Latvia’s Faux Pas

Nevienam Mes Latviju Nedodam (We Do Not Give Latvia to Anyone)
Edited by Aivars Garda
384 pages, Riga: Vieda Publishers Latvia, 2001 (in Latvian)

Since their post-Soviet independence, the Baltic states have been performing an intricate dance: integrating sizable minorities of the former "imperial" master while consolidating national identity and establishing their place in a broader Europe. Stepping out from Russia’s shadow is probably most complicated for Latvia, both because of its sizable Russian minority (the region’s largest) and its role in the Russian oil industry. Latvia has the region’s best ice-free ports, through which Russia channels 12 to 15 percent of its oil exports. The economic importance of Latvian oil transit revenue guarantees Russian "oil barons" and their local partners’ considerable behind-the-scenes influence on Latvian policy.

Although the strains inherent in Latvia’s balancing act with Russia have been managed relatively successfully since independence, a vocal minority disputes the viability of a multicultural Latvia and harbors the hope that the roughly 700,000 Russians now living in Latvia will somehow just disappear. One such dissident voice recently published a controversial book of essays, We Do Not Give Latvia to Anyone, which created a furor both in Latvia and among its neighbors, not least Russia. The resulting controversy may end up looking like a small bump in Latvia’s long road to becoming a European multicultural democracy, but it also illuminates the difficulties of postimperial ethnic coexistence and Russia’s aims and interests in the region, not to mention the occasional pitfalls of European integration.

The driving force behind the book is Aivars Garda, the obscure right-wing publisher of Vieda Publishers Latvia, who mixes anti-Western politics with New Age pseudo-religious rhetoric. In early 2001, Garda organized an essay contest for youth, promising cash prizes for the best entries. The topics are typical extreme right-wing fare with a Latvian twist — why people should live in their own "ethnic homeland[s]," why Latvia’s "liberation from 700,000 colonists" is the will of God, why the European Union (eu) is a "contemporary Tower of Babel," and why sale of Latvian land to foreigners is "slavery." Mainstream newspapers refused to advertise the contest. Nevertheless, word spread, and about 70 high-school and university students, as well as a few established activists, submitted essays, most of which were printed.

The book, a pretty boring read, is filled with sentimental nationalist poetry, inane comparisons of the Soviet Union to the EU, and suggestions of how best to promote the "voluntary repatriation" of the Russian minority to Russia. Among the more militant passages is Garda’s preface, in which he calls the Russian "colonists" a "cancer" and urges a "struggle against internal and external enemies." Two essays by right-wing activists end with the interwar fascist greeting "Hail in the Struggle!" Others spout similarly intolerant fare: "blood purity," "the twisted Russian language, alcohol, destruction, polluted environment that are inalienable attributes of Russian pseudo culture," and the Russian community’s "murderer, destroyer, provocateur stance, which has been nurtured for centuries." However, by the standards of Russian, European, or American extremism, the book is mild fare, and Latvian officials appear to have hoped reaction to it would blow over quickly.

That did not happen. We Do Not Give Latvia to Anyone received a great deal of local and international publicity. A local Russian-language newspaper urged authorities to bring charges of incitement against the publisher, and Russia issued a statement harshly condemning the book and what it called a Russophobic hate campaign "in the spirit of Goebbels." At Russia’s prodding, the Council of Europe and the Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe investigated. Mainstream media condemned it as intolerant, representatives of international organizations suggested the book was in "bad taste," and 30 representatives of nongovernmental organizations and academia addressed an open letter to Latvian politicians urging them to keep distance from racists and implement their social integration policy more vigorously. The furor was sufficient to put the book through three printings and briefly to the top of the bestseller list.

The fuss bewildered the Latvian political elite. The government has enshrined "social integration" as one of its core objectives, and in the wake of earlier disputes with Russia on such issues as barriers to citizenship for ethnic Russians in Latvia, Latvian laws and practices on the treatment of minorities have gradually been brought into line with European norms. In a belated response to outcry over the book, the Latvian prime minister and president issued bland statements of condemnation, and law enforcement authorities carefully reviewed the book but found nothing that constituted incitement under Latvian law.

Russia’s reaction to the book fits a long-running pattern of bad-mouthing Latvia, a pattern that undoubtedly will become more pronounced during the run-up to the November 2002 Prague summit on NATO expansion, as Latvia and the other Baltic nations seek invitations to NATO membership, much to Russia’s distress. Over the last decade, Russian politicians have sought to isolate Latvia internationally, charging it with "gross and systematic human rights violations," "ethnic cleansing," and "apartheid" in its treatment of Latvia’s Russians, which make up 30 percent of the Latvian population. In 1998, Moscow Mayor Yuri Luzhkov even compared Latvia to Cambodia under Pol Pot.

Under President Vladimir Putin, Russia’s rhetoric has grown more subtle but often more invidious. Lately, Russian officials have drawn parallels between Latvia and Macedonia. Russia’s message: Absent a West-imposed "settlement" in Latvia, civil war is possible, or at least, Russians would be justified in using violent tactics. Most outrageously, in the wake of the attack on the World Trade Center and the inauguration of America’s campaign against terrorism, Russian officials have tried to brand Latvia a state that aids and abets terrorism in Chechnya. While some Latvians sympathize with Chechen victims, Latvia has neither the means nor the suicidal inclination to assist anyone struggling against Russia. On the contrary, Latvia has repeatedly reiterated its interest in maintaining good relations with Russia.

Most immediately, opposition to NATO expansion underlies Russia’s tactics. If Russia can sow doubts about Latvia’s stability and commitment to Western values, Latvia’s NATO bid will suffer. In the medium term, Russia will also oppose Baltic membership in the EU unless it can get a good deal from the West in exchange for its acquiescence. A wide array of actors in Russia — oil barons included — stand to lose influence when the Balts accede to the EU: There will be less room for influencing economics and politics in the region, higher insurance costs and more stringent environmental controls for raw materials transit, and fewer opportunities to play up the minority card once Latvia is judged to have met EU human rights conditions and its Russian speakers begin to think of themselves as European.

The truth is that NATO and EU membership will benefit Russians in Latvia, and moreover, strengthen Latvia’s relations with Russia. To gain admission to these clubs, Latvia must adhere strictly to European legal standards. Also, a secure and prosperous Latvia will find it increasingly easy to extend a hand toward Russians at home and abroad. Russians in Latvia, for their part, will find it easier to identify with a modernizing, European Latvia. Russia will no longer be tempted to try to isolate Latvia, and more businesslike interstate relations will permit an expansion of cultural and other exchanges. People of Garda’s ilk will undoubtedly continue to make noise, but nobody will pay them much attention, in Latvia or abroad.