All About Latvia

RIGA – History plays an important part in the inter-ethnic relations in Latvia as well as in the relationship between Latvia and Russia. It has a direct impact on people here.

Russians who live here in the Kremlin-saturated media sphere know about the Soviet occupation. It’s hard not to. The Occupation Museum is next-door. Some have naturalized and answered the question about what happened on June 17, 1940. Latvia has many, many days of mourning, commemorating those who had been sent to Gulags.

Elderly people – the ones waving red flags at the Victory monument last weekend – get their news from Moscow. Young people like to watch comedy shows, music shows, films available on Russian TV.

Of course, some of those shows are turned into propaganda. In a Russian film “We’re from the Future” (trailer) four young hip heroes – you know they’re hip because they drive hip cars and one of them even has a hip tattoo of a swastika, another has a hip nickname like Borman – anyway, four young hip heroes make a living selling World War II medals they find in graves outside St. Petersburg. They uncover a mud-hut with skeletons inside. Anyway, they go skinny dipping in a nearby lake. They dive in. And when they come back out they end up in 1942 on the Soviet side of the front, learning an obligatory lesson that connects their modern lifestyle with those soldiers who perished during the Second World War.

But the film is not about Stalin, or his crimes. It is part of the great search for the national identity.

When it comes to the Stalin crimes, much wood has been turned into paper for publications about that topic. The Soviet Union Congress of Deputies, a fully elected parliament, in 1989 even adopted a resolution (the link’s in Russian) condemning the Molotov-Ribbentrop pact of 1939 and its secret protocols declaring them void from the moment of their signing.

At the same time, the press took a whiff of freedom and became high on publishing anything about the Stalin years – from a documentary research on the crimes to an absurd accounts of private lives of Stalin and his comrades.

A documentary was released here in Rīga trying to piece together communist crimes to persuade the West to place an equal sign between the communist crimes and the crimes of Nazi Germany. Surprisingly, the film caused little interest – some 900 people saw the film called The Soviet Story since it opened last week. But, the film would actually be a waste of time for educated Russians in the Baltics even if it’s subtitled in Russian. Nothing the film shows people don’t already know.

Most sane people without any political agenda don’t question whether Stalin’s crimes had taken place. In fact, the Russian-language press here went into great length to show that Baltic Russians (some did live here before 1940), too, suffered under Stalin. Russians generally question the necessity of those atrocities. They attempt to explain away deportations of Latvians, Lithuanians, Estonians, Russians, Jews from this part of the world into Siberia. They say they deserved it for being too rich, or too intelligent, too political, too influential, or too nationalistic.

The disagreement is not whether crimes have taken place. The disagreement is about the interpretation of those crimes.

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RIGA – Latvian inflation hit 17.5 per cent in April, up from March, the office of statistics announced today. On Friday the office surprised economists by announcing that preliminary data shows Latvian economy expanded by 3.6 per cent in the first quarter this year.

That means that the economy is getting worse.

Minutes after the latest inflation figures were released, President Valdis Zatlers told Latvijas Radio that the government should stimulate the slowing down economy. The government doesn’t appear to have a systematic approach to solving the economic woes. It doesn’t want to focus on developing healthy industries and improve the nation’s competitiveness. Or maybe it doesn’t know how to do it. But over all, judging from comments from the government officials, Latvia lacks a plan for economic development.

“The problem is that we spend all the time fighting fires, but we lack a plan of action for three, or five years ahead,” Ingrīda Blūma, the former president of Hansabanka told the Diena newspaper this morning.

You cannot rely on – in words of Juris Kaža – “credit crack” for your economic growth. Now comes the economic lomka, a Russian word describing a hellish experience of withdrawal from drug use. And we’ll be better off on the other side of the crisis.

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RIGA – Here’s what the previous post is not about. It’s not about whether Russians have a right to celebrate the end of World War II the way they chose. It’s not about whether Russians were liberators or occupiers. It’s not about political consequences of the Second World War. It’s not about how good integrated Russians should celebrate this day. In a way, the previous post isn’t about March 16.

But here’s what this post is about. It’s about memory of people who died in the most awful war the European continent has ever seen. Every country has a day to remember its men and women who died serving their country. Americans celebrate Memorial Day. The British celebrate the Remembrance Day on November 11.

Each of these days are tied to a particular war, of course. Americans started commemorating the Memorial Day after the Civil War. It began first as a way to commemorate those Americans who gave their lives in the Civil War and after the First World War it included all men and women who had given their lives serving their country.

The Remembrance Day commemorates the end of the World War One. But now it involves veterans from WW1, WW2, the Falklands, Kosovo, Bosnia, Northern Ireland and the ongoing conflicts in Afghanistan and Iraq – some of which may or may not have been just and liberating.

Back in 1998, Latvian officials failed to explain the significance of March 16 to the international community. At that time, it’d been suggested to commemorate deaths of all fallen soldiers on November 11, the day of the Bear-slayer. However, it didn’t take place. November 11 is still largely about Latvia in 1919. And now March 16 is no longer an official day of commemoration and hardly any of the government officials attend its ceremonies.

My previous post was misinterpreted to mean that Latvians should join Russians in celebrating the Victory day. It wasn’t so. I was my dream it were so, but I realize that it’s my sick idealistic fantasy. The post was also misinterpreted to mean that any criticism of the Latvian government concerning the Second World War ultimately means the glorification of the Russian government and role of the Soviet Union in that war. This kind of black and white thinking is not what the previous post was about.

Nor was the post about politics. It was not about whether the war – any war – was just any more or any less so than wars in Iraq, Afghanistan, or Vietnam. Would we remember the two soldiers who died in the war in Iraq recently by pointing a finger at the government who sent them there contrary to what majority of Latvians thought? Or would we say that those soldiers who died there searching for the weapon of mass destruction were simply wasting the time and resources? How would we tell that to children and then grandchildren of those people who died in wars like that? I, for one, couldn’t do it.

But it seems that’s what we’re doing with those who died in the Second World War. For Latvia, those men and women regardless of their uniform or allegiance, or even deaths of civilians mean absolutely nothing. And I find it repugnant.

And that’s what the previous post was about.

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Take a look at the updated photo gallery from May 9 celebrations at the Victory Monument in Riga

RIGA – In the last few days, I’ve been wrestling with the question of appropriateness of the Victory Day celebration. On one hand, the cruel regime of Hitler was replaced by the lesser evil Stalin when the Allies achieved the victory in distant 1945. On the other hand, for many Russians here in the Baltics and even for some Latvians whose family died in the war, it’s a very important, and a very personal holiday.

The official dictum uttered by the former president Vaira Viķe-Freiberga says that Latvians have nothing to celebrate on May 9 as their country ended up occupied for the following 50 years. But the war, in fact, was over in May 1945. Germany surrendered and the European continent saw no large-scale military conflict again for many years. That’s a historical fact.

While it was almost impossible to spot an ethnic Latvian at the Victory monument yesterday, I saw some. Ethnic Latvians also fought the Germans on the Soviet side. Numbers are insignificantly low, but I’m not sure how many people have to die for a cause to make a holiday appropriate.

And here, in Latvia, almost every Russian family has lost at least one relative in the war. My great-grandmother’s brothers died fighting the Germans. Natalia Antonova writes:

My grandmother started crying on the phone:

“I don’t want you to ever know what it’s like to hear the shelling and know that it’s coming for you.”

War is banal and blind and savage and ultimately meaningless. But there is still something to smile about today, at least for me. If only because its survivors had children, and those children had children, and one of them was me, and another one was my beautiful baby brother. And there’s a reason why we’re here, and we’ll spend the rest of our lives finding out what that reason may be.

And it appears to me by making May 8 or 9 just another day, we void the sacrifices made by those who gave their lives in that banal, blind, savage, and ultimately meaningless war.

I spent most of yesterday at the Victory monument, roaming around, watching people, snapping photos. For a while, it seemed that Riga had turned into Daugavpils, a Russian-dominated Latvian town. It seemed Riga turned into little Russia. A red SUV drove around with a large Russian tricolor (Russians, like Texans, like things big). Russian embassy emissaries were everywhere organizing the 10-hour long concert for the public. The percentage of people wearing sports track suits was the highest at the Victory park than in another other part of Latvia.

In the morning, it reeked of the Soviet nostalgia with a lone portrait of Stalin and red banners. In the evening, youth came out with Russian tricolor and appear to be more patriotic about Russia than Russians across Latvia’s eastern borders. I saw only one man wearing a Latvian hockey jersey and a ribbon of St. George.

I couldn’t understand the ubiquitousness of the Russian flags. At any time, you’d expect the Russian national anthem blast through the speakers. The organizers should have thought to promote a healthy patriotism toward the country they find their homes, Latvia, but I suspect any Latvian national anthem would have been greeted with boos from the large crowd and give more work to the police.

After a short interview in the afternoon, I couldn’t refuse getting a drink with two men twice my age. It’s impolite. One man, Viktor, now teaches computer science at a local school, having worked as an engineer most of his life. His trade is no longer needed in Latvia and he couldn’t adapt to the new way of life after Gorbachev’s reforms. A non-citizen, he moved to Latvia from Russia, just like many others. He likes to compare Russians and Latvians.

“See this monument. This ain’t Milda,” he told me, referring to the nickname for the Freedom Monument a revered site for many Latvians.

The anger at this country, at the apathy of the government, at prevalent corruption and theft, and – frighteningly of all – hatred toward everything Latvian is enormous. For them, the anger trumps over any other emotion. Perhaps, this anger at callous, flippant attitude of the authorities toward those who fought on the “wrong side” – politically speaking – during the war drives many, many people to remember this Victory Day by laying tulips at the feet of the monument.

And throughout the day, even as late as 10 p.m., people kept pouring in to lay flowers.

Loudspeakers blared Soviet-era war music and thousands, young and old, trooped to the war monument honoring Red Army soldiers who fell in World War II. Parents with children, teenagers, many veterans – carrying a bouquet of flowers – flooded the square near the monument under a watchful eye of police.

The VE-Day of May 8 went barely noticed in Latvia. The president and other high-ranking officials attended a ceremony at a military cemetery. For the country with many days of mourning (June 14, March 25, December 4) – no flags signified a day of commemoration. In fact, the whole day was very subdued.

The end of the war signifies the beginning of peace. Tens of millions of people died in that war. Those who returned found their cities, towns and villages in crumbles. One gentleman told me he had spent three years at a concentration camp in Germany. If it hadn’t been for the Russians, who knows what would have happened, he said.

My family own family was lucky, I guess. Only two of my distant granduncles died in the war. My great-grandfather along with my grandmother nearly became victims if it hadn’t been for a technicality. The Nazis killed 200-300 men, women, and children of the village of Audrini in January 1942. My family lived next-door in another village. Audrini was burned to the ground. About 30 of the Audrini villagers were publicly shot in the Rezekne market square, and the remaining villagers were transported to the nearby Anchupani Hills where they too were shot.

These stories are many. The war impacted almost every family in Latvia – whether they ended up packing their suitcases and boarding for Germany, or decided to remain in the occupied Latvia.

The end of this awful war is hard not to commemorate.

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