generational differences at University

of Tartu) Faculty of Social Sciences 02/05/2012

• Clinical psychology background.

• Many ideas passed from parent to child (similar point made by interview 2)

• ‘National Revival’ – nationalist sentiment expressed via song in latter 1980s.

• Uncertainty of times created social myths – of a glorious happy but undefined future.

• Concepts of identity are naturally not inclusive.

• Disillusionment crept in after independence, peaking in 1994 – widespread social

impact such as unemployment, mortality etc.

• By 2008 (pre-recession) Estonia was most developed it had ever been.

• Different generations learned to adapt at different rates, older people more slowly –

this led to more nostalgia for older people.

• In a cognitive experiment DK asked people to imagine themselves at a crossroads in

1980s and ask which road to take – onwards to independence or take different road

to continuation of USSR. Most people chose to go straight on.

• Dissatisfaction is normal within society and nostalgia is proportional to social

inequality – explains higher propensity among Russian speakers as they have lost

more.

• Introduction of Estonian in Russian schools has been very slow.

• Conflict re bronze soldier – no conflict on an individual basis. DK believes statue

should have been moved earlier. Conflicts could happen again if not necessarily in

connection with bronze soldier.

• Difference between regions affects integration – notably north-east. DK believes this

leads to self-exclusion as Russians in Narva think they will not be accepted by

Estonian society and therefore their exclusion is self-inflicted. Aka self-labelling – a

myth is created and this directs behaviour.

50

• 50 years of Soviet rule cannot be erased in a short time. Compounded by collapse of

mining industry in the North East.

• DK also said that Russians give answers in surveys that they think the researcher

wants to hear and that this is a legacy of soviet times.

Interview 4 – Andu Rammer (social scientist at University of Tartu) Faculty of Social Sciences

02/05/2012

• Gave a potted history of Estonia from WW2 to present. Acknowledged that history

was a controversial as a result.

• Media in Soviet times was controlled but Estonia could access Finnish television –

presented a different viewpoint to that propagated by Soviet authorities.

• Repeated views expressed in interview 2 re: Estonian insecurity towards Russia.

Russian speakers in Estonia a possible fifth column.

• Little sympathy like Dagmar re: citizenship tests, acknowledged that this was difficult

for other Europeans to understand. Said there were benefits to be had e.g. visa free

travel to Russia.

Interview 5 – Heiko Pääbo – (social scientist at Tartu University) Faculty of Social Sciences

03/05/2012

• Specialises in studying collective memories – ‘National Narratives’.

• There are different collective memories held by different communities but also

within Russian speaker e.g. those in Estonia pre-1945 and who arrived in Soviet

period.

• Describes Estonian memory as having a ‘post-traumatic effect’ and 1st

independence

period held in particularly high regard. Current museums are part of this memory.

• WW2 extremely influential on collective memory as most Russians not present at

this time.

• Attitudes towards Russians – regarded as alien and as occupants, particularly in early

1990s due to post-traumatic effect.

• Russians are influenced by the greater Russian collective memory but opinions are

more varied than in Estonian narrative and not all take their cue from Russia.

• True reconciliation is still a long way off, there is a lack of political will.

• External changes may also need to take place e.g. in Russian government.

• Bronze night was unexpected, also shocked many Russians who did not feel this to

be representative.

• Narratives are not static – 1930s period now under reassessment.

• Narratives are also products of contemporary politics.

51

Annex B - Formal interviews in Latvia

Interview 1 – Edgar Engīzers (assistant to Andreja Judina MP) Café Desiderata in Riga

11/05/2012

• Facebook profile picture alludes to recent vote on whether Russian should be made

an official language in Latvia, EE voted no.

• Has part Russian ancestry.

• There is a competition between a Western and Eastern orientation and this

encapsulates the language question.

• There was a fear that the Latvian language would disappear in the 1980s – this was

connected with greater Russian politics.

• Russia always needs an ‘external enemy’ in its political discourse.

• Russia will never be ‘Western’.

• Media is completely divided into separate camps.

• Celebration days are also completely separate – history is essentially contested.

Victory day really took off in 1960s onwards.

• The purpose of Victory day is identity-building.

• Within Latvia Russians are not questioning the Russian narrative.

• Older Russians still identify with Soviet times, younger Russians with a sort of

Russian Latvia within the EU. There were Russians involved in the independence

movement.

• Democracy should be seen as a way of uniting people and Russia is an authoritarian

state.

• There is some potential for identity conflict but confrontational voices are a

minority.

• The opinions of newspapers are not readily challenged – possible Soviet legacy.

• Changes may occur over time as those in media and politics who remember Soviet

times age.

• Russian speakers are not 1 homogenous bloc despite their labelling as such by

politicians.

• Biggest challenge is demographic. This is ‘unfortunate’.

• There is a fear that there could be a Bronze night in Latvia.

• Used example of Georgia as evidence for possible Russian interference.

Interview 2 – Alise Djomina (MEP assistant), San Pedro café in Riga 11/05/2012

• Met at office where Alise was involved in collecting signatures for petition to force

referendum on granting citizenship. Office building was on Dzirnavu Iela.

• Not total support from Russian community on this issue as alien status affords visa-

free travel to Russia.

52

• Around 300,000 aliens in Latvia – involves restrictions on employment etc. Alise

passionate about this issue.

• A successful referendum would result in a radically altered political landscape as

large new bloc of voters would appear suddenly.

• Talked about Waffen SS celebration on 16 March and that some Latvians attend

Victory Day.

• Recent language referendum failed due to a big well-funded no campaign. Right-

wing government uses Russian speakers as scapegoats to distract attention from

economic problems.

• Says Russia does not try to influence Latvian politics – rather that any involvement is

in the form of funding for government projects etc.

• There has been widespread emigration in the last 5 years.

• Not all Russian speakers feel ‘Russian’.

• The Latvian language is not threatened by Russian but rather by emigration.

• Museum of Occupations politically biased and not representative of common

peoples’ views.

• There is some engagement between the communities such as mixed marriages.

• Society may have to change – proposals to encourage immigration from other

countries to combat demographic problems.

• Speaks of a “Language Inquisition” that constantly checks Latvian proficiency.

• There is nostalgia for Soviet times – talked of landlords evicting tenants from

apartments which would not previously have happened. Problems with

homelessness etc. Talks of a ‘golden age.’

• Not wishing for a return of the USSR, rather for equal rights in an independent

Latvia.

• Also spoke of anti-EU/NATO views.

53

Annex C - Formal interviews in Lithuania

Interview 1 – Leonidas Donskis MEP, Buon Giorno café in Kaunas 18/05/2012

• Originally from Klaipeda but travelled extensively during academic career including

Bradford – smiles warmly at mention of Leeds.

• Large Polish minority historically, also Jewish population pre WW2. Varied minorities

in Lithuania but small – differs in this aspect from Estonia and Latvia.

• Lower Russian emigration to Lith compared to Est and Lat due to strength of Forest

Brothers, also agrarian economy rather than industrial. This is nationalist

interpretation.

• Large Russian populations in Lat and Est led to great deal of insecurity post-

independence.

• Emigration a characteristic of all three countries post-independence. Greater effect

in Est and Lat as these are smaller countries. Large diaspora.

• LD is son of holocaust survivor, relatives in Israel and US. Always harboured anti-

Soviet sympathies.

• Nostalgia is a function of resentment of current problems such as corruption. High

hopes also possible indication of naivety – Lith is post-communist so changes will be

slow. Some thought country would quickly become like Finland or Sweden.

Unrealistic expectations.

• Lith was a buffer state with future dictated by surrounding powers.

• In 1980s it was hoped that there would be some reform by Soviets e.g. same status

as Poland or Czechoslovakia but only a few voices considered outright

independence. Considered mavericks. LD says this was a victory of western

economy over Soviet system.

• Fast pace of change likened to an “acceleration of history”.

• This is a positive time in Lithuania but some is ‘lost in transition’.

• Many children are being raised by grandparents as parents are abroad working.

• LD hated soviet state but said that it was less provincial/parochial. Academics

cooperated across USSR. Sense of perspective lost after independence because of

nationalist responses.

• Very little room for acknowledgement of role in holocaust – nationalist narrative

defensive over certain aspects of the past. Liths want a ‘heroic past’. LD very angry

about this point and that genocide museum in Vilnius does not cover holocaust.

• Young people now more likely to question this narrative.

• Lith is multilingual country and this should be taken advantage of.

• Retention of Vilnius and Klaipeda vital to success of state. Latvia dominated by Riga.

• Younger people no longer speaking Russian, Russian cultural influence has therefore

decreased.

• Some negative attitudes to Russian culture exist.

54

Annex D – country profile of Estonia

Capital: Tallinn

Population: 1,274,709 (July 2012 est.)

Ethnic groups: Estonian 68.7%, Russian 25.6%, Ukrainian 2.1%, Belarusian 1.2%, Finn 0.8%,

other 1.6% (2008 census)

GDP per capita: £12,750 (2011 est.)

55

Annex E – country profile of Latvia

Capital: Riga

Population: 2,191,580 (July 2012 est.)

Ethnic groups: Latvian 59.3%, Russian 27.8%, Belarusian 3.6%, Ukrainian 2.5%, Polish 2.4%,

Lithuanian 1.3%, other 3.1% (2009)

GDP per capita: £9,800 (2011 est.)

56

Annex F – country profile of Lithuania

Capital: Vilnius

Population: 3,525,761 (July 2012 est.)

Ethnic groups: Lithuanian 84%, Polish 6.1%, Russian 4.9%, Belarusian 1.1%, other or

unspecified 3.9% (2009)

GDP per capita: £11,800 (2011 est.)

57

Bibliography

Bousefield J The Rough Guide to Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania Rough Guides 2011

Egremont M Forgotten Land: Journeys Among the Ghosts of East Prussia Farrar, Straus &

Giroux 2011

Snyder T Bloodlands: Europe between Hitler and Stalin Bodley Head 2010

Websites

https://www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-world-factbook/ - accessed 15/09/2012

http://web.narva.ee/files/2010_Narva%20arvudes_et_en.pdf – accessed 23/08/2012

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Main_Page - accessed 16/04/2012

http://www.okupatsioon.ee/ - accessed 07/04/2012

http://linnamuuseum.tartu.ee – accessed 07/04/2012

http://www.ut.ee/en - accessed 25/04/2012

http://ceurus.ut.ee/ - accessed 15/04/2012

http://www.cbs.ut.ee – accessed 07/04/2012

http://okupacijasmuzejs.lv/?lang=english

http://www.inyourpocket.com/latvia/riga/sightseeing/museums/The-Museum-of-the-

Barricades-of-1991_46515v - accessed 03/05/2012

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http://www.lza.lv/index.php?mylang=english – accessed 09/05/2012

http://www.karostascietums.lv – 16/04/2012

http://bunkurs.lv/pages/ - 30/04/2012

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58

“There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.” Hamlet Act II, Scene II

Walkway on the Curonian Spit.