NEWS AND VIEWS: Estonia's post-Soviet reality (01/28/01)

NEWS AND VIEWS

Estonia's post-Soviet reality

by Lubomyr Luciuk

A small place with a big problem - that's what post-Soviet Estonia is. Her elites exclaim how their country has clearly and always been part of Europe, a participant in the forging and defense of Western civilization. They describe their land as "the East of the West" and proclaim a historic right to membership in the European Union and NATO. They're fervently praying they'll be admitted soon.

But that doesn't solve their problem, which is Russia: a giant neighbor, and - more often than not insofar as Estonia's independence has been concerned - a noxious one. For of Estonia's 1.4 million people, 28 percent are Russians. Before the second world war only 12 percent were. Then Soviet terror liquidated tens of thousands of Estonians, their places taken by Soviet colonists. Today one-third of the people of this Baltic state, about half the size of Maine, are Russian-speaking. And right next door roost 147 million more.

Most Westerners forget about this episode of cultural genocide, focusing on Nazi rule in Eastern Europe. The Estonians haven't forgotten those horrors but, in truth, many more of them perished during the first and second Soviet occupations.

Check out the plaque on the grounds of Toompea Castle, where the Riigikogu, Estonia's Parliament, sits. Between 1940 and 1960, 161 parliamentarians perished, five during the Nazi occupation, the rest murdered by the Soviets. Today's Estonians rightly condemn all the predators who savaged their land. They are also discriminating enough to have no trouble remembering who was worse.

The architecture of Estonia's larger cities reminds you that this struggle between a European David and the Slavic Goliath is historical, not just an issue from the war. In the capital of Tallinn, the Russian Orthodox Cathedral of Alexander Nevsky looms over Parliament, embodying imperial dominance over indigenous authority. In Narva, an old Hanseatic League city, two mighty bastions, Narva Castle and Ivanograd Fortress, face off against each other, "West versus East" as Estonians see it.

And they are reminded of their embattled condition whenever they open their wallets, for their 5 krooni banknote portrays these opposed forts. Which leaves me wondering if most Estonians realize that here the Russians appear to have the upper hand. Inside the Castle walls lurks a fifth columnist, secreted away in a corner, an angry-looking Lenin gesturing to the East, seemingly demanding his Communists' return. And it's happening. Looking down from the "Tall Hermann" tower you see long lines on the Russian side of the river, people waiting to enter Estonia. Almost no one is moving in the opposite direction. Tellingly perhaps, the banknote doesn't show anyone crossing that bridge, either way.

It's politically correct to criticize Estonia for restricting citizenship to those demonstrating at least a rudimentary knowledge of Estonian. It seems an affront to the Russian-speaking minority's human rights to require some measure of linguistic integration. And, most certainly, Russian Federation spokesmen have demonstrated agility in belittling Estonia's commitment to democracy by raising this alleged infringement.

One doesn't have to spend much time in Estonia, however, to begin to doubt these denunciations. Many Russian newspapers, TV and radio channels are available. Russian Orthodox churches are open. Nor did I detect deep animosity to those unable to speak Estonian. My hosts just began speaking Russian, immediately, without apparent rancour. I didn't encounter Russians making any comparable effort to speak Estonian.

But I wanted to be fair. So I met with a Ukrainian resident of Tallinn, well educated, employed, obviously enjoying a comfortable standard of living. He has been in Estonia for 20 years but does not speak Estonian. When asked why, he said that when he came to Estonia, seeking a much better life than he would ever have in western Ukraine, there was only a Soviet Union. Then the 800,000 Estonians were the minority. Why bother learning a minority's language when all Estonians were obliged to learn Russian? Why hadn't he learned Estonian since independence? It's too hard. Then why not live in Ukraine? Because his standard of living is higher in Estonia. And Ukraine doesn't exactly welcome those who left years ago but who now wish to return because they have been dispossessed of perks they enjoyed in Soviet times.

I also spoke with an Estonian parliamentarian, Enn Tarto, who languished for 14 years in the gulag, refusing to kowtow to the Soviets. He embraced his fellow political prisoners, "zeks," regardless of their ethnicity, creed or race. Because so many were Ukrainian nationalists, he learned Ukrainian. As I listened to this patriot, who suffered for his nation's freedom, I compared him to the whining Ukrainian sojourning in Estonia, there for the good life, not for the good of that country. Although the latter is not an unintelligent man I found him to be an ignorant one.

So, I will side with the Estonians. They have every right to save their country from those who denigrated them and despoiled their native land. As for those who today claim collective rights for themselves in this small country, they should remember that they are allowed more freedoms than they, or theirs, ever permitted the Estonians. And, if they are counting on the bully boy next door to guarantee their human rights, they would do well to recall that freedom has rarely, if ever, arrived from the East. It has certainly never come to the Estonians from that direction.

Lubomyr Luciuk is a professor at the Royal Military College of Canada and author of "Searching for Place: Ukrainian Displaced Persons, Canada, and the Migration of Memory (University of Toronto Press, 2000). He recently returned from lecturing at the Baltic Defense College in Tartu, Estonia.

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