Lessons from the Kristovskis scandal

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RIGA – The parliament today is likely to allow Foreign Minister Ģirts Valdis Kristovskis to keep his job. In the first week since his appointment, Kristovskis has come under fire after his emails exchange revealed his agreeing with xenophobic statements (some links are in Latvian) of a Latvian-American doctor, one of the party sponsors.

The incident illustrates the Prime Minister Valdis Dombrovskis’s Unity bloc as a disunited eclectic political force.

Latvia's Foreign Minister Girts Valdis Kristovskis

It also suggests Kristovskis’ own seeming inability to lead the party bloc. His mishandling of a petty mini-scandal resembles the Nasing Spešl scandal of the former finance minister Atis Slakteris, who went on to become a national joke. Insignificant in and of itself, the scandal marked the beginning of the end for the People’s Party, which swept the general elections four years ago. Kristovskis’ mishandling of the email revelation could also backfire and plummet the Unity popularity among the moderate voices, making it easier for the opposition to wreck havoc with the Unity agenda including a call for snap elections.

It also worth noting that the incident has coincided with the former member of the parliament Vaira Paegle‘s decision to quit politics. The former head of the NATO parliamentary committee, Paegle said she has been disappointed with the Latvia’s lie-infested political culture still in existence 20 years after the fall of the Soviet Union. She said the Unity party bloc reminded her of the People’s Party before its collapse. Even though she was offered a seat in the parliament, she declined. She quit the Civic Union. She decided to move back to the US to be with her family.

The Kristovskis scandal also shows the Unity’s seeming inability to manage public relations crises. Reasonable explanation has deteriorated to the point that the single enemy is to blame for all Latvia’s sins. Member of the European Parliament Sandra Kalniete’s hysterical press release over the weekend hinted between the lines that pro-Moscow forces and its allies in the parliament were to blame for the smear campaign – according to Kalniete it is one of 10 upcoming revelations – against the Unity and the Civic Union. It is as if Moscow was to blame for all Latvia’s ills, including the deepest economic recession in the world. The press release seem to suggest that one cannot assume that the Kristovskis’ email politesse in an attempt to raise money from abroad shifted his own political views closer to the diaspora Latvians, who wish to see Latvia Russian-free by any means possible.

It doesn’t help though that the Kristovskis’ own views remain a mystery. Perhaps, his views are conducive to the audience he is addressing. In most of Kristovskis’ public statements, it was impossible to learn what his views on integration and the Russian minority actually were. What was clear though that he attacked journalists for reporting it and his own fellow party members for leaking the correspondence.

A balancing act

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Count Monte Kristo, Latvia's new foreign minister

RIGA – A presumably old foreign Latvian wished I had never been born.

“Too bad his mother did not abort him, nor Arajs plant him as a fertilizer for weeds,” said the anonymous poster, who goes under the name of Mr. L. L. on a website for the Latvian diaspora. The site’s admin deleted this portion of the post, which I didn’t really find offensive. I prefer not to take idiots seriously.

So unlike our new foreign minister, the leader of the Unity bloc, Ģirts Valdis Kristovskis. In search of glory and public appeasement he is willing to publicly communicate even with the radical wing of his own party. Last October, he had received a letter from a Latvian American doctor, complaining about the presence of many Russian-speakers in his native Latvia.

“Latvia is the only country in the world – including Russia – where Russians are marching forward,” Aivars Slucis said in an email published on a Latvian news web site this week. Slucis noted that as a doctor, he cannot return to Latvia because “I wouldn’t be able to treat Russians and Latvians equally in Latvia, which is not allowed. This is why I’m waiting.”

Kristovskis wrote a complete answer, filled with polite agreements. The letter began with words “I agree with your vision and evaluation” of the situation. The correspondence was made public yesterday after the parliament voted on a new government, effectively appointing Kristovskis a new foreign minister. Today, the opposition for calling for his dismissal. The opposition has called him a xenophobe who would not be a good candidate to represent Latvia internationally. When he arrived to the parliament this morning, he seemed nervous. Maybe it was because he was running; maybe for some other reason, but his hands were shaking as he read out loud passages from the email exchange. His political ambitions and sheer sloppiness got the best of him. He seemingly desires to be liked by everyone, including the members of his party so much so that he is unwilling to ignore anyone, including the most radical people in his party – the Civic Union.

For the Civic Union, the politics is a balancing act between the somber silent reasonable minority and the loud controversial majority. The current government would be wise to watch every step, double-check every move as it enjoys a mere slim majority in the 100-member parliament.  It doesn’t bode well for Latvia’s political stability.

Update: The Mayo Clinic in the United States has launched an investigation into Dr. Slucis’ letter to Krisotvskis, written from Slucis’ work e-mail account.

Election results bodes well for Latvia’s future

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RIGA – Latvian Prime Minister Valdis Dombrovskis’ Unity bloc has begun moving out of its campaign headquarters in central Riga, leaving behind an empty office space, folded posters, and cardboard chairs. With the coalition talks on the way, parties muffled their pre-election rhetoric and have set aside their principles until the next municipal elections in three years.

In many ways, the Saturday general election was a historic one and Latvians must be proud of their parliamentary democracy. For the first time ever in Latvia’s history, the least number of political blocs will be represented in the next parliament. Only five. Consolidated parliament means the country is maturing in the ways of the true parliamentary democracy.

For the first time in Latvia’s history and – perhaps Europe’s – voters gave a sound mandate to the same government that raised their taxes and cut public wages. It shows the intelligence of the Latvian voters who didn’t buy the aggressive expensive populist campaign of the bloc For a Good Latvia, which won only 8 seats. According to the recent calculations, each seat cost the bloc more than 100,000 lats (200,000 USD) – unheard of by Latvian standards. It also shows that people understand the clear message that no magic solutions exist. One must get one’s financial house in order by making tough decisions on the budget consolidation. Call it the Latvian realism.

The key here was definitely Dombrovskis himself. As someone described him, “an honest, competent clerk,” who earned credibility with the Latvian public. The global crisis has made it possible to craft the lean mean government machine that would stop wasting the taxpayer money. It is an opportunity to create a better Latvia.

For the first time in Latvia’s history, a real possibility of forging a coalition with Harmony Centre exists. A perpetual opposition party bloc, Harmony Centre represents the Russian-speaking minority, 27 percent of the 2.2 million people. In part, thanks to the crisis, the sensitive issues of the language and citizenship have taken the back seat, focusing the debates on economic policies.

With the elections behind us, now comes the time for realpolitik and compromises. Who wants to take the sole responsibility for making tough calls on budget spending and taxes? In this case, it is best to forge a rainbow coalition to be able to share the responsibility for the future tax hikes and salary cuts. It would also halt any future drum for the public support to call for the snap general elections. In an ironic twist, the Unity sponsored the measure in the outgoing parliament.

The realpolitik makes for strange bedfellows. A newly elected member of parliament, Lolita Čīgane may end up working in the same government as the Union of Greens and Farmers, the party bloc, representing interests of the Latvia’s charming minigarch, Aivars Lembergs. Ēlerte has spent the last 15 years fighting the government corruption as the editor-in-chief of the newspaper Diena. The Latvian nationalist Ina Druviete may crawl into bed with the likes of Nikolajs Kabanovs, who at one time has wiped his face on the flag of Latvia. As the minister of education in 2004, Druviete oversaw the completion of the education language reform in the minority schools, which caused huge protests from the Russian-speaking minority.

Of course, the ethnic division has not disappeared. Many Latvians fear the Moscow’s long arm. Many Russians struck off the Latvian names from the Harmony Centre party list. Two groups of young people from the Latvian and Russian communities broke into a fight on the election night in the Old Town. Clearly, there is plenty to do.

The first positive steps toward a better Latvia have been taken on the election day. It is shared responsibility for the future of the country with the group that has been shunned from political decision-making since the restored independence in 1991. And the consolidated society and the good governance could withstand any future crises. It will be all residents of Latvia who will reap the benefits.

Latvians

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National poet of Latvia

National Poet of Latvia, Rainis

RIGA – Latvian poet, translator, social democratic journalist and politician Rainis, died on September 12, 1929. Hours before his death, Rainis penned an article in Russian called “Латвийцы”, or Latvians. It was published in the Russian-language newspaper Сегодня/Segodnya on September 29, 1929, in an edition devoted to the 10th anniversary of the newspaper. The article is often quoted by the Russian political groups, who misinterpret it and take it out of context.

A little needs to be said about the title. English is somewhat vague using the term Latvians. It could refer to either an ethnic group of Latvians, or it could refer to the citizens of Latvia. And the two do not often mean the same thing. There is an archaic English word: “Letts,” which refers to ethnic Latvians. Consequently, Lettish is a derivative adjective. It is used in this text to mean the same thing, even though the word is hardly in use any more. The following in my translation of the article from the original Russian into English:

When I am asked a question about literature as a means of convergence between the Russian and Latvian peoples, I first and foremost am reminded of the conditions for the existence of the minorities in Latvia. The conditions undoubtedly are favorable. Cultural autonomy forged a gratifying soil for mutual understanding.

But there are few fruits yet. What especially attracts my attention is that this aspiration to converge is first exhibited by the Jews. Significantly less frequent attempts are made by the Russian minority, and even less by the German minority. The reasons as I see are that Russians and Germans considering themselves peoples with ancient great culture are unwilling to make first steps towards the convergence.

The text of the article

But, by the way, that convergence is extremely necessary and it ought to take place best of all through the mutual exchange of literary works.

When it comes to the Russian literature, we, the Letts, have always been interested in it, have learned from great Russian writers. It’s true that Russians showed little interest in the Latvian literature, they rarely noticed it. I must note, however, this one comforting exception. Your newspaper more than other minority publications always promoted the need for cultural convergence. I didn’t have an opportunity to follow Segodnya regularly because I spent a lot of time traveling, but in the previous years, and by those issues that I did read in the last few months I was convinced that this is one of those few newspapers, which often presents their readers with examples of translated works of the best Lettish authors, follows the work of our theaters, and shows interest in the new Lettish literature and works of the Lettish artists.

All of that, of course, impacts the drive toward the convergence of the two people. The fact that Segodnya broadly informs readers about the successes of the Lettish artists and actors abroad as well as the cultural initiatives of the Letts, I am ready to credit as an accomplishment of the minority leaders, who attempt to establish cultural connection with Latvians. Unfortunately, I cannot say the same about the Germans. But even more than Russians, the convergence with Letts occupies, as it is seen, the Jews and the Poles, often underscoring their interest in the Lettish culture.

Convergence of the people has to start, of course, in schools. Up until now, the convergence of the young generation has not taken place systemically. Detachment is detrimental not only to Letts, but also to the minorities themselves. This occurrence is unhealthy and inappropriate. The Germans, for example, uselessly disassociate themselves from the Letts, often forgetting that they are not going the same way as the foreign Germans. The ideology of the Latvian Germans and proper Germans is significantly different. The Russian youth rarely adopts the need for the cultural convergence. As I have already mentioned, predominantly Jewish youth, who well-mastered the Latvian language, makes a pleasant exception.

I would like to point out to Switzerland as an example of a country where peacefully co-exist three peoples. Each Swiss – be it a German, a French or an Italian – has only one motherland. It is Switzerland. And everywhere they call themselves Swiss. Latvia is too far from the ideal brotherhood of the peoples.

We, in the Lettish language, don’t even have a special word, signifying a Latvian [resident of Latvia], corresponding to the Russian word “россиянин” [resident of Russia] in Russian. I supported the need for introduction of a word which could denote all peoples residing in Latvia. I offered the word “latvijetis”, in Russian латвиец. But my proposition didn’t find supporters. Latvia’s Russian, a German or a Jew finding himself outside of Latvia will definitely say that he is a Russian from Latvia; a German from Latvia; a Jew from Latvia. A foreigner doesn’t understand this. Being in Palestine, I was often asked what the state language of Latvia was, what the languages of minorities were. I answered that our minorities didn’t assimilate to majority and they all speak their own language. But my interviewers weren’t satisfied.

“Why is it that all Latvian citizens don’t think of themselves as Latvians, but think of themselves as Russians, Germans and Jews?”

I ran into three Jewish students in Brussels. Many times I have told them who I was and I asked them in German which nationality they were.

The answer followed: “Wir sind lettlender.” It turned out that they speak Lettish well and present themselves as Latvians (латвиец)/

This was a very comforting phenomenon, and it characterizes the mood of the new Latvian youth-minority, a new generation of Latvians.

At one time I was asked by two young beginner writers, both Jewish. They were asking me for help in publishing their works, written in Lettish.

As you can see the young generation of Latvians is predisposed to the process of convergence. At first, it has been done by the Jews, now it’s time for others, a few timid (when it comes to that kind of convergence) peoples, but even here, the new beginnings are being shown and it makes me happy and excited.

Monumental Battle

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RIGA – In the aftermath of the heavy snowfall that blanketed Latvia last week, the city’s Ušakovs-Šlesers tandem had struggled to cope with tons of white fluffy stuff that fell out of the sky. Cleaning streets whose total length could bridge Riga with Prague is no easy task. But Mr. Bulldozer that task tried to complete the best he could. In the sleeping areas of the city with the population of 900,000, the snow remains not cleared and people had a reason to complain. In the town center, however, complaining about the snow took on a political and inter-ethnic conflict – much like a lot of things do in Latvia ahead of the October elections.

The former flagship newspaper Diena reacted to a complaint from a resident that a monument to the Russian general Barclay de Tolly stood snow-free, while a nearby monument to Oskars Kalpaks was covered in snow – in the words of the woman who complained – “up to his mustache.” While for some, it may that the evil city council, chaired by an ethnic Russian, purposefully ignored the Commander of the 1st Latvian battalion. While no one would deny that it’s a responsibility of the city to clean up monuments, first and foremost should probably come people who are still alive than those who left monuments behind.

Never mind a few non-historic factors about the two monuments. One stands closer to a pedestrian pathway. Another one is a somewhat poorly designed because it stands on a kind of square whose small portion near the main road serves as a sidewalk. One is a vertical statue. Another one is a form of a ship, collecting much snow.

We’re too eager to resort to our old self-preservation habits. We’re too quick to think that Russians are evil that they purposefully neglect Latvians’ monuments. We’re too comfortable thinking that someone somewhere is trying to get us. We rely on history for that irrational fear. We’re so comfortable, in fact, that when someone is not trying to get us, we feel at odds with ourselves, we feel out of our national comfort zone unable to move.

Maris Sants: Homophobia forced me out of Latvia

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Anti-gay protesters at Riga pride in 2008
RIGA – The Open House blog at UK’s Independent newspaper published interesting entry from Maris Sants, a gay pastor who left Latvia for the UK last month. Sadly, his story isn’t unique. Public homosexuality is still seen as propaganda of sexual deviance here in Latvia.

Here’s what Maris writes:

Before I came out in 2002, the rumours about my sexuality had already had huge ramifications on my life. I was a pastor in the Latvian church and I had a column in the church newspaper and that was stopped. My weekly radio sermon was taken off the air, and I was kicked out of the cathedral I served in.

On 22 May 2002, I was ex-communicated from the church. Back then there were only three openly gay people in Latvia. My story was on the front pages of all the Latvian newspapers and I have suffered dozens of personal attacks since then. I have been verbally abused, spat at and physically attacked. Last year, two guys ambushed me as I went to baptise a child. Since then my sight started to deteriorate, which my doctor blamed squarely on the stress caused by the attacks.

Read the whole thing. On the photo: protesters against gay pride parade pile up at the fence at the November 11 Embankment in Riga in June 2008.

Latvian Miserabilism Marches On

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RIGA – Latvian miserabilism wants company.

It’s not enough that Latvians dwell on the past, dipping into an abysmal well of self-loathing and victimization that is an integral part of the Latvian ethnic identity as folk songs and dances. Eighteen years after they own their own house, Latvians want former invaders to feel as miserable as they are. The government is calculating a bill of the Soviet occupation to send to the Kremlin. At the same time, bills aren’t being sent to Germans, Poles, and Swedes who occupied what was to become Latvia. I guess there are occupiers and then there are occupiers.

A notorious victim complex needs a scape-goat. Up until late 1930s, the blame was with the Germans, the long-time oppressor of ethnic Latvians that became a subject of many Latvian folk songs. Following the Soviet occupation, the victim complexed Latvians turned from hating Germans to hating Russians.

On one hand, Latvian intelligentsia takes an immense pleasure in self-loathing. On the other hand, this eternal, “nobody loves me,” “no one has a pity on us” motif is evident in today’s Latvia. It’s other people’s fault for their miserabilism. Always. It is a constantly resurfacing theme in the pubic discourse on government matters. “Look, they steal, they hate us, they are corrupt, but we are poor, we suffer and bear it.” The nation of Latvia strives on appeasement and misery. Facing up to the fact that some Latvians participated in the killing of the Jews during the war is tough because if you accept it, you can no longer claim you’re a victim of the circumstance, but a willing participant.

Compare their mentality with Russians.

Ridden by centuries of dictatorship rule, Russians learned to adjust for survival. When you’re fighting for survival, pragmatism takes precedence over principles. Russians who may not have bought into ideals of a bright, glorious, communistic paradise, still uttered allegiances to the Party in exchange for a better job or some kind of benefits. In the West, they’d be called “sellouts.” In Russia, it was a matter of survival. Principled people were shipped to Siberia, killed, or were forced to flee to the West. It’s similar for ethnic Russians in Latvia. Most of those who naturalized since independence sold out. They gave the expected answered on familiar questions without much faith in what they were saying.

It’s just bizness.

Russians well aware of the Stalin crimes. Even one of the most anti-Latvian newspapers in town, Chas, published several accounts of ethnic Russians being deported along with the Latvians during the Soviet occupation. I’ve yet to talk to any Russian who does not know about “the great resettlement of the people.” Or about the Stalin’s oppressions. It’s no wonder that in 1989, the Soviet government called the Soviet-German pact invalid from the moment of its signing. While some political forces in Russia would like to see that 1989 declaration repealed, it is unlikely to erase what Russians know about that period of history.

In this, Latvian miserabilism isn’t compatible with Russian mentality. Russians don’t dwell on the past. They hardly learn from it. They don’t intend to put on sackcloth and ashes, roaming around the world in a state of perpetual mourning – unless it’s for bizness purposes. Nor should they. The Victory Day celebration is now part of the new Russian national identity – it’s got little to do with the figure of Joseph Stalin himself. It’s accentuated in the Baltics because Russians here feel as if the government or the ethnocentrism of Latvians threatens their own ethnic identity in their attempt to remake local Russians into ethnic Latvians. While some Russians would hold Stalin’s portrait dear and near to their hearts, they are dying out. When new generations of Russians came to the monument that Friday, Stalin was replaced with the Russian tricolor. For the younger generation, it’s a rebirth of the new Russia and May 9 is an integral part of the new Russia’s national identity as much as the Patriotic War of 1812 against Napoleon’s France was part of the national identity until the Bolshevik Revolution in 1917.

Russians aren’t Germans. Their mentality isn’t European, no matter how much you try to make them to be. Baltic Russians have a chance to become European, but it will takes years if not centuries. Regardless, though, they will not develop a perpetual guilt complex similar to the one espoused by modern Germans, who feel guilty for the crimes of their fathers and grandfathers, nor will they subscribe the perpetual guilt complex of the ethnic Latvians. Russians appear to be pragmatic people after centuries of oppression and fighting for survival under czars, Bolsheviks, communists. Russians want to move on instead of living in the past as Latvians appear to.As any pragmatics, Russians want to make money, have good jobs, raise their children, live in peace, rather than bickering over how many Latvians were actually in the Arajs commando, or how many Russians acknowledge the occupation. Now is the time to shred miserabilism, roll up our sleeves, and press on to a future without forgetting the past.

Telechas

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RIGA – Telegraf, Chas, Vesti Segonya – the Russian-language newspapers in Latvia all have a certain degree of bitterness toward this free, democratic country, where they’re published.

The latter two newspapers, however, are overflowing with poison that spills off their pages. Their readers, it seems, are mostly angry men and women who salivate at the thought of how the state discriminates Russians in Latvia. Some of those readers gathered at the Victory Day celebration earlier this month.

A news story in Chas on economy would usually entail some kind of citizenship angle seemingly irrelevant to the actual economic news. It frustrates a journalist. Chas openly supported the PCTVL party mostly of archain Stalinists that barely made it into the parliament after the 2006 elections. Ironically, the party hacks blamed the media for their losses.

I subscribe to the best of the worst Russian-language newspapers in Latvia, Telegraf. As a friend of mine described it, it is the most loyal newspaper of the three. It’s not ideal – it whines every once in a while, but it also contains interesting political and economic news, some exclusives, and avoids dwelling on issues like citizenship and language laws. After all, their status quo is likely to remain for years to come.

This morning Telegraf and Chas announced a merger. New newspaper is expected to be launched this August. Its format and name aren’t known yet. Although officially it is a merger, but in reality Telegraf’s taking over Chas. The Telegraf owner London resident millionaire Valery Belokon has bought more than half of the stock in the Chas publisher, Petit publishing house.

The Telegraf managing editor Tatyana Fast confirmed the merger news on the radio last night. However, it’s the bad news for the Chas editor Ksenya Zagovorskaya, who was incommunicado yesterday. After all, her days as the managing editor of the newspaper are counted.

I personally welcome the news. If the new project improves on the Telegraf’s take on news, it’ll make an interesting informative newspaper about Latvia for the local Russian community. And perhaps, will signify the end of PCTVL in the next elections and teach more loyalty toward the country the Russian community likes to call its home.

Thoughts on Victory Day

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Celebrating Victory Day in Riga on May 9, 2008. 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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